Hello

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Longmire and mi madre: the remnants of a species bereft of cell phones.

And now, Longmire stands alone.

Last weekend my mom purchased her first cell phone; this week she’s learning to send texts and the fun of conversing with the Swedes, in real time.

Of course, she’s also having to remember to bring it home from work and charge the battery, as well as the drudgery of being expected to be reached at all times.

You know, that reminds me — on August 4, 1922 Alexander Graham Bell was laid to rest. In memorandum, all telephone service in the United Sates and Canada was silenced for one minute. Thirteen million phones; not a single call.

Can you imagine such tomfoolery nowadays?

Yet even the man credited with patenting the first telephone understood the importance of taking a step back. On his seventy-fifth birthday — just a few months shy of his death — he admitted to refusing a telephone in his private study.

It seems the man knew a thing or two. Perhaps we should take note.

With that, I hope you’ve the chance to disconnect this weekend, if even for a moment; to recharge in solitude; to reconnect with those you love, not through a screen, but in person. . .

xo

“Teenie” gifts

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This week we bid adieu to the “office manager.”

It took us aback, really. We were not at all prepared for her rapid decline. Not that we should be surprised, mind. She was notorious for doing things her way. When she wanted something, she didn’t mess around–from the moment she first opened her eyes.

You see, fifteen years ago my brother brought home a stray cat in heat. Dream gift, no doubt.

Weirder than a three dollar bill, we dubbed her Newman and put her under house arrest until she could be fixed. Alas, she succeeded in a daring escape, returning weeks later, knocked up–ultimately leaving us for good, with a passel of kittens in need of good homes.

Thankfully, kind and lovely friends came to our rescue–and the smallest of the bunch hissed at every single one. Oh dear, we’d say. She never hisses–she’s really quite sweet. But our friends would take one look at the runt of a calico hissing in the corner and opt for another.

So Teenie Longfellow became our own.

For the past fifteen years she has been a faithful companion–the one hogging the office chair, supervising housework, and lounging about whilst watching action movies (her personal favorite).

She was always near.

But Sunday, for the first time in years, she was not sitting outside my door, waiting to usher me in for coffee. Sunday afternoon, she could no longer jump up on her favorite chair. Monday, I knelt down beside her, whispered my love, and kissed her head goodbye.

As you might imagine, I’ve cried more tears than I’d care admit. But friends have shared the burden: a co-worker brought in a wee bouquet of bright, cheery flowers; friends took Teenie and buried her on their property; my love gave me a box of chocolates, with the kindest of cards + a handwritten note (a handwritten note; seriously, I love that fellow).

And you? Well, I hope you might fill the coming days with a few of Teenie’s favorite things: lounge about and nap; eat as many treats as you can possibly get away with; give kisses–lots and lots of kisses; and spend your time with those you choose to call your own.

xo