I am waiting for my friend to tell me what’s up with the iphone so I can get rid of my current phone.  The only thing I will miss from this phone are three messages stored on it. For posterity, I will share them with you.  The first two are texts.  I had just learned to text in November 2007, so I tried it out from the hospital.

“Praise God! Welcome Paul! I am so proud of you, SP. Old Hat”

From: Rebecca   “Baby boy micah stillborn this morning 😦 ”  I know this is sad, but my friend has said she doesn’t want people to forget Micah.  I have promised not to do that, but I have other ways to remember, not just text messages.

I rarely looked at them, but I knew they both were there.  The third message is a little different.  I am the sort of person who has a hard time with numbers.  When my husband presented me with my cell phone on Christmas 2002 he didn’t take that into account.  My cell phone number has no repeating digits and is not significant to my life in any way whatsoever.  It took me forever to memorize it.  I am the person who visits with the phone company lady when I move, asking nicely if a different number is available because I know I won’t remember the one she suggested.  So far they have been accommodating.  I am very much looking forward to getting a new cell phone number.  This is why. 

When Leo poops in the potty (a rare enough occurrance) he gets two phone calls.  Usually Grandma hears about it or Aunt Julie and nearly always Daddy.  Yesterday I dialed Daddy’s cell number and handed the phone to Leo.  Leo said,  “What’s that sound? What was that sound?  Daddy I pooped in the potty, bye bye.” then I came on, “Are you there?” then I hung up thinking we had GD’s voicemail.  Nope, it was my voice mail.  Yeah, I dialed my cell phone, but I didn’t figgure that out until the next day when I had a voicemail, which I generally discourage by having my SIL record my message as, “You have reached Wildflower’s voicemail, but she doesn’t know how to answer it, so don’t leave a message.”  Finally I get my number memorized and wham, I forget my husband’s cell number.

 

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