The kicking and screaming ended last Friday. No, this does not mean I'm going to create a FaceBook account. Maybe I'll do that when I'm in my sixties.
I joined the cell phone world.
I took this plunge with Son3, without whose needs and desires my heels may have remained entrenched far beyond this day: "You are? Well, hold off a day or two, and let me scout-out family plans. This may be the prompting I needed to get one, myself, and we could save you some money that way."
I had, after all, just a few days earlier, wondered to myself what would become of me, if I had a flat tire on this gravel road; not another soul with me in the vehicle, temperature in the 20s, and no shopping cart to aid me with the long walk home. Hitch a ride on a cow? I wonder if I should get a cell phone. I made it to the blacktop that day on all four tires, but that stranded-thought had been simmering on a back burner and came to a boil with Son3's mention of getting a cell phone, himself.
An impromptu decision was made, when all manner of bits and pieces came together in a hastily held conversation with Charles on Friday, and when we landed in the third cell phone provider's storefront that afternoon, they confirmed that they could, indeed, provide service in our home, situated in the midst of You Live Where?.
"No, we don't want that. Naw, we won't need this. Huh-uh, we won't be doing that with them," were the repeated replies from both Son3 and me, as the representative offered various bells and whistles. It was an hours-long process, but we did walk out with two phones, and I spent the evening and whole weekend getting acquainted with Cell World: What's this button? How do I do that? Where's my ___? Did I just buy something? C'mere quick! I think I may have just accidentally bought something! Quite an exercise in how'd I get this old and still be this stupid?
With feet wetted and the urgings of every Cell World member we know, by Monday we were ready to return to the store and sheepishly admit we might want outgoing text service after all.
Over the weekend, I'd tangled myself more than once in the cord to the ear bud and experienced the oops, when it dropped out of my ear during a call. I was finding the stuffing of all that paraphernalia into my purse, then wrestling with the mess as I removed it, was more than a small nuisance. Brilliant they are, placing the rack of blueteeth (←because I say so, now hush) directly behind the representative's desk. While he was making changes in our service, I was fingering bluetoothusses and beginning to ask questions.
With the scales quickly tipping in favor of a bluetoof, the rep asked, "Which phone did you choose? I don't remember."
"The LD," I replied, as I reached into my purse to retrieve the mass of phone-and-wire. We were walking toward the counter with my chosen bluetoof, and in the few steps that required, I heard a little noise from Son3, behind me, and simultaneously felt brain synapses firing. "No wait. That's not right. LD is learning disabled. That's me! Life's Good. The phone is an LG."
I'm fitted with a bluetoof now. I'm a big girl. Son2 exclaimed that he's proud of me for getting a cell phone, and I corrected: pleased with. Even if I wasn't learning disabled in Cell World, I wouldn't want him to entertain pride, and I was quick to accidentally send him the same text twice, punctuating the expulsion of pride and prompting recognition of his mother's membership in Cell World Learning Disabled.
Admittedly, I'm pretty excited now about having a cell phone and sporting a fashion forward earring. In spite of my LD condition, Life's Good.
I joined the cell phone world.I took this plunge with Son3, without whose needs and desires my heels may have remained entrenched far beyond this day: "You are? Well, hold off a day or two, and let me scout-out family plans. This may be the prompting I needed to get one, myself, and we could save you some money that way."
I had, after all, just a few days earlier, wondered to myself what would become of me, if I had a flat tire on this gravel road; not another soul with me in the vehicle, temperature in the 20s, and no shopping cart to aid me with the long walk home. Hitch a ride on a cow? I wonder if I should get a cell phone. I made it to the blacktop that day on all four tires, but that stranded-thought had been simmering on a back burner and came to a boil with Son3's mention of getting a cell phone, himself.
An impromptu decision was made, when all manner of bits and pieces came together in a hastily held conversation with Charles on Friday, and when we landed in the third cell phone provider's storefront that afternoon, they confirmed that they could, indeed, provide service in our home, situated in the midst of You Live Where?.
"No, we don't want that. Naw, we won't need this. Huh-uh, we won't be doing that with them," were the repeated replies from both Son3 and me, as the representative offered various bells and whistles. It was an hours-long process, but we did walk out with two phones, and I spent the evening and whole weekend getting acquainted with Cell World: What's this button? How do I do that? Where's my ___? Did I just buy something? C'mere quick! I think I may have just accidentally bought something! Quite an exercise in how'd I get this old and still be this stupid?
With feet wetted and the urgings of every Cell World member we know, by Monday we were ready to return to the store and sheepishly admit we might want outgoing text service after all.Over the weekend, I'd tangled myself more than once in the cord to the ear bud and experienced the oops, when it dropped out of my ear during a call. I was finding the stuffing of all that paraphernalia into my purse, then wrestling with the mess as I removed it, was more than a small nuisance. Brilliant they are, placing the rack of blueteeth (←because I say so, now hush) directly behind the representative's desk. While he was making changes in our service, I was fingering bluetoothusses and beginning to ask questions.
With the scales quickly tipping in favor of a bluetoof, the rep asked, "Which phone did you choose? I don't remember."
"The LD," I replied, as I reached into my purse to retrieve the mass of phone-and-wire. We were walking toward the counter with my chosen bluetoof, and in the few steps that required, I heard a little noise from Son3, behind me, and simultaneously felt brain synapses firing. "No wait. That's not right. LD is learning disabled. That's me! Life's Good. The phone is an LG."
I'm fitted with a bluetoof now. I'm a big girl. Son2 exclaimed that he's proud of me for getting a cell phone, and I corrected: pleased with. Even if I wasn't learning disabled in Cell World, I wouldn't want him to entertain pride, and I was quick to accidentally send him the same text twice, punctuating the expulsion of pride and prompting recognition of his mother's membership in Cell World Learning Disabled.
Admittedly, I'm pretty excited now about having a cell phone and sporting a fashion forward earring. In spite of my LD condition, Life's Good.
| Keep yourselves in the love of God, looking for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life. Jude 1:21 |
3 comments:
welcome to the world of the cell phone -
I am glad you will now be able to call for help should you ever need to - and will pray you never need to do so!
I slip mine in my pocket when I venture outside for wood just in case i manage to slip and fall.
I realized rather quickly that when I carry my cell phone with me to the market - I never hear the darn thing ring - the music ring tones just blend into the store's constant 'muzak' playing in the background.
Since son gets aggravated that I do not pick up his call to tell me he is on the way to get me etc -
we finally found one ring tone that I can hear....
it's a cow mooing!
loudly - and increasing in volume bleating louder and louder - until it registers on my brain that a cow mooing in the market is not an everyday experience - ergo - it must be my blasted cell phone!
moos to you from willow
Well, I laughed aloud over your ringtone (see, I'm learning the lingo too) and all it entails. It's an absolute hoot. In fact, I'm coveting your moo.
Two of us in one room, one in the adjacent room, (and who knows where the 4th was), as I cycled through default ringtones, all 3 of us said at the same time, with varied verbiage, that's the one!: "Oh, I like that one." "That sounds like you." And, "That one sounds just like you. It sounds like Jane Austen."
It is a dreamy little tune, but if I had a limitless choice, I'd probably be oinking...or mooing, as you are. I love to laugh. But I suppose a little proper decorum in dust-collecting corners of my being won't hurt me. At least for a while. ºÜº
Not bad article, but I really miss that you didn't express your opinion, but ok you just have different approach
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