It's our love language.

Last year, Hubs gave me a new cell phone for my birthday. I may have mentioned it here a time or two, but since I'm overly informative ( I just made that up) I'll mention it again. This new phone has a real keypad instead of a telephone-style keypad so I can text without doing Calculus.

If I knew how to do Calculus.

Hubs also programmed a few ringtones for me. My ringtone for texts is the Seinfeld theme song, which is perfect since Hubs is usually the one sending me a text. My regular (is that what you call it?) ringtone is "I Think You're Crazy," which, sadly, is also perfect.

The reason I love this new phone is because now I can actually stay in touch with Hubs. When he is at work he can't have a real conversation, what with the fact that he is earning money so we can have food on the table and so Maggie can live in her posh existence. Sending a text is quick and convenient.

Hubs has been on a trip across the country. We had a death in the family and he went to be with relatives and attend the services. Daughter and I stayed home but, thanks to the wonderful world of texting, we stayed in touch.

This blog is beginning to sound like a bad AT&T commercial.

On Monday, while I was escaping SmallTown, Hubs was in New Jersey. He forgot that I was going to face The Loop in Lubbock and sent me a text.

Seinfeld began to play loudly from my purse. We were in the middle of Barnes and Noble, which is one step away from the library. I quickly hit OK and read his message.

"Who was the farthest relative at your grandmother's funeral?"

I suppose you thought he was going to tell me loved me and missed me and couldn't wait to be home. You obviously are new to this blog.

I stood there next to copies of The Borrowers and every book Beverly Cleary ever wrote while Hubs continued to text me with questions. I continued to answer, thinking to myself that I'd become one of those people who text in public. You know, middle schoolers.

All the while, people in Barnes and Noble were purchasing Seinfeld DVDs in droves with no idea why.

We arrived at the check-out counter and I handed the phone to Daughter. In hindsight, I should have turned off the phone, but instead asked her to quickly answer it if Seinfeld again began to play. I managed to pay and get out of the store before he sent me the following text.

"Caskets go for $2500. Urns are $300."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I'm not saying... I'm just sayin."

He went on to say that he could save money and hire Cyndi Lauper or Lisa Lisa to sing at my funeral who, oddly are his favorite singers from the 80's.

This is our strange way of telling each other, "I love you and times like these remind me of how precious you are."

The texts finally stopped until I was on the road home. When I stopped for gas, I read and answered the rest of them. We bantered back and forth until I wrote, "I have to drive now."

I climbed in the car and turned to Daughter as she opened the ring pop she bought inside the convenience store.

As I tucked my cell phone back in my purse, I said, "I think Daddy misses us."

Driving the last leg home, I thought about the years we have behind us, filled with Seinfeld quotes and ringtones and strange love notes that other people would find odd.

Moves across the country, romantic anniversaries, the birth of a child, silly nights on the sofa, and goofy texts at the bookstore and the gas station.

I thought about the many years I hope we have ahead of us, filled with laughter and tears and all the things that make this marriage ours.

And the fact that I'm totally hiring Rick Springfield to sing at Hubs' funeral.