Or you're like "You know, I haven't heard from Rick since Thanksgiving, I wonder how he's doing, and you'll get home and see his number on your caller ID?"
Or maybe you've been at Chartreuse Market and been admiring the style of jewelry you like where they've taken a print of a bird and encased it in a little Lucite frame surrounded by silver and hung it on a chain, but you walk away from it for one reason or another and a week later your daughter comes back from Michigan with a souvenir for you and it's one of those bird charms, on a chain?
Okay, so this kind of stuff happens to me ALL OF THE TIME! The hubs never pays any attention to me when I tell him about it, he just thinks I'm certifiable (and that my stories and explanations are WAY too long).
So, it's been happening a lot lately. More than usual, though what's to think. It's just .... whatever.
Pre-quilting, I used to be an avid reader. I've got a reading list that comprises over 100 books that I want to read that I carry with me. On the back, I write a concise 1-line review of each book I've read before I cross it off of the front of the paper. Sadly, there have been no 'read it' entries since 2009, which just about coincides with the year I discovered quilting.
Lately, I've been reading some book reviews that have intrigued me, so I've been adding to my list. I go to our local library website and put a hold on the book. When it's available, they'll email me. About 5 weeks ago I listed a book I wanted to read. It took a REAL LONG TIME to get to me, but I picked it up last week.
I'm a really fast reader (trained in high school by Evelyn Woods), so it took me a couple hours to read this. I finished it today, unable to put it down once I picked it up, tears streaming down my face halfway through, and at the end. LOVED IT!
My taste in reading is all over the map. I'd have to say that my all time favorite books (and favorite implies books that I would read more than once) are the Riverworld series by Philip Jose Farmer (Science Fiction...kind of), Life on the Mississippi (Mark Twain...short stories), Grapes of Wrath (Steinbeck)...and if I were stranded on a desert island with only one book...I'd have to negotiate for TWO and they would be Great Expectations (Dickens), and Anna Karenina (Tolstoy). And I'd have to leave all of my X-Men Wolverine comics behind.
Anywho, I don't want to ruin Silent Land for you, but suffice it to say that one of the main characters (who believes she is dead) starts receiving calls on her cellphone, and the voice on the other end speaks in French, which she cannot understand. It's relevant, it's explained at the end (though you likely guess what's going on after the 3rd phone call). Nice little imaginative addition to the story.
So, I get home from work tonight. I've started a new bout of stressing over the upcoming wedding, the hubs is pissing me off for the past couple days, I'm feeling left out at work, I don't have a real sewing project to occupy myself, I've got something going on with my eye, spent the afternoon at the dentist, the house is a wreck (at least by my standards)...basically, I'm unsettled, which is unusual for me. On the way upstairs from the garage, I grab a bottle of my fav Australian wine from the case in the basement and figure it's going to be another wasted night in front of the TV.
The phone rings....the caller does not speak English. They are speaking fast, I have no idea what they are saying. I'm repeating, "I think you have the wrong number". "Speak English". "Can you put someone else on the line who can speak English?" (they do, they can't). After a few minutes I hang up. Open the wine. The phone rings again. Caller ID tells me it's the same alien caller. It's Groundhog Day at the Entwistle house. Again, after running through our little routine I hang up, pour the wine, the phone rings again....Surprise, it's my non-American friend once more. We do our dance, they put on the other gibberish-speaking person, I hang up, take the block of Cheddar out of the fridge, the phone rings again.
By now, while I have deduced that this is some foreign equivalent of a crank call, I have figured out that they are speaking to me in French...and suddenly I make the connection with the book I had been reading this afternoon. (queue Twilight Zone music here). This time I tell them thanks so much for entertaining me, please call back when they have found someone who can speak English for them, and while it's been a blast, I do have caller ID and that I will now refrain from answering any more calls from their Bronx, NY area code, it's been real, have a safe and happy 4th.
Phone rings. It takes all I have to not answer it. Phone rings again. This time the little red light illuminates, indicating that 'You Have Message'. Of course, it's in French (clearly, as it begins 'Bon Soire"...that much I know from my 3 years of Elementary school French (I was in the 'program' :) ).
I send a text out to a couple of friends I think may speak the language better than I and my neighbor happens to have a friend who speaks, who is married to a French National. I hand over my voicemail password and wait for translation.
A total stranger (my neighbor's friend--don't you just love the way we all connect) phones to tell me that my caller seems to be either Haitian or African and is looking for a Mrs. Ne-Ne, and at the end of the call, the man on the line is speaking to the woman I also spoke to and telling her "I think we may have the wrong number". Too funny. Like what do you think your first clue was??
At any rate, Julie (my friend's friend) left me with a phonetic message (so I could write it down) that I should relay to my callers should I hear from them again.....
Mo Vay Nu Moro (wrong number)....Je Nes Suis Pa Le Person Vous Desiree (I am not the one you desire).
Right now, I think that message says it all.
Enjoy the book. Let me know what you think.