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“You’re resistant to technology, aren’t you?”

A new coworker asked me that on the way to lunch when, at a stop light, I looked over at a driver next to us who was texting, and I started to scold her through the closed windows.

When various friends of mine realize I got a smartphone a year ago, their reactions ranged from surprise to flat out amazement. Receiving a text from me is not unlike receiving a text from your grandmother.

But in recent months, I’ve found myself bombarded with not just technology, but the very best KIND of technology: What I’ve begun to refer to as iShit.

My first iShit came with the new job. All employees received an iPad. Then, for our wedding, my husband bought me a iPod. Then, when Sprint bought out U.S. Cellular in our market and we had to switch phone companies, Spring offered hella good deals, and I found myself with an iPhone 5 that I spent only $100 on.

The iPad, I can take or leave (scandalous, I know, but everything I want it to do, my phone or my laptop does better). My iPod is awesome and has made walking (I loathe exercise, but I’m trying — baby steps) not just tolerable, but enjoyable.

But my iPhone. Oh, my iPhone.

Complete with funky wood grain case and cutie little skull in the corner (who knew skulls could be cute?)

I love him. Yes, it’s a him, I just right now this very moment decided my iPhone is a gay man because he. Is. FABULOUS. I’ve actually been counting my calories since I got the little bugger (oh, that is unfortunate wording) because of my LIVESTRONG app, and it has been working (when we got back from the honeymoon in mid-May, I was at my scary weight. I’m 10 pounds down now.)

I actually downloaded a book on Trevor (just named him, after Neville Longbottom’s pet toad) a few weekends ago on a train from Chicago. I didn’t want to lug the book I’m currently reading (Somerset Maugham’s “Of Human Bondage” is seriously glorious, but a doorstop even in paperback), but iBooks had a free version. (I’m reading both versions now, depending where I am. The book is far superior, but I like the e-version more than I ever would have thought. It comes in handy when I’m waiting for something.)

Trevor’s namesake

My husband and I just joined our bank accounts, and our only worry was how to manage two people using one checking account. My Wells Fargo app tells me our balance any time I want. My Bloglovin app means I read the blogs I love more than I ever have.

This is not meant to sound so advertorial. I’m not trying to pimp my favorite apps. I’m just sharing my wonder with you that … I reeeeeally love Trevor.

But no worries, the Old Me is still in there. I still want to slap anyone who texts at the dinner table across the face. (But I won’t … my boss, who is amazing, uses his iPhone like an extension of his hand. I swear, medical journals could do studies on him, and he does this indiscriminately — whether he’s talking to his employees or his superiors, he don’t judge.)

For the first time in my life … I don’t like forgetting my phone at home. I’m not terribly pleased with that. I DO, however, like that I have this awesome resource at my fingertips.

It still makes me want to go send a snail mail rightnow. Or maybe a telegram. (Which actually still exists — but not for long.)

So yes, I’m resistant to technology. But I’m getting better. And when the app that lets you disapparate debuts, I will be all over that thing.

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