I got a new phone last week. Had the previous one for almost four years, which is a record. Stupid throwaway culture of ours! Phones are an investment that oughta last a good 10 years if you ask me (but nobody did, so I guess I’m just pissin’ in the wind here).
Unlike last time, my Google Pixel 6 didn’t have a bulging battery that made me paranoid it was going to explode in my pocket and take out the family jewels, so there was less urgency in replacing it. The biggest problem was connectivity issues with Android Auto, which made Google Maps and Spotify and podcasts a hit-and-miss proposition. And the battery life was starting to diminish, which is inevitable at some point. Verizon was offering a deal where an upgraded phone was essentially free, so we decided to take advantage.
I stuck with Google and got a Pixel 10 Pro. It’s my third Pixel in a row; I find them pretty durable and reliable, and the camera is incredible. I’ve always been #TeamAndroid when it comes to phones, though I wouldn’t dream of owning a laptop that wasn’t a MacBook.
I’m a complex guy, what can I say?
Having a new phone is great – and this one is smaller than my last, so I no longer feel like I’m carrying around a brick – but setting it up is always a bit of a hassle. Sure, transferring over all your content is easy, but then you have to log into your apps again the first time you open them. My biggest gripe was losing all my Wordle stats. They only carry over to a new phone if you are logged into a New York Times account within the browser or app, and I’ve always been too much of a cheapskate to pay for a subscription (though $1/week would hardly break the bank). Not a huge deal; my streak was only around 130 games. If this had happened nine months ago, when I was pushing 700 games, I’d have been devastated.
At least now I have a 100% win rate. I’m undefeated, baby! #silverlinings
During the course of all this new phone stuff, I inadvertently deleted an old Google account that was still tied to a bunch of apps. No biggie, I figured. I’d just log back in and restore it. Google requires 2-step verification, and my only option was to send a code to my phone. Unfortunately, the phone number associated with the old account was my South Dakota #, which is long gone.
$#@^%
Technology will be the death of me, I swear. I hadn’t logged into that account from any other current device, so it was looking like I was screwed…but then I remembered I still have a very old HTC phone. I dug it out of the drawer, got it charged, and suddenly it was 2015 again. The Sprint logo appeared on the startup screen, and I was transported to a Slacking, Skyping, Tweeting, Flixster-viewing, Angry Birds-playing younger version of myself.
Angry Birds! Can you even imagine?
Best of all was scrolling through two years’ worth of text messages from Tara. Most of it was pretty mundane – what do you feel like for dinner, how’s work going, what should we do this weekend? – but it’s that ordinary chatter that serves as the dialogue to your life story, you know? It’s fun to read these decade-old chats and see that we’re still very much the same people we were then, goofy and sappy and funny. God, how we geeked out when emojis came to Android in 2016! Every ensuing text for the next three months looked like this:
Be home soon, babe! ❤️🐰🕶️🍺🍕🏈👩❤️💋👩😘🌹🌲🍔🏆🏠💕😇😻🍷
It’s interesting that we still talked about buying a house in Vancouver, WA. Little did we know our time in the PNW was numbered. Or that we’d ever end up in Cheeseville, USA.
Long story short, I was able to send a verification code to my new(er) Google account, and should be able to access the old one within five days. I guess it’s good that they take security so seriously, but man, talk about jumping through hoops to get logged in again.
To hell with the beer!
How was your V-Day? We don’t celebrate, but just happened to find ourselves out for dinner and drinks. We’d gone into Madison for PBS Wisconsin’s Garden & Green Living Expo at the Alliant Energy Center. Seeds and starts and manure? That’s like porn to Tara. Afterward, we decided to check out the Eastside Great Dane Pub & Brewing. We’d only ever been to their flagship spot downtown, and while this one was smaller, it had floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the city and we were able to belly right up to the bar without muscling our way through a crowd of people. Tara ordered a beer and I chose a Dark Cherry Margarita that was tart, tangy, and delicious. Tara took one sip and said to hell with the beer, ordering herself one-a them there margs.
They’re having a bunch of Mardi Gras-inspired specials this week, so I broke precedent (9 times out of 10 I order the Korean rice bowl, but this time I opted for the jambalaya). I was not upset over this pivot. 👨🏻🍳💋
It was a nice way to kill a few hours and pretend our Valentine’s Day date wasn’t unplanned.
Mark My Words 
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