I thought you all should know that about a month ago, I, gulp, became a   . . . texter. Yes, that's right, I caved in and I'm now available for you to send emotionless, shorthand notes saying, "Talk tomorrow?" Where I will respond, "Yes, LOL. B4N." Not.
 I'm already feeling a little nostalgic for leaving the mobile world of comforting, familiar voices to reading staccato-written notes that say little at all. How have I survived this long without texting?
Easy. Placing a call doesn't feel like an imposition. I like the banter, the back and forth, the give and take that a spoken conversation naturally takes.
 Sure, it's not as convenient and it was honestly starting to annoy close friends of mine. And there are pluses to texting. I like the fact that I won't be exposing my brain to as much radiation. It's quick. It's direct. It's speedy. Oh, and it's isolating. I guess I never wanted to join that busy bandwagon of folks who are so caught up by their hectic lives that they can't reach out to another with a warm, voicy hug. How and when did we become so damn busy? (Secretly, I think busy is just a euphemism for "important". When you're crazy busy juggling a full time career, a freelance job, a couple of kids and a very ignored husband, you've made it but to make it, you must. stay. busy. OK, back to the topic at hand.)
Here are a few anecdotes that may shed some light on why I've resisted joining the masses in their Smartphone, iPad, text-till-your-thumbs-callous over madness:
 A few months ago while sitting at the Rec Center pool watching Daxie cannon ball it into the water, I overheard one mom say to another while simultaneously texting into the ethernet and talking to her friend that her iPhone, encased in pink of course, made her a better mom.
Breathe. Ki. Breathe.
 I gave Dax a thumbs up for breaching like a Humpback whale but inside I was fuming. Did this mother just utter these words? I looked over at her sleeping newborn, oblivious to his mother's outlandish statement and  happy to be catching a snooze in that warm, humid air. I reached for my two-year-old cracked LG flip phone (well since finishing writing this post I upgraded, are you sitting down, to a sleek LG Cosmos slider!) in my pocket that did nothing but place calls and take calls. I sat there and thought, "Well how the heck have I been able to raise two amazing little boys with this outdated technology?" I thought, I haven't texted in the last four years, I don't surf the web, I don't download apps, play games or search for restaurant reviews. This phone is just a phone. And nothing more. I had to bite my tongue. I wanted to turn to her and say, "Wow, what's the name of the app that helps you change diapers and wash puke out of crib sheets?"
 Again, an outsider looking in. I was sitting in the chapel of my son's pre-school waiting for the Mother's Day program to begin and I looked around and there were five moms, speedily zipping off texts and emails. Why are we so in need of reaching out and being reached every single second of the day? And instead of furiously zipping off notes to people elsewhere, why not turn to speak to the other women in the room? Bewildering.
  One afternoon at Dax's swim class a mom whose daughter was getting a swim lesson turned on her iPad and proceeded to not speak a word to her son who sat next to her playing video games on his Smartphone. I wanted to get up and tap her on the shoulder and say, "Um, excuse me. This is the perfect 30-minute opportunity to GET TO KNOW HIM BETTER. He'll be moved out of the house and off to college before you know it."
 Lastly, and I've shared this story with many of my friends but every time I think of this it pains me. One night last winter at the Augustine Grill I waited on a family of four. As I approached the table I noticed all four heads were bent down toward their lit screens and not a word was being spoken. It was a school night. The silence was only mildly interrupted by their annoying tat-tat-tats on the keyboards. When I introduced myself I almost burst out laughing at the absurdity of the situation.
 Here was another perfect opportunity to check in with their teenage kids, see how school and sports were going for them, find out how they were feeling about life. I am not exaggerating. The only time they did speak was to place their orders with me. It was eery. It was unnerving. It was wrong.
 What has happened to us? We've become these sterile robots who would rather share their desires and dreams with countless acquaintances on Facebook but we can't look our loved ones in the eye and be human and compassionate and real.
 I will keep on sending text messages because I know I have to keep up with the times to some degree but I'm not psyched about it. I will make no apologies when I decide to place a call to any one of you rather than send a generic text message.
 You very well may hear my voice and not read my words and I hope you'll be comforted by that human act.