Tag Archives: Thumb

Must We Mess with Our Cell Phones?

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Image by Esa Riutta from Pixabay.

When my car and I swerve to avoid someone hypnotized by a cell phone, I secretly wish for a water pistol. Though, even if I shot cold streams out the window, would the driver look up, confirming zombies have not yet conquered Planet Earth?

Only if I soaked her/his phone.

Image by Michael Hourigan from Pixabay.

My generation did not allow rotary phones to tyrannize us, right? Though how many Boomers refused to leave the house, waiting for a special person’s call. …

Nowadays, I grab my cell phone too often. I do know better than to text around younger generation pros. With help-this-old-lady-across-the-street compassion, some with speed-blurred thumbs offer to assist me.

Poor, overworked thumbs need a break. In fact, we should give data use, phone bills, and ourselves a break. What cell phone alternatives can help me break the habit?

Hubby and I have discovered one way: holding hands. On walks, we radicals converse, laugh, listen to cardinals’ songs and luxuriate in autumn beauty.

Image by Lenny Rogers from Pixabay.

Friends may walk together, too. Having only texted for 20 years, they may need to exchange photos for identification purposes. Soon, though, they’ll discover the joy of talking with a real person.

Other suggestions:

Image by PublicDomainPictures from Pixabay.
  • Wave at passing drivers. Imagine your town if all drove like you.
  • Splash in puddles for fun instead of being sprayed while texting.
  • Mentally rearrange someone’s outdoor furniture.
  • Plant an imaginary flower bed at a plain house. Enjoy landscaping triumphs without an aching back and dirty fingernails.
  • If walking past an elementary school, thank God you’re not the old woman who lived in a shoe. Or the unnamed wife of Feodor Vassilyev, eighteenth-century peasants with the Guinness record for number of children: 69.
Image by Janusz Walczak from Pixabay.
  • While in educational territory, mentally recite U.S state capitals you memorized in fifth grade. Mrs. Baker would be proud.
  • Hop with one foot on muddy ground, so school kids think a single-footed alien visited.
  • Search for cars dirtier than yours. Write congratulatory messages on windshields.
Image by SD5432SD from Pixabay.

I offer final, unsolicited advice to young cell phone zombies: The love of your life could pass while you’re playing Super MarioTM. Or watching cat videos.

Wouldn’t holding that special human’s hand — maybe forever — be much more fun?

Your Extraordinary Ordinary: What could you do instead of fiddling with your phone?

Thumbs Rule

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Recently, I discovered my thumb.

Well, I always was a late bloomer.

Seriously, I learned afresh this odd appendage accomplishes far more than catching rides.

My breakthrough resulted from a nutritious lifestyle. While slicing veggies, I sliced the tip of my right thumb.

I hate the sight of blood — especially mine — so I won’t describe the gory scene. Once the bleeding finally stopped, I sought bandages. Ours were antiques. Though left-handed, I couldn’t open the packaging, let alone apply the BAND-AID®.

Hubby to the rescue. However, the old BAND-AIDs® wrinkled, crinkled, then stuck only to his thumbs.

“When did you buy these? During the Depression?”

“Why should I buy BAND-AIDs®, anyway?” I retorted. “Aren’t you the doctor around here?”

Hubby tossed the latest attempt into the trash and turned back to his computer. “Actually … I’ve retired.”

Hmm. I could a) press this paper towel on my thumb for a week; b) go to the ER; or c) be nice. Though distasteful, the last option appeared simpler. And cheaper.

A few “pretty pleases” later, he had sealed a BAND-AID® over my thumb.

Now, I could return to my regularly scheduled program.

Nope. My thumb yelled in pain when I typed.

Didyouknowspacebarsareveryimportant?Andthethumbthatpressesit?

I couldn’t turn a key without blood. My wimpy fingers pressed the remote in vain. Couldn’t open a medication bottle. All because of a cut on my thumb.

I soon was to discover more tasks it had performed for years without complaint. Joining socks. Turning pages. Tying shoes.

I tried to persuade my index and middle fingers to work together to zip my coat.

Why, when I was left-handed, did this mess with my life?

I discussed the issue with Left Hand, soliciting more help until Right Hand healed.

Lefty, however, turned thumbs-down: “I’m good for writing. For feeding you. For six decades, I’ve covered the important stuff. If you think I’ll unscrew saltshakers and insert earrings, too, you’re nuts.”

So the week continued, with cooking, showering and playing euchre more complicated than advanced robotics.

Lefty, Righty, and I tried not to vent our aggravations on Hubby, who extended a frequent helping hand.

My thumb is mending. Recently, I inserted earrings without stabbing my ears. Or jugular.

Soon, I will return to life as usual.

Disabled veterans, minus more than a thumb, will not. Neither will my friend with multiple sclerosis and her husband. With a faith in Christ that staggers me, they daily invent new ways to cope.

I discovered my thumb this week. Overall, did the experience reap dividends?

I think so. Gratitude is priceless.

Though Righty took the hit, she agrees.

And even Lefty gives it a thumbs-up.

Your Extraordinary Ordinary: Have you rediscovered a reason to be thankful?