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The other woman

I am in a love-hate relationship with the other woman. Her name is Magellan and she has this very calming voice, even when she is giving us the wrong freaking directions. Magellan, our GPS, is actually my husband's girl. She has replaced me as the official map reader and navigator on our travels (travails). This other woman was supposed to curb our stress level and keep our bickering to a minimum. I, as the map reader like to have all the instructions plotted before we leave the parking lot, my husband likes to start up the car and go, which starts us arguing right away, because if he takes the wrong turn out of the parking lot, I have to throw out my directions and look at the map again. Magellan has ended those arguments, but even if she doesn't snap at my husband or give him the silent treatment, she is not always perfect either and this other woman has changed the way the two of us navigate our way through life.

Before Magellan, my husband and I had to up our learning curves on major roads in whatever city we were on. We paid attention to street names, buildings, place markers, construction. We really looked carefully, trying to keep our sense of direction on keen. When we got lost, we tried to get unlost on our own and that has lead to some interesting conversations with people. Getting lost was part of the adventure. Getting lost is how we found that seafood restaurant in San Diego or the great salmon salad in Vancouver. With Magellan, we don't get lost per se. I miss that. Our biggest dilemma is whether we're going to choose the fastest route, shortest route, least freeways or least toll booths. She responds when you call her name and she takes orders. She doesn't, however, play well with others. When we were in Houston, we were following our friends and they had their own gps, so we both put in the same direction, but they did not go the way Magellan wanted to go. She nicely said "recalculating" and "make a u turn at the next light" about five times and after that, guess what? She started giving us the silent treatment. That's what you call habute!

Still, for a British sounding chick, we found out that she can actually pronounce Kilauea Avenue. I guess we'll keep her.

The reason why I
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