Wrong Number Goes Right

Mothers Day came and went without fanfare in my home. I had hoped for the requisite breakfast in bed from my girls, but no such luck. All I got was the usual kiss from Opal at 5 am and a lame excuse about “not being able to operate the toaster with their paws” from both Lucy and Opal.  Halifax mothers had pretty awful weather yesterday.  Some areas had wet SNOW! For the most part it was heavy rain. The kind we describe as ‘sideways’ rain. I donned my rain suit and set out for church with Opal. The UU’s were in good form. Someone did a presentation on Falun Gong. I was a little bored (nothing like a Power Point presentation to put a blind person to sleep).  I would have enjoyed knowing how to do the exercises, but the person giving instruction had a pathetic ability for verbal description. I sat and listened to the Chinese-type music instead. After the service, I happily handed a copy of the new Pet Country Magazine to my friend.  It features a story and pictures about Opal and me.  A non-eventful kinda day until….the phone rang. It was a wrong number. Instead of saying, “sorry, wrong number”  (like Barbara Stanwyck in the move with the same name), I got into a half-hour conversation with Elan from Orrilia, Ontario (we eventually got to know a little about each other). My first comment was on the town of Orrilia, which all good Canadians know from Stephen Leacock fame  (Canadian writer of humourous novels and short stories). She was looking for a dental hygienist with the same last name as mine, and the same first initial.  Our chat took us into odd territory.  I discovered that we might know the same blind fella who plays the bagpipes in Halifax, and that her father is a dentist.  She told me that the weather in Ontario is expected to get better (good news for my upcoming trip), and that her husband has an unpronounceable Polish name. Her children are very young (one made a clay vase in daycare as a mothers day gift). We exchange e-addresses and I wished her well. Wrong number? Not really.


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