I think I’ve mentioned before that when different stories, or “memories” come to mind, I jot them down - either here on the computer; or in my BlackBerry if I’m out of the apartment (or in bed!); or even on any piece of paper available, if I have a pencil.
WARNING! I’m going to start relating one “short” incident after another, including what I can remember about it, then move on to the next one. I don’t mind admitting, that if more incidents on that subject come to mind, I very likely will extend that into its own “posting” on this blog.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Cell Addiction
This morning, right after breakfast, I headed out to the Speedway Station on Upper Valley Pike, to get cash from the Chase ATM for my trip to Florida tomorrow, when I’ve planned a visit with our granddaughter Kelly and her family.
I left in kind of a hurry, since I’ve got a lot of things to do today - not the least of which is to finish packing my “pull along carry-on” suitcase. But, I didn’t want to miss breakfast!
Since it was a little “chilly” this AM, I got out my light jacket and my blue cap, and “rushed” out the door. I wanted to get back in time for our daily exercise program. I’ll miss a week of it starting tomorrow, while I’m on vacation.
In addition, I have an 11:00 o’clock appointment with the ENT clinic for a check up and adjustment of my Unitron hearing aids. And, some time today, I need to write a check for my monthly stay at The Grand Court. (The other bills basically are paid automatically by my bank - when due.)
So, I was in a hurry. (I have to explain my goof some way)
About half way there, something caused me to reach for my Cell Phone, normally connected to my belt. Probably a bell ringing on the radio, or something.
Whoa!!!
Where is it? It wasn’t on the side seat of the car. It hadn’t fallen on the floor.
Where IS it?
Suddenly, as if a light went on over my head, I recalled plugging in the battery charger to the phone after coming back from breakfast. Dummy me, I left it OFF the charger all night, and the battery was very low. Uncharacteristically, I then went out the door without my BlackBerry!
“Oh well”, I thought. “I won’t miss it for a half hour.”
Ya wanna bet?
“Wow”, I thought. “This would make a nice story for my blog. I’d better note it on my BlackBerry so I don’t forget. (Beat) Oh……I don’t HAVE my BlackBerry, It’s at home on the charger.” What’ll I write it on? Nothing.
So, all the way there and back I kept saying to myself “Cell addiction”, “Cell addiction. Cell addiction."
I thought I might suffer some withdrawal symptoms, since I am definitely addicted - but I didn‘t. At least I don’t think I did.
What ARE the “withdrawal symptoms”? How would I know if I had them?
Maybe a “nervous twitch”? Or a “runny nose”? Or constantly saying, “Cell addiction”, “Cell addiction”, “Cell addiction“. How would I know?
I did make it through the ATM withdrawal OK.
I thought I should check my “Shopping List” on my BlackBerry, as I do every time I go out. I find it is helpful for a “forgetting” guy like me to have a “list” to follow for shopping purposes. I started to check it - it wasn’t there!
What else is going on today? I’d better not forget. Check my daily “date book” on the BlackBerry. Oops, no BlackBerry.
Check to see if I’d missed any calls. No phone!
(Can you take anything for this nervous “tick” in my right cheek?)
Is someone missing? I seem so alone.
When I finally got back to the apartment, I grabbed up the BlackBerry right away to check. No phone calls. No e-mails. No text messages. Not even any “daily reminders”, such as five minutes before Exercise time. (It was too early for that.) It was just sitting there on the bedside table, “not doin’ nothin’”. Calm as could be.
I guess I DID get along for a half-hour without it, AND, the phone got along OK without me, sad to say.
I MIGHT have said, IF I was hooked, “Did you miss me? I’m terribly sorry I left you right here by yourself.”
I didn’t, and I wasn’t missed.
But, WOW, it sure seemed strange to not have that “crutch” hanging from my belt - ringing or not. Just knowing it’s there, gives me a sense of “belonging”.
Hold it right there! I’m not THAT “bonkers”, am I?
Don’t answer that.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Jenny
Jean and I “inherited” a cute little French Poodle named “Mademoiselle Genevieve” - a French name, of course, but we right away called her “Jenny”.
She belonged to our 2 year old second grandson, Bobby. His mom and dad bought her from George and Kathy Key, here in Springfield.
She was a cute, fluffy doggie with gray hair.
I think Bobby liked her, at first. However, after a fairly short time, he got so he didn’t like her. I THINK it might have been her breath, since he called her “Yukky, yukky Jenny.” It might also have been because of where they lived at Cleveland, or the neighborhood, or something else. I’ve asked him to tell me what he remembers.
“Under-bite and bad breath”, he said.
For whatever reason, he gave her to Grandma Jean, and she was DELIGHTED to get her! I thought she was a real cute and nice dog, but I didn’t get as attached to her as Jean did.
Jean held her in her lap quite a lot, even when she was reading, or watching television, or telling me how much she loved me. She DID do that, you know. We told each other that - OFTEN! (How do you think we stayed married for 65 years?)
Jenny was not always the nice, cute little creature that we loved so well. Sometimes, especially when we were not home, she seemed to get real angry, because she began “tearing up” our sofa. We thought it was because she was angry with our leaving her. Who knows?
One especially bad time, was when she tore up the sofa while we were at the Dayton Airport, picking up Mel Johnson - for meetings and the WEEC SHARATHON. We came home, and the sofa was a mess!
Jean was chagrined! Especially just before such well known company had arrived.
In later years, Mel always stayed at the Holiday Inn when he came. I hadn’t thought about it, but was it because of Jenny? Nah…..I’m sure it wasn’t.
As poodles go, Jenny was a rather small dog, but when she realized a dog (large or small) was walking by on the sidewalk, she became almost berserk. We’d open up the door, and she would go “tearing” across the porch to the ground, never even using the steps, but would stop before getting to the sidewalk where the dog was. They were ALL larger than she was.
Over time, Jenny became a real buddy to Jean - like when I was gone to the Office all day, and especially when I would go away to NRB in Washington DC for nearly a week.
On New Year’s Eve, when we had our grandchildren here, Jenny joined right in for the celebration of banging on pots and pans at midnight. She would run outside right away, looking for who knows what.
I don’t know how many years Jean had Jenny, but they were joyful for her, for sure.
I enjoyed her also.
Mademoiselle Genevieve was a nice dog!
No comments:
Post a Comment