Okay I’m onto a modern frustration of mine. The telephone! I grew up a world where rotary dial phones and party lines were the norm for us in the middle classes. You were the “cat’s meow” if you had a push button princess phone!

An answering machine? What was that! I remember my mom teaching me to use the rotary dial, and memorizing the four digit numbers to call the police and fire dispatch operators (yes they were different numbers. You needed to remember both in an emergency). There was no “911” back in the day.

Just a thought, the next time I’m thinking my son can’t understand something I’d better rethink it. They are definitely as smart if not smarter than Mama! If at seven years old, I could figure out how to call the police and/or fire department, imagine the possibilities for them. I don’t remember being confused; just fascinated by how this wonderful communication device worked.

Now we have phones we can take anywhere. But I always get a chuckle at the way we within the family react to the phone. Back in the day, we all answered the phone when it rang. We ran for it. Remember, there were no answering machines, except people with plain ole paper and pen. With no ‘Caller ID’ you didn’t know who was calling. There was urgency in getting the phone since no one knew who was on the other line. A common phrase heard in our home was, “Honey {or insert name}, it’s for you.”

Fast-forward to today. We all have cellular phones. There is no house phone in our domicile anymore. I now know who the phone is for by what phone is ringing. I will still itch to answer a ringing phone. My adjustment is “Hi, this is Milly, let me get {name here} for you, or I will let the call go to voice mail if the person in question is indisposed.

Well, there is a certain husband who shall remain nameless, who doesn’t answer the phone. He will let it ring while I am racing to get it before it goes to voice mail. Okay that’s not so bad. It is my phone after all. However, the man is now a hybrid between old and new. If I’m in another room and don’t hear my phone, he will look at the phone, pick it up, then bring the ringing phone to me. As he hands me the phone he says, “Honey it’s for you.” Sigh…Old habits die hard

NO S…, IT’S MY PHONE! I don’t say that out loud. Because when he says it I’m trying not to laugh at the colloquialism. I am also trying to answer before it goes to voicemail. I’m only successful about 5% of the time. I ask him why didn’t you answer it. His response “It wasn’t for me.” Then he walks away all smug and everything. He’s lucky I think he’s cute and don’t hit him in the back of the head with the dang phone.

That leads to another change in phones, they’re not as sturdy. So throwing my phone only ends up costing me too many dollars. In the old days the phone usually just bounced when the cord ran out (yes we had an old metal rotary dial (wink). {pout} Time to scrub something to get rid of the frustration!

Work off the frustration….

Milly