I never wanted a “smart phone” in the first place but my husband surprised me  with a Blackberry  three years ago – basically becoming a co-dependent in what has become my ever-growing  email addiction.  I admit it:  At first I loved it, forever  hypnotized by the subtle vibration and blinking red light, indicating that I received email, or, better yet, a text.  I was constantly connected to whomever was reaching out to me from all corners of the universe and cyberspace.  I was never alone.  Blissful with my Blackberry. 

That is, until my techno-savvy, trendsetting brother started flaunting his iPhone and its countless “apps.”  The seeds for what would soon become a classic case of “iPhone Envy” had been sown.

At first there was denial:  ”Who needs the distracting sideshow?” I convinced myself.  Phones should just be phones (and delivery systems for email, of course).  I did a pretty good job buying into this logic for about 2 years until my phone service contract flirted with expiration.  Then I started to cave.  It didn’t help that my son’s iTouch could outsmart my Blackberry.  It had GPS, an app that helps you find ATMs and restaurants when you’re on road trips,  and instant access to iTunes, of course.  But the internet access and video quality really blew me away.  I could watch  cherry-picked news stories at my own convenience – wherever and whenever I wanted to!  I HAD  to have an iPhone!

So, my very generous husband hooked me up last Christmas.  I was elated.  I could go on and on about the countless apps that now “complete me” (Shazam and Lose-it,  how did I live without you????).  Chances are, if you’re reading this post, you already know.  But what you may not know is how to dispose of your outsmarted technology in a “green” way that could also bring in some green.

Enter Gazelle.com. This website allows you to enter the specs of the stuff you want to unload (laptops, digital cameras, phones, gaming systems).  Once you do that, you simply  hit enter,  and the site calculates how much they’ll  pay you for it.  Then,  Gazelle  fires off a free shipping label  to your inbox .  All you have to do is pack up your item -along with any chargers and extra cables- and then drop the box off at your nearest UPS store.  That’s it.  I received a check in 7 days for my Sony digital camera.

There is, of course, stuff  they won’t pay for (my outdated  ”his and her”  Eriksson phones, for example).  But Gazelle will  recycle those items  for free.  You just toss them in the box with the gadgets that have value and Gazelle takes care of all the shipping charges.    Another bonus: they have a specialist trained to remove all of your “private” data so it’s no longer in circulation. 

I checked out Gazelle’s warehouse in the Greater Boston area last summer.  It’s simply amazing to see the sheer volume of phones, laptops, and cameras that are passing through the facility.  Most of the used technology is shipped to new owners in South America and Asia.   ”The demand is insatiable,” says  co-founder Israel Ganot (who helped launch ebay).   According to him,   Gazelle diverted 10 tons of the so-called e-waste from landfills in 2009! 

Bottom line:  if you want that iPhone, buy it.   Then “sell” your jilted phone to Gazelle.  Someone in Belize is probably fantacizing about  your bargain-priced Blackberry right now.

It’s pretty much undisputed that Memorial Day kicks off summer.  When I think of summer, I think of the beach.  And who among us hasn’t encountered a horseshoe crab while strolling along the sand?  Especially if you’re hanging out along the East Coast.

I admit  I’ve always been a little fearful of those primitive crustaceans with their spear-like tail poking out of the sand, threatening to impale a barefoot beachcomber.  I’ve never fallen victim, but I know people who have. 

Horseshoe Crab: To be admired, not feared

While researching a story for this season’s All Things Connecticut (on CPTV), I recently learned that horseshoe crabs are not to be feared – unless of course you step on one – but rather respected.  In fact, they play a critical role in the pharmaceutical industry.   Horseshoe crabs  have a compound in their blood (which is a shocking shade of blue) that causes it to instantaneously clot in the presence of contaminants. This compound, which is called Limulus Amoebacyte Lysate or “LAL” for short, is used by every pharmaceutical company in the world to test for the presence of bacteria in their medicine and vaccines.  In fact, I was recently at Protein Sciences in Meriden, which manufactures the H1N1 Vaccine, where they were conducting “LAL” tests before releasing the vaccine to the public.  Quite amazing, really. 

But it’s how the  ”LAL” is extracted from the humble horseshoe crab that is truly eye-opening.  The unsuspecting creatures are pulled from their natural habitat, brought to the labs where “LAL” is synthesized,  drained of most of their exotic blood, and then tossed back into the wild.   Sink or swim.  While, the generally accepted statistic on survival rates after a “bleeding”  hovers at 10-percent, when you actually witness the proceedure,  that does seem a little dubious. 

Protecting people from tainted drugs – not the only medical miracle these primitive creatures perform:  the chitin in their shells is used for sutures and healing burns, and they’ve been involved in nobel prize winning eye research.  As one enamored horseshoe crab researcher affectionately told me, “Horseshoe crabs just keep on giving and giving and giving.” 

This researcher, Dr. Carmela Cuomo from University of New Haven, is in the midst of a major scientific breakthrough that will likely  ensure that we preserve this prized species despite their high demand.  After 10 years of diligent work, she managed to breed and raise the crabs in captivity,  keeping  them alive longer than any other scientist  in the world.   She generously gave me and my two sons  some “newborn” crabs to try to raise as pets at home, conducting our own little experiment.  They died within the week.  (Just another reminder of why I’m a journalist and not a scientist.)  But, under Dr. Cuomo’s  loving care,  her little beauties are well into their second year of life.  And, despite their teeny, tiny size, they are the spitting image of their spider-like parents.  If you want to see for yourself, check out my segment that is airing on CPTV’s All Things Connecticut by clicking here.

Moult Skins on the Beach

 Another tidbit of information on my new favorite sea creature:  when you see their shells littering the beach, don’t  mourn another untimely horsehoe crab death by bleeding.  Chances are, what you’ve stumbled upon is the empty shell of a crab who has merely outgrown his “crib.”  Just like the lobster, these guys moult and then move on.  I told you they were cool.