MA BELL

A few of my readers and our daughter know I don't much like the phone. I've heard of visual people. Well, I'm inaudible. It's not that I can't hear. But I don't like to.

In an Adult Bible Fellowship (that's new age for Sunday School) class last Sunday, a friend who sits next to me went into great detail about a conference she and her husband had attended. I think it was the same one our pastor had asked me to attend. But I don't know, because apparently I wasn't listening.

My astonished wife couldn't believe I had not heard one word that our friend had shared. And I was sitting right next to her.

My phone use is minimal. In fact, I couldn't guarantee you that my cell phone is in my car. I think it is. But it's kismet if it's charged. None of my friends use my cell number. They always call my wife who's a whole lot more likely to have hers fired up and turned on. Me? I basically need an in-service on how to do anything other than turn it on, charge it, and make a call. I'm not even sure how to finish a call on her phone.

I referred to our daughter knowing my phone habits. As much as I enjoy her calling, I usually break off the conversation, because I just don't like talking on the phone. Never did.

Except when I had an interest in a girl/woman/female/lady/babe--enough. Then I didn't mind.

But maybe if they made cell phones like the one pictured, I could get interested again.