Please forgive me. I went dark. I was in the throws of an extremely grounded life that included lots of kid shuttling (why is summer school only from 8:30-1:00?), kid food prep, work, and parties (throwing them- not as fun as going to them). Thankfully, I am 24 hours out from a plane trip to Ireland (more on that later). I figure I should explain why my budding blogging efforts failed to continue after Tahoe. I can point my finger only at one specific issue.
My pal, Hilary (actually another Hilary), told me that sometimes after work all she wanted to do
“was lock herself in dark room and play Candy Crush.”
Hilary is a hardworking, professional, and intelligent woman. She has two kids, a great husband and she was consumed by this game. I had downloaded the game one day when she was over but I really couldn’t understand the obsession. She tried to show me the game, explain to me the objectives and relay her strong desire to get to the next level and still the game seemed a little dumb. I didn’t give the game another thought until Tahoe.
Cut to the long drive from Tahoe to Las Vegas, a perfect opportunity to write, to muse, to recap, but I was still feeling a little foggy and thought
“Do something mindless until you get out of the altitude and then your senses will come back to you”
Note to all you drivers it takes about 2.5 hours of driving to get out of the altitude- enough time to create a deeply rooted obsession with Candy Crush. I don’t know if it’s the bright colors, the resounding plaudits of “Amazing” and “Incredible” when I unwittingly made a good move, or the notion I formulated that Candy Crush was a lot like chess (it’s not but the rationalization worked during my two week obsession). On the drive, BB would try and start conversations, she wanted to talk, the kids wanted to play games, and I, Dear Reader, only wanted to play Candy Crush. I’m not proud of this admission. I was helpless.
In Vegas, we watched a movie in the room with the kids. I played Candy Crush. On the plane ride home, in between scrabble turns, I played Candy Crush. On the drive from the airport to home, I played Candy Crush. Yes, I filled my days and nights with that infernal game until I finally decided that Candy Crush was taking away too much time from things I loved. I hit bottom one night when I realized as I was trying to fall asleep that I was dreaming and enjoying the dream of falling candies matching and exploding, of saccharine accolades appearing and of finally beating the game. I was powerless. The game was changing my brain and I knew that there was only one solution. I deleted the app. Unceremoniously.
And lest you, Dear Reader, say
“Wow, maybe I should see what all the fuss is about.”
I would, Dear Reader, employ the fine words uttered by Nancy and Ronald Reagan in the wake of a cocaine and heroin epidemic.
“Just Say No”
*On a final note, I do believe the fact that I have cut out all refined sugar from my diet and feel much better for it to be a clear sign that deleting that hellish app was the right move.