Sunday, March 29, 2009

A Country Friday in Floyd

Friday late afternoon I checked online for a credit card payment. Yes, I had paid it. I had a vague memory and wanted to double-check, but something else caught my eye. We have two Chase cards, one with a small balance and the other with a zero balance. Except the second card didn't show a zero balance. It showed that we owed $2,187.40 and six purchases had been made to in the last four weeks. What?!? We didn't make any purchases. The payment was due that day.

I called Chase and explained that we didn't make any purchases. To their credit, they were very good about it. I was concerned about making a payment so we wouldn't have a late pay on our account while this was sorted out; but they said to not worry, they would remove all charges. That was a huge relief. They cancelled the card and issued a new one. They would launch an investigation.

Wait, it gets better.

At 7 p.m. our live-in resident announced, "Hey Lisa, there are two cops outside on the porch." Scott, back from work, had retreated to the basement to practice until dinner was ready. I hollered for him to come upstairs ASAP. He didn't hear me.

Oldest son walks in the door. He asks why the Deputies are here. I'm just thankful it doesn't involve him since he's asking, which I'm not proud to say was my first thought. I tell him that I have no flippin' idea.

I stood there, surrounded by my sons, and opened the door to Floyd County's finest. They stated, with one hand on their guns, "We're responding to a 911 call from your house."

I must have had a stupid, blank look on my face when they tell me they received a 911 call from our house. I can imagine what they must have thought. My face was completely flushed--bright pink--I had soaked in a hot bath for my left knee and hip (not to mention the credit card fraud!) and had been out for 10 minutes. I was wearing my pink bathrobe over sweats and a t-shirt.

The Deputies say that they tried to call back, but couldn't get through--hence why they showed up. I explain that our phones weren't working (left uncharged for too long), so they couldn't get through. I apologize for wasting their time and tell them that I have no idea how or why they received a call from our house. I don't know if they believed me, but we didn't make a call. It's a mystery.

The Deputies ask if we're okay. I nod and tell them "We're all fine." Though I must look half-loony standing there in my pink bathrobe with a dumb look on my magenta face at 7 p.m. on Friday night, they must have ascertained that 'all was okay' because they turn around and leave.

Thank heavens.

At which point, I go downstairs and tell my husband what he just missed and decide I'd enjoy a barley pop with my dinner.

This has not been your average, run of the mill month: a car wreck, a birthday, a used car purchase, credit card fraud and Deputies showing up for a 911 call we didn't make.

And people that don't live in the country tend to think country livin' is slow and simple. Maybe even dull at times. Ha!

It can be. It has potential.

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Starting again... and again!

This is embarrassing. Last Friday I ran into a friend from my mortgage broker life (it surfaces as I bump into former clients/friends). He asked when I would write again, pointing out my last post--three months ago--with Shock! Outrage! No, neither.

Then, today, at a food order pick-up, less than a week later, one of my food group 'co-workers' told me she was #7. Two of my now seven (SEVEN!) fans have spoken! Seven is lucky, right?! It is for me.

Naturally, I heroically thought, "I must start AGAIN!" Because, heck, starting is what I do best. Follow-through not so much, but if you need something, anything, started then I'm your gal. I can start anything. I may not finish, but does that matter?! Well, yes, sometimes it does.

I should start a business where I do nothing but start various projects for people. I get it up and rolling and then my client takes over. What a great idea. I'm full of them (ask Scott--he can vouch for me).

Lest you think I never finish a darn thing and my life is endless incompletes, this gal writes a two-page Christmas letter every year and has for nearly a dozen years. Wow! How's that for an accomplishment?! How does she do it? It isn't easy, people. It must certainly count.

And while it isn't finished (this is a good thing), I'm making good on the 'follow-through' of being married. I could add, "It isn't easy, people. It must certainly count." But that's not true, it's way easier than it looks. [He could say the same about me. But he hasn't. Today on Facebook (where I've been since January--I'll be your friend!), he wrote that I was the Best Wife Ever. He's right. What a guy.]

I've had at least lucky #7 different types of careers, er, jobs in my vast work experience. Finished every job but my current one. I've worked retail, in restaurants, for an airline, for law firms, doing personal care and another one that escapes me, but I'm sure it was divine.

I'm not finished raising sons though I've (we've) made great progress, which is one of my favorite things to say.

Isn't all of life a work in-progress? If you're making 'great progress', you must be moving forward and doing okay, even if you haven't finished. Don't you agree?

I've rationalized that not finishing something isn't so awful. (I'm pretty good at rationalizing, too.) And you can't ever finish if you don't ever start. So here's to starting again... and again. C'est finis.
[Photo courtesy of Creative Commons.]