So, the other day I was in a rush. A big rush, trying to get three kids out the door and we were already late. I couldn't find my cellphone anywhere, so I picked up J's phone and dialed my work number.
Much to my surprise, someone answered.
"Who's this?" I said in a really snotty voice to this thief. I had no idea how this older-sounding woman had my phone, but I could tell by the sound of her voice that she was clearly the ringleader of this cellphone-stealing crime ring.
"It's Rita. Who's this?"
"I'm S. Why do you have my cellphone?"
"I don't have your cellphone." Damn skippy she didn't have my cellphone. I knew everything about her in twenty seconds of conversation. I could see her living in a rundown trailer somewhere, waiting for her poor children to arrive home from their days stealing cellphones. There's Rita, with mousey brown permed hair and a cigarette hanging out of her mouth, clicking digital pictures of the stolen cellphones and selling them on eBay. I knew what she was up to.
"Yes, you do. I just called my number and you answered. This is my cellphone."
"I don't have your cellphone. Why do you think I have your cellphone?"
"Because this. Is. My. Number. And you answered. All I want is my cellphone back. Can I come pick it up?"
"I don't understand why you think I have your cellphone. I'm just sitting here at home."
"With my cellphone." Ha ha. My logic was unassailable. I had her in a corner.
There was silence. I knew she was busy coming up with some plea bargain, some reason why she needed my phone. Needed the money to pay for formula for her baby, or some such crap.
"Why do you think I have your cellphone?" she said, finally.
"Because you do. You have it. I just want it back. Please. I'll come pick it up, no questions asked. I'll even pay you a finder's fee for it." I tried to play the sympathy card: "This isn't my phone; it's my work phone. I could get in real trouble for this."
"But ... I don't have your cellphone. What numbah are you trying to reach?"
"6xx-xxx5. MY cellphone number."
"Yeah," she said, sounding defeated. "That's this numbah."
More silence for a minute as both of us tried to figure out what to do. And then it dawned on me. She said numbah.
When we moved her from New Jersey, J. kept his cellphone number because so many of his friends had that number. So when I dialed my work phone the area code, it sent the call through to New Jersey. Not Michigan.
"Are you sure you have the right area code?" Rita said, helpfully.
"Oh," I said, all of the sudden wanting to just hang up. "Ummmm ... I think I made a mistake."
"Yeah," Rita said, sounding more like a nice, reasonable person than a criminal mastermind. "I think so. Why did you think I had your cellphone?"
"Um, because I dialed the wrong area code."
"Oh, right. OK. Which area code were you looking for?"
"734."
"Nah, this is 732."
"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry."
"OK, no problem. Have a nice day."
Poor Rita in New Jersey. This whole conversation could have really devolved into a screaming match with f-bombs being tossed about willy-nilly, but Rita stayed calm and collected the whole time.
Not surprisingly, I was the crazy one.
So there's this story on today's USA TODAY web site that hits on one of my favorite consumer topics: Bottled water. The story (found here) points out that bottling, shipping and buying bottled water is far less efficient than turning on your own tap and drinking that stuff.
But I get it -- we've all heard horror stories about well water being contaminated with something, or our tap water tastes kind of funky, or it's simply easier to buy a bottle at the gas station than to bring your own. All those concerns would make sense if the stuff in the bottle was actually any different than the stuff coming out of the tap.
Yes, folks, the kind bottling companies that fill those bottles with water for you and then charge you $1.25 for it are using municipal water from other towns. I first came across this when one of the towns I covered back east was mulling an inquiry from a bottling company to tap their water. They dismissed it pretty quickly -- it seemed like more trouble than it was worth. But other places have taken those offers on. Aquafinia and Dasani both come from public U.S. reservoirs. Which means people in those areas who buy Aquafina and Dasani are paying for the water twice -- through their taxes and water bills, and again when they buy a bottle. You can see where the water is bottled right on the back of the bottle.
Pepsi says they purify Aquafina through the HydRO-7 process (a term they've trademarked) so "that's how you know you're getting pure water and consistent taste every time you open an Aquafina." That's what's called a circular argument. You want pure water so we purify it with this fancy purifying thingy and that's how you know it's pure. They don't say tap water contains x, y, and z things that we take out of the water when we purify it, and that's why it's a better product.
It's similar to Good Start formula, which offers "comfort proteins." When I first saw those commercials, my oldest was a few months old and I was looking into different formulas, so I tried to find out what comfort proteins are. There was no good explanation for it, only the same "comfort proteins" slogan used over and over again, promising my baby would digest it better than the other formulas. I quickly dismissed it as bunk. But then a couple of weeks later, I was talking to another mom who said she was using that formula, and I asked her why. "Because it has comfort proteins," she said, totally serious. I said, "Really? I saw that and I don't know what they are. What are they?" "They're comfort proteins," she said. "They make the baby's stomach feel better." "Yes, but what ARE they?" She had no idea.
Anyway, back to bottled water. There's an environmental movement called Think Outside The Bottle which encourages people to use tap water and has lots of information on the bottled water industry.
Bottled water makes sense in places where water is contaminated with bacteria, but that's not the case in the U.S.
That said, I could be wrong about this whole thing for people in my home town, where we seem to have an odd number of water-related issues (kids in the high school prohibited from drinking from the fountains because of high amounts of copper, and once the water came out of my bath tap bright yellow. I still don't know why that happened.)
An update on my efforts to be less consumptive: I am pretty much finished with summer clothes shopping for the kids, and I wrapped it all up at garage sales over the last two weekends. My mother would be ashamed and more than a little grossed out by the idea of used clothing for the kids. Also, the whole family managed to get through the two-day heatwave without air conditioning. I was cranky and bitter the entire time, but now it's over and I'm feeling fine. Honestly, though, I would have blasted the A.C. yesterday if my dearest seemed inclined to turn it on.
I'm on a bit of an anti-consumption kick lately. Well, maybe lately's not the right word. Maybe since yesterday. But it's been building, slowly, since getting back from India.
I don't even really know where to begin, except to say that I feel like I have too much stuff, buy too much stuff, and have too much stuff to manage. On the one hand, I really wish I had less stuff. On the other, I really like to go shopping, and I always have a list of things I "need". Or, more honestly, want. I want a lot of stuff. Especially clothes. And shoes. Cute shoes.
I will let you all know more as I process through this all, but my big two goals are this: To buy more used things, like clothes for the kids, which they outgrow so quickly, and to waste less food. We throw out an embarrassing amount of food in my house, mostly my fault. I go to the supermarket with great intentions of eating more fruits and vegetables, and then they rot in my fridge because I keep turning to the same few foods to eat over and over again. I really don't like most fruit. It tastes bitter to me. So I should stop buying it, right? Or at least, stop buying so much of it.
I read this story yesterday and it's a good read. It's a reporter who followed one t-shirt from a thrift shop to Africa, where the used clothes we think we are donating to the world's poor is actually re-sold several times over before it gets to the person who needs it.
This paragraph resonated with what I've been feeling lately:
The customer finally walks away, and Philip returns the coat to his pile. The thrift shop's price tag is still stapled to the back: ''$1.'' At the sight of it, I suddenly feel sad. I think of Virginia Edelman and Marilyn Balk back on the Upper East Side, tossing out truckloads of the stuff, desperate to get rid of it. I remember the torrent pouring down the chutes at Trans-Americas' factory in Brooklyn. On balance, in spite of its problems, I have become a convert to used clothing. Africans want it. It gives them dignity and choice. But now that I have seen them prize so highly, and with such profound effects, what we throw away without a thought, the trail of Susie Bayer's T-shirt only seems to tell one story, a very old one, about the unfairness of the world as it is.
Anyway, that's me and my woes. I have way more relevant things in life to be worried about, like getting my life organized and losing a few pounds, but this is what I think about when I'm waiting for people to call me back ...
I could not be more excited about Memorial Day weekend, even though we don't have anything planned and it's supposed to rain Monday. Yesterday, J. built a garden box for me, because I've spent the last three springs talking about planting a garden and yet never doing it. The soil around here isn't good enough to grow vegetables in, so now I have a planter with good soil, ash, and a layer of what the kids call "mashed up cow poop". We planted two tomato plants, three green peppers, pumpkin seeds, watermelon seeds and a cilantro plant this morning. I want to add an heirloom tomato plant or two and another couple of herbs, and we'll be set.
I also did another of my favorite summertime activities today -- I hung my laundry out to dry. The neighbors all think I'm insane and more than one of my friends has teased me about it, wondering if I've gone all house-wifey, but I love harnessing the power of the sun to dry clothes. They smell so good and feel so good coming off the line.
The only bad thing about hanging clothes out to dry is that occassionally someone sees your underwear. Actually, not your's, mine. Last summer, one of the neighbor kids was over to play with my kids, and they all headed down to the back yard to play in the sandbox. The dad came over to see where everyone is, and practically walked into the clothesline filled with my undergarments. And this was only a few months after PJ was born, so these were no petite girly items hanging outside.
But I'm willing to put up with a little embarassment for the joy of having air-dried clothes.
(My girly things are on the other end of the line, where you dirty people can't see them. So stop trying to look.)
So, I'm back. Been back for quite a while, actually, and have been trying to reconnect with life here. Sorry for not writing more. Oddly enough, I've been focusing mostly on writing for the people who pay me to do it. If anyone wants to chip in a couple bucks, maybe I can add the blog to the list of must-do writing. Or not. There are only four of you who read regularly, so I can't imagine you'd be willing to pay more than $2, and that won't pay the bills here at mi casa.
Anyway, here are some cool photos I took that the people who pay me aren't interested in. So you guys can check 'em out.
First up: A set of photos from the Sassoon Docks in Mumbai. It's a fishing dock where the fish are auctioned off right as they come off the boat. We got there at 6 a.m. and it the place was jumping. Techincally, you're not allowed to take photos on the docks, so we are very lucky we didn't either get bribed or thrown in jail. Seriously.
Blow this one up real big, if you can, and look at the dude's eyes.
It wasn't that foggy. My lens just soaked up the humidity.
The only time I got pushed around in Mumbai was here, as women would practically bowl you over to get to the boats. My shoes smelled so bad of fish after this, I threw them out. I tried to rehabilitate them, giving them their own shower and everything, but man it was funky.
((more photos to come ... up next: Shots from a wedding and sunset at the beach.)
I'm back! Sorry I didn't post while I was away -- we left the hotel at 8 a.m. every morning and didn't get back until 11 p.m. every night. It was a wonderful trip, and I'm so glad I had the opportunity to go. I'm feeling ill today (I got some sort of stomach issue starting Saturday and it's not getting better) and a little lazy, so I'm going to cut and paste in some emails I sent home while I was away ...
Day 1
The weather today in Mumbai is 84 degrees with 58% humidity, with "smoke" ... I don't know what that means. Is it smoggy? Is it cloudy? Is there actually smoke in the air? I have no idea. Given that it's India, I'm guessing it could be anything.
But this time next week I should have a better idea. I'm leaving for Mumbai on Wednesday, get in on Thursday, and jump right in with an interview Friday afternoon. I hope I am coherent enough to get something out of it. I am more than a little stressed out, and am doing the things I do when I am stressed. By that I mean, I am sitting around fretting about how stressed I am, and not actually getting anything done. I have blanked out on two interviews (which is the professional equivalent of sleeping through an exam) and am feeling quite ditzy and unorganized.
It hasn't helped that I have been sicker this week than I've been in a long, long time. The doctor said it coulda been strep, walking pneumonia, bronchitis, or something, but since I don't have time to go through all the testing she started me on a hefty dose of antibiotics that are just starting to work their magic today.
The plan for India is to spend the day Friday working, and then have the weekend to myself until Sunday evening, when the fellowship begins with dinner at a Thai restaurant. Odd, but true. I have done a lot of research already on India, and so I'm pretty prepared for a wild time. Crossing the street seems like it may be the biggest challenge, as you can see here:
Seriously -- there are entire threads on indiamike.com on how to cross the street. Tips include: Ignore crosswalks and lights -- they don't mean anything, so why bother? If you see a group of people crossing the street, jump in that group and cross with them, as there is safety in numbers -- get in the group even if you don't think you need to cross the street -- just go! And to always face oncoming traffic and walk into it as you make your way across, like swimming upstream. I'm going to do a lot of deep breathing and try to think of the cars and mopeds and rickshaws like they were fish in the sea -- it never makes much sense to me how fish can all swim together safely like that, just as it doesn't make sense to me how people can cross the street like the video above ... I'll just have to trust that it works.
And hire a lot of taxis.
But the biggest thing stressing me is the fact that I'm doing so much traveling alone. Wish I was going with someone ... Do you want to come??
Today I set up my hotel in New Delhi, where I'm going after the fellowship ends. I'm staying in a B&B recommended by the New York Times, so I'll fill y'all in more on that later. It was so cheap, I paid for two nights even though I only need one, so I can have someplace to call a home base on Sunday while I'm touring around town. My flight leaves at midnight, and I've seen recommendations online that international flyers need to be at the Delhi airport five hours ahead of time to make it through the lines, so I'll likely do an easy day of sightseeing Sunday (after a grueling trip to see the Taj Mahal Saturday), shower, and head out to the airport.
Anyway, I'm off on Wednesday. I'll post here periodically -- wish me luck!
Heard this gal I know on Lou Dobbs today. She's about two thirds of the way through the hour:
http://www.loudobbsradio.com/audio/fullshow/032108/Lou_032108_Hour1.mp3
I don't really remember spending a lot of time on the road as a kid, but I guess we must have, because nearly every highway I drive down has a memory or four attached to it. I know I spent a lot of time in the car in the years after college -- the job had me all over the frigging state, and I made huge triangles every week going from work in Staten Island to J's condo in Pequannock to my mom's house in Freehold, so I spent a lot of time sitting in traffic.
I hate traffic.
I have been getting restless working from home, but this week reminded me of why I need to be thankful that the office is in my guest room. It took me two hours to get from my hotel ten miles outside N.Y. to the convention center where the auto show was being held. My whole body tenses in traffic, and I clench my teeth till my jaw is sore. Hate it. I think I'd hate it even more now that I have three little smiling faces waiting for me at home.
The week in New Jersey was fun. Caught up with some old (fun, funny, beautiful) friends. Last night, A., my college roommate, unexpectedly gave me a sentimental treasure. She has these huge scrapbooks (from before scrapbooking was cool) filled with pictures, ticket stubs, posters, candy wrappers, quotes, and other fun nonsense from our college days. Seeing these scrapbooks is like visiting the Book of Kells in Dublin -- they are special artifacts that need to be treated with respect. Anyway, we got to the end of the third book, from junior year, and tucked in the back were a couple of copies of The Targum, the college newspaper. Two Monday papers and a Tuesday.
This means nothing to most of you, but seeing a Monday paper gave me chills.
In college, I wrote a twice-monthly opinion column for the paper. It was my first entree into writing. At first, I hated it. I mean, I loved the writing, but I hated that the writing ended up in the paper, where anyone could see it. And I attracted quite a bit of attention. In a college with 60,000 people, all of the sudden I became a teeny tiny celebrity. I hated it. People would come up to me all the time and try to talk to me, and it would freak me out. I thought for sure they thought I sucked, and were waiting for me to walk away to make fun of me.
I treated the column like I did most school work -- left it to the last minute, never had an ideas, always wished I never signed up for the thing in the first place. But by the second semester, I was loving it. I really got into a groove writing (except for one embarrassing Valentine's Day column, but we won't talk about that.)
And, as you may have guessed, my publication date was Mondays.
One of A's papers was from a day I didn't write. But the other was pure awesomeness. It was my final column for the paper.
I will scan it later when I get home, but suffice to say I was a little teary after reading it. I may have had many faults as a college kid, but I was always aware of how good things were and I really lived in the moment. I said in there that writing the column was the best thing I ever did in college, and it's true. No other class I took or extra curricular group I participated in prepared me for my life today than that column. Without it, I don't really know where I would be today.
Anyways, I have to catch a flight home now. I'll try to get an image of the column up later.
((Update: Here it is!))
Great news yesterday: I got accepted to a fellowship program in Mumbai, India, in April. It's a week long, expenses-paid trip to the city, which is supposed to be the most cosmopolitan city in India. A friend said she was there last year and didn't see any cows in the streets, which is somewhat disappointing.
But it's going to be wild. Six American journalists paired with six Indian journalists, working on stories like poverty, outsourcing and Bollywood. For reals. I hope we get to go to a movie set.
More details TK, and of course I'll post pictures. I'm going to India!!
Recent Comments
-
EAB said:
Can I come over and hang my clothes? Unless I ask our neighbors to use the side of their house,... read more
on Summer's here! -
-
linus73 said:
Luckily, I have robitussin with codeine from being sick this week, so I'll bring that along to help me conk... read more
on Weather in India -
Denise said:
I have a friend who lived in Srinagar for three years....she has told me crazy stories about crossing the street!... read more
on Weather in India
I'm with you on the desire to have less "stuff." I'm a minimalist at heart, but my addiction to cute... read more
on The case against bottled water