WEDNESDAY UPDATE: Hi, Guys. When I tried to log on this morning, blogger wouldn't let me, and now it's a little late in the day. I'll post something new tomorrow. It's going to be about dreams and dreaming, I think. Meanwhile, these comments will stay open. xxoo NP
Yesterday evening, I did something out of character. I called East Aurora, New York and talked by speaker phone to a book club there. They were at the home of one of the members. I was sitting in my rocking chair in my living room. What a world. What a century. But the thing of it is, I hate the telephone.
I've always hated it, dagnabbed newfangled contraption!
My first memory of the phone is of it ringing for me when I was twelve, and my mother whispering it was a friend calling, and me whispering back to please tell her I was in the bathtub. I loved my friends, but just did not want to take that phone from my mother's hand. I think I would have more readily taken a snake from her. Or a Snickers or Almond Joy, which I also loathed.
You want to know how to piss me off? Be with me somewhere and talk on the phone to somebody and then say brightly to them, "Here's Nancy! I'll put her on!" And then hold out the phone while I do that dance where you wave your arms in front of you all the while mouthing NO NO.
What is it with us phone-phobes anyway? There are a lot of us. Email was heaven-sent to us, believe me. It's so wonderful. We interrupt nobody. Nobody interrupts us. They answer if and when they want to, and ditto for us.
The book club chat, by the way, was nice. They were lovely. I was pretty comfortable talking to them, but I think that is because I was talking "at" them, answering questions, and such.
How are you with the phone? Like it? Hate it? Don't give it a thought?
Tell me in the comments. DON'T call me!