Weather in the Tries:

Hoo Boy! I expected cold this past week, and the Weatherperson gave us warm, and winds. This next week will be cold. Maybe. I dunno. Lows in the low 30s, highs in the upper 30s and 40s. Maybe. If the Weatherperson was sober when s/he looked at the computer. How does s/he know? How do I know? Does anyone care?

Sorry, Wrong Number:

In reading some of the news, I came across a story about someone dialing a wrong number, it was one digit off her sister’s number, and she kept getting a stranger. They became friends over the phone, and after twenty years, met. A nice, feel-good story. It got me going down memory lane. Like many people, I no longer have a land line, and in the last few years, I quit answering the phone if I didn’t recognize the name or number of the caller. But sometimes wrong numbers can be fun.

Years ago, a very old gentleman kept calling me, at first by mistake, and then I think on purpose. My number was one digit off from his daughter. I lived in a relatively small town, and discussed it with a friend, and she knew the guy. Old, almost blind, and crippled with arthritis. His wife was old, but not as old as he, and I think she was totally blind. He was great fun to talk with.

I grew up in Portland, Oregon. We had four elementary schools with Olympic regulation-sized swimming pools. I learned to swim in one of them. When Mom and I moved, our new phone number was one digit off from another school’s pool. We got lots of strange calls, but the one I loved the best was some woman called and identified herself as Johnny’s mother and she would be there in fifteen minutes to pick him up. Please tell him. Then she hung up, before I could tell her I wasn’t the pool. I thought about calling the pool, but she was so self-important I didn’t. Sure enough about thirty minutes later she called back, angrier than the proverbial wet hen. Johnny hadn’t been ready and waiting when she got there! When she stopped talking to breathe, I told her she had the wrong number, and told her the correct number. She asked me why I didn’t tell her the first time, so I told her she hadn’t stopped talking long enough to tell her before she hung up. I believe the pause was one of those “pregnant pauses” we hear so much about.

One time, my phone number was a recycled one. It had belonged to a Taxi Company, but they went out of business. Of course, the phone number was by the phones of the ER receptionists, the truck stops, and various other places. I got some really great calls on that line, from long haul truckers who wanted a ride to a hotel to people who were in the hospital with loved ones and needed a ride home. Fortunately, each one was kind enough to remove my number. And then, we had an Arctic Express come to town, and dump over a foot of snow on us, in a very short time. Seattle just isn’t geared for that kind of a dump. Fortunately, it came at night, after the majority of worker bees were home.

I lived out a ways, and on my drive to work every day, I passed a university agriculture station, and that night of the snow, a woman called and told me she wanted to schedule a pick up for her husband who was Professor at the college and he couldn’t walk that far in snow. She started to give me detailed instructions as to her house, I told her I knew which one was hers, and described it, and told her I passed it every day on my sojourn to and from work, and that I wasn’t a taxi and I wasn’t going to work tomorrow, and I doubted any taxis would be out, to turn off her alarm and enjoy having her husband home an extra day. 

The last wrong number I received for the Taxi Company was the next morning. A young lady called to order a cab. Uh, sorry, wrong number. She started to cry. How was she going to get to work? She’d just started a new job, and… The buses weren’t running, she couldn’t get her car out of the garage, and by now she was really crying. I suggested her boss would understand. Call and leave a message on her voice mail and go back to bed and enjoy her extra day off. Happiness is new telephone books with old numbers deleted.

Of course, when the phone rings in the middle of the night, one answers it, usually with adrenaline pumping—which kid is in trouble? Who died? Etc., and so forth. One number I had must have belonged to a couple of party girls, because I couldn’t convince the men who called at midnight and later, they had a wrong number. I finally put a message on my answering machine that said something like, “If you’re calling Jane Doe, she has moved out of the area, and no longer lives here. If you’re calling Lacy Doe, she too, has moved.” Then I turned the ringer off on my bedroom phone and started sleeping better. The messages the angered people left were pretty funny—not by intention.

I think it’s fortunate that caller id came out, at a glance or a listen, we no longer need to answer wrong numbers. What great chuckles, though, are we missing?

Photo of the Week: 

Entertainment:

TV: Nothing.

Books: Remember, if I finish a book, the review is posted at Rainy Day Reads. 

I have finished one full length book this week, Out of Violence Into Poetry by Margaret Randall. A marvelous book by a woman I wished I’d met when I lived in ABQ. I’d love to have a coffer with her and her wife.

I also finished two delightful chapbooks: The Light on Sifnos by Barbara Quick and Sin is Due to Open in a Room Above Kitty’s by Morag Anderson. All three are worth your investment in both time and money.

Auntie Lenora’s Bookstore:

Two books, both repeats, to consider for Winter/Christmas gifts: 

and

You know these are both good books because a. they are advertised in Auntie Lenora’s Bookstore, and b. they both state on the cover they are Good. 😉 And, yes, in the interest of full disclosure, we are siblings.

Quotes of the Week: from: http://www.classicmoviehub.com/quotes/film/sorry-wrong-number-1948/page/1/ Henry Stevenson was played by Burt Lancaster in the 1948 movie, Sorry, Wrong Number.

Henry Stevenson: You can’t live on dreams forever. Waiting only weakens you and your dream. My motto is: “If you want something, get it now!” 

Henry Stevenson: “Besides, what does a dame like you want with a guy like me?” 

Wow, another week has passed us by. Sammy Brave Dog has faced the dried puppy brain eating zombies down, and most are gone now, looking for less ferocious puppies to tackle. And I’m about to get my wee gifts mailed tomorrow. I hope. Tuesday at the latest. Have a grand week, enjoy December while it’s here, and remember, it’s less than three weeks until…… 😉