Siri-ously

Over a year ago, I joined the cult of Mac. I bought my first iPhone, named it after the daughter I never had, began a passive-aggressive half-friendship with the Siri creature that inhabits it, and glued it to the end of my wrist for convenience.

When I wake in the morning, I tell her what I weigh. I play Scrabble on her (only we don’t call it that because of registered trademarks and because she messed up the board). I stroke her repeatedly and raise her to my lips off and on throughout the day (whoa…this personification stuff is getting weird.)

I have her when I’m in a boat (in a ziplock baggie). I have her when I’m with a goat (which just isn’t that often). She tells me how to get here or there. I carry my phone everywhere. She offers up recipes for green eggs and ham and sends me motivational quotes from facebook to convince me of how great I am.

And sometimes, when I’m walking by a creek or lake, I consider chucking her in. It gives me the same thrill that looking over the edge of a high balcony give me–the “What if I just…let…go…” rush.

Well, I won’t, of course. But after suffering through Upgrade Your Siri to Make Her Prettier Day yesterday (also known as the release of iOs7 for the rest of us cult members) I’m again wondering…what ever happened to pen and paper? Or quill and paper? Or sticks and drying clay? After snags and data clogs and surprise shut-downs and all of the other technological hangups that occur in what are supposed to be magically seamless, instantaneous processes, am I really any faster or more productive with this remote brain in hand?

Are you married to a particular toy? (No. Not THAT kind of toy. Sheesh.)