Thursday, July 3, 2008....
I guess it is true that everyone, at some point in their life, has 15 minutes of fame. In my case, the 15 minutes of fame is definitely associated with shame......
Last night, I was meeting a friend of mine at the gym and while entering the building a local reporter approached me in the parking lot. He explained that he was doing an article on the local police survey and if I had experience with them. I explained I had and that it was all good. He asked me the particulars and I told the reporter that I was out of town for a few days and my mailbox was open and all this mail was bursting out (I guess it was catalogue time or maybe the fact that I subscribe to over 20 magazines could be the cause) and some of my neighbors (the ones 80+) called the cops because my car was in driveway and they thought I was dead as I live alone. I returned from a trip into NYC and was actually on my cell with my sister when I got home. I checked caller id to see if there were any messages I had to listen to that night. Sure enough, my town's police department called me. I played the message while sister was on phone and she was like "I'll hang up now so you can call them back". My sister is very good about things (aka being responsible). I, on the other hand, said "nah...it's late, I'm tired and will call in the morning". I haven't a clue as to why I thought a police station would care what time of the day it was. I guess I forgot that are open 24/7, which is something I will never forget.
Off to bed and 2 1/2 hours later, I am awoken to pounding on the front door, bright lights on bay window and someone yelling asking me if I was who I am and if I was okay. I verified my identity and was told the whole story that my neighbors were concerned and when I didn't call the police back they wanted to see if I was okay.
However, the story doesn't end there. I go back to bed and 2 1/2 hours later the phone rings; it is my ex. He told me that the police had called his house and both he and wife were out for evening and wanted to make sure I was okay....and also to find out what exactly was going on. I explained the misunderstanding. I now realized that my fear of choking on food and dying being undiscovered (I think every single person living alone has this fear) would not come true because my neighbors watch me (man, do I feel sorry for them).
Now....I need to explain how my 15 minutes of fame are tied to my shame. The mailbox overflowing is my fault. I hate to get my mail and used to go a week or two without picking up the mail. Don't know why, just a quirk. However, some friends and family knew this about me and one friend actually sent me a card every day for a week prior to my birthday to force me out to get the mail. Didn't really work, but I did pick up the mail every 2 days during that week. The important packages came via fed ex as I worked of house and since I either pay bills online or direct out of checking, no real need for the paper bill. Most of the mailbox contents were junk mail. However, after a visit from the police, I now pick up my mail EVERYDAY. See, old dogs can learn new tricks when the fear of the police is put into them.
French Phrase of the Day.....
Today's lesson is very uneventful, but, still very quirky.....it was counting. Counting from number 11 to 69 (hmmm...love the French).... Apparently, they counted from 11 to 20, and then by 10s until they got to 60, and then went 69....
Because today's lesson was lame, once again, I've taken the liberty to find an event for my sister to do while in France. Mind you, haven't a clue of her itinerary, just know she's in Paris and then in the countryside near Italy (told her to stand on border and shout out George Clooney's name or ask people where his villa is in Italy --- now if only the translation cds taught her that question in French)..... However, I want her vacation to be jammed packed with culture, so I found her these events....
Cours Foch, Aubagne
Aubagne, self-proclaimed capital of the Santonniers (Santon makers), hosts its annual summer fair devoted to the tiny clay figures. Stalls and workshops can be found on the streets of the town
Sand Sculpture Festival
5 Apr - 31 Aug 2008 (annual)
Every year, Le Touquet's Paris Plage (next to the Aqualud) hosts a summer-long sand sculpture festival. The themes, and the sculptures themselves, get more elaborate every year.
I believe that she'll find the vineyards on her own, well, maybe not if she continues using her cds, but she could miss out real events .... like the ones I noted above.
To my sister, I say Bon Voyage....