Mary Oves
Mary Oves Danny Drake

I ordered tickets to see Chelsea Handler in Atlantic City today. I confirmed that my mother-in-law and sisters-in-law wanted to attend. I set up a tentative babysitter, and checked out dinner reservations for The Quarter.

I answered an e-mail from my editor, from my son's baseball coach and from a student. I sent a picture of a friend's son to her, because he was hugging my dog. Sweet.

I checked the waves at the North Shore, checked the local weather for the week and Googled some schoolwork. I wished a friend in Las Vegas a belated happy birthday and played a game of Boggle.

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I checked the dates of the New Jersey Teacher's Convention, then booked a cabin in Shenandoah for my family that same weekend. Great hiking there.

Took a picture of my sons surfing, sent it to my friend. Made a list of boys for my sons' birthday in August. Listened to "Mickey" by Toni Basil.

Checked messages, recent calls and voicemail.

All from a chair on Strathmere beach.

I am not bragging, nor am I touting the benefits of living in the technological age. And don't think I sat in my chair like a tree sloth while my family had fun. I was in the water the whole time. I did these things between swimming sessions, and it took very little time.

I love my iPhone.

Am I damaged? Will there be a point in my life where I will be sitting in a rocking chair, and a masked bandit will come up to me, point a gun at me and say, "You didn't think you would get away with it, did you punk? Did you really think you could run your life from a phone on the beach without consequences? Well, meet your consequences."

Bang. Pow.

I feel guilty how much I love my iPhone, and never intended on getting one. I was forced to go to the AT&T store after my sons "fixed" the toggle ball on my Blackberry.

I was told I needed a new phone, and qualified for an upgrade. As I walked down the row of display phones, all the Blackberries did their little tricks to get my attention. One sat up with a ball in his mouth, one spun in circles and jumped in the air and one barked the alphabet.

Then I saw a lone phone in the corner. He was alone, resting, not trying to impress me. He scratched himself lazily, heaved a big sigh of relief and looked up confidently when I approached as if to say, "I'm the best. There is no comparison. My apps speak for themselves. If you decide on me, you will have made a great life-changing decision."

He was right. I love him. I use him as an iPod when I run. I use him as a camera, and my sons use him as a video camera, and upload immediately to YouTube. He's my alarm clock in the morning and my Weather Channel during the day.

And all he requires is to be taken out a few times a day, and to get a scratch on the belly every once in a while.

I'm in love. He's worth the money I spent, and I've never regretted the decision.

Sorry Blackberries.

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