I think I'm one step closer today to Buck Rogers, than I was yesterday to Barney Rubble...

OK, I know that Buck Rogers is hardly the most timely example of space-age wonder anymore, but it seemed to be a reasonable metaphor for my latest attempt at embracing what most 8-year-old kids today take for granted. I'm talking the relatively simple task of text-messaging.

I've had the capability (like anyone else that owns a cell phone - duh) for years now. And, I've been getting spotty transmissions from time to time from as far away as Manitoba, but even until as late as yesterday had not even tried to return them.

Last night, sitting on the sofa, sweat dripping from my brow, I broke down. I (honest to God) READ my instruction manual for the cell phone. You have no idea how hard a struggle that was.

Not the reading part, for Pete's sake!! A guy referencing a manual is like a fish having to ask Yoda how to grow gills. If word of this gets out, I could lose my membership...

At any rate, the risk was worth it, if I have finally managed to join my brethren in the 19th Century. I typed out a few test messages. The first one: "msfntT djdgj arkshgfs?" wasn't really successful, to my mind.

It took some practice, but I eventually figured out how to scroll the lettering, and watched in wonder as the screen said "Sending"! If I get a response (and knowing those characters out east, I suspect I will), I can hold my head up proudly. If I don't get a response, I'll never know if they got it or not, and aren't just messing with my head.

Hmm... Maybe I should text someone else, just to be on the safe side...

Chow for now!