So, I have one book in review and another in edit, thus I play the waiting game. I am encouraged and delighted that my work has found its way to people who would like to absorb the words and understand the person behind the construction. I am reveling in the fact that one of the editors suggested I have done well with the craft of writing. All of that being said, it’s still the waiting game. In the mean time, I write for various publications and have meandered into another book outline. I also have become a people watcher again. Through airports, restaurants, and various areas where people congregate, I watch as people don’t talk. I watch as people parade around with a phone like they’re robots directed by electricity. I fully admit that through the years I’ve commented very pedantically on the subject, but I really do believe it’s getting worse. While I bide my time with hobbies, writing and gardening, I swear to the Universe that others stare into a phone as if their life depended on it. They walk down the sidewalk staring at it. They drive staring at it. They sit in a crowd and stare rather than converse or look around at the scenery. Who are they? Kids, parents, grandparents, you name it. I really notice these behaviors most in airports. Now I suggest that their reading on a phone is much like a book or newspaper, but with the ear buds connected and the Facebook pages being thumbed and the emails being read and the instant messages being sent, I say it’s more than a book or newspaper. It’s being wired. The waiting game has been removed from most people, and instant connections only assist in taking away thoughtfulness and calm. While nervous and anxious to have my latest two books awaiting someone else’s decisions, I will certainly respect that wait and make use of the time. But I will also enjoy not being wired into instant whatever. I like to be engaged in conversation – even during my most misanthropic days – and I thoroughly enjoy perusing my surroundings and the environs I attend. Maybe for one day, a person could try to live without the blasted phone; maybe for one day the person could read and look up to smile and see the sky; maybe…nope. They’re gone.