Monday night, as I was driving, I heard a traffic report on the radio that northbound I-205 was backed up for several miles because of a serious problem. As we don’t normally have traffic problems like that (since Portland is not Seattle or LA *snicker*), I paid attention with a fair amount of curiosity to hear what the problem was. The traffic reporter said that half of a manufactured home had fallen off the semi-truck that was transporting it, blocking pretty much the entire freeway.

My first thought at that point was, “Damn, a mobile home DFO’d!”

My second thought was, “Damn, I watch too much CSI.”

(The fifth season just came out on DVD, yay! Sing along with me now: All I want for Xmas is a few DBs!)

(Added later: “DFO” is a term used only a few times on CSI - unlike “DB” which is heard constantly - and stands for “done fell over.”)

This news story caught my eye because it’s one of those things that makes you realize truth really is stranger than fiction!

Oh yeah, that poor guy is going to be teased for the rest of his life. And you know he’ll never look at a peanut butter sandwich the same way again.

Yes, I am a sicko for finding humor in this. (Especially since I’d still think it was funny if it was my daughter. Well, several months after the funeral, anyway.)

I just wrote 1700 words of serious crankiness (elsewhere, obviously). I feel a smidgen better…but also a lot less willing to do anything for anybody. Funny how that is.

Too bad I can’t get paid for that kind of writing. Damn, that would practically be my dream job.

So, about a month or so ago, I cancelled Geoffrey’s cell line on my employee plan, because they’re making us switch over to the Splat employee plan soon and I didn’t know how well that would work out (since the Splat employee plan sucks). He got a prepaid cell phone, and gave me his new number once he got it activated, although his old phone still worked until the end of the billing cycle, on the 24th of November. Of course the first thing I did was enter the new phone number into the memory of my cell phone, and program it into one of my speed-dial slots.

I tried calling Geoffrey on the speed-dial a few times, and kept getting someone else. The first time, I thought perhaps he just sounded odd, so I asked for Geoffrey…and was told that I had a wrong number. Odd, I thought, but who knows what might have happened?

The next couple of times, I got voicemail that had the first names of a married couple mentioned in the greetings message, and I did not leave a message. We thought perhaps there was something wrong with my ancient DeathStar Int’l phone, and when Geoffrey called Splat customer service to ask about how other people could get though but I couldn’t, they were entirely clueless. The suggestion was made that there was some kind of mix-up on the different systems, since my DeathStar phone is TDMA and Geoffrey’s new phone is GSM. (If that doesn’t mean anything to you, count your blessings. Basically, it’s older-generation & newer-generation cell service.)

The last time I tried calling Geoffrey’s new number, it was about midnight and I wanted to let him know something. The person answering the phone sounded like a groggy elderly woman. I’m sorry to say that I hung up without apologizing for waking her. (They must not have Caller ID, or I probably would have gotten phoned back & yelled at.) I just stopped calling his new number…until his old phone was shut off.

Last weekend (after his old phone was shut off), I needed to get ahold of Geoffrey, so I scrolled through the saved numbers to locate his new number. I started to press the “send” key to ring him, and almost instantly hit the “end” key to hang up - as I’d just discovered why I couldn’t get ahold of him on his new number…since I’d scrolled to his number instead of hitting the speed-dial number, I actually saw the number for the first time since I’d input it.

The area code wasn’t 503. It was 506. Oops, a typo on my part when I entered the number in the first place. D’oh!

And where, I asked myself, did the area code 506 dial to? I work with most (but not all!) of the area codes in the USA every day on the job, so I wasn’t too worried when I didn’t recognize it. I just got the phone book out, and looked at the page where they have all the area codes…which are listed by place name, not area code number, so I had to look through the entire list. When I got through all the area codes for the USA, and hadn’t found it, I was mildly alarmed, but thought that maybe I’d just skipped right over it accidentally. Before I re-checked all those numbers, though, I scanned the Canada area codes for shits & giggles.

WHOOPS. The 506 area code is New Brunswick, Canada. Those 4 or so times that I’d tried to reach Geoffrey, I’ve been bothering some elderly couple in freaking New Brunswick, Canada! Ohmigawd! Those poor people…

So this month there will be some Canadian calls on my bill. (I’d sent a couple text messages, too, but I’m guessing that it was a home phone number rather than a cell, and they just didn’t go through.) But what really torques me is…

If someone had phoned me at work, in the course of a customer call to assist someone with this type of situation, the very first thing I would have asked them to do would have been to check the phone number as it was originally entered into the phone, to see if there was a typo. Sometimes I just don’t have a freaking clue, I swear.

I’m grateful for a lot of important things - loved ones, laughter, and generally being happier than I’ve ever been. Oh, and I’m very grateful that, not only do I not have to make Thanksgiving dinner, but a gourmet chef is making it at my house! Yay for sweet potatoes drowned in caramel! (Just don’t inhale any pumpkin pie while you’re laughing at this funny!)

20> Whew, that’s one terrific spread!

19> I’m in the mood for a little dark meat.

18> Tying the legs together keeps the inside moist.

17> Talk about a huge breast!

16> It’s Cool Whip time!

15> If I don’t undo my pants, I’ll burst!

14> Are you ready for seconds yet?

13> It’s a little dry. Do you still want to eat it?

12> Just wait your turn. You’ll get some!

11> Don’t play with your meat.

10> Just spread the legs open & stuff it in.

9> You still have a little bit on your chin.

8> Use a nice smooth stroke when you whip it.

7> I didn’t expect everyone to come at once!

6> How long will it take after you stick it in?

5> You’ll know it’s ready when it pops up.

4> Wow, I didn’t think I could handle all of that!

3> That’s the biggest one I’ve ever seen!

2> Just lay back & take it easy… I’ll do the rest.

1> How long do I beat it before it’s ready?

My next-door neighbor (the World’s Best Ex) has an astonishingly large & eclectic music collection. I mean, I just went through his audio files looking for music - because, bless his heart, he’s going to burn the songs I want, so I can put them on my iPod - and there was everything from Rammstein to Benny Goodman. Literally several thousands of files, and I managed to only pick out 190 tracks. (We both like Prince, NIN, and a few other bands, so there were many songs that I already have.) Obviously, he deserves hugs for feeding my musical appetite.

But he’s also done something both wonderful and aggravating…last week he introduced me to a band I’d never heard before, and gave me all the tracks from one of their albums, and now I’m hooked and I have to get their other two albums! Grrrr. (But also yay! But grrr!)

So my newest musical jag has been listening to the album Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge by My Chemical Romance. Ten songs (out of 14 tracks) that I like well enough to keep on my iPod after a few listens, and 3 of those are quickly becoming amongst my favorite songs.

Therefore Robert joins Geoffrey and Karel on the list of the only men who’ve ever introduced me to new music that I liked. (But I’m never going to like Rammstein.)

Yay, my Number One Internet Fanboy found a new toy! So of course, I had to go play with it…

I wonder if I can get this made into a keychain or something… *grin*

Anxiety’s fish died. She got a couple of bettas (in separate tanks) quite some time ago. The red one died several months ago, and we really don’t know why; it didn’t seem to have been from old age. Today her blue one died, and at first I thought the culprit was a problem with the water, or temperature changes, or possibly old age. But no.

Angst wanted to be helpful, and put more water in the tank (it was a 2-gallon aquarium, so evaporation happens fairly quickly). Unfortunately, she used the water from a pitcher I was soaking because it had some kind of dried ickiness on the bottom of it. A couple days ago, I filled up the pitcher with hot water & a squirt of liquid dish soap, and it sat long enough that there weren’t any soap bubbles left…thus, no way to tell that it was not plain water without taking a swig. When Angst found out, she was horrified, and quite fervently declared, “Oh no! Sissy, I’m so sorry I killed your fish!”

Of course, Anxiety’s take on this was, “My fish was murdered!” And now she says she doesn’t want any new pets. Aw, that’s so sad.

As my Number One Internet Fanboy mentioned, I got Angst a digital camera for her birthday. (It wasn’t cheap, though. It was inexpensive, for a digital camera, yes - but it still cost a lot, and is nicer than the first digital camera I owned.) I’m pretty sure I spent more on her birthday than my parents ever spent on one of mine, even if you take inflation into consideration. But I restrained myself from really going wild…

7> Sure, the state and local governments recognize the birthdays of Martin Luther King, George Washington and Abraham Lincoln, but it doesn’t appear that they’re budging on “Stacy McWilliams Day.”

6> The goodie bags? They’re Gucci.

5> None of the neighbors even knew Emeril *made* popcorn balls.

4> J.K. Rowling herself is sitting in the corner, fervently scribbling away at “Harry Potter and the Magic of Jamie Feinberg’s 11th Birthday Party.”

3> The Stones’ road crew is complaining about stepping in the elephant poop.

2> Some parents rent clowns. You’ve hired a psychic to raise Clarabell from his grave.

1> Your gift to her is a set of blocks: Third Avenue from Seventh to 62nd Street.

Seventeen years ago this afternoon, a gorgeous baby girl made her debut into the world. She was 7 lbs 11 oz, 19 inches, 17 days overdue, and born with a caul. (For those who aren’t up on old superstitions, that means she was born with the amniotic sac still covering her head…traditionally a sign of having psychic gifts.) She was also born with the strawberry birthmark on the back of her skull that only firstborn daughters in my family have.

When her sister was born, shortly before she turned 4, I wanted to impress upon her that she wasn’t any less loved for now being one of a pair of sisters, so whenever she seemed to need reassurance, I would tell her, “I love you & your sister both so much, but you’re extra-special because you’re the baby that made me a mommy.”

Tonight as she was heading to bed, I thought about the fact that, on my 17th birthday, I had moved out of my mother’s house half-a-year earlier…and I wanted to say something to let Angst know a little of what I felt. There was so much sappy, mushy, emo stuff in my head & heart, but I just settled for giving her a hug and saying, “I really love being your mom.”

It’s been an amazing 17 years. New photo album, of this talented & beautiful & incredible kid of mine -