I have my own cell phone now. With my own phone number. We have entered the modern world. We figured with me being out of the home next year and moving from class to class (not sitting in an office somewhere) it would be good for me to have a cell phone. But Paul wouldn't want to be without one. It's how we do long distance. And he goes slogging through marshes on birdwatching adventures. I want him to have the phone with him. So now we have two. Mine is pink. We played with them for an hour last night: taking pictues of each other; making vocal recording to use as ringtones (Paul's has his voice saying "PICK UP THE PHONE!" It's pretty funny); spending a half an hour trying to get Paul's phone OFF speaker phone; calling each other (free mobile to mobile minutes!). It was worth the hour I spent in the alltel store with three children, trying to convince them we didn't need a cell phone that looked like a car and revved its engine when you opened it.
The only problem is no one will take my phone calls on the new phone. I let Paul hve the old number and I got a new one. That was stupid. Paul can't remember his own name but he could tell you every phone number he ever had or every address. I could tell you what I wore on the first day of school my freshman year of high school and the name of every girl who lived on my dorm floor but I don't know what 7x9 is. I wasnt' thinking straight when I had the guy assign the new number to the pink ($9.99!) phone and the old one to the silver ($9.99!) phone.
Maybe I'm rambling. We got home from the pool and I made myself a rum and coke. It was stronger than I intended. Our father's day gift to Paul was a stocked bar. And I mean STOCKED. The kids didn't exactly understand what the gift was. I told them it would be like buying me eggs and flour and sugar. I could make almost anything with that--so it is with all these bottles--Papa can make any drink he wants.
And I'm out.