I've been thinking we are using too much technology to communicate, like Dennis texts me from the bedroom when I'm in the kitchen and wants me to bring him something. And even though our kids live right in our neighborhood we rarely go into each other's houses, like if Miranda has texted me that she wishes she had some Goldfish crackers and there is not a thing to eat at her house and she hasn't had breakfast and nobody is home. I will put some Goldfish crackers into a baggie and take them to her, five streets over. (What? That's what Grandma's do!) But when I get to their driveway I text her to come out to the car and get them instead of taking them in.
So, today when I wanted to take a newspaper article to our son and his wife, I decided I would not text from the driveway, even though Jake usually texts Miranda to come out when he is here to pick her up instead of coming in. I pulled up in front of the house, the driveway being full of both their vehicles, and actually got out of the car to go up to the door. Well, I started to. I may have forgotten how to really do that. Because when I opened the car door and stepped out there was a curb and muddy water running in front of it from the rain we had this morning. And I may have gotten my feet mixed up trying to decide whether to jump across the water to the curb or get my purple flip flops wet on the way. And suddenly the decision was taken from me and not only were my purple flip flops muddy but one knee of my pants was in the mud and the rest of me was kind of in the grass, only not really because my rear was in the air and my face was about five inches from the ground. And then I decided to just give in and laid my forehead on the grass while I evaluated if anything was damaged and tried to figure out how to turn over from my front to my back. Okay, I know you fitness freaks, excuse me, nimble young people, can't even comprehend that this would be difficult but, trust me, it is something I've tried before and it doesn't come easy and I already knew that without something to climb up on there was no way I was getting up from that position.
Now, during this time Dennis was sitting in the car waiting to see what I was going to do. He knows from past experience it is best not to make suggestions. He does, however, yell, "Are you okay? Are you okay?" And here is where that technology thing did come in handy. Sort of. "Call Jake," I said, Jake being in the house in front of us, maybe fifty feet away. So Dennis grabs his cell phone, runs through his contact list--No, no one knows anybody's real phone number any more. It's the technological age!--pushes a button and calls our friend, Jack, who lives in Shawnee, Oklahoma.
I hear him saying, "Oh, hi Jack. I guess I called you accidently. I was trying to call my son, Jake. Ya doing okay? Say, listen, let me call you back after I talk to Jake." while I am thrashing around on the ground giving the appearance of having a "Grandma Seizure". (I SAID I was sorry for making fun of the person who mixed up that word! Jeez!) And finally, he gets Jake on the cell phone which makes me happy because sometimes Jake prefers to only respond to texts and if you have ever waited for Dennis to text somebody you know you could write a three page letter, stamp it and send it by snail mail by the time he gets the text written.
But, anyway, Jake came rushing out the door, followed by Robyn, so I got to see them both at once and Jake grabbed onto my hands since I had managed to roll into a semi-sitting position, and pulled me up. And we all had a nice chat about the fact that he seems to have to pull either Dennis or me up a lot and I gave them the newspaper article I had brought and we went back home so I could change out of my muddy pants and purple flip flops while Dennis called Jack back and talked for twenty minutes. And now I am telling you all about it on Social Media. So much for limiting technology,
