It happened suddenly. One minute we were together, touching, my hands on his body, as close as always, and then suddenly, out of nowhere, signs of dire distress. It sounded like a heave or a deep sigh. But I heard a click in there somewhere as well. Something more than the whirl of a distant fan. I heard danger. I heard Mac’s finally gasp.
And then, after four years together, nine to ten hours a day, seven days a week, for all 52 weeks of the year – half of those trying to work, the other half simply searching together for answers – it was over.
Lately, he was the first thing I reached for in the morning after my husband, who gets up early, was gone. I pulled him off the table and woke him up from his sleep. I demanded that he bring me the New York Times. That was always the start.
High Tech, Low Tech, and On-line Afflictions
Technology
Apples and Sheep
The real issue is the phone. I am almost at the end of the contract that binds me to Verizon and to my pink Blackberry Curve. It hasn’t been a bad run; I’ve never had an issue with Verizon aside from their draconian tendency to declare a payment “late” five minutes after it’s due, and I mostly like the Blackberry. It has limits, though, the Blackberry – I would like a bigger screen, faster connections, and the ability to play music from my iTunes library. I have long dreamed of a single device that would replace the Blackberry/iPod Touch combo that I now carry everywhere I go for more than five minutes, and that dream could, of course, be answered by an iPhone. That slender, shiny object has long been the Holy Grail of technology about which I have barely allowed myself to dream; we are a Verizon family, I had A Contract, it was Terribly Expensive.
In a world filled with war, poverty and oil spills, it seemed beyond petty to spend time thinking about a phone, even a phone that would play my music, offer me Doodle Jump when my oral surgeon left me in the chair, and allow me to use my index finger to scroll swiftly to the last comment on a post. I do think about it, though, growing faintly fevered as I contemplate the possibilities. No more juggling the Blackberry and the iTouch while driving. No more endless scrolling with the little ball to get to the bottom of a screen. The end of receiving calls asking me if I had intentionally made a phone call when I had, in fact, dialed accidentally through pocket or purse.
The Smart Car
Around 6 years ago, our family took a trip to France. Our friends
have a house in Ramtuelle, a Medieval city built in a circle
overlooking the sparkling Mediterranean. Honest, it does sparkle. We
frolicked on Pamelonne Beach, made famous by the production company
filming And God Created Woman with Brigitte Bardot and we ate at Club
Cinquante Cinque (55).
You know how you often hear “oh, the restaurant’s right on the beach”? Well, Club Cinquante Cinque (55), really, really IS right on the beach. Sitting around a large table in the canvas-shaded patio of this beautiful place, we had no idea how hard it was to get a reservation. Our girls, aged 12 and 7, adapted to the lifestyle like seasoned European travelers. The kids ate everything that came to the table. Fried smelt were eaten like potato chips…that is, until the real thing came along (one of the restaurant’s specialties). Lena and Hannah devoured catch of the day and seasonal vegetables such as artichokes without the usual suspicion, wrinkled noses and coaxing. Score! After 2 weeks in Ramatuelle, we went off to Paris.
A Pedicab?
Yes, a pedicab. That was my ride home last night. Crammed in the back
seat with two friends, and leaving a party far away from downtown, the pedicab,
peddled vigorously by a bearded mountain man named Declan, was our only chance
of getting back to home base (by the way, I’m now convinced that pedicabs
are the most expensive mode of transportation on earth).
We were a few miles away from downtown at a party given by MySpace which featured Nelly as the headlining performer. The crowd at all convention events always seems to be a mixed bag of ages and enthusiasm, which can make it hard to select a performer who resonates with everyone. I forgot, though, that every Nelly song has been in some sort of commercial and that as a result, even your grandmother knows at least one Nelly song (seriously, try it).
My Privacy Policy
Every website has one...and so should you. Don't get me wrong. I LOVE
the Internet. I make my living because of it. I've been shopping on it
since Day 1. Used AOL before there was a World Wide Web when you had to
dial-up to get on. Being married to someone known in our circle as The
Man – because he can fix any computer problem – leads people to believe
that I'm as tech savvy as he is. People are continuously surprised when
they discover how low-tech I actually am. There seems to be a
disconnect when I explain that I just work on the computer, I don't
understand how it works. Sure, I can install software, program my
iPhone and even add more memory to a machine in a pinch, but when it
comes to setting up an email account, using a Blackberry, texting from
my phone or posting a video to YouTube, I have less knowledge than a
5th Grader.
You won't find me on MySpace, Linked In or Facebook. Partially because
I run three websites and want to have a life away from my
computer...though I love it so... but mainly because I find the idea of
"social networking" more than a little creepy. Is it really social if
you're just typing on a computer by yourself?
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