Telephones...love 'em or hate 'em

I have never liked talking on the telephone. As a teenager, when girls are supposed to be on the phone for hours, I used the phone to plan where to meet my friends if we were going out, but none of us lingered...and probably wouldn't have even if our parents had allowed it.

As an adult I developed a big case of phone-avoidance. I'm a hard worker, but if a task requires a phone call, I tend to put it off as long as possible. When we began to use email at work, I used it at every opportunity. Eventually I learned that some conversations really need to happen live...sometimes I'll begin an email and then, with a sigh, pick up the phone.

When I was first getting to know my husband, I enjoyed a couple of long phone conversations with him. He was a great story-teller, and I remember being very surprised that this talent was evident even by telephone.

I carry a cell phone for emergency use. I've never actually had an emergency, but it comes in handy if I'm away from home overnight and want to call hubby without running up a bill on my host's phone, or incurring the ridiculously high rates that hotels now assess.

Earlier today, Respectfully Yours posted a query about telephone use, asking about memorable calls--for better or worse.

You won't be surprised that I told her my favorite calls in recent memory were from our son-ln-law, saying, "Come to the hospital" to meet our grandchildren.

And now each weekday morning the phone rings and the message is, "We're on our way." Five minutes later the grandkids toddle in the back door, ready for a new day of Wild Rumpus Daycare. I'm not a morning person, so it's always a little jarring, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

Peter always answers our home phone; I am perfectly happy to ignore it. If it's important, they'll leave a message. If it's someone I know, I'll email them back.