Lobster Randomness

When I'm first introduced to people, and they find out that I'm from New England, it seems that invariably they mention something about how I must love living in a place where lobsters are so prevelent. I love New England, but the plethora of lobsters is far from the reason why. In fact, I detest eating lobster! When we lived in Essex, we were less than five miles from the world-renowned Woodman's Seafood, but that treat was wasted on me, because I loathe all seafood.

Here's where the randomness comes in. I just started reading an autobiography of a woman who lives off the coast of Maine, and is one of very few female lobster fishermen. It's a fascinating tale, and I'm enjoying it immensely. She started out her book with this interesting fact, and now I'm imparting this trivia nugget to all of you, so that you may now wow friends & acquaintences with randomness.

"Prior to the nineteenth century, only widows, orphans, and servants ate lobster. And in some parts of New England, serving lobster to prison inmates more than once a week was forbidden by law, as doing so was considered cruel and unusual punishment."
The Lobster Chronicles - Linda Greenlaw

So, the next time you bite into a lobster dinner than costs an entire paycheck, and you feel the jealous stares of those dining around you, remember that had you been born in a different era, you'd be considered someone to be pitied. Oh the irony!

Am I Flypaper for Freaks??

Another weird phone thing happened today. This is getting sketchy!

I got a text message on my cell phone.

"Do you get text messages?" it said.

"Yes I do - but who are you?" I replied, as I didn't recognize the phone number this came from.

"Brian," came back the one word response.

I didn't even reply, because I know no Brian's who have my cell phone number.

"So, how are you today?" came the next message, with hardly any delay.

"I'm good, but still puzzled as to who you are," I sent back.

"Brian - your EX," came the (I can only imagine) hurt reply.

"Um - I have no EXes - this is Lindsay," I replied with no delay, then followed it up with a voicemail to the phone number that these messages had been coming from. "This is Lindsay - I've been receiving your text messages but wanted to let you know I'm not the person you think you know. I've had this phone number for over two years, so not quite sure who you're trying to contact."

I got a curt text back in a minute... "Sorry - wrong number."

Oh yes it was!

Verizon's newly offered plan - "Inmates talk for free!"

On Wednesday I checked my voicemail at work. Imagine my shock when I saw that I had 11 messages waiting, especially since I had checked it the day before! I listened to the first one & it was just a series of long, high pitched squeals. In fact, ALL of them were exactly the same. Even though I knew it was probably a fax trying to come through, it sounded like the Mother Ship trying to contact one of her own.
Feeling very Nancy Drew-ish, I wrote down the number that these mysterious beeps had come from, and set out to solve the mystery...

"Thank you for calling the Hillsborough County Correctional Facility..."

"Excuse me!! Where is this?" I squawked.

"The Hillsborough County Jail," the voice calmly replied.

"Um - I just got 11 messages on my voicemail from this phone number," I stammered, still a little in shock.

"Do you know one of the inmates here?" the lady asked.

"No," I replied, letting this sink in.

"Are you sure?" she queried.

"I'm sure," I stated, while my mind raced to think which acquaintance had been incarcerated in the last 24 hrs.

It all ended with me being transferred to their records dept, where we figured out that someone was trying to fax records & had a digit off in the fax number. After a multitude of apologies from the man in the records department, I was happily on my way with a fabulous new story in my arsenal!

I Love my BED!

A few weeks ago one of my friends said that she smiles as she's getting ready for bed, because she's thinks of the multiple times she's heard me loudly proclaim how much I love my bed & how much I look forward to going to sleep each night. It's really pathetic, because sometimes in the evening all of the sudden I'll get wicked excited, because I'll think about going to bed. It's especially bad now that Mom & Dad bought me fleece sheets & they're so cozy I could just sleep for hours.

In a book I was just reading I saw this quote, and knew that I had found a fast friend. Too bad they were in a book!

"Me, I've always thought sleep was a wonderful invention. Not that being awake isn't nice too, of course. But when I get up in the morning I think, boy, only fourteen more hours and I can be back to sleep again. I like to see the covers turned down and waiting and the pillows puffed up so I can hop right in. And I never dream, because it distracts my mind from pure sleeping, so to speak..."

OCD not for me!

I was just reading a book and one of the characters was described as such a meticulous housekeeper that when preparing a peanut butter sandwich, she would wash the knife & put it away before she would even finish making the sandwich. That made me want to howl with laughter! Not exactly my housekeeping style.
I take pride in having a nicely picked up house, but this evening as I was working my way through a (whisper) week's worth of dishes (which, when you're single & don't have a lot of time to cook is not a big deal... it didn't even fill up a counter) I thought that the character in the book may just have something in washing as you go!

Literary Atrocities

This week I had six people in my training class at work. The age range in the room was between 20 - 35. While I was training, I was emailed a trivia question, so I decided to pose it to them. The trivia question was about Robert Louis Stevenson, and each one of them looked at me with blank expressions, and then finally asked "Who is he??"
I was scandalized! Did they really not know who he was?
"If you didn't study him in school, who did you study?" I cried!
Between the six of them, the only book they could remember studying was "Of Mice and Men."

Bumpah Stickahs

Today I saw a bumper sticker that made me laugh. I don't know why this type of thing didn't take off last year during the campaigns.

"Snowmobilers for Bush"

Think of all the possibilities the campaign teams missed out on...

- Cat lovers for BUSH
- People who hate their jobs for BUSH
- Manicurists for BUSH
- Mothers who yell at their children for BUSH
- People who cry at movies for BUSH
- Angry Feminists for KERRY

Oh the millions that I could have made... oh well - there's always 2008!

Heralding the Official End of Winter!

Tonight Evan, Jill, the kids & Aunt Lindsay piled into the van & went to the nearby ice cream stand for dinner... Now that's what I'm talking about!!

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

Today was BEEE-oootiful! I drove home the whole way with the windows down!
And it reminded me of one of my happiest memories of feeling one with the human race happened this last summer. Four of us were driving home from getting a pizza, and had the windows rolled down, basking in the summer breezes. We were waiting at a stop light when someone from the front seat made a verbal stab at me. From the back seat, I, with Aretha-Franklin-like vocals, sang with all my might, "R-E-S-P-E-C-T" to the offending person in the front.
Then, to my utmost delight & surprise, "that is what it means to me" floated over the air-waves into our car from the woman to our right, also sitting in her car waiting for a green light.

Friday-in-a-can!

I was talking to Sara on the way home from work today & saying that there is really not a better feeling in the world than driving home from work on Friday. The evening & the entire weekend stretches out in front on me, and I love the feeling of freedom. If I could put this feeling in a can that could be sprayed on at un-Friday-ish times, I'd be a rich woman.