It's Not Really a Phone

I love that Zits comic strip. Even though my stepchildren are of legal age, it gives me little glimpses and reminders of the teenage years.

My latest fave featured the teenager ignoring the ringing cell phone. In the final frame, he tells his father, "If it was important, they would've texted me."

I'm about 50 years and a hundred light years away from this fictional character. Yet, I get it.

Remember the big freakin' deal when President Obama didn't want to give up his Blackberry? I get it.

Charleton Heston said he would give up his guns "when they pried him from his cold, dead hands." I'm starting to have that kind of attachment to my phone.

Except, it's not really meant to be a phone. It's a message receptor. I can get emails and text messages. And like Zits, I am far more likely to respond to an email or a text.

My reception must be horrible. My mother tells me this all the time.

But for those of us who tend to speak without thinking, the keyboard has proven to be a Godsend.

Bragging Rights

Do you get annoyed with people who send holiday newsletters telling you of their travels to Europe, peppered with the news of Jr. becoming a vice president and baby girl junior is president of the local Junior League? Grandchildren have all made the honor roll and at least one is certain to be the president of his or her fraternity/sorority. For that moment in time, their biggest problem might be grubs in the lawn.

One of my favorite traditions, and one I miss dearly, was when the girlfriends/workout group would gather in my kitchen and vote on the most obnoxious and braggy Christmas letter received. My friend Big Sal always won -- she knows a lot of important people who feel the need to brag about it. She could not be more down-to-earth and that's probably why people are drawn to her.

We all read between the lines when someone is bragging.

The bragging is often earned because something was survived. Maybe the children simply survived divorce. Maybe the unexpected pregnancy turns out to be the valedictorian. The grandchild with the learning disorder might be fueling his brain cells in a Bill Gates direction. Or helping the homeless. Or simply being a smart person who doesn't wear a hoodie and pack a gun. Or finds hope in a world that can sometimes seem hopeless.

Even though I make fun of it, I understand the need to say, "Look at our family -- look at this great thing that happened in our life."

I've had the honor and privilege to be a co-mamma, and a stepmother. And one of the issues brought to my attention during the divorce was my family/stepfamily/co-family did not always appreciate my thoughts going out there for the world to absorb. So, I have tried to comply but now I'm going to backslide for a quick second.

My stepdaughter eloped recently. I watched her through high school, college and law school. I cheered her a lot and we traded "what is wrong with you" conversations at times. I'm proud of her and this marriage she's chosen. I'm bragging.

My stepson was just accepted into the accelerated graduate program. He is starting his senior year in college and one year after that he will earn his master's degree. Not only will it save time but having those credit hours working double time will save a phenomenal amount of money. His parents have earned the bragging rights but I'm feeling the need to puff out my lungs and shout a bit too.