Landlines and Google
I pressed send.
My computer screen blinked.
Immediately, Google said my email account was disabled because it looked as if hackers had stolen my account.
Besides all of my emails, my contacts, project notes, homeschooler visit logistics and meat orders were gone.
That was last week.
Since then, I have been in a downward spiral of demands to verify my email account, yet I can’t because my account has been disabled.
I’m riding a Ferris wheel, trying to drive it to Chicago.
It just spins, going nowhere.
I sent a request for reinstatement to Google.
They said to log in to my account for assistance.
If I could log in to my account, I would not need assistance.
I chatted with a website technician.
Not their problem.
I chatted with Google.
They said to talk to my website technician.
After five days and hours at the computer, all I did was switch seats on the Ferris wheel.
Meanwhile, people began to call my landline.
They had been frustrated by my lack of response to their emails.
I know their pain.
After chugging four cups of coffee just to amp up my anxiety a bit more and then repeating my looping mouse clicks at least another 47 times, I saddled my horse.
If I couldn’t respond to meat requests, I could wean a few calves.
As we clip-clopped toward a little bunch of cows and calves, I smelled the dust, watched the cattle lounge near the creek and squinted into the morning sun.
No wind.
No glaring computer screen.
Just living, breathing bovines who responded.
Those calves are now separated from their mamas as a rite of passage.
They bawl for a while and then eat hay.
Some of the cows meander around the corral, wondering whether their calves will find a way to nurse.
Others wander off to find some grass, relieved of their responsibility for raising yet another offspring.
The next day, I loaded my horse in the trailer to help a friend bring his cattle home from summer pasture.
Even in October, we carried water bottles as we gathered his cows, prepared for the 80-degree sun and slight breeze.
The calves looked good, even after the heat of the summer tried to crisp all of their grass. The only pain in the neck did not come from tech support, but from a bull who kept trying to turn his harem back to his pasture.
He repeatedly trotted to the front of the herd, spun around and head-butted the lead cow. Of course, she veered out of his path, leading several more cows in the wrong direction.
Two horses and a couple of dogs disabled that bull.
Our phones buzzed a couple of times as we brought the cows to the corral, but riding was so easy that we could take care of business from the saddle.
Except that I could not check my email.
Not much I could do about that while I hauled cows home, though.
Instead, I concentrated on keeping up with the trailer in front of me as we climbed up hills.
Then I concentrated on avoiding smashing the back of his trailer as we raced down hills.
Only a few deer threatened to commit suicide from the side of the road.
Soon after dark, the cows were grazing on new pasture and the horses were unsaddled.
Messages on my landline threatened to fill the recording space.
As I listened to potential customers relay how they had not received an email reply, all I could think about was thank goodness for horses and landlines.