No, no, no, no, no … I am not supposed to be getting calls from my parents on Wednesday morning.
But out of nowhere, my phone was ringing and their number was showing. I was so flummoxed, I got all fumble-fingered and hung up.
Meaning I had to call back.
Calls at weird times are associated with bad news, like the last two years when my father called to tell me that (for different reasons) we wouldn’t be able to get together at Christmas.
My brother and I were of the latchkey generation, so we spent a lot of time at home by ourselves as kids. We were only to call our father in dire emergencies, since he had to be summoned by the office, but our mother would check in on us most days.
Because she wasn’t supposed to make long-distance calls from her office, we had a system — she’d call, let the phone ring once and hang up. Then one of us would call back.
When I was in college, I’d usually talk to my parents Sunday nights, even if it meant calling when I got back to campus from their house to let them know I had arrived, which I still do today when I get home to Massachusetts from their house in New York.
Our regular calls are now Sunday nights at 7, unless something — usually the end of the NASCAR race — makes them run late. If I’m going to be busy, I try to warn them ahead of time so they’re not surprised if I call at noon.
Because we’re so particular, calls at weird times are associated with bad news, like the last two years when my father called to tell me that (for different reasons) we wouldn’t be able to get together at Christmas.
So a random call on a Wednesday morning?
Yeah, I was worried.
I called back. It turns out that my mother was trying to block someone, got her own bout of fumble fingers and dialed my number by mistake.
Phew.
Stuff I read
Brain couldn’t produce anything this week, so on we go.
For Smelly Socks and Garden Peas, Molly writes about what the pain of miscarriages has taught her.
Austin has been fighting some self-worth issues lately, but fortunately, he seems to be getting through them.
Fran described an anatomical function and got some … reactions.
Rosie is just going to do it for herself from now on. It’s the right approach.
Jeff has an idea that I can only describe as completely brilliant and one that should be adopted immediately.
Mari has lessons for a lobster.
Renata tried to find the bright side of having had a gum graft.
Date night is a tradition in Becky’s family.
Vee’s neighbor seems … interesting.
Watching an 18-1 baseball game gave Jackie a chance to sketch out some thoughts.
Giggles had a couple things happen since her last update.
Bex would like the harassment and other crap to stop.
Life is both too fast and too slow for Shayleene right now.
Christina got through a panic attack, but it sounds awful.
It was only one day, but I recently worked remotely with my family. It wasn’t that bad at all.
Tweets I liked
No, you’ll be silently sobbing that your favorite player had a Hall of Fame career ruined by injuries and never got to play in a World Series.
It can make me feel like a different person.
A victory of sorts.
Smart kid.
Sunderland looks nice in the evening.
I like being able to see out the window.
Thanks for sharing, Bill! Glad that the random call was a misdial. My last conversation with my Gommy before she died was caused by a misdial — my dad was on a Zoom meeting when she called him, so he asked me to call her back to make sure everything was okay. Apparently, she had meant to call my great aunt but had called my dad by accident instead. Funny (albeit understandable!) how those misdials came make us panic though!
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The interesting thing is that most of the time (the last two Christmases being notable exceptions), there’s not a major issue when it happens. It’s either a misdial or I’m going to my friend Mix’s that night and forgot to tell them.
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So happy to hear the call was just a misdial. Ohhh and thank you very much for the mention 😀 😊
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I get the same drop of the stomach feeling whenever my dad calls; it’s not fun.
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