Lovin Life Graphic

OK, alright, you got me. Don’t say it. Exactly one day after I spouted off last week about no more snow, Magdalena got blanketed with an inch or two, and although it had mostly melted off by the afternoon, it still counts. In my defense, I was using the prognosticators at the Old Farmer’s Almanac who have been using their secret algorithm to forecast the weather nigh on a hundred years or more. And sunspots never lie.

Now, I’m not saying the Old Farmers don’t know best, what with their knowledge of how and when to apply fertilizer or how to keep squirrels out of your fruit trees, but maybe we could give Millennial farmers a shot at predicting the weather. I’m sure there’s an app for that, but as of yet, I haven’t seen a copy of the “Millennial Farmers Almanac,” if ever there is such a thing. It could be chock full of advice on the latest app for virtual plowing and getting the most out of your lazy robotic farmhand. So much for A.I.

I’m joking, of course, but honestly, I’m just hoping there are those of the Millennial generation who do want to pursue the art of agriculture. It’s a demanding vocation and not for the faint of heart (or back), but there have been some advancements to help matters. I mean, we’ve come a long way since Cyrus McCormick gave us the reaper. And when’s the last time somebody had to hitch up a mule to pull a plow?

Here I go again, revealing my naiveté. Every few days I can’t help but stop and ponder on how computers have changed the way we experience the world. When I stop to think about how remarkable it is, I am also reminded that the people in the Millennial age group take it as normal and ordinary.

You can go shopping in the ether and buy anything from soup to nuts, even if you live out there in Apache Creek, delivered right to your door. I guess that old song about the Wells Fargo wagon coming down the street from The Music Man is still relevant, except now it would be the UPS or FedEx truck.

I know, I know, we’ve had this for a long time, but I was even ruminating about these kinds of things in 1994 when it was new and I first went online through a site called Prodigy on my Packard-Bell computer, and I’m still a little bit awed to this day. I mean, it’s all happened in a little over one generation.

“What hath God wrought?” was Samuel Morse’s first-ever message tapped out in Morse code over the brand spanking new telegraph wire in 1844, and I guess now we know.

But I digress. Even on the ranch, new technology means cattlegrowers can now get wearable devices powered by bovine body heat that can track a cow’s health and use facial recognition to check its food and water consumption. There’s also ag drones and edible barcodes for produce that tells what farm it’s from and which row is was grown on. Lord only knows what they’ll be coming up with by the time Z Generation is ready to farm. I guess that lazy robot farmhand.

As for the rest of it, I’ve been reading that coming soon we’ll have everything from flying driverless taxis to recycled plastic roads that are placed down like Lego blocks.

“What will they come up with next?” I ask rhetorically. Well, there’s a new trend I learned about last year for those who have trouble falling asleep. It’s called ASMR, short for “autonomous sensory meridian response,” and involves listening to a recording of people whispering, tapping, or crinkling up paper. According to devotees of ASMR, it’s supposed to bring about a calming, pleasurable feeling often accompanied by a tingling sensation.

Yes, I tried it out from a Spotify playlist, and no, it didn’t take. I stayed awake trying to figure out what all that whispering was about. It sounded like someone in my head commanding me to get up and go into the kitchen and finish off the ice cream in the freezer.

Speaking of eating, here’s something I can’t wrap my head around. I just read that almost a third of Americans participate in meal-free days at least once a week. That would not include, I assume, teenagers.

On the other hand, 43 percent of workers have a snack drawer. And between you and me, I’d lay odds that some of those professed meal-free people have a well-stocked drawer.

While we’re on the subject, 52 percent of pet owners say they feed their pets better than themselves. On the other hand, 40 percent of Millennial parents eat their adult kids’ leftovers to avoid waste.

Me, I’m having a midnight snack of cold pizza. Waste not, want not.