Online Order Woes

“Your call is very important to us. Please stay on the line. All calls will be answered in the order received. We will be with you shortly.”. Then the musak played on and on and on.  After listening to this same recording for seventy-one minutes last Friday, and sixty-six minutes on Monday, I felt my brain had fried. Adding injury to insult (or is it the other way around?) I woke up in the middle of the night with the insane lyrics from the musak going over and over in my memory. I just might sue for pain and suffering!

After the first half hour of this on Friday, I felt my investment was already high. After all, my precious time was being devoted or more like sacrificed to finding out where in the world a very small piece of furniture we had ordered online had disappeared to, and why this huge company seemingly couldn’t hire enough people to man their phone lines. The person who finally did answer had a heavy accent and sounded unable to help. “Do you mind if I connect you to my supervisor?” he asked.  “She will be with you shortly.”  And then, you guessed it, another forty minutes of the above message and musak. By the time the second person came on the line, I almost cried because... she finally came on the line, and because I could understand her! However, while she was helpful in taking off the premium shipping charge, three days later we still had no delivery.

Monday, I bit the bullet and called the number again because I hate paying for something which I don’t receive. So, the same drill, and incredibly the same two tunes. The first person I waited thirty-three minutes on the line for had a heavy accent. He passed me to his superior, and thirty-three more minutes later, I got to talk to a woman I could understand. Again, I felt emotional. She found in checking through the order, that there actually wasn’t an order, and she reordered!!  She assured me that I would be able to check on the delivery progress using a tracking number she gave me.

Unbelievably, this saga is not finished as we got an email today which said our order would be delayed up to twelve days. L When my husband typed in the new tracking number, a message appeared on the screen, “You are not authorized to enter this site.”
So much for ordering anything else online. I think we've learned our lesson.

Ah, Family!

This past week, we flew out of California to have an oh-so-short-but-special visit with our nephew and niece, and their respective families. We had the pleasure of having our oldest son along with us.

In their backyard, we watched as our nephew raised the American, Norwegian, Manx, and 10^th Mountain Division flags on the flagpole, representing family backgrounds.  We climbed down a hundred or so steps to the beach below their property which has been in my nephew’s wife’s family for a hundred years. Our grand nephews will grow up surrounded by family. Their aunt and uncle brought gifts and hugs when they came a bit later.

While with our family, we didn’t go shopping (oh, groceries once), didn’t attend a concert or go to an amusement park. No table games were brought out, and we only watched part of one football game on television.  We went to our grand nephew’s soccer game which he played happily in the light rain, and then were treated to a visit to our nephew’s office in town.

We ate quite a bit and enjoyed a delicious breakfast our nephew cooked, and a scrumptious shrimp, crab, and salmon dinner he and his wife fixed. In town we went to an English restaurant where dishes like cottage pie, fish and chips, and bangers were served.  And, oh the bakery! Can’t forget the Scandinavian goodies we ate.

During all these activities, we talked and listened, listened and talked; recalling the past and rejoicing with each other over our family ties and fond memories.

Next month we’ll spend some wonderful times with my brother and sister-in-law, and my cousin and her husband in Yosemite. Then in November, our youngest son and his little family will come to celebrate Thanksgiving with us, and our daughter and her family. Sometime soon, we’ll make a visit to my husband’s aunt and uncle and hopefully see cousins as well.  And we’ll talk and listen and listen and talk!

My point in all this is that family matters most. Not what’s going on in the political, religious, or entertainment scenes, not who has the best or most education, or whose sports teams are winning and losing. These are all great topics for conversation but never important enough to cause a rift, and above all, not as important as FAMILY.

Moon Love

The full moon is beginning to wane and while I don’t grieve over the diminishment, I look forward wholeheartedly to all the phases leading up to another full, luminous moon.  I am a Moon Lover. Never a worshipper, but so aware of the loveliness the moon gives to our world, that I look for it each and every day, talk about it with people, and know the words to many songs written extolling either the beauty or sway this traveling orb has over lives.

“Shine on, shine on Harvest Moon up in the sky...” just a sentimental song about love? Actually, the Harvest Moon was a topic in the news last night as farmers take advantage of the all-night-night-light to get in their crops. One of my favorite songs says, “The moon and I are much the same; we’re both reflections of a greater light.” A few more moon songs are Moon River, Honey Moon, Moon Over Miami, and Blue Moon.

Scientifically, puzzlement sometimes sets in as I ponder the orbit, the tilt, the makeup of moon rocks, but those sometimes mysterious aspects can’t detract me from the joy the constant light of the moon gives to me. Whether the phase is a tiny sliver of the crescent moon, the quarter, or somewhere in between, I love it!

Judging from the huge amount of information written about our moon, I am not alone in my devotion to earth’s glowing satellite. Literature, the internet, and the Bible are chock full of moon references. Here’s a good one from my favorite book: Psalm 89:37 – “And his throne as the sun before me and as the moon, perfect forever and a faithful witness in heaven.”  I like that, “perfect forever and a faithful witness.”

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Unprecedented Power Outage! Lights Out San Diego!

During our years in Upland, we lost power due to the wind a handful of times, usually leaving us in the dark a few hours. Yesterday our power was out for seven hours, a new record for us. All in all, it was a positive learning experience.

One of the reasons we moved here was the milder climate, but the last few days have been in the nineties, so when everything electric sighed into silence, I went over to check on my neighbor. She is a very lively gal in many ways, but needs a walker or her motorized cart to get around. Her air conditioner had gone off so I opened her windows and checked on her flashlight batteries. Although she wears a battery operated device to alert the police if she needs help, since the power was out, it wasn’t working on their end. She promised she’d yell really loud if she needed me. Then I looked in on one other neighbor while Don visited one a few doors up. Moving into a senior community has opened some ways to help others when needed. This was one of those times!

While listening to the car radio and later our portable, we heard updates, possible causes of the outage, and tips for safety after dark. During this time, I tried to call our daughter on my cell phone, but that irritating little message “Searching for reception” kept appearing on the screen. Of course my laptop wouldn’t work either. Disappointing, because in a series of books I’d read once about the end of civilization as we know it, the good guys had kept in touch with email and cell phones.

Since I had already thawed out some meat, and even though it was growing darker in the kitchen, I started dinner. The stove burners were missing that tiny spark to ignite the gas, so my candle lighter came in handy to do that job. Don had just that morning bought some solar lights for our backyard garden, so he brought them in to softly illuminate the corners of the living room and bathrooms. I employed a small flashlight to see what was cooking, and in no time we enjoyed a candlelight dinner. No dishwasher or disposal though, so cleanup reminded me of the olden-days when we washed dishes by hand.  Nice! Really.

As we sat in relative darkness inside our home, we had time to reflect on how long we might be without power. The radio guy was saying to prepare for days. That didn’t bother me too much, and in fact the darkness was growing on me.

We went outside where the moon brightened the landscape, and the stars were more visible than usual without all the city lights. It was so quiet as the traffic was lessening and the airplanes weren’t coming in over us in their regular flight pattern.  In the homes across our ravine, an occasional flashlight or car headlight would show. Not at all a usual night!

All was calm except I still wondered if our kids had gotten home safely. Last report we’d heard about the freeway our daughter takes from work sounded chaotic. Still no phone, so we got in the car like any neurotic parent would do, and drove the mile to check on them at 8:30. Home safe, candles burning brightly in every room, they were tucking in for a cozy night. Happy and satisfied, we drove back to our home and enjoyed two more hours of darkness.

Thoughts about causes intruded now and then since this is the weekend of 9/11, but we had heard the cause was simply employee error. Hard to believe millions of people could be without power because of one person, but at least not terrorism at the hands of a malevolent person.

Then at 10:23, the electricity came back on bringing  with it sighs of relief but also some sadness for the passing of seven uncomplicated hours during which we reconnected with a more simple life.

 

Small Talk vs Small Tools

Today we rode the Sprinter into Oceanside and walked out onto the pier.

The Sprinter is a two to three car light rail train which costs us $2.25 each for a round trip. The cars have huge windows, bright material-covered seats, and a smooth ride from Escondido to the pier area in Oceanside. We got on at the Palomar College Station along with several students. Riding gives us an opportunity to observe the people waiting to board the train, and once we’re seated to get acquainted with anyone who wants to talk. No agenda, just old-fashioned small-talk.

This little activity of observing and meeting people has brought us pleasure for years. Recently however, it has become an uphill battle to interact with anyone except ourselves because of the newest techie toys and tools everyone and their three-year-old has. Eye contact between people has all but disappeared as the point of vision for most people I saw today was their hand-held device, whether cell phone, blackberry, ipad, iphone, ipod, or “iother.” Most had an ear bud with a cord hanging down one side or the other or both. Many were gyrating to unheard (by us) music, and there was the occasional person who was gesticulating and talking to the air. I remember the first person I ever saw doing such a thing was at the Ontario Airport, and after watching him a moment, I decided he was stark raving mad!  Now in the age of the Bluetooth-type earpieces, there is at least a clue. These same good citizens, who are willing to wear the mark of technology on the outside of their head are most probably the ones who would recoil at having to wear a necessary hearing aid!

Even the smaller children have their battery-operated games with them. In any given booth at a restaurant these days you’ll find at least two adults who are either talking to or texting with other people, and a child or two who either:  Stare off into space because they are being totally ignored, play a game alone, or are fighting with each other over whose turn it is to play.

Of course I know how to text and do it often, but usually when I’m alone, and never while driving. Not just because it’s against the law in California, and somehow the message gets garbled when you have to look at the road instead of your text “<rry ,r gpt vpggrr sy Dystnivl]d om sm jpit/,”  but because I personally know someone whose life will never be the same because a driving-texter ran full speed into her at a stop light.

If my cell phone rings when I’m out in public, I try to answer it if I can, but try not to ignore the people I’m with to talk to the caller. No one around me really wants to know how I’m feeling or what kind of surgery Great Aunt Suzie had. (Neither does the caller for that matter!) Anyway, my point is that cell phone talking should be somewhat private.

I’m thinking that the general population will never give up their technology, so Don and I will need to cultivate some different ways to pass the time while traveling. Hey, I  know… we could talk to each other!

My Mom

Anyone who has loved a parent can understand my reminiscing about my mom and forgive me a walk through my memories. And what memories there are!

Several people I know would agree that my mother, Mab Graff Hoover, was the funniest lady they’d ever met. Being funny came naturally to her, and although that wasn’t her only amazing attribute, it’s what I’m going to write about today.

To tell all the hilarious things I remember her saying or doing would truly be a book, so I’ll just relate a few. If you laugh, you’d undoubtedly enjoy one of her twelve books, half of which told of her escapades and mess-ups. Her most famous one was, God Loves My KITCHEN Best, published by Zondervan in 1977 originally, and at least twenty more times in the eighties and nineties. They are now out of print, but might show up on a used book site.

The tales I will give you here are not in any of her books.

First in my high school to have a pair of contact lenses, I was quite the sensation, even with my mom though it was her idea. But I’ll never forget her almost childlike demand: “I want to try them on!!” After a minute or two of trying unsuccessfully to convince her that she wouldn’t like the feeling, but being an obedient daughter, I said, “O.K, look down and open your eyes really big.”  Within a nano second of my inserting the contact into her huge, blue eye, she began to scream, “Get it out! Get it out!” Not nearly as easy to get out as to get in, but I did, and for about an hour she kept her eye closed. I should have been the adult and said “No” that time!

The first time Don came over for dinner after we met, Mother served fried chicken. Hoping for her favorite piece, nervous in front of this new male presence, she didn’t ask for the platter, but instead asked, “May I have the chicken CHEST?” We all dissolved with laughter at her explanation that she “Didn’t want to say the real word in front of Don!”

Fast forward through our wedding, three kids, careers, blah, blah, blah.

On our twenty-fifth anniversary, we had a great party in or backyard, thrown by our three children. At this gathering was a couple we didn’t know well, but because one of their children knew one of our children, they were there. During the party, my mom had gotten acquainted with the husband who was a brilliant engineer. As the party was winding down, “George and Evelyn” (names changed to protect the unsuspecting) were at the front door saying their goodbyes. Suddenly, my mother said, “Well, George, you sure don’t look like an egghead.” Seeing puzzlement ripple around the little circle at the door, Mother quickly added, “Oh I don’t mean because you’re bald!” If our entryway hadn’t been tile, I would have tried to dig a hole to crawl into. Silence was followed by a stiff goodbye.

One Christmas Eve we had a mixed gathering of people at our home; a friend’s mom and brother, our nephew and wife, one or two of our kids, and my mother and Joe, her long-suffering husband. Again in our entry way, a small candle caught some decorations around it on fire. Being the first to notice it, my mom yelled, “FIRE!”

Don asked, “Where”

Mother, hollered  “FIRE!”

Don demanded, “WHERE?

And yet a third time, in a panic, she croaked, “FIRE!”

Thankfully, by this time others found the fire and we put it out.

You had to be there.

Oh, there’s more.

She gaily confessed to a ranger in Sequoia of having left a six-pack of root beer out for the bears.  That snagged them a $25 fine.

Perhaps on the same trip, she hid Travelers’ checks in the center of a paper towel roll in their motorhome, only to throw it out when she used the last towel!

Another day as we were driving from Rancho Cucamonga to San Diego, she took a picture of a long, orange barrier net (the kind commonly seen at construction sites) with the excited comment, “Look at all those California Poppies.”  She had already had her cataract surgery too. I was with her for that…it was the time the doctor had to ask her “to please stop talking” during the surgery!

Last story, when she and Joe bought their plots at Rose Hills, she insisted that they lie down there to see if the spaces were long enough. Sure enough, they are.  Miss her like crazy.