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Destinations, Dreams and Dogs - International adventure with a fast-track family (& dogs) of Old World values, adopting the Russian-Italian-American good life on the go…!

Mother-Son Texts

messages_getOnly one of our teens has a phone and that is by design. I can’t keep up with one, how would I handle three more?

He’s the one who taught me how to text in three alphabets and numerous other languages, as I’m in touch with friends, relatives, and associates worldwide. But most of all, I text from one side of the house to another, lol.

It’s not that I’m too lazy to get up and walk elsewhere. Well, maybe. Actually, I like to get up and move from my usual, sedentary base of operations. But it saves time.

No, I take that back. It doesn’t save time at all. thNot how I text, slow-mo with one pointer that starts quivering and shaking after 10 minutes or so.

I send the usual Honey-Do lists to Benedetto who doesn’t appreciate it one bit. It’s a shame because we don’t have a whole lot of time to chit-chat, and he doesn’t believe in making lists… so I bug him until he tells me to cease and desist….

iPhone-6“You need to be in court tomorrow, do you want me to handle X, Y, and Z?” I text.

“Why don’t you deal with your own responsibilities?” he suggests.

I would. If everything else didn’t fall apart when I look away for a moment.

“Morning,” I text to my son at 6:00 am, making sure he arrived at work okay.

He sends me a photo of the sunrise an hourfacebook-iphone6-hero later and we feel connected. When he’s at home, the two of us don’t let the fact that we’re under the same roof stop us from our click-and-send communication.

“How’s your paper going?” I shoot from my room to his.

“Slow going, slow. Did you know….?” and he texts me several new ideas about ceramics in the ancient world. Naturally, the smart/stupid phone changes all words, morphing them into a mish-mash that only the most astute could unravel.



But we understand each other. Usually.

He had some aches and pains from working on the golf course and we joked about his liberal and aromatic use of Bengay crème to relieve the muscle aches. The next day, he felt much better and I sent him a congratulatory text.

“No more being gay!”


“Forget it.”

I’m working on research papers of my own, and anytime I come across some tidbits that would texting-abbreviationsbenefit him, I send a quote, “It is gratifying to see that the excavators have carried their analysis of the ceramics beyond the basics of seriation, taxonomy, phylogeny, and chronology.”

“Right. Thx.”

“No prob. Have you seen any coffee?”

“I’ll get you some,” he offers, needing a snack himself and we meet in the kitchen, mother and son brought a little closer together by technology and texting.


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