My phone line has been acting up lately. Finally it went kaput completely. I reported it through the automated menu system. There was no other choice. :>(
Most of us have suffered that “option” in life. A voice robot tells us to punch 1 for Espanol; punch 2 for phone line report; punch 3 for internet support; punch 4 if your grandmother wears spandex; punch 5...etc. What made it worse was I had to do it on my tiny phone (cell phone), holding it to my ear for proper instructions then remove it and quickly squint at the keyboard to find the proper number to punch, then hope my big fingers would punch the button I chose. After completion the recording robot assured me it would be handled in 24 to 48 hours. Sheesh! I could only wonder why this menu system was supposed to be speedy and efficient only to be told “we’ll deal with it in a day or two”.
Later in the day, compounding matters, I returned home to find that in addition to the phone line being out of order the Internet line was also down. I had to report that separately, once again from my tiny phone. This time I got live voices, real people. For some reason it took two of them to handle it. One of them said “we’re on it” in an accent I was sure wasn’t local while the other overly-nice person spent 20 minutes trying entirely too hard to tell me to be patient, we love you, our customer….
Several hours passed and the phone rang, a welcome sound. It was one of the local repairmen, Mike, saying, "Hey brother, got you goin' again". He was calling from 90 feet away, using the nearest telephone pole. Apparently the home office in Des Moines, Iowa called him. (I live in North Carolina so I’m grateful the phone company spent so much money on long distance just for me.)
By the time I walked to the end of my driveway Mike was off the pole and started telling me there were two problems. It turns out a phone box out on the road was soaking wet from the rains and the "other box" further down the road had rat’s nests in it and chewed wires. He said the rats LOVE that box cus it's big and roomy enough for a family. He also said it’s hard to keep 'em out being as how it is high on the hill 'cus they love the dryness of it. He also mentioned he thought the overlook view of the soy bean fields was so pretty to them it just makes them feel like mating.
But at last, all is well. The phone can be talked on again, the internet is working and seems faster, Mike’s Aunt Lu is out of the hospital recuperating from a neck goiter she swears her husband gave her, his mom had a terrible garden this year (like many of us) but still put up 99 quarts of Blue Lake beans, and his dad's grave has volunteer parsley plants growing on the north side of it for some reason. ("You know my dad was allergic to parsley....")
I commiserated with him indepth eventually sending him home with words of encouragment, a genuine handshake, some jars of pickled beets and a hearty “come see me again anytime”.
What a life, eh? Ya gotta love it!
PS. Is there a moral to this story? If so I reckon it's...
"If ya tie a chicken's legs together will it still lay an egg?"
Er NO, WAIT, that's the moral to ANOTHER story. (I got confused for a second.)
I reckon the moral to this story is:
No matter what, there are times when strangers will benefit ya, friends will help ya, and all goes well. In the big picture, help your friends, befriend the strangers, and remember that lending an ear, offering a solid handshake, (and some pickled beets) sure makes the happenin' a happy one!
Shoe — Hoping this finds you and yours healthy and happy!
Dental work? Yikes!
I used to be so afraid of going to the dentist. Dentists were one of my 4 biggest fears, right up there with judges, heights, and used car salesmen. Fortunately I've met and befriended a local judge, nice guy, too. And nowadays I know much more about cars so the salesmen don't bother me much. As for dentists and my fear of heights those still give me the willies.
I don’t care to go to the dentist. They're expensive and I've often run out of money half way through their projected gameplan for me. But I admit, sometimes ya gotta bite the bullet. Then again, I’ve seen where a lack of dental work became a benefit.
Why, I remember the time my old mule, SidArthur, a meditative sort, lost one of his major teeth. It was one of those big ones, right out in front. Being hugely bucktoothed all his life it was quite a different sight to see. I’ve no doubt that to SidArthur it must've been an entirely new feeling. It didn't seem to bother him though, he still smiled and had that happy look in his eyes. On an even better note at some point in time he learned to spit through that toothless hole in the front of his mouth, doing so with dead-eye aim! He became so adept at it people for miles around would come to see his talent.
Yeh, I remember the days during fly season it was a sight to behold to see his big ol' tail swishing flies away from his backside while the north end of him could perform a high-powered spit, finely tuned, and knock a fly off a barn rafter from 20 paces! I sold a lot of tickets to the locals to come see that show.
Notice to all members of ATP:
If you run out of dental-work money just leave a toothless gap in the front of your mouth. I'll give you employment here in the great State of North Carolina and provide you fair wages and a private stall in exchange for your newfound talent. (*grin)
Best to you and yours!
Keep smiling!
.............................
Reminiscing comes easy: I miss good ol' Sid. He was the only mule I ever had that could carry on a conversation with me. I remember those days when we'd be working the fields. He'd be walking along in front of me pulling a plow, me hanging onto the wooden handles following along. I often talked to myself, often talked to him. Sometimes I'd ask, "Sid, how many ears of corn you want for supper tonight?" His front end never said much but his back end would always reply, "Pheww". Seems to me he always replied when the wind was blowing my way....
My Daughter lost her tiny phone last week. Ya'll probably know them as cell phones. Me? I'm of a mind to believe cell phones need to be as big as a good ol' fashioned house phone so your ear bone is at one end of the receiver and your mouth speaks directly into the talking part. Holding something up to your ear that's only big enough that the other end just barely reaches your first molar sure seems like no one will hear a word you're trying to say. Oh well, enough of that talk. Maybe more on that topic later.
It's been 7 days since we ordered that tiny phone. The company says "3 to 5 days for delivery". Hmmm, this has me thinkin'. The problem may lie with our local mail delivery driver, Buford Majestic.
Buford's been around here for so many years we all just put up with his eccentric ways. He delivers the mail on his tractor. In his defense I must add it's a real nice tractor though, 'cept one of the back tires has a slow leak. Unfortunately since tractor tire patches are up to $1.97 each, instead of patching it he carries a portable air pump that hooks up to his battery, stopping to inflate his tire every so many miles. (If you ask me I think it’s an easy excuse to stop at Porkchop’s House of Pigmeat Cafe for his morning bacon biscuit and a cup of free coffee while he waits for the tire to pump up, ever so slowly.)
Other than taking his merry ol’ time delivering there are seldom any complaints. Well, except when he was delivering groceries for the local Red and White. At that time milk would arrive curdled into farmers cheese and ice cream resembled sweet yogurt or kefir. The only other calamity was sometimes canned goods would be puffed out on the ends. That was remedied when we pointed out the saddlebags that straddled the tractor engine were getting too hot, causing all kinds of problems to fresh and canned food alike. Oh well, like I said, we’re all grateful he is now delivering mail.
A few minutes ago I called Buford's party line. For those of you too young to know what a party line is that's what the whole world used to operate with, except maybe the President. (That was one of the perks that made him richer than the rest of us, or so he thought.) Now known as a "land line" telephone lines used to share several houses at once. That was back when the telephone companies, like most of us still are, were frugal. It was quite common to pick up your phone and instead of hearing a dial tone you'd hear Uncle Susie Barnaby talkin' to Bernie Barnaby about that dang squirrel runnin' off with her false teeth, or sumpin' like that. But, again, that's a story for another time.
Buford's wife, Verlina Mae, listened to my story about the lost phone, the new one being ordered, how much it cost, and how a whistle pig was eating up my corn patch and decided she could help out. She was kind enough to stop washing up a mess of greens and take a peek out the kitchen window at the tractor. When she came back to the phone (the cord only reaches just so far, ya know) she told me the saddle bags still looked a bit pooched out with some items in them so perhaps one of them is my daughter's new tiny phone. She assured me she'd remind Buford to make sure he came by MoonDance Farm tomorrow. Oh yeh, she also mentioned that if the whistle pig didn't eat all the sweet corn could I please put a dozen ears in an empty side of the saddle bags...?
I love life. Happy Day to All.
Halt! Don't get excited! Still cogitating on doing a blog or not.
Dare I? Should I? Should I not?
Boom shokka lokka lokka boom boom boom! ♫♫
(The above has been a test. Not sure if I passed or not.)
Oh m'gosh! Caught bare nekkid! Without my beard on! I'm outta here....!
