We want your telephone number.

The Girl Scouts want my social security number to verify I'm safe around my daughter and her friends during GS activities. Google wants my telephone number in case my blog gets hijacked or I lose my password. The library wants to see my driver's license every now and then to make sure it's really me checking out the latest bestseller. The United States government wants to see my in my altogether before I can board a plane. Every website I visit wants to leave a few unsavory cookies on my computer to track my interests.

I am not comfortable with mandatory identity-proving procedures, the loss of privacy, and the increased demand by governmental and commercial entities for personal information. I am more comfortable with anonymity. (I know, that seems a bit perverse considering the very public nature of this blog.)

It's insidious. Gradually, over time, I've grown accustomed to the relentless demand for personal information everywhere I go, from the grocery store to my kids' schools. I am asked to share my address, telephone number, and social security number for a background check, my socioeconomic status and interests "for marketing purposes," and proof of medical insurance and liability waiver to have my cholesterol checked.


I am pragmatic about the reasons for these intrusions. I recognize that our culture and way of life are in flux, wrestling with the transition from everybody-is-the-same to an uneasy imbalance among government, commercial, and personal interests.

Another morning is dawning. I'm packing school lunches, Preschool Phonics gear, and freelance paperwork for several projects due today while I hold down the fort at Dunwoody Nature Center as interim director.

I'm also making sure I have my driver's license, insurance card, frequent customer card for the grocery store, checking account card, credit card, smart phone with contact information, remote log in for my desktop, personal hotspot, and memorized passwords and user names for the many accounts I work on each day ... without which, I could not function at all and all of which reveal so much about my personal life to strangers around the world.

Kinda creepy, isn't it?

Road trip to Savannah to see Miss Daisy

My daughter's Girl Scout troop is disbanding, but not without a last "hurrah." We trooped en masse to Savannah to visit the home of grande dame of Girl Scouting, Juliette Gordon Low. I wish AG's Girl Scout life were continuing, but she does not wish to merge with the other troop from her school that is staying intact.

We had a very good time, AG and I. She is a wonderful traveler, happy to try new things, mindful of her manners, and genuinely grateful for the experiences she enjoyed. Favorites: trying embroidery and making paper dolls in the Rainy Day experience at the Juliette Gordon Low museum, exploring Savannah after dark during a Haunted House tour, passing Paula Deen's Lady and Sons Restaurant during the trolley tour, and seining at Tybee Island with the Maritime Science Center staff. Our fearless troop leaders planned a fun-filled and well organized trip. As AG said, "there was nothing BAD about this entire trip!"

While the girls toured a candy shop, I slipped away for a LYS visit. Wild Fibre on Liberty Street had earned some good reviews when I Googled it, so I was full of anticipation. Oh, dear. Not a good experience. Three genteel knitters chatted away in one area of the shop while I visited. I found a very meager stock of yarn and patterns, and lovely samples without yarns available for purchase. As I explored, the discussion among the knitters zigged from "should we order lunch?" to a general agreement that tourists and visitors are just exasperating, especially those "military" women. I have no idea what the latter means, but I took thorough exception to their disdain.

Note to LYS inhabitants: the touristy-looking visitor spending some time in your shop can hear, may have been ready to purchase LOTS of yarn for a project she wants to start, and is very, very patriotic. Shame on you.

In case you aren't a Girl Scout, the "Miss Daisy" reference in the title isn't from "Driving Miss Daisy," a marvelous movie filmed in Atlanta's Druid Hills neighborhood. "Daisy" was Juliette Gordon Low's childhood nickname.

Unexpected blessings

Today's Scout Sunday service went off without a hitch, despite 20-degree temps, snow on the ground, occasional patches of ice and an incorrect notice on the local news that the entire service had been canceled. Oops.

So many things made the morning extra special. Crisp blue skies, snow still on the ground and frigid air just made the sanctuary all the cozier. A founding member of our church celebrated her 100th birthday. Our knitting circle presented her with a prayer shawl and the congregation rang the rafters with an ovation. Six babies and children were baptized. A large contingent of Troop 764 scouts, leaders, and parents led and participated in the service. Nearly every boy who'd volunteered was there. The weather and three-day weekend were great excuses to opt out, but they proudly served.

While I've been thinking about the next knitting projects in the queue, KA, who is a member of our church knitting circle and chair of the Outreach committee, has been thinking selflessly about the needs of others. The homeless shelter in downtown Atlanta needs caps and scarves immediately. I'd just finished a prayer shawl and turned it in, so now I'm setting aside Jaywalker for a couple of weeks while I whip up some warmth in manly colors.

Tomorrow is T's birthday (one of those epochal decade markers), but he's traveling on business. The kids and I are taking him out for lunch today and celebrating with cake and presents this evening. He loves German Chocolate cake - the house is going to smell really good this afternoon!