The phone rang a few minutes ago. I looked at the clock and decided that it just HAD to be mother. I was going to answer it with something guaranteed to get a laugh (like "Hello, Muddah, hello Faddeh, Here I am at Camp Pintada" (Pinto being the color of the horses half the herd is made up of... )
Thank heavens I restrained myself!
1) I can't sing worth a hoot, and the STRANGE MAN on the other end of the phone MIGHT NOT have grown up with Al Sherman's record, My Son, the Nut and never have heard of his renditions of the classics with hysterical lyrics... much less recognized bilingual parodies of them out of context.
2) The phone call wasn't for ME, but for my neighbor. It was a "wrong number" with a twist. I WAS who he called, but he really wanted my neighbor.
Now, I ask you, HOW do you get a "one house down further south" from the one you want BY PHONE???
Furthermore, I dialed M.'s number immediately afterward and got his son B. at once, at home, and answering...
Weird, weird, weird.
So, he asked me to get a message to Mike... one that had his name, phone number, the fact that it was business-related, and the extension and DOCUMENT NUMBER...
Weirder and weirder...
He DID NOT ask for Mike's number.
So, as I did with the strange truck in the neighbor across the road's driveway, we played, "Who do you know and where are they/you from?" I did not know that game before I came here, but I am getting my real-life practice at it this summer.
The man was FROM OHIO. But, he's in Phoenix at present. (Yes, Sedona IS still burning, but it hasn't reached the houses, yet...)
Having 80 acres, but considering it not enough land to survive on blew his mind. I backtracked. "By farming. I could build a factory on it and it would be plenty big enough, but then the trouble would be getting enough people to work in the factory."
That took a viewpoint shift beyond him at first...
The whole conversation was beyond weird... It was passing STRANGE.