Marcelline's employer, among other things, is a cameraman for the Food Network, notably filming episodes of the popular Diners, Drive-ins & Dives. One of Marcy's critical life missions is keeping Stan's head protected. Over the years she's provided a steady supply of cool and hip headgear. For Christmas in 2008, Marcy gave Stan a Food Network baseball cap.
It was worn to Scotland and has become a stalwart in Stan's baseball cap rotation ever since, often eliciting comments and starting up conversations with strangers. And now it has been replaced, with an additional DD&D hat thrown in for good measure. You can see from the faded version in the photo above that it was indeed high time. Old reliable used to be the same black shade as the others.
Also in the package was a five dollar bill to pay for Marcy's text messages to Stan. Marcy loves to text message. The old fart does not, so he has it as an ala carte feature on his cellphone contract. It costs him 20 cents per text, which seems like a ridiculous sum to pay for: "Where R U now? I'm on the patio," but that is just another argument of many he has lost. He just passively grumbles about the cost each time he returns a text message on his cell, and includes a billing notation. So today Marcy shamed her cheap old stepdad and sent him a fiver to cover past and future communication expenses.Mom, who texts like a teenager, got some swag too: A CD with Marcy's painting on its cover and a Food Network refrigerator magnet. Thanks, Marcelline! U R Ahsum!
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Marcelline replies:
Dear Mom and Stan and Family,
Loved the story on the blog. Fun fun.
My comment:
Texting = Connecting. I've got a teenage son and although he is not into texting either,his generation is and I don't want to be left in the dust.
Any of my under 30 friends don't even ring doorbells anymore. They stand outside my door (next to the doorbell) and call me on their cell. That blows me away everytime.
Last night at a party I was among a bit of a younger crowd and they listened in Awe as I told them about phone booths, phones that all rang the same, and the great exercise we used to get by having to run to pick up a call before it was done ringing. No caller ID. WE WERE ALL SPRINTERS back then. Remember?
Big Love,
Marcelline
