I Look Up:  which is the first post on this new blog, being subtitled, “Why I have an Otter Box.”

So, since November of 2015 (a mere 6 months ago) I have broken two phones.  For the third phone, my family insisted that I get an Otter Box case.

(If you haven’t seen one, they are heavy-duty cases with tough, shock-absorbing padding.)

In some ways, I hate it.  It’s clunky.  It makes my phone less able to fit in my pocket.  It’s a constant reminder that I can’t hang on to an important and expensive possession.

Our 12 year old, on whose phone we have insurance, has NEVER broken her phone.  She is quick to remind me of this fact.

I dropped it today at a convention, right onto a terrazzo floor.  The gentleman walking ahead of me turned, and I shrugged.  “That’s why I have an Otter Box,” I told him.

I drop phones.  At least since November.

I used to be famous for spilling drinks.  A bloody Mary went crashing through my fingers on a date in college.  Not long after I spilled three or four glasses of water on a different date.

I had (have had – okay, still have) bruises on my shins way longer than most tomboys.  I run into things and trip a lot.  Often, I trip and fall in a spectacular fashion.  At a conference in Dallas where a colleague and I were strolling to find a place for dinner, I tripped and truly just threw myself at the sidewalk.  I flew face down, crash-landing on my knee.  She and I decided to eat at the restaurant I fell in front of.  TGIFriday’s will give you a bag of ice for your swelling, in case you ever need to know.

I’m not allowed to wear high heels anymore.  Frankly, I can fall off of flats.

None of these things alarm me.  But, they do irritate me.  Who wants to have co-workers worry about you when you decide to take the stairs?  Or even have your kids monitor the location of your phone – even after it’s been installed in the Box?

I’m not alarmed because I know why these things happen.

I look up.

I will lie on the driveway to look up at the stars.  At 1 a.m.  I love to stand under trees and look up.  The canopy of leaves and branches is like a cathedral to me.

In my day to day life, I also look up.  In fact, it might be said that I have my head in the clouds.  I study big ideas.  It’s my job.  I worked hard to earn my PhD, finishing at the age of 48.  I was not going to stop until I graduated.  At home, I’m the “big idea” person, suggesting that we paint the whole house, replace all the trim, or re-imagine the landscaping.  I have a very patient husband who is much better at seeing the clouds and the ground.

I look up – not down.  I put down my keys and then cannot find them again.  It’s been said, at home, that my tombstone will bear a lyric from Tom Waits:  I’ve lost my equilibrium, my car keys, and my pride.

The best phone story is the first time.  We were in Michigan for my husband’s grandmother’s funeral.  She’d just turned 100 a few weeks before, so it wasn’t a somber or mournful occasion.  My husband, one daughter, and I had decided to take in the antique shops in the small town before we geared up to drive back home that same day.  I’d been navigating our way out of the cemetery to the downtown area.  Once it was clear my husband was set with his directions, my GPS translations were no longer needed.  I put my phone down on my lap.  It got lost in the folds of the skirt of my black dress.  And there it stayed until we parked and exited the car.  Plop.  The phone landed face down on the asphalt.  It never occurred to me to look down and retrieve my phone before getting out of the car.

I look up.

Now I have an Otter Box.  Sometimes, I refer to it as “phone jail.”  My phone had to go to phone jail because I could remember to pick it up.

I can’t imagine any other life.  I see hummingbirds, shooting stars, and funny patterns in the clouds.  The airport in DC must have an interesting take-off pattern because every day I’ve been here, at least every sunny day – I’ve noticed a pattern of contrails that looks like a large hand in the sky, four fingers and a thumb, splayed out across the sky.

I wonder if Contrail Guy is looking up.  Does he drop his phone, too?

Jenny