Email, Twitter, Facebook--OH MY!

I just got an email and I don't know what to think. The sender used no emoticon. Furthermore, they didn't use an exclamation point after my name (not happy 2 hear from me?)--they used a comma (I thought we were friends), but TG they didn't use a period (gasp! are u mad at me?).

Our use of technology (please note I didn't say technology but rather, the way we use it) has turned us into a bunch of paranoid suckers, bleeding all over the keyboard while pecking away like drones. "Why r u smiling?" we ask our friend at the lunch table. "Nothing," she says. She is caught in the tractor beam of her iPhone. We don't worry; she is probably texting us right now with the link to whatever made her smile. Smiling is the physical representation of the colon followed by a parenthesis; which came first, do you know? I mean, do u know?

I can write in cursive but my kids cannot. Our county is not required 2 teach it. I understand that; kids now present in Power Point; laser printed papers r preferred 2 handwritten. I ask y then isn't typing a required subject. R children shud no qwerty 2 b mor fishent on keybrd. Srsly, if they're gon enter work force b w/you, I want them 2 have skilz. R they gon print their names where their contracts ask for "Signature" or can they just use their avatars?

But even that's beside the point. When before We Wrote Letters--sometimes even writing them on scrap paper in pencil before copying them in pen onto the stationery we received on our birthdays--we thought about what we had to say. We pondered our words before giving them life. The letter had a journey to make, after all. When we licked the envelope (mmm! minty!) and put on that stamp, we knew our thoughts would take three days to arrive at the home of our beloved friend. We could picture our friend clearly, looking at the return address and skipping--no leaping!--because the letter was from us. So we often drew stickmen on the envelope so that our friend would enjoy the experience of us even sooner.

Checking the mailbox was once rated top of the list of enjoyable things in home life. Hearing the phone ring was on the irritating list.

I post a Tweet, then stay on--Did anyone reply? Did someone think it was funny? Let me check my four email accounts. Why has that person not responded? I wrote them an hour ago! Are they out of town? Did they get my email, it was raining, you know, maybe their line went down. Or they're mad at me--yes, that's it. They don't like me anymore or, no, no they're dead! Their status hasn't been updated in TWENTY-SIX minutes.

OMG! *sips Monster, takes deep breath*

Okay, they have five more minutes. Five minutes to respond or I swear I'm going to poke them.

What a Wonderful Day!

This morning has a bit of a chill, not quite sixty degrees but the sky is happy blue with feathery clouds and the sun is warming everything up. (♬Mr. Bluebird's on my shoulder. It's true! It's actual! Everything is satisfactual!♬)

I thought I'd be all nature-y and take my laptop outside and be inspired by all that is around me. Not working. I can barely see the screen because my apertures are accommodating for my bright backyard; I could turn around, but I'd be facing the wall and my dirty windows. Plus, this table is wobbly. My cappucino has twice sloshed dangerously close to my laptop.

♬ Zip-a-dee-do-dah, zip-a-dee-ay, COME ON! You know the words! ♬ My, oh, my, what a wonderful day! ♬

I found Violet Raines in Germany!

Tooling around the Internet last night and look what I found:

The German to English translation is "The Summer I was Almost Hit by Lightning." Click here to listen to the title in German!

Regarding School Visits

Me: I'm visiting your school in a few weeks.

Son: I'm going to be sick that day.

Dogs and Cough Drops

My dog likes cough drops.

I discover her chewing on something, wrangle her to the floor, and retract tattered wrappers from her unyielding jaws. She wags her tail, licks my face--"I've done nothing wrong"--and I am bathed in the scent of warm mentholyptus.

My kids worry about her.

"I think it's okay," I say. "Look--she's not coughing."