Being Amish


My name is Karen and I have decided to become Amish.

No, not because I love the gray wool dresses or the boxy hats. Not because I desperately want to ride in a buggy behind a big old horse.  Nope.

I am not becoming Amish so that I can “break” out and have a crazy two month drunken druggy orgy.

And its not because I have long yearned for my chance to have a reality TV show.   Nope.  That’s not it.

I am becoming Amish, as soon as humanly possible, for one reason only.


Can you even imagine such a paradise?   Wow.

No need to check Facebook every 42 seconds.  No need to peek at Twitter, or scan all those emails.

Good God in his glorious Heaven: No possibility of checking Pinterest to find out who is cuter, more clever or more adorable than you are.


No desperate 40 minutes spent with sweat pouring off your brow as you frantically try to recall your latest password, consisting of letter/number combinations with at least two symbols.  “Is it KMShiebie!!” or “kshie4872$%@!”?  Could it be “thisSucks84***” or “ThisSUCKs84??” or “THISsUCKs8$4” or “JustF’nShootMeNow3!@!”?

Nope. The Amish would never waste time with crap like this.  They are too busy milking nice docile cows or spinning wool or baking bread or reading nice boring predictable scripture.

I am so ready to get down with that.

When the Amish want to make plans for Saturday night, they walk calmly into the kitchen and check the calendar that is hanging on the wall.

They don’t boot up the damn laptop, try to remember the password (Is it “wHattheHELL721%^&”?) so that they can find the Google Calendar, then try to find the target date.

When the Amish want to contact a friend, they pick up a phone and dial.  Or they walk across the scenic village in their sturdy shoes, knock on the rustic wooden door and sit down to a cup of fresh, hot coffee while they have a face to face conversation.

They don’t try frantically for three straight hours to log into their email (Crap.  Is it “MYname1234#@” or “Iamsoawesome999!!!”?) so they can type out a quick question to see if their best friend is home right now.

They wouldn’t bother.

The Amish have things to do, places to go, people to see.

They don’t care if the mute button on the Chromebook is stuck, or if the Linkdin update for their brother has just come in.  They don’t worry about the fact that they cannot manage to synch the home GoogleCal with the work GoogleCal so how the hell can they know if they are free for dinner on the tenth?

The Amish just tromp purposefully across the barnyard, kick a chicken out of the way and ask, “You want some dumplings on the tenth?”

I am SO becoming Amish.

Right after I check Facebook.


22 thoughts on “Being Amish

  1. Yesterday, I had a sad and funny reminder of how bizarre our society has become because of the internet. When I first got my facebook account, an older man in our community who volunteered with organizations with which I worked, friended me. Shortly after that, he had some unexpected health problems and passed away. His facebook account was never deactivated. Yesterday would have been his birthday, and a friend of mine actually posted, “Happy birthday, Ken. I hope you have a great day.” She obviously never had a real relationship with the man or she would have known that he has been dead for almost four years!


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