Connected

Until a few weeks ago, I was a cell phone resister.

I've been weakening gradually. I got tired of trying to make plans with people who have cell phones and so plan on the fly. It had become wearing to leave people two phone numbers when I could have just be leaving one.

The straw that broke the camel's back? When I told Jennifer that I was thinking of getting a mobile, she practically hooted.

"Really?! That's great! I want to text you all the time! There's always funny stuff going on!"

What? I've been missing memos from my favourite manners lady?

Fuck that. I called Virgin the next day.

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Last week, as part of Team Street made its way over to the 160 Workshops, the Wren asked me if she could call me Peg-Leg Meg.

Some people are nicknamers (I'm looking at you, Grace) and some people are not. I've had a few virtuoso nicknamers in my life and have been known by many appellations, some of them having only a tangential relationship to my actual name.

With the exception of my entire Grade Four class turning to me and laughing and pointing when we sang the song Baby Face the first time in music class, I've pretty much liked them all.

You bet I can be a Peg-Leg Meg.

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My favourite response to the "I caved!" email has been making me giggle for two days.

I can call you whenever now. "Hi Peg-Leg, just calling to find out what you think about unicorns..."

How do you even follow that up? I'm not funnier than unicorns.

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Confidential to The Wren: I think they're fine.