As you know, I turned 42 over the weekend. 42 has always been one of my very favorite numbers, so I have it in my head that it’s only a matter of minutes before my bucket starts filling up with more glitter, peach pie, and fancy (yet sensible) shoes.
My life took a bit of a turn on Friday evening when my family gifted me with my very first smart phone. (I always upgrade my phone with whatever is free at Best Buy. As a result, my phones are always a bit simple-minded with a distinct lack of whistles and flares, and I’m okay with that. As long as I can call out when I need to call out, I’m good. Why have a zipper when hooks and eyes work just as well?!)
Anyway. (Cue the harpsichords and Baptist choirs!) I now own an iPhone. And it’s the kind that talks to you and helps you determine how many days are left until Christmas and how many miles you live from Jackson Hole and how to make hummus out of sweet potatoes. My only complaint is that I can’t quite figure out how to make it compliment and reassure me randomly throughout the day. (“You look especially fetching today, Angie Spanking Head.” “Your anger is justified, Angie Spanking Head.” “You don’t have to take this bullshit, Angie Spanking Head.” “If I wasn’t such a phone, I would invite you to a make-out party, Angie Spanking Head.”)
(My phone calls me Angie Spanking Head because Jon Scieszka and Lane Smith signed my copy of Squids Will Be Squids with an Angie Spanking Head shout-out from Aesop. This is one of Harper’s most favorite things EVER, so we decided to Make It Happen iPhonetically.)
This weekend was particularly good. It found us eating burritos and nachos and pie and making vegan chocolate chip cookies and taking naps and listening to episodes of Roderick on the Line, which is my new favorite non-knitting podcast.
The final day of school is one week from today. The idea of summer normally stresses me out. This year I’m just going to roll with it while baking a stupid amount of cupcakes and taking the girls to ice skating lessons and demanding that my phone sing Beastie Boy tunes for me. (And I think to myself, “What a wonderful world.”)