““Connection is the energy that is created
between people when they feel seen,
heard and valued—when they can give
and receive without judgment.”
—Brené Brown

It has taken me a few months to thaw from my winter doldrums. It seems they had me in a deep freeze this year. However, since my awakening with the longer, lighter days and breezes filled with promises of sunshine, one theme keeps repeating itself in my life like a mantra on a broken record: Connection.

I don’t have anything against lemons. They are a brilliant shade of yellow—one of my favorite colors—and they are simply beautiful to look at and use in decoration.  I love the way they smell so fresh and clean, and they taste deliciously yummy in chicken picatta, lemon meringue pie, old-fashion lemon squares and my mother’s favorite, lemon-apricot cake. What I don’t like is a slice of lemon in my water.

I know it adds vitamin C and may aid in digestion, but I don’t like the way it makes my water taste. Obviously I’m in the minority, but being from the Deep South, I have a firm belief that when lemons are added to water, they need to be accompanied by sugar. If I wanted lemon water, I would order lemonade, which I really don’t like very much.

“I have found that if you love life, life will love you back!”
—Arthur Rubinstein

I know. It’s February, the month of love. Sometimes it doesn’t matter if you are a Miss, Mrs., or Ms., February can be a tough month to get through. There are so many expectations surrounding Valentine’s Day that many begin to compare their relationships, or lack of relationships, to the unrealistic romantic fiction coming out of Hollywood or to the love birds who constantly post their never ending happiness on Facebook.

As you all know we now have numerous ways to contact people—telephone, text, email, Skype, Facetime, IM, regular mail, Facebook, Twitter, Snap Chat and, of course, face-to-face visits. One would think with all of these innovative, highly convenient, practically instant methods of communication, the rate of return on RSVPs would be on the rise. Not so. It is at a dreadful, miserable all-time low, shattering etiquette books to smithereens and sending Miss Manners dangerously close to her deathbed.

For the record, let’s define RSVP just so we are all on the same page. This paragraph is also a public service announcement for those who have either forgotten or have never fully understood what those four letters in that particular order mean. Officially, the acronym RSVP originated in France and stands for répondez s’il vous plaît, which translated, is simply, “Respond, please.”

I don’t understand why we tolerate some things. I realize it takes different strokes for different folks to make the world go around, but there are some things Americans need to put their foot down about. Politics are one of those things, but I’m not going there. I am dedicating this article to aggravating telephone practices. And, while those can be numerous, I am limiting my complaints to two:

Automation and communication.