March 10, 2010
The morning iFog
![[IMAGE] foggy at False Bay](/blog/blogpix/falsebayfog2.jpg)
…about the musicA bit foggy across from the Olympic mountains, indeed.
We all know the dance: See email inbox fill up. Answer many emails. Momentarily enjoy much emptier inbox. Go to bed. Awake to completely re-filled inbox of responses to your responses. Repeat. Yessiree, for those of us who do much of our biz digitally, this is the two-step that keeps us and our typing fingers in tip-top shape. Email is great, but, it’s a bottomless pit of back and forth from which few escape. Yet I have recently discovered a guilty pleasure (or, a key to my sanity) that helps me cope: my iPhone, bedside.
No, I am not using the “vibrate” setting for personal use. Nope. But in the morning, when my eyes peel themselves one-third open and my foggy mind begins to churn with the never-ending to-do list of life, I blindly paw for my phone, tap a few times, retrieve my mail while safely ensconced under my warm comforter, and can instantly see the lay of the land for the coming hours. Who has emailed? What do they need? What fire needs to be put out? What is just fine and can wait? Well, it usually turns out, much of it. And being able to glance at what awaits my work day long before I intend to start it, allows me to happily place the iPhone back on the nightstand, turn over, and catch some more zzzz’s. This is one of the best uses for a digital tool I can dream of. The gift of more sleep!
Glenn Buttkus said,
March 11, 2010 @ 6:37 am
Excellent use of technology it would seem. Some of us “older” kelphistos do not own an iPhone, but can dig watching others who do. My three daughters use their phone for everything, the real mini-computer and camera modus. Was the pic you posted along snapped with the iPhone? Thus the reference to iFog. Nice to revist BIOPLASM @ 2:34 this foggy and damp morning here in the South Sound, on the lower counties, the America on your southern exposure, your island horizon. About the third time I listed to Bioplasm the fog seemed to roll in and thicken here at American Lake, and at one point I think I saw some masts and sails of a phantom ship, and just for a moment I caught a glimpse of Keith Richards dressed up like a pirate waving madly as it cruised by. Then a squadren of choppers out of Ft. Lewis churned by at 500 feet and reality returned.