Tomorrow could be a different list, but right now, I love:
1. fluffy socks! it’s cold in the meat locker!
2. peanut butter cookies made by my honey!
3. a cool novel available on Kindle for free for a couple more days…check it out, The Tower’s Alchemist by Alesha L. Escobar
4. my iPad cuz it’s full of my favorite music
5. this guy
6. my baby brother
On April 3rd, Apple is going to release its iPad and here I am contributing to their marketing plan and I’m not even going to buy one. I’m not going to say never, but if I were to be buying any Apple products, it would be to replace my stolen MacBook Pro. Yes. I said stolen, right out from under my nose. It resides in the boy’s bedroom across the hall these days.
But I digress. This little reflection is about my awful little flip phone that chirps like a Star Trek communicator. Every time I pop it open to take a call (I still do that) or attempt to text (nearly impossible—thank heavens for opposable thumbs) I have a giddy moment of Trekkie joy.
Every time. I’m not lying; it’s fleeting but true.
Lucky for me I am surrounded by Trekkies and Trekkers (you can follow the political debate about the names here), but over the years I have gone somewhat underground with my fangirl obsession. It’s not that I am ashamed of it, I just sadly realized that fewer and fewer of my students were getting the cultural references. Part of me feels that perhaps they are just living in silly little vacuums of ignorance, but my own children look at me funny when I suggest something reminds me of Trek, any Trek.
Except that maybe Chris Pine has done a lot for the franchise. They know who he is, but again, that’s just another distraction from my point isn’t it? See what I mean about being a fan? The mere thought of Star Trek sets me into ramble mode.
I was talking about my flip phone – the antique mess from Samsung. Yuck. Its only redeemable quality in this world of smart phones is my continued delusion that I am 8 years old and pretending to be on an away mission (in any color shirt but red, of course).
I may have to turn in the faux communicator for a real 21st century phone soon. Even when it was new it was a terrible phone, but I’m not in a great big hurry to get an iPhone or a Droid (if I tell myself that maybe I’ll believe it). I’ll miss flipping it open and cherishing that moment where life imitates art.
Of course, if they ever figure out how to turn my pretty gold brooch into a communicator, all bets are off.
