Disconnect to Reconnect

Wondering who I am? I’m Merit Badge Awardee Jane (MBA Jane for short). In my former life

I’m doing it, hens. The impossible. The never-before attempted. The merit badge requirement that leaves me nervous, weirded out, and full of butterflies in my stomach. More than sewing, more than getting greasy with my car, more than the thought of tent camping …


turning off all my electronic gadgets for a day.

I keep thinking I’m ready, but then I have to check Facebook one more time. Just one more status update. How ironic is it that my status update is about not being on Facebook? Like a black fly in my chardonnay. Tru dat.

About two hours into my little self-deprivation experiment, my fingers and thumbs are itching to send a text. My pile of all things tech-y look so sad and lonely and dead, stacked up in the corner, that I feel survivor’s guilt and have to leave the house.

The thought of going for a little stroll at twilight without my phone nearly sends me into a panic. I always thought that if I was kidnapped by thugs or aliens, they’d give me a moment to call for help. You know, like, hey, thugs, look over there! Beep, beep, beep, is this 911? Yes, I’d like to report the kidnapping of me. Oh nothing, thugs-of-mine, I was just mumbling to myself.

Now I’ll really have to have my wits about me and get my karate skillz on, in case of danger. Never mind that I only know Pilates and a smattering of Yoga.

All that paranoid imaginings about danger got me pretty far in my evening walk and I am surprised to find myself doing alright. To think I would have sent and answered about a dozen texts by now about mundane things and missed this sunset. Huh? Those merit badge requirements people must know a thing or two, I’ll give them that. Though my fingers still twitch every few minutes, kinda like those phantom pains I hear amputees have.

Twitch, twitch.

On the way back home, I hear crickets doing their Jiminy Cricket thing, and I notice some trees starting to bloom. I almost missed spring while I was busy updating and blogging and snooping and downloading! At first my ears were itching for their familiar ear buds and a little Adam Levine, but now they’re tuning in to Jiminy and some totally delightful sounding birds. A girl could get used to this solitary stuff.

Wait. What if Ken is trying to call?

I can’t help speed walking at that thought. Then I remember what Gramma Barbie always said about playing hard to get, and so I will myself to stay strong. I can do this. Even if I’m a little cold and clammy and starting to shake a bit. That’s just withdrawal. I went through the same thing when I quit drinking triple-shot iced mochas. Cold (clammy) turkey.

I head to bed. Early. There’s nothing else to do and I don’t trust myself near my gadgets.

If you haven’t heard from me by tomorrow evening, I’ve totally been kidnapped.

  1. Kay Ochoa says:

    I am SO excited to read about glamping. Several years ago I “toured” a glamping camper and felt the draw of it. Fast forward to last week when a dear friend gave me a copy of Mary Jane’s Farm. I thought I had read it all, was about to toss it out, and voila! a last flip through the mag turned up the article, Camp Like a Girl. I was immediately drawn to everything about glamping. It is precisely the answer to my wanderlust and my hesitation to spend days or weeks in motels.

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