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Monday, July 18, 2016

Your wallet has a name?



Zippy works better.


During the time of dial-up connections and VCRs (ask your mom), 



cordless phones . . .


the sleek, highly evolved cousins of the dinosaurs of mobile communication, started to appear . . .



and if keeping track of a TV remote control wasn't hard enough, a phone with no tether tended to end up in far off regions.

Your wallet has a name!?! 
Peregrine!!! 


Being an accumulator of fabric, my mom had stacks of 1970's polyester. The pieces that avoided transformation into tunic and slacks, became a variety of projects including tech-storage, easy-access, portability bags . . . 




a fabric pouch with a ribbon to slip over her head, made to carry pens, tissues, glasses but mostly the elusive telephone receiver . . .



which, while preventing some loss of items, did not retain the phones that her teens carried into the garage, concluded the call, and tossed the handset in the back seat while driving out.



More than once, a house-wide, yard-wide and outbuilding search concluded when someone thought to search the vehicles.  

Where me keys means where are my keys. I don't know where my keys are but I found them again. 



Now that I'm starting to lose everything . . . 


brain slowing turning to a sea sponge combined with telecommunications smaller than a pea . . .




and having no collection of 70's patterned poly . . . 



it looks like I'll have to continue to rely on the current system of frantic search recruitment before I can leave the house. 


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