One of Those Days

I don't know what made today different. I'd started getting the calls yesterday--the ones from Sterling, Virginia, telling me that my Apple security had possibly been breached through my cloud account, blah-blah-blah. Several identical messages were left on our answering machine. After the third call today, I decided to return the call from my cell phone. When the helpful guy with the accent asked what he could do for me, I reminded him that he had called me. He said "On this number?" rattling off my mobile number. "No," I said. "On my land line."

When he asked me what that number was, for some reason, I snapped.

I said, "I'm not going to tell you what that number is, but if you don't stop calling it, I'm going to hurt you! And don't you dare call me on this number! I swear to God, if you do, I'll track you down and hurt you! Now leave me the fuck alone!"

Yes, those were my actual words. I have no idea where they came from. They just squeaked out in the croaky, broken voice that I'm stuck with now.

Then, to keep myself from thinking that I might be crazy, I started obsessing about how mean I'd been. The poor guy was just doing his job. I didn't know what set of circumstances had put him in his position, but I was pretty sure that "Scam Artist" hadn't been his first career choice. I really could have been nicer...

I called back during the next commercial break.

It sounded like the same voice, but I played along, explaining that I'd just spoken with someone, and had been very rude, and I would like to apologize. He asked me if I knew the name of the person I'd spoken with. I didn't, so he asked for my name, saying he would see what he could find out and call me back. I told him I didn't want to give him my name, but I would like to know what he was doing. He explained that my Apple account might have been breached. When I told him I didn't have an Apple phone, he said, "Well, Ma'am, you should just forget about it then. That's what you need to do. Just forget about it."

But I couldn't. When I got the next call from Sterling, Virginia, I picked up the phone and pressed One to be transferred to Tech Support. And there was my friend again. He told me my Apple account had been breached, and did I have a computer or laptop? He wanted to know if I knew how to connect my phone to my computer. I told him I didn't have an iPhone, but that my husband did. He said I should have my husband call him when he got home. He said he should ask for Victor. (Aha--I had a name now!) I told him I would do that--have my husband call--knowing that would never happen.

Within a half-hour, Sterling VA was calling again. I picked up and was transferred again--to Victor. Once more, we ran through our lines...how can I help...you called me...security breach...This time I asked if I could have his name. At first he hesitated, then told me it was Victor. He asked my name, so I told him Kate. That's when it got weird--er.

"How old are you, Kate?"

Getting bored, I said "18," thinking What the hell?!! Does this dude not recognize my voice by now?

"You're 18? Do you have a boyfriend?

Okay. This was kind of fun.

"No. I don't."

"Can I be your boyfriend?"

"I don't think so. Where do you live?"

Again, the hesitation. Then "Cupertino, California."

"Wow." By now, I was sorry I didn't have an iPhone so I could hit Record or something.

He asked for a number where he could call me, and I acted coy. I told him I'd call him. He said I couldn't use the number I had, because someone else might answer, but he wanted my facebook identity so he could friend request me.

Ha! I was almost tempted to give it to him--not!

Anyway, I think he was starting to get suspicious, because when I asked for his, he said, "RV. That's all. RV."

Like I said, just one of those days. Gotta go now...Sterling, Virginia is calling...again.

Pranksters in My House

2016 has eased into 2017, and I've done my traditional reflecting. The popular feeling seems to be that 2016 was a year we'd all rather forget--unless, as my nephew, Brad, pointed out, you're Laurie Hernandez. Not only did she win Olympic Gold in Brazil, she also took home the coveted Mirror Ball Trophy on Dancing with the Stars--go, Laurie! While I may not have won any shiny medals or trophies, I still feel like 2016 was pretty good to me. (Okay, there's that whole election debacle, but that's another blog entirely.)

Awesome Greg's and my "Borrowed Baby," our "Imaginary Granddaughter," Jordyn, came to stay with us in June, and she's completely changed the dynamics in our previously empty nest. We couldn't be happier!

Ever since she was tiny, Jordyn has loved to play tricks, and Greg has always been a favorite target. She used to delight in sneaking up behind him while he was working at his desk, and scaring the hair off his head by yelling "Boo!" then giggling uncontrollably. What is astounding to me is that no matter how many times she did it--sometimes twice in one day--he never expected it.

But now she's older. She has better skills, and a larger repertoire of pranks. She likes to bake. Especially cupcakes...

This one was from the last batch she made. When Greg saw that there were sprinkles involved, he said "Leave one without sprinkles for me, please."

"Okay."

I then watched as she hollowed out the top of a cupcake with a spoon, filled the crater with sprinkles, and then frosted over it. I wish we had a picture of Awesome's face when he bit into that mouthful of crunchy sweetness, but I'm afraid we were both laughing too hard to be concerned about capturing the moment.

But Greg likes pranks, too...

Jordyn planned her 14th birthday party in November. One of her primary activities was going to be making s'mores over a grill. She enlisted her buddy, Greg, to help her find suitable marshmallow-roasting sticks in the woods behind our house. Greg, however, had other plans for his Saturday, and they did not include whittling and carving 20 sticks--if they were able to find that many. He slipped out of the house while Jordyn and her friend, Kinsley, were still sleeping. A quick trip to Lowe's, and he was home with five packs of clean, beautiful sticks. Not wanting to deprive the girls of the thrill of the hunt, though, he went out and taped the packages randomly to trees, then came in to wake them. They donned boots and jackets and willingly headed out...

"Hey, what the...?!"

"Look what we found!"

And the real chocolate on the graham cracker was that during the party, which was held in the parking lot of an apartment complex, a neighbor (another prankster, perhaps?) called the Fire Department. A truck arrived, lights flashing and siren blaring. Fortunately, the guys just laughed when they saw the group of kids and a couple of adults roasting marshmallows over a grill.

Happy birthday to Jordyn--one I'll always remember with a smile.

New...

This was shared on facebook by my friend, Cindy. I know nothing about numerology, but it makes perfect sense to me that 2016 should be a number (9) which signifies endings and completions. For me, it feels like 2016 ended of a way of life I had become very comfortable with.

Over the last eight years, I've gotten used to supplemental oxygen and regular pulmonary function tests. Gradually, my lung function has dropped from 100 percent to 75 to 68. When it dropped to 40 percent within six months, that was significant. That's when I got used to being tethered to a concentrator or a portable oxygen cylinder around the clock. Happily, that number stayed at 40 percent for three good years. After each visit to Duke Medical Center for testing, I was happy to report that I was still "too healthy for a transplant." I'd had to exchange things like tennis and running for other things--knitting, reading, writing--but life was still good, still full of plenty of happy distractions.

In November, however, I learned that I am no longer too healthy. Things were said about it being time to get me on "The List," because the disease has started to progress. Funny--I'd almost been able to forget that I had a disease. I'd come to view my oxygen deficit as a lifestyle change. Now I have to change my thinking.

I will go to Duke at the end of this month for a week of daily testing. Awesome Greg and I will make the 50-mile trip each day, and each day I'll undergo some kind of "procedure." I heard words like CT scan, heart catheterization and barium (the kind you drink). I must admit, I'm feeling a little bit of fear and trepidation as that week draws near.

But this numerology thing eases my anxiety a little. If 2016 was a 9, then 2017 is a 1, which means new beginnings. I must not resist, I'm warned, if I do not want to be pushed by the universe. I definitely do not want to feel pushed. Which brings me to my single New Year's resolution for 2017:

I resolve to become a person whose response to the future, whatever it may be, is "That sounds great--let's do this!" Maybe 2017 will make me the recipient some new lungs. Whatever happens, I trust that all be well. My resolution for 2017 is to choose trust over resistance. We'll start there.