The time for picnics is closing in on me. Will I get to a picnic?

It's only been June for a few days and I talked today about August being just two months away. I already fear that the beautiful, bright weather will soon be a memory and everything will be gray and brown once again. I used to know people who had picnics. They would invite me. But that was a long time ago. Easter, in fact, was the last time. And before that, October. That was a catered picnic. For a wedding. There was a big fire and it was very cold. The fire wasn't cold at all, but the temperature otherwise was very cold. I brought coffee for everyone and kept it coming.

Confessions

I thought some today and yesterday about the ill will generated by seemingly harmless remarks made about someone else when they're not around. I could tell a story to illustrate: After an obligatory moment of consideration about whether to talk about your friend Adam to your other friend, Julie, you say to Julie, "Adam told me that you didn't return his last 10 phone calls." You suddenly realize you didn't allow enough forethought for your comment when your friend Julie responds, "That is most certainly not true. I return all of his phone calls."
After the conversation, you think, Maybe I shouldn't have said that. Maybe Julie will tell Adam that I told her Adam said that. Even if she doesn't, she might stew about it for awhile. Julie's feelings will be hurt. Julie won't trust Adam anymore and will wonder what else Adam has said about her. Julie will confront Adam. Adam will become annoyed that I repeated something he said.
You feel guilty. You tell Adam that you told Julie what Adam said. Adam might have already known, if Julie talked to him first to vent her frustration at him for saying that in the first place, so he never speaks to you again in a candid and honest and friendly way like he used to. Julie doesn't trust you anymore. And so it goes.
My little story didn't happen, but it played out that way in my head, with visions of all the bad feelings that sprang up, real or not, from one thoughtless comment. I thought about this yesterday, feeling guilty for something seemingly harmless I said about someone to someone else. It wasn't about someone not returning someone else's phone calls, but it was about things I knew about the other person. I later told myself that I wanted to take a few more minutes to think about what I repeat to other people about someone else, so that my mind doesn't get consumed with thoughts of all the negativity I probably just generated.
Then, today, in a completely unrelated situation with completely different people, I did it again. I didn't feel bad at all when it happened, but I felt really guilty a few hours later and it bothers me tonight. Am I a bad person? Or am I just human? Do I think too much about insignificant trivialities? What difference does it make?
It's not done in a way that intends to cause harm. I've known people who have done this type of thing with the mischievous intention of causing damage, which is a different subject altogether. It's just conversation. Sometimes the comment or action is repeated because it seems wrong not to say something, when you know something about the person and they don't know that you know it. It's like making a confession to them. You feel better for telling them that you know something about them.
Human nature or not, talking about someone when they're not around can be a dangerous weapon, especially if the truth is twisted (intentionally or not) in the process. The answer is that if it bothers me that I do this, then only I have the power to change. Maybe it is normal, human behavior. But I can evolve if I can get myself to change for the better. I think.


One friend commented about what he considers the real problem to be --- it's a lack of the kind of trust that comes with knowing someone well. Maybe true, maybe not. Still doesn't exactly solve my problem.

Electricity and Technology

Driving past a construction site today, a passenger in my car (also known as member of my household) said, "Look, something is being built over there," and pointed out the steel beams that are the frames in the initial phase of the construction of a large building.
"It's going to be the Hilton Garden Hotel," I explained.
"Oooh, can we stay there?" she asked.
I said, "Well, you're the second person to ask me that. If the power ever goes out, and we have no heat, and it's in the middle of winter, then maybe."
"Can't we just stay there for a mini-vacation?"
"For $100-plus a night, to stay about a mile from our house? Nah, I don't think so. No, the power would have to be out."
About 10 minutes after we returned home, and a few minutes after I had started cooking a feast of spiral noodles and cheese and frozen veggie burgers, the power went off. Both the noodles and the burgers were halfway done, so by putting a lid on both, they actually managed to cook all the way, despite there being no more heat source.
Luckily, since the Hilton Garden Hotel is about a year away from having its steel beam skeleton filled with walls and ceilings and fountains and glass elevators and gardens and furniture, we didn't need to start packing up. We aren't living during that time of year when we need to depend on the heat, either. But something said to me, I wish I had a place to go right now. But I don't. The power came back on after a half hour, but it was just enough time to make me think a little differently. Do we have a battery-operated radio? Check. Do we have candles? Check. Do I know where my elastic-banded headlamp is? Check. Is there anything in the refrigerator that will go bad? Not really; unless you count milk, tangerine juice and eggs. There's really nothing else in there other than stuff I want to keep away from the moths. Does our automatic garage opener work if we don't have electricity? Check (the power company's on-hold message told me that). Do we really need electricity? Not sure how to answer that one. Can we live without it? I guess we'll find out.
Today my head was filled with all the possible ways people can communicate with each other. Since 1995, the avenues of human contact have quadrupled for me from (1) telephone with no caller ID and no answering machine, and (2) U.S. Mail, to the present, to: (1) telephone with caller ID and answering machine, (2) U.S. Mail, (3) cell phone, (4, 5, and 6) three e-mail accounts, (7) text messaging, and now (8) www.noonewilleveruse.blogspot.com. And there might be one or two other ways I could be found, not including Instant Messaging and Web cam, which I don't use. I'm sure I've left something out. And that leaves, sadly, exponentially more opportunities to be reminded that no one's going to any sort of effort whatsoever to find out what I'm doing, how I'm doing, or why I'm doing it. That's really an exaggeration. I really don't mean that. I like technology. When technology can make me feel like I am overjoyed that there are so many ways to get in touch with me, then I will love technology.