A phone tale

 

      Last Saturday, my husband woke up with a great idea. It was a beautiful morning and he suggested that we head out to Parke County, Indiana for the Covered Bridge Festival. I have to admit that the idea of seeing nature at it's most colorful, appealed to me. So we made our plans to go.

    As I was getting dressed, Philip - my husband, put his hand on his jaw (like he often does when he is hatching an elaborate plan) and said "We could go by that phone place I was telling you about and check them out. Squealing tire sounds could be heard in my head. "What....no, I don't want to go shopping!" I grunted. I know how he is when it comes to shopping - (it's an all day event).

    "This store is on the west side", and "We'd be heading that way anyhow," and "You need to pick out a phone," and "It won't take long," and "We'll get back home before dark (I have things to do in the garden)."- sales pitches came rolling from his mouth. He wanted to go look at phones. Me, being the easy mark that I am, said "OK, OK. I'll go but let's not spend all day looking at phones and phone plans.....UGH!" Then he does a turn around and says that he can't do it today because he doesn't have his latest bill with the account number on it and he was told he'd need a current bill. I breathed a sigh of relief.

     We get in the car, fire up the GPS/Garmin and set out for a beautiful day in nature. When we got to the west side of Indianapolis, Philip remarks "That phone place is right near here." I cringed. We have now started re-negotiations. "I thought you needed your bill with the account number." I argued.

"Let's just go look at the phones." he replied. And with that we programmed in the address for the phone place and headed their way.

      Right away we had trouble finding the place. It didn't have a store front. The shop was located in an old strip mall. We find the place. Amazingly enough, the parking lot was full. We park and head for the entrance. Let me describe what I saw. There were sliding doors, like you might see at Walmart, except these sliding, glass doors had metal strips (like you see in cabinets to support the shelves) screwed across the inside of the glass panes - thereby thwarting any attempt to smash the glass and break into the building.

    Inside the building, Mariachi music blared from the sound system. The carpet had given up being a floor covering and was now working on becoming part of the concrete beneath it. There were booths everywhere. Mostly marked by their chain link fence walls covered over with pure blue tarps. Most of the merchants were selling tatooey design t-shirts, moped equipment , fancy/frilly little girl's party dresses or big girl's 'party' dresses.

    We proceeded to the back of this lovely assortment to find the phone place. A guy who looked to be about 16 stood in front of the counter. Another man, behind the counter was talking to a customer in Spanish. Philip approached the 16 year old (he was probably actually 25 but everyone looks like a baby to us).

      He started asking a million questions of this kid. And the young man tried to answer all of Philip's questions. They looked at the various phones that would be included in this 'new' phone deal. Then Philip asked more questions - something about programming and something about flashing. They looked at the phones again. Then Phil asked more questions, the kid went in back and brought out another phone, which they looked at and more questions were asked and then they looked at the first group of phones that they had previously discussed. I was losing my mind!

   At one point, when the kid went to ask a question of the 'man behind the curtain" (wall) (and he did this several times), I pulled Philip aside and asked him "Honey, has it occurred to you that these guys could be gone from here, this time next week?" Philip shook his head in agreement and the kid returned with more phone information. Then, they looked at the phones again.

     We ended up buying one new phone which turned out at check out was actually a used phone and we had my phone reprogrammed to accept the new service. We had to leave these phones at the phone place for all the reprogramming. So two hours after we'd first entered phone world for phones, we left phone world without phones and headed to Parke county and all of autumn's natural beauty.

     Around 6pm we started back towards home. Phil tried to call his brother on his old phone (they told him at the phone place that if he used his old phone to try to make a call and it didn't work, that meant that his new phone was reprogrammed). We decide to swing by the phone place and pick up our phones. It was a mad dash.

     We get to the phone place with about 30 or 40 minutes to spare. Unfortunately, they had not ''flashed' the phones. We wait and wait. The entire mall had taken on the aroma of sweaty, gym socks and over the sound system the folksy music had changed to a more Saturday night leaning with a  rapper crooning on about "F this" and "F that" in a 'lovely' chorus that never actually switched from the chorus. I look around at all the young kids running around in the place. Children who have to hang out at this joint because their families are trying to make a living. An hour after our arrival, we leave with Phil's new (used) phone, leaving mine behind because they were having trouble flashing it.

    As we headed home, Philip began to grumble about the whole phone place experience. "Nobody told me that this was a used phone, I didn't want a slide/touch screen, I should have" blah, blah, blah. At first, I almost tried to console him but then I just sat back and enjoyed the drive home. It's like they say, "experience is the best teacher."

    

 

 

Make Out Sessions

Life sized cut out of David Duchovny and Juliana Moore 

playing the part of Charleston Heston and Lee Radziwill's stand ins.

 

    It happened last week. I was working away at my desk in Anderson, Indiana when I heard a  male voice, half yelling, "Come back here!" At first, I thought someone was in the building, maybe in the hallway. I got up and went out in the hall. Nothing.
    I went back to my desk, figuring that it was probably someone passing in the street. Then I heard more loud talking. I looked up again and noticed the top of a man's head, just above the bottom part of the window in the show room. I eased over to see what was going on.

    The man looked like a young Charleston Heston, except, without a visible gun. He had yellow hair that was cut into a peach fuzz, flat top. He was in a loud, heated discussion with a woman on the sidewalk

    I got nervous. Was a woman being accosted in the street? Should I call the police? Maybe I should call across the street to have the school maintenance guys come check on this. I was in a quandary.
     I went back to the hallway to peak out from the side. The guy had a yellow scooter sitting beside the sidewalk. It was the smallest scooter I've ever seen. Something a clown would ride.
    The conversation in front of the building continued. They were oblivious to the commotion I had started making in the building to distract them and perhaps get them to move along. After all, if I did have a customer show up to buy cabinets, would they be willing to interrupt this dramatic scene from As the Stomach Turns?"
   And then, things got worse. They started making out right in front of my building! He had the woman pressed against the building and the talking had ceased. Ugh!
    In an act of desperation, I went to the door, threw it open, and interrupted their lovely moment. Wanting to say "Get a room!", I instead asked in a voice sweet as an angel, "Are you guys waiting to get in the building?"
   They both turned my way, a little surprised, and said, almost in unison "Oh, no." without embarrassment or explanation. The guy immediately turned back to look at the woman.  I looked at her, too. She smiled at me, adjusted her sunglasses and gave a small shrugg of her shoulders - like 'that scene went well.' She looked like a movie star with those big, Lee Radziwill (Jackie O's sister) sunglasses and the lovely thin scarf around her neck.
   I went back to my desk and left them to settle up in the street and move on. Suddenly it occurred to me that some kind of soap opera was taking place right out front. High drama, free of charge and if they had waited until night time, the street light on the corner of the building would have lit the scene perfectly.

Return of the Permanent Records

 

     I mentioned last week that I'm looking for funny things in the day to day world. I asked my husband what he thought of my last blog entry describing the humor of middle aged aches and pains. His response, "It sounded like you were feeling sorry for yourself." Obviously, he "gets me."

   I was not feeling sorry for myself. I was just making observations that I thought were funny. And I could do this with any age group. Babies are hilarious because of the mind trapped in an evolving body. Teenagers are funny with their braces and pimples and OMG everything is everything thinking. Pick an age group, I can make fun of it. And I'm sure that in 20 years when I am forgetting names (including my own), it will be hilarious.

    Well, I had lunch with my son, Barnaby, this past Wednesday.  I asked him if he was keeping up with all the election coverage, especially with it being the day after the vice presidential debate. Nonchalantly, he says "No, I've not really been following it." Stunned, I asked why not.  And my Zen Master son lays it out very simply for me. "At this point, everyone has made up their minds. (Even the undecideds have decided.) There's nothing you can say to change anyone's mind at this point. I know who I'm voting for so what's the point of listening to anymore?" Case closed. I felt instantly better. The campaign season, which is way too long, just tugs relentlessly at our society. There's a sense of waiting to see which team will win out. Whose heart will be broken? Political ads in abundance. Businesses hold back, waiting for an answer. Election year is a slow death. With my son's Zen answer, I thought "yeah, there's peace in being decisive." So, I'm ready and waiting. Now if I can just stop checking the polls which scare or delight me on any given day.

     Later in our discussion, the topic of permanent records came up. I was telling him that "If I could go back in time to when I was a teenager in school and still retain what I know now, I would definitely be a handful for my teachers. If they threatened that my actions were gonna be recorded in my permanent records, I'd say 'make sure you get everything in there.'"

  Barnaby says "Mom, that comment's going into your permanent records! Everything you've done since leaving high school is in there! "

    I gave him a questioning look and said "The high school that I went to is no longer a high school. It's been closed down for years."

    He said "That doesn't matter, there's a file cabinet sitting out in an open field with your permanent records in it."

    We both burst out laughing!

 

 

 

Killer Comedy

 

     The above picture is me in my 1969 "going-to-prom" best. My mother paid for that Kardashian/Jersey Shore hair style. It lasted through 3 dance numbers and fell apart like the souffle that it appears to be. I am just posting it to announce my new love. Comedy.

    The dress was beautiful. It featured a gathered skirt that just barely touched the floor and sweet, puffy, 'poet' sleeves with see through dotted Swiss fabric. There was gobs of lace. I could have gone from the prom to my wedding and never missed a beat.

    Now, on to comedy. After I wrote that piece on Political Pon Farr (weeks ago), I felt free. It was my coming out party. In that entry, I may have revealed my last, personal secret - except for the stuff that you'll never get out of me! NEVER!  I've come to realize that I've spent this portion of my life on planet Earth in my "Fear Cave." Not wanting to step on any toes or raise anyone's blood pressure. Well, my parents are in heaven now, so who cares? Now that I am out of the cave and the sun is blinding my eyes, I am on the look out for funny things.

    And my timing couldn't be better. I am now entering a hilarious time in my life. My hair is getting thinner so parts of my scalp peak through.That's comedy tonight! And the hair that hangs from my head is brittle and breaks at the sound of a bird chirping.

    I've never had great teeth. I once had a dentist ask me if I smoke. I told him "no", since I in fact do not smoke. So he asked if I drink coffee. Well, me and coffee are like that (&) so he suggested that I use a straw to drink coffee. I can tell you that when I am dead and gone and my mouth full of teeth are slowly becoming a puddle of molecular goo in the Earth, it won't matter a hill of beans if they are pearly white or cracked mocha - I'm not using a straw to drink coffee.

        (Excuse me for the break, I had to go get a cup of coffee).

    I think the funniest thing that is happening now in my hilarious life is my walking. I get out of a car and give myself a second to let the hip bone re lock into my pelvis. I take a step just to see if all joints are engaged. The other day, it occurred to me that maybe as we get older we should disguise the re locking joints by doing the cool dude strut, similar to the one that Kramer did on Seinfeld when he walked down the street wearing the Joseph's Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat - dreamcoat. I was explaining this theory to my daughter in law and she laughed out loud. She later confessed that she thought when I said cool dude strut, that I was talking about the pants on the ground crowd who hold onto the front of their pants while the back of their pants let it all hang out. When I consider the acid reflux that occasionally grips my colon, that might not be a bad idea. 

                           Me, holding white gloves - with a long sleeved dress, ready for the
                             prom. We were a family of nine kids, so the door got a little wear.
                                             Note the square of silence around my head.
                         

Curiosity Has Landed

 

 

 

     A couple of months ago, the Curiosity spaceship was headed for a rendezvous with planet Mars. A lot of planning went into this meet up. As time got closer to the landing, more and more media outlets were reporting various aspects of Curiosity's journey; spaceship design, what the landing would look like, interviews with assorted individuals associated with the landing, etc.

     I've always been a bit of a space nut, so I admit that I was a excited for what was soon to happen. Then the big moment arrived. Unfortunately, since I live in the Eastern Daylight Time part of the country, I wouldn't be able to see the live broadcast of the landing unless I stayed up until 1 AM.

     Though I'm a big, space nut - I'm an even bigger nut for the restorative powers of a good night's sleep. I was in a quandary. Then my husband says "Go ahead and get a good night's sleep. You can always see the taped versions on tomorrow's morning shows."  So I agreed and went to bed.

    At approximately 5 minutes within the time that Curiosity was to land, I woke up - wide eyed.  I decided to get up and see if the wonder ship had landed safely and accurately or would NASA be crying buckets of tears.

     I turned on the television. None of the local stations chose to run the story - even at the 1 AM hour and since we don't have any type of cable television - I fired up the Internet.

     I came in on the scene with all these folks at the Jet Propulsion Lab, hugging each other, slapping five, fist pumping and some even tearing up. Curiosity had landed! And landed precisely! I was thrilled.

    I sat and watched the proceedings for about 15 minutes. During that time, the hugging, slapping five, tears and a bit of appropriate yelling took place. At about 10 minutes into the celebrating, all the JPL people returned to their work stations. And a disembodied voice started talking scientific lingo to them. 

     They had started a systems check. Everyone was in serious science mode! And the voice said something to the effect "science,science, science at 20 knots per second" (I'm making these words up because the science talk was Greek to me). And as soon as the voice said this the entire room broke out in huge laughter with more slapping fives.  It was like watching rats in a maze as I tried to figure out what they were saying. It was all over my head.

    They got quiet again. Paying deathly attention to their work. Then the voice said "Science, science, science 250 kill-o-vessels" -(or something like that - but not that). And again with the big laughter!

    This scene struck me funny. I was grinning about it as I made my way back to bed. As I lay down and was drifting off to sleep, another image came to my mind - an image that tells this story in a short, precise manner - and I did in fact laugh out loud right there in bed.