I'm not ignoring you ... I just can't find my phone

I love technology. I love trying new things. I know that my grandchildren will laugh at this, but I do like to try new things. I’ve never gotten into tweeting and snapchatting. Those who “twit” need to have a following … someone to get my tweets. As of now, I don’t have anyone following me in the tweeting world. So, if I send out my thoughts in thirty-nine or sixty-seven characters, there will be exactly four people who will read them, and they are probably in Russia … or prison.

I tried blogging for a few weeks. You’d think that someone who has been writing a weekly column for twenty years could think of something to “blog.” Lots of people blog, but again, you have to find someone to follow you. There are cooking blogs and travel blogs and fashion blogs, but I’m not a good cook, I don’t travel much, and fashion is not my friend. Maybe I should just blog about being a grandmother whose most exciting experience is water aerobics. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m trying to venture out, fill my senior moments with excitement, and stretch my brain with more than just a daily sudoku puzzle or a crossword. So, the other day I read about something new, exciting, and had “technology” written all over it. I ordered one of those doorbells that sends a video to my phone any time someone comes up on my porch. It’s great. It works fine.

But the problem is that most of the time my phone is somewhere else. It’s either in my thick leather purse, under a mound of sound-deafening tissues, pill bottles, and a pile of various receipts documenting every purchase I’ve made for the last thirty days … or it’s in the bedroom on the other side of the house. Sometimes it’s in the car. Sometimes it’s quiet because three days ago, I put it on silent while I was at church.

Some people wear their phones clipped to their belts. Some have special pockets on the sides of their pants … where every time the phone rings, they can reach it. If these people had a new doorbell that sent a video to them when someone came up on their porch or rang the doorbell, they would pick it up and say, “Sorry, I can’t come to the door right now, just leave that package on the porch … or … We’re Presbyterian, so we don’t need one of your tracts.” Maybe they would know if someone was stealing their clay frog out of the flower bed. But my old-day pants don’t have pockets and I rarely wear a belt.

I’ve missed so many “intruders,” that it’s not funny. You see, with the new doorbell, the old doorbell doesn’t ring. Several times, I’ve wandered through the house to find someone sitting in the chair on my porch waiting for me … They wondered why I didn’t come to the door. They rang the bell. They waited. And in the floorboard of my car, a video of the stranger was showing up on my phone.

I’ll get better. I’m a fast learner. I will figure out a way to carry my phone with me. I may have to buy some pants with pockets. I’ll figure out how to turn it on more quickly. I’ll learn how to fool those people into thinking I’m busy and can’t come to the door … even though I’m ninety miles away and won’t be home for three days. 

It’s going to take a little work, but it will be OK because I love technology and trying new things.