Day 138. Goodbye, My Dearest Flip Phone

About a month ago, I was making pasta for the man.  My pots were in the dishwasher so instead I used a deep Calphalon braising pan to boil the water.  As I was carrying the water-filled pan from the sink to the stove, I was simultaneously talking to my mom on my cell phone.  And just as you see a glass falling or yourself tripping in slow motion, my cell phone slipped from where it was perched underneath my chin pressed to my shoulder.  You see, I was using both my hands to carry that heavy pan!  I watched as it slid, slid, slid slowly down my arm into its watery death.  I could still feel the ghost of it's weight under my chin, yet my eyes saw--there it was, looking like an underwater turtle with a snorkeling tube of an antenna.

I did manage to shake myself out of disbelief, grab it, and resuscitate it.  However, it was never the same.  It had already been moving into the land of feebleness.  I knew I had to make the switch to a smartphone.  I had even recently been at an art show in February and another artist said to me aghast, "Are you still using a FLIP phone?  I saw you pull out an ANTENNA.  I can't believe it!"  I mean, I felt like I was holding a Thomas Edison relic in my paws.

Listen, I was the same way with my bag phone.  I know about 2% of the population remember those, but until it was stolen out of my car, it was suiting me just fine.

O.K., so after a month of my phone flashing "car kit connected, car kit disconnected" and constantly dying on me, my husband and I FINALLY made the leap to the 21st century.  It seems there are quite a few dazzling things I can do with this new phone...if only I knew how to do them.  Oh little flip phone, how I miss your ease, your simplicity, your inability to make me frustrated when I just want to dial a stored phone number!

Here's a re-enactment of the ultimately deadly event, followed by an appearance by Mr. Flip on my counter as I was finishing up work on my 2011 Brooklyn Sketchbook Project, "Coffee and Cigarettes."  (P.S. Cigs are props only--you'll find me puffing on an inhaler!)