The Crossroads of American Humanity

There are those places in town where you could meet just about anyone. The Department of Motor Vehicles, the gas station, Dunkin' Donuts (if you live out east where you can't drive 1 mile without seeing two Dunkin' Donuts stores, one on the right side of the road and one on the left)...and the Sprint Store.

Kevin and I have finally taken a leap into the 21st century; each of us now have our own cell phone. I went to the Sprint store yesterday to add a line and pick out a phone and I was amazed at the array of people.

• a female construction worker seeking the water/dust/heat/practically bomb-proof phone

• the executive in shambles over his fritzing Blackberry

• the teenager smacking gum and pouring over the picture taking, MP3 playing, super-texting phone

• and me - the pregnant lady who just wanted a phone with good reception that won't get crushed in my abyss-of-a-purse

After about 45 minutes of decision making, activating, phone book transferring, and money spending, I got the phone. It does take pictures, so I promptly snapped one of Buck, which is now the display on the little phone screen. In a few months, perhaps the picture will change to the Babe! (and I mean our baby...not The Great Bambino)