Do as I say, not as I do.

As a parent, you vacillate between marveling at the wonderful things your children do and shaking your head in bemusement at the things they do that make you speculate about their real parentage. Certainly no child of your's could do something so inane.

I can't tell you how many cell phones I've replaced for my two sons. They've been dropped on hard earth, dropped in bathtubs, run over, lost, stolen, and just basically beaten down from constant use. It always amazed me that they could lose or damage a phone so easily. About five years ago we finally got wise and purchased insurance and, of course, they have not damaged or lost a phone since. Every two years, they get an upgrade and go merrily on their way.

Then, this past January, I came home from the movies and couldn't find *my* phone. We called the theater - they said they had it. Not it. Close, but older and more beaten up. My thought is that the person who actually lost that phone came in, saw mine, and said, "yep, this is mine." Instant upgrade. I wasn't due for an upgrade till September, so my husband slid me one of his old Blackberries and I had my number transferred to that phone. I hated it, but it was my own fault I lost my other phone and I wasn't going to pay to upgrade early. (Although you'd think that being loyal customers paying through the nose for over ten years Verizon would throw me a bone, but no.) It was a pain to lock the keypad and I kept taking pictures of the inside of my pocket. If you scrolled through my pictures on the phone, more than half would be black - like I was trying to take a picture of a starless night sky.

Two months ago, the Blackberry started misbehaving. It hadn't worked all that well for my husband, and it apparently didn't like me any better. Back to Verizon. Since the Blackberry was under two years old, they agreed to replace it since it appeared to be a manufacturer issue. We waited for a phone to be delivered from a neighboring city (almost ten miles away!). This took three days (tortoise mail? snail mail? little old lady with a walker mail?). I really didn't want another Blackberry, but it was my only (free) option. Unfortunately (yeah!) the replacement had a few malfunctioning buttons and they were forced (yeah!) to let me pick out a new phone (for free!). The new enV3 had just come out the day before and I left with a brand new phone. Contented sigh.

This morning, a reminder went off on my phone - it was a reminder to start my son's car. He is away at college and if we don't start it once in awhile, it won't start at all. I snatched the phone off the bathroom counter (wait for it), and promptly dropped it in the (clean) toilet water. It couldn't have been in there for more than two seconds, but apparently that was enough. Maybe someday, someone will invent a phone that can remain waterproof for a second or two. I took out the battery, put the hairdryer on low cool and dried everything I could. It appeared to be working fine. Alas, all was not as well as it seemed. First it started vibrating constantly. Then the camera flash came on and stayed on (I swear that light could be seen from space!). Then the vibrating stopped, the light flickered, but the phone kept saying I was in an extended network and roaming. If my living room is 'roaming' I need a new plan! Then it wouldn't turn on. Then it wouldn't turn off. Then water seemed to appear from somewhere I could not pinpoint. I think the volume of water that came from the phone was greater than the displacement volume of the phone itself. It was almost like it was crying. Maybe the inside of the phone was made of sponge and little nanomites were in there squeezing the water out and cursing me. I could almost hear them.

Back to Verizon, where, again, I was shown no love. Luckily (for me - because my husband isn't one to let me live this down), I had purchased insurance on my enV3 when it was 'given' to me. So, all it will cost me is a deductible, a little embarrassment, and a few days without a phone (a horror almost worthy of its own movie these days.)

On the up side? At least I'll have another story to amuse my co-workers.

Holly

Inside-out Tuesday aka I really wasn't at the orthodontist

The week back to work after a vacation (which really wasn't much of a vacation, by the way) is always a little overwhelming. You never know what kind of situation you might be walking into. As it turns out, two people had quit in my absense! My co-worker, bless her heart, did as much of my job as time allowed her, but she didn't have much time, so it piled up. Monday turned out to be just a blur of paperwork - in at 0600, out at 1630. Tuesday I had to hang around the house because I had an orthodontist appointment (love my Invisaligns) at 0710. I went - he looked - I left.

I went to work and called another co-worker to meet me in the parking lot. I had a cooler full of salmon to delve out (from the fishing vacation). She met me at my car and we took the elevator back up to the office. She looked at me and said, "Holly, where was your head this morning?" I must have looked puzzled because she added "Your pants are on inside-out." I looked down and yep, inside-out scrub pants - seams on the outside and all. I looked at her and said "It's inside-out Tuesday. Didn't you get the memo?" Now it was her turn to look puzzled. So I sighed and said, "Ok, I have to confess. I really wasn't at the orthodontist." After a moment's thought, she laughed, I laughed and, at her suggestion, we went into the back door of the office so I could slip quietly into the bathroom and put my pants on right-side-out. She said she would never tell anyone, but I knew this story was just too good not to share.

I took great delight in telling the story to some of my co-workers at lunch causing tears of laughter (always a good thing). One of them was kind enough to point out to me that this meant that I went to the orthodontist with my pants inside-out, which, in spite of my 'I wasn't really at the orthodontist" comment, really hadn't hit me until then. More hilarity insued at my look of mortification.

My closest (meaning nearest) co-workers got the story the next day before work because I knew it was going to be a stressful day (too little staff, too many patients), so I saved telling it until then. Again, laughter and tears insued, Throughout the rest of that day, anytime anyone got stressed, the would be reminded of my inside-out pants and that would momentarily take away the stress. One co-worker, a very dear friend, told me that she really needed a good laugh that day. Turns out she was going through a bad personal issue. Glad I could help.

Seeing their reactions, I felt compelled to tell them other stories of earlier fashion faux-pas I had experienced. There was the time I had worn two different shoes to work. Not just two different shoes, but two different high heels of different heights. My co-workers were hilarious trying to imitate how I must have been walking! Then there was the time I was talking to about six male direct reports and the waistband of my slip gave away and he slip came slithering down to the floor. I just calmly stepped out of it and stuffed it in my suit pocket daring them to say one damn word. They didn't. My co-workers, however, took great delight in shimmying in imitation.

I really don't mind looking the fool as long as I can entertain others in the process. Some stories are just too good not to share. Share your foolish moments - entertain your friends - make someone else feel better - and if Diet Pepsi comes out of their nose in the process - so much the better. One more story to tell.