Ghanaian Update

She called again today. But there was a man on the other end. Still, I could hear Catherine's voice in the background speaking. The man didn't speak English. I'm positive it wasn't English. It was the middle of the afternoon, so I know my brain wasn't just playing tricks on me. I stayed on the line with him for a few minutes trying to ask him questions and figure out who he was looking for. Mostly I just apologized a lot and told him I couldn't understand him.

I hope they find who they are looking for.

I also hope they stop calling me.

Wrong Number

A few weeks ago I was awoken at about 7 in the morning by a call on my cell phone. If my cell phone didn't serve as my alarm, rest assured (play on words!) I would silence it at night. You can see my dilemma, I'm sure. I do not wake up at 7. Oh no. On a good day I am out of bed at 8:20. Most days it's about twenty minutes after that. Thus, I was rather shocked that my phone was ringing so very, very early.

I answered the phone, and on the other end I heard a whole lot of gibberish. That is, the language did not sound like English. Naturally, I figured the caller was speaking Spanish. Now, let me explain that my brain always goes into default Spanish mode when I hear a language that isn't English. I guess this is because Spanish is the only language besides English that I have any ability to speak. My knowledge of French is limited to a few phrases from Beauty and the Beast. My knowledge of German is limited to what I've heard in WWII movies, and what a little of what Eric remembers from his three years of German in high school. (I have a headache. I have the hunger of a bear. I love you.) (Eric also knows, "I have no idea. I'm a foreigner," and "How much does the calculator cost? The calculator costs 10 marks.")

As I was saying. Spanish. Only, as you may recall, my Spanish is rusty at best. So, here I am at 7 a.m. wondering who the heck is speaking Spanish to me and what they want. In my sleepy stupor I start saying things like, "Usted tiene el numero... wrong. Mi espanol is muy malo. Lo siento. No soy Catherine. Soy Sherry. Me llama Sherry. Lo siento. No intiendo. Yo Soy Sherry." (Translation: You have the number... wrong. My Spanish is very bad. I'm sorry. I'm not Catherine. I'm Sherry. My name is Sherry. I'm sorry. I don't understand. I am Sherry."

Then I heard, "Wrong number? Sorry." And gone.

That afternoon, the same number called again. Only, this time, I was awake. Awake enough to realize the caller was not speaking Spanish after all. Oh no. She was speaking ENGLISH. Yes, my own language, but she had a rather thick accent. My guess is Ghanaian. This is because in this second phone call I realized she was saying something to the affect of "This is Catherine somethinngsomethingsomething from Ghana." Oooooooohhhh. You're Catherine. Yes, that makes a little sense, I guess. And you are from Ghana, thus me not being able to determine what the heck you were saying. Now I get it. Except, I'm still pretty sure she had the wrong number. I told her that, and she hung up.

A few days later, she called again in the morning.

And again a few days after that. Tourth time, it was on a Saturday, and once I was awake, I couldn't go back to sleep. My rath was kindled, I blocked her number from my phone. It was mostly to preserve my sleep, but also because I was concerned about the amount of money she must be spending to make these calls from Ghana. And, I must insist that she is, in fact, calling from Ghana because the phone number matched with the country code.

I was done with Catherine from Ghana. Until today.

At 5:30 in the MORNING. THE MORNING. Grumblegrumblegrumble. Ruiner of dreams. (After she hung up I had bad dreams about being roped into some sort of Ghanaian prince email scheme. I hate stressful dreams.) This time, she called from an unknown number.

Assuming that Catherine doesn't call me at some unheavenly hour next time, I'm going to my darndest to keep her on the line and try to help her find the person she is looking for. My friend, Trish, mentioned that maybe Catherine is looking for a family member or loved one in America from whom she is expecting money, and if that is the case, I feel rather badly for her. Whatever her deal is, I hope she stops calling me early in the morning, and I hope she finds the person she is looking for.

"Look all around you for somebody who..."

Yesterday was my birthday. I turned 25. It was a happy day, which actually started on Friday.

I had just gotten back from a run to the ladies' room, when I came back to my desk to find my adorably bearded husband sitting in my seat. It was quite a surprise! He had picked me up to take me shopping at the outlets in Park City (since we didn't get to go in August after the family reunion, like we usually do).

We headed out to Park City, grabbed a quick dinner at a Mexican-ish cantina, and then hit our favorite stores. I bought a couple of long-sleeved tees at Old Navy (see one in a below picture), plus a sweater at Old Navy. The Gap was a let-down, but Banana Republic was a hit. I got a fantastic A-line gray skirt, something I've been wanting for quite a while. Even though I'd been wanting one, I hadn't ever buckled down and gone on a shopping trip devoted to finding one. As soon as Eric picked me up, I knew I would be keeping my eyes peeled. Success! Hopefully there will be forthcoming pictures as I am wearing it today along with a really great blouse that I also got at Banana Republic. (For clarity, I am normally FAR too cheap to shop at Banana Republic. I only every shop at the outlet store in Park City. And a few of my favorite pieces of clothing have come from there).

Saturday morning began with the opening of presents from Eric. (Yes, presents even though we went shopping the night before as my present). He got me a butter dish because I have no idea what happened to my last one, and I really needed one. And he got me a Snuggie, which I am wearing right now. Yes, I really did want one. No, you will never see me in it.

Saturday we went to Eric's parents' house where Matt and Michelle are in town. Michelle was throwing a wedding shower for friend of hers when we arrived, so we just hung out with Matt and their new little human.

After the baby shower, the family sang the L-family birthday song.

Then we ate cake and opened presents. Eric's parents bought me some books that I really wanted, and I am uber-happy to have. The first is the box-set of the Little House Series. I had this series as a kid, and I absolutely loved it. Something mysterious happened to it, and that makes me sad. I eagerly look forward to reading this series with my own kids one day.





The other is the America's Test Kitchen Cookbook. I probably shouldn't want anymore cookbooks since the Internets probably have every recipe imaginable, but cookbooks are something that I just love, love, love. It is so much more satisfying following a recipe from a cookbook propped up on my counter than from the laptop propped on the counter (which makes me very nervous) or my scribbled notes that I have taken down rather than prop the laptop on the counter.
The evening consisted of games, an attempt to attend a Mo-Tab concert (we had to watch it via a live feed in the Assembly Hall) and more games. Overall, it was a happy couple of days. And now I can rent a car without it costing a million dollars! Hooray!

The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery

I had heard about this book probably around the time when it was at on the New York Times' best seller list. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure when I first heard of it. But I first gained interest in it when I heard it reviewed on the Diane Rehm show way back in April. (As you may recall, her show is one of my favorite things.) I don't usually listen to her show these due to scheduling conflicts, but I happened to catch that hour that particular day because I drove myself to work instead of riding with Karina. (Come to think of it, it was because we had family pictures that afternoon, and I had to leave work early.)

Anyway, the book was on my to-read list since April, and I finally read it.

I give it 3.5 stars. (By the way, GoodReads admin folks, why don't you allow me to give five stars?)

The story is primarily told by Renee, a concierge at a ritzy apartment building in Paris, and how she is incredibly bright and well-read but seeks to hide this from the residents. The story is also told by Paloma, a rather intelligent twelve-year-old girl who plans to burn down her family's apartment and commit suicide on her thirteenth birthday. (Charming, no?) Eventually a third very important person comes into the novel. He is Japanese and represents all that is dignified and wonderful that the other residents of the apartments are not.

I felt like I was really trudging through this book until about the last 100 pages. And then in the last 20 pages I didn't want it to end. As you may remember, the two most important things to me in a book are a captivating plot and understandable characters. The Elegance of the Hedgehog had the characters. I really liked Barbery's characterization (even when I didn't like the characters). The plot was very lacking for me, though.

With that said, it is important to note that the writing is very beautiful, although a little pretentious, which is also a good adjective for Renee and Paloma. I found it hard to really like them when they despised everyone around them, even if everyone around them deserves to be despised. It wasn't just that they thought they were better than everyone around them, but I felt like they thought they were better than me too. I don't think that was Barbery's objective.

Overall, I liked this book. I didn't love it. It probably won't make it into my top ten list at the end of the year.

Because they first loved each other

This week, Eric's L. Grandparents will celebrate their sixtieth wedding anniversary. We went to a wonderful celebration for them on Saturday night.

I've mentioned at least twice before that Eric and I want to be just like them when we grow up. They are practically perfect in every way. We love being around them. Despite the fact that they have 26 grandkids, 10 grandkids-by-marriage, and 19 great-grankids (and at least one on the way, that I know of, and no, it isn't me), they still know who all these people are! AND, to top it off, you can really tell that they love each and every one of us.

They are both incredibly good-natured and kind. They have started all sorts of family traditions that everybody loves and looks forward to. I didn't really have a grandmother during my growing up years, so I feel really lucky to have married into a family with such a spectacular grandma.

Part of the festivities on Saturday night included a quiz about Grandma and Grandpa. Some of the facts I knew before the quiz:

• Grandma was the eighth of eleven children.
• Grandpa worked as head of the public relations department of the LDS Church before he "retired."
• Grandpa met President Reagan and President Bush (the first one).
  

Some facts I learned from the quiz:

• Grandma's wedding dress had 48 buttons down the back.
• The treasure box was blue.
• Grandma had a lot of jobs. A lot.

After the quiz all the grandkids and most of the aunts and uncles (or maybe all?) read excerpts from Grandpa's journal that he kept after he "retired" from his job with the Church and served for five years in a leadership position with the Church. It was great to hear some bits of his time, and especially to hear the bits where the grandkids were mentioned. I loved these parts best:

• A description of Eric's brother, Andrew as a "fat baby."
• The description of Eric's Aunt Susan as "visibly pregnant."
• An update that the twins were "healthy and developing nicely."

I loved those things best because when I think about the magnitude of the assignments Grandpa had during that time period, it's wonderful to know that of all the things he could write about, he still always made time to mention his family and the things that were going on in their lives.