I have a confession to make: I don't really understand how Facebook and all that stuff works. I am chuffed enough with myself that I manage to blog, even though I use Blogger which I suspect is like trying to recreate the painting of the Sistine Chapel with Chubby Crayons. The finer points of keeping in touch 21st century style have sort of passed me by. Don't even get me started about Twitter.
That said, I do have a Facebook account. A while back, I wanted to check if someone was on Facebook (due to advancing senility, I cannot now remember who. Or why.) and I discovered that to search on Facebook, one had to join Facebook. So I did. And this leads me to my confession - although I have the account, I have NO IDEA how it works or what to do with it. I rarely remember I have it and never log in. Until today, when I discovered that I have friend invitations! From nice people from the bloggy world! Who I have, it would appear, been ignoring for who knows how long! I am so rude!
Anyway, I have now accepted the invitations (I think) so feel more in touch with my inner teenager. I still have no idea what to do with a Facebook account so if anyone wants to teach me, all guidance would be gratefully received. (I had better find out about all this stuff before my children start wanting accounts on sites other than Club Penguin. I bet if I had girls, I would be fully up-to-date by now!)
On a totally different topic, I am slightly scared by how American my children are. The North American culture is so all-invasive now that even my dyed-in-the-wool, born Scots boys sometimes sound more like Californian teenagers. They do that annoying thing where they raise their voice at the end of every sentence and turn them all into a question? Drives me potty. And the even scarier thing is that they now laugh at me for talking like, oh I don't know, a Scottish woman of 42!
I can't remember what prompted me the other day, but I was ranting about the phrase "to go". I was explaining to the boys that I steadfastly refuse to give in to the American (*cough*Starbucks *cough*) term of describing a coffee you want to remove from the premises as "to go". Or one you want to drink sitting at their tables as "for here". NO. In Scotland, you do not ask "To go or for here?". You ask "Sit-in or take away?".
I explained to the boys therefore that on the rare occasion I decide to blow £3 on a cup of coffee in an unattractive mug, I will ask for "a latte to sit in". They of course howled with laughter.
"It would need to be a REALLY big latte if you were going to sit in it!" they crowed. I can't help feeling I was being insulted on more than one level there.