Experiment: Failed

I am hear to post the results of my phone fast: failed.

Progress of experiment: Failure was detected on the second day of experimentation.

Overview: I am too dependent on staying in touch with family, friends, and the pediatrician's office.

Overview: If I can recollect, I have only had one science project started during my entire life. I believe I was in 7th grade, and the time to start experiments and science projects began. I decided to plant beans in foam coffee cups, and determine what outside elements would impact their growth. This took place on a card table in the foyer of our house, and they stunk! I remember my dad complaining about the stench, and my brothers kicking a few soccer balls towards the table and yes they fell. That experiment failed as well. Too much water, not enough sun. I don't think my control group even sprouted.

The phone fast was very similar. I posted my blog, and emailed it to the people that I converse with the most on the phone. My youngest brother, called me immediately. He was confused. We work together via satellite connections, but email would not suit him. He would call and start to leave a message on my machine "this is work related." I would answer, and it was never work related. I screened all of my phone calls for the first couple of days, but I found myself in isolation, since the emails that I was sending to the outside world were not returned from the recipients.

My family was the worst to work with. They have not made the quantum leap to the 21st century where email communication could be used by everyone. People would be allowed to respond when they have the chance to read their email, and be as brief or lengthy as they choose. The recipient of this email, would in turn, be able to read the text at their own time and respond accordingly. When I sent an email, I would get a phone call to talk about it. The point was lost. I have grandparents who do not have email so that was impossible unless with a posted letter. They write thank you notes for a living, so a phone call would be much more fun and less taxing on their hands than a long letter written.

I did cut down/back on my time on the phone, except in regards to my husband. We increased in that department. I was out of town for 10 days during my experiment, so that meant that we didn't see each other. The email or instant messaging is a thing of the past with network to network free calling on our cell phone plan. We also talked over computer cameras, and that seemed to help, but left very little privacy. We could type simultaneously on a instant message during our video, and we thought that we could say things so that we were the only ones reading the notes. Technical glitches proved that our conversation was being read on two other computers in two different locations. Quite embarrassing.

For people I did not inform of my phone fast, they might call and leave a message, and I would need to return that phone call pertaining to social arrangements or information requested. Instead of explaining my crazy idea of a phone fast, I would return the call and sometimes get trapped in a long conversation. I have enough people thinking that I am crazy, who don't know me intimately, so those who are in the outer realm didn't need any more ammunition for their craziness assessments.

Conclusion:
I need to be in control of my outgoing calls, and the length of my incoming calls. Spending an hour on the telephone with someone is outrageous and uncalled for. Unless that person is an extended relation or friend whom one has not heard from in a long time and it might take an hour to talk. Where distance and geography suspend those relationships, it is entirely acceptable to spend time on the phone. However, daily check-ups with people, unless there are new developments in someone's failing health, plans that must be made, or emergency situations have been cut down. For that I feel that I have learned from this experiment, however, I would conclude that failure to fast was the failure of the experiment.

40 Day Fast from the Phone

The time that I spend on the phone is...embarrassingly...to much. My day is constantly interrupted by phone calls that I have found an addicted. I am loosing some major priorities in my everyday life, because I am addicted to the phone. Just so that we are clear on what an addiction is, I bugged Webster for the definition. addiction: compulsive need for and use of a habit-forming substance (as heroin, nicotine, or alcohol) characterized by tolerance and by well-defined physiological symptoms upon withdrawal; broadly : persistent compulsive use of a substance known by the user to be harmful


I confess that I get bored, and I want to talk to someone. I feel lonely other times and just want to hear another person's voice to respond to and begin the volley of question, answer, comment, answer and so on. I enjoy language and I also wonder what people think about different things. Sometimes I need a bit of advice from my mother regarding my son, or a question during a culinary crisis would maybe save the dish from disaster.

Cell phones have become the ultimate crutch in many people's life, and especially my own. In theory, a cell phone can be a life saver if there is trouble with an automobile on the road or you are lost and need directions. Unfortunately, it has made me less prompt or back out of plans at the very last minute. If I am late to something, people start calling to find out if I am ok, or if I am ever going to show up. I then stop and answer the phone which continues to make me more late or an unsafe driver as I am searching for my phone. I shouldn't talk on the phone while I am driving. I can pay better attention to the road if I am not talking on a phone, and look out for careless drivers who are still on their phones while driving.

After analyzing this ideas for a couple of hours, but talking about it for weeks, I feel that it is necessary for me to have a fast from the phone. Biblically, fasting to encourage a strong point can go on for 40 days. Considering that this fast is not from food, I think that 40 days probably isn't long enough! During this fast, I do not plan to eliminate communication from friends and loved ones, but to channel that communication into mail or e-mail. I do feel that my use of the phone could possible be the persistent compulsive use of a substance known by the user to be harmful.

I hope to accomplish more things in my daily schedule without minutes being spent on the phone hashing out the daily drama of life. If something can't be put in a letter or e-mail it shouldn't be said. Activities and plans should have advance warning, planning, and foresight and a letter or email should allow enough time before the activity or engagement. During the past week, I have been maligned by gossip and hearsay. Conversations that I felt were understood to be in confidence were made public by an unfeeling and manipulative individual. The damage that has been caused from the fall out of this telephone conversation has forced me to rearrange my priorities and value my time well spent in other areas.

Letter writing in our society has become a thing of the past. I am sure that people wrote and received letters that were nasty or hurtful. Ultimately, if someone has penned with their own hand cruelties towards another person, at least there is a paper trail to prove liars and to prove truth as well. Letter writing used to be one of my favorite pastimes, and I am hoping to revive many of those by spending no time on the phone.

So to "talk" I will be dusting off all of my stationary, and buying a book of stamps. It can't cost more than a long distance phone call, and yet what price can be placed on the safety and kindness of words that can only be sent in an envelope?

Do I even exist?

I have never thought of myself as needing a great deal of attention. I would say that even now-as I blog- I don't think that very many people will actually read my blog, and I don't mind that. I am perfectly content to sit and read a book or knit without a conversation going back and forth, and I would have to say for the most part, I would rather be a wall flower than the MC.

With my little Prince in tow, it is easy to take a back seat and let him be the star of his life and now the star of my life as well. Everyone is so excited to see him because he is a baby, and babies draw attention. When people think that a man trying to pick up women could use a puppy as an accessory, they understand the draw that people have to things out of the ordinary. Babies are not all around us, even though we all had to start out as a baby. Our world is very adult oriented with restaurants or driving down the street. Many places advertise a children's section, like a library or a McDonald's play area. Companies have designated these special areas for children, because we do live in an adult world.

I can't go anywhere without someone commenting on my baby as if he were an amazing piece of jewelry or funky shoes that no one has ever seen. He is now about the size of a large purse, and sits right on my hip, so the words "duffle bag baby" have crossed my lips. He is animated and makes noises at people which draws attention. I am getting used to it, but I haven't decided if I like the attention that I get because everyone is looking at my baby.

I have decided that I miss the social interaction that I get from people who I do know. Talking is the main thing. Unless I am on the phone with someone, I really don't have any one's full attention. They want to see what the baby is doing. Oh look at what he is doing! Of course he is doing things, what do you expect?! Husband and I cease to exist because nothing can be as important as the baby...and that is right, but our lives do make up other angles. As busy as I am taking care of the baby, there are fewer and fewer things to talk about, but it is annoying when telling a story or trying to make conversation and no one is paying attention to the boring parent.

I have decided that we should just drop the baby off where ever there are people who want to visit with him, and then Husband and I can go off and do something more productive. Sitting around like a bunch of cattle while everyone coos and coddles the baby mostly make me want to barf. I should be excited at everyone's enthusiasm, but having a baby can really make you lose a sense of self. I completely understand the femi-nazi attitude about losing your own identity in the shuffle of a new addition to your family. It can only get worse as the family grows and there is less to talk about politics and books, and more to talk about potty training and soccer goals. Do parents bring this on themselves? or is it the identity theif that takes the form of a doting grandparent, friend, or complete stranger?

Big Pick Up Day

Living in my new city, in a house, with a regular garbage can and pick up schedule has been most interesting. I have learned that there truly is an art to the waste removal system, as well as many particular rules. Husband has always lived with a city waste removal, but growing up in the country, we burned cardboard or things that could be burned...I mean there were things that couldn't be burned, but we tried to burn them anyway. We tried the compost bin for awhile, but it was short lived considering that we had it pretty far from the house to keep the smell and flies away. My mother could only handle saving egg shells and cantaloupe seeds for so long.

Since we can't burn big things of cardboard in the city, and since there are those other big things that just won't fit in a city garbage can there is a special day each spring called "Big Pick Up" day for those big items that aren't typically allowed to be put out by the curb for the garbage dudes. We had our old screen door that we have been saving to put out for this special pick up day, so Husband was excited to make some more room in the garage. He hauled everything out around sunset, as the neighbors on our street were dragging piles of garbage to the side of the curb.

As he was getting things in order, Husband called for me to come and look at the spectacle on the street. He warned me about the "mound people" that would come and look through every one's garbage pile on this special night. Every year he would watch these people go through the pile that his family would put out on the street. He told me that one year there was an old pogo stick that they wanted to throw out. They watched a man sift through their things, and reaching the pogo stick, he jumped on to test it out before placing it with his other treasures in the back of a pick up truck. The spectacle on our block was the U-Haul trailer that someone was pulling behind a pick up and it was filled with items that had been found by the curbside.

I told him that these were the "mound people" from Dickens' Our Mutual Friend. In the novel, there are people that sift through the mounds of garbage in hopes of finding treasures that can be washed off and used or sold for a profit. It is their livelihood. We didn't have anything "good" to put out this year, just the old door and some huge boxes that wouldn't be taken on a regular garbage day.

On our way home from errands last night, we saw a pick up truck with the blinkers on, stalled by the side of the road. An individual was looking through the piles on the curb with a flashlight. Husband said that we wouldn't have to worry about our pile being smaller, since we only had boxes and the useless door. When pulled up to our house, I told him that our pile was smaller. He didn't believe me, but I told him that the door was gone. He made me stop the car short of the garage so that he could get out to check our pile. He was in disbelief when he searched in the dark for the screen door. Disbelief turned into shock, as Husband paced around the garage and the sidewalk, looking up and down the street for someone who could have been foolish enough to take our old door. We decided that the city doesn't even need to send out the garbage guys to pick things up, but just post that it is a city wide put what you don't want on the curb and people will remove it for you.

Husband became happy about the situation as the evening wore on. He realized that someone found value in his junky door, and it was helpful for them as well as for us to move things on to someone who could use the door at no charge.

Cultural Experience

It is day 37 since our beautiful Prince has entered the world and we are still waiting to see...will he have an innie or an outie? This is pretty sick that we are on day 37, but with the conflicting information that the medical community gives when one has a baby, the cord still remains. It is still hanging on by a thread, but I am seeing the end in sight. He is changing more each day, and I agree with Grandpa G. there are tones of red in his hair. He was quite stylish today in a frog romper, and he made quite a good impression on Bridgette and Colleen for our lunch today.

We were two new Mothers with the babies, but we are not new enough to know that the babies eat first. We opened the boobie bar first and let them eat. With all of the new adventures in breastfeeding, we saw the different techniques and compared notes. Since we are three weeks ahead, we have moved to shorter feedings with bigger gaps in between "meals." This offered hope to Colleen who is in the two week doldrums.

This past weekend, we made our first road trip to Iowa City and then on to Chicago for the baby welcoming party. We saw lots of family, and had the important generational photo shoots. Sunday afternoon we were back in Iowa City for introducing the Prince to the Eastern Iowa grandparents and having another generational photo shoot, this time including husband's grandparents.

Tuesday evening we had the unfortunate responsibility of buying a new dishwasher. We spent $106 to have someone tell us that we needed a new one, but we were trying to be...responsible? Typically, we buy our appliances at SEARS even though it is in the scary part of town. Since I am an import to this fair city, I feel that the East side is more frightening than the West side. This trip proved to support my feelings.

In the deserted parking lot, we parked, and loaded the Prince into his chariot, snuggling him in for this trip of gathering a new dishwasher. We walked right into the appliances section of the store, and since we were the only customers at 7pm we had no problems finding a sales associate to help us. Catherine was about 6'2" with dyed blond hair, and peeling fingernail polish about the color of a papaya. She had a residue of cigarette smoke surrounding her, but asked our names and shook our hands to make us feel welcome. If puppies are the number one conversation starter, babies are a close second. She commented on our beautiful Prince, and told us that she had seven children. I was hoping that she started her family when she was 18 or so, and was not supporting a family of seven on her sales at this ghost town department store.

She told us about most of the features on each model, and we moved from Kenmore to Whirlpool then Maytag, opening and closing everything and checking out the inside baskets. Husband didn't like the silverware basket as a cluster in the middle, but she helped us realize that the baskets split up to ride along the sides. Catherine kept trying to divert our attention from shopping by commenting on my necklace, and then my postpartum figure. She talked about lasagna baked on a pan and how the SEARS Kenmore top model would blast the baked on noodles right off of the pan with no soaking or prewash. Husband was out of character, and ignored every comment she made. He listened to me, and read the labels, and made his decision. He was sold on the Maytag stainless steel inside and outside, digital front, and energy efficient model. I told Husband to work out the paperwork with Catherine while I was looking at stoves for our upgrade this summer. When I found what would be perfect, I looked to the corner of the appliances section to see that they were still walking through checkout. Husband's posture looked like he was very uncomfortable, but still being very patient.

Catherine was having difficulty ringing through the purchase. She couldn't get the sales tax removed, and when an appliance is installed there no sales tax applied. She called for help to a sales associate with sunken eyes and transparent skin. He didn't say a word, but came to the register and pushed some buttons. We were close to leaving. She printed out all of our receipts, and was pushing hard for the appliance insurance for one year but we would not budge. On our way out, I took Husband past the stove that I would love as our replacement, but as we were examining the features and price we heard our first names being called from the dishwasher section. Catherine was motioning to us with her arms flapping like a circus barker to come back to her section. We looked at each other, and then behind us to make sure she was summoning us back to her. She was. We should have made our way right to the car.

As we approached her, she said I found a way for you to save more money! There is a mail in rebate and a portrait for the baby! Now aren't you glad I want to save you money? Well yes, we like to save money, of course! She explained the mail in rebate to us, reading the directions. We said thank you and waited for her explanation of the free portrait of the baby as well. She put her hands on our backs leading accompanying us to the door as we expressed our thanks to her for helping us save $35 and a free portrait of the Prince. She said that SEARS will call us with a survey about her performance, and it would be great if we said that she really helped us save money. I assured her, Catherine I will tell them that you were great and you need a promotion. She started to laugh, and then gave me a hug. I froze and reached for the stroller so I couldn't put my arms around her in reciprocation. She was still laughing and said again, You look great, and no one would ever know that you just had a baby.

We left the store in silence, almost getting trapped with the stroller in the two sets of doors and a family of Hispanics barreling down our backs. Whenever we went to an odd place or had to be around people who were very different, most of the time with odd food or body odors, Momma always told us that we were in a "cultural experience." Translated, we were experiencing something not normal, but it would put hair on our chests.

Yes, a Monday

My little Prince has been fed, and is enjoying his time on his vibrating throne. I can hear some soft grunts from him, as I know he is working on a nice juicy pile. Brutus is tucked away under the master sheets. This is the time of day that he is allowed to sleep in bed, since Momma doesn't need another hot body in bed.

We are getting a nice routine/schedule here a la maison de Joseph. I continue to cringe at the word, and I am aggravated that my life is not my own to stay up and knit or read until 2am. Dogs and babies like structure. My husband likes structure. So with my men, I must have structure with eating, cleaning, relaxing and sleeping in order to get the four main essential tasks categories done each day.

Friday night we all went to Pancheros for burritos. Very tasty! On the way over, the Prince was shrieking in the car seat, and we had to pull over to try and read his baby brain and cries. Insert the pacifier. We had a lovely meal, with the Prince in his chariot and very content. We made our way to Valley West Mall, to introduce the Prince to some of the staff at Josephs, and then to exchange an outfit at Younkers, and shop at the Baby Gap. I had a gift card that was about 2 years old, just burning a hole in my wallet. I some how spent $45 on one baby outfit, and took the $5 balance in cash. Maybe the reason the Baby Gap is so depressing is because it is the same price for an adult outfit as it is a baby's outfit and we know that the materials are much smaller. We had to evacute quite quickly after that, since our little man started to fuss again. The car seat was not an option with the shrieking starting again. The only trick was the nipple for him to gnaw on while we went to McDonalds for a shamrock shake. He was appeased and back in his car seat, and the plan was for me to run into Barnes and Noble to get my book club book, but the screaming started again. As if he knew that this was not a typical evening, and everything was crazy compared to his regular life, post-birth. He would only let Momma carry him while we hunted down the book.

Saturday was a stay in day, considering the previous night. I hit the laundry and the goal was to stay on top of it. Marmee created a fabulous laundry folding station in our poorly lit basement, and I don't know how she had the courage to move things around those scary new places, mostly filled with cobwebs. I explored the basement for the first time with detail, and found that she does have a way with things. (We all know that.) When Husband came home, I whipped up some beef with broccoli and we watched Mel Brooks' movies. Slightly entertaining, but over all not my bag, baby.

We saved the food shopping for Sunday with Husband so there were extra hands to help in case of crisis. We have learned to be very fast on our outings of errands in order to get the Prince in an out without too much of a scene. With fabulous weather, Husband and I surveyed the back yard and all of the mud from the fence installation. The plans for lawn therapy have been discussed, and hopefully there is a chance for us to have a beautiful lawn, void of vile mushrooms. We went to the in-laws for pizza and a visit. The pizza was gluten free...so the crust was just cheese, and cheese on top of the cheese. Mother in-law planted pepperoni and green olives on the pizzas, but I don't think that we will try them again since they were quite greasy.

I have been watching A Good Year with Russel Crowe and Albert Finney, directed by Ridley Scott and it is a fabulous film! I have been watching it over and over, so you don't have to! Actually, I plan to keep it for the next week so I can take it back to Iowa City and have a good movie watch with Marmee. Hopefully we can squeeze it in.

My juicy pile is ready.