Scarlott Letters

Just some stuff I find funny…


Technology Bit Me in the Ass

showerI am an early adopter when it comes to technology and this morning, it came back to bite me in the ass.  A  few weeks ago I downloaded Apple’s IOS 9 BETA on my iPhone. To say it is not ready for prime-time would be an understatement. It is buggy. Sometimes the screen on my phone will freeze up in the middle of an incoming call so that I have to reboot to answer a call (how I wish that had been the case this morning), the microphone for dictating text messages works for only about 30% of my contacts, FaceTime mysteriously turns on during random calls, even for friends with Android phones, Siri pretends to misunderstand me even more than usual, and sometimes the phone just gives up entirely, says “I’m outta here” and shuts down.

This morning, just as I was ready to step out of the shower, my phone began ringing. I quickly turned off the water, grabbed my towel and made a mad dash to catch it before I missed the call. It was the builder for our new house. He calls me often with various questions, but hitting ‘answer’ this time was a grave tactical error.  My phone picked that particular call to decide it needed to be in FaceTime mode, and IT WOULD NOT TURN OFF! I literally could not hit disconnect fast enough. I am punching every button on this freaking asshat of a phone and the only thing that seems to actually be working is the camera. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!! I am panicked by this point and quickly turn the phone around…facing a mirror.  Trying not to drop my towel completely, I turn it back around, thinking at least I have a towel in front of me and have been saved from total humiliation…until I remember there is also a mirror behind me. I’m not sure what happened next, but I think I threw the phone across the room shrieking “I’ll call you back!”

Even if he could have ignored that mortifying incident, even if the pork belly white did not temporarily blind him, nothing could have prepared him for my call back a few seconds later, towel back in place…with FaceTime still on! One call and you could think to yourself, “did I really see what I think I saw,” but when the crazy woman calls you back, still in the bathroom, right out of the shower, it’s kinda hard to explain away.  Once again I threw the phone like it was made of molten lava, ran to the closet and slammed the door. When I came back out and called him a few minutes later, I not only had permanently disabled FaceTime but made sure I was fully dressed, including a turtleneck and long pants, just in case my phone went rouge on me again.

In relaying this story to some of my friends, one of them asked me if I was pleading mechanical malfunction or wardrobe malfunction. I say all of the above with a little brain malfunction thrown in for good measure. It shook me up so badly that I’m thinking of giving up my iPhone in favor of a rotary dial land line. Who knows the kind of damage I could inflict left to my own devices. As far as the builder goes, last I heard he was looking for a sharp stick.



365 Days of Silence

It’s been a year. Twelves months since I was able to talk and laugh with my friend Debi Weaver. Fifty two weeks since she, her husband John and their daughter Courtney perished in a small plane crash.  Three hundred and sixty five days of eerie silence in that part of me where twenty five years of shared laughter resides.

A year ago, when the pain was fresh, I wondered if I would ever go another day without thinking of her. I am still wondering because it hasn’t happened yet. And I’m not the only one. John didn’t have a Facebook page, but a year later, people still post things on Debi and Courtney’s wall all the time. That is an amazing testament to how profoundly they touched the lives of those around them and evidence of the fact they are not forgotten.

It’s odd when you think about it. While she was alive, I didn’t think about Debi every day. Oh, I though of her often, especially when something funny would happen that I thought she’d appreciate. I might even pick up the phone and call her, but not daily. I didn’t question the utter certainty that we would be friends when we were stooped and gray and that we would reminisce over jigsaw puzzles at Shady Acres Rest Home. I took the future I thought we’d have as friends for granted. This year of missing her ferociously has taught me that the adage about not missing what you have until it’s gone rings more true than I would like.

I hope this year of loss has made me more intentional about telling those who are important to me that I love them and cherish their friendship.  I hope that it’s taught me to make time for family and friends even when life is busy and chaotic. I hope this year of fiercely missing Debi reminds me to never again take the future, that I now understand is not a guarantee but a gift, for granted. So, while I might not be able to do jigsaw puzzles with her at Shady Acres, I will think about Debi for the rest of my days. It is not a burden. It’s a privilege.