Adventures of Shoe and Bean: A Mysterious Caller

Apparently, we do not have good luck with heating pads. The new one I got....well, we don't have that one anymore. I got a really nice one for Jason, a third one (after the first one busted!) and while he was comfy on the couch I thought Hey, why does he get all the heat? My toes are cold. Might as well use the cheap replacement while we have it. So I put it in the microwave and started washing some dishes. It was in for 90 seconds 90 seconds!! Then I heard it sizzle and pop Oh NO!! I ran to the microwave and right as I opened the door...POW!!! The bag exploded! not. kidding. The goo was ALL OVER the microwave...the roof of it, the door, the walls...Jason, who was resting peacefully with his kidney stones, shot up off the couch! How do I explain? "I popped the other one sweetie...sorry?" It was HILARIOUS! 

I am lucky though that the hole was pointed toward the back of the microwave, rather than the door as I opened it! How would we explain that? "Oh, hi again doctor...so my husband still has kidney stones, but we're here now because I burned my face off when the heating pad busted when I microwaved it...for, ah, Jason...not my feet" :/

I know some of you have been following for a bit and have really enjoyed The Adventures of Jenna & Kristin, my sister and I in our childhood stories. I thought the other day that a more fitting name would be The Adventures of Shoe & Bean. Our nicknames from childhood are "Jenna Lou Jelly Shoe" and "Kristin Jean Jelly Bean." 

So...without further adieu...

The Adventures of Shoe & Bean

in

Rose's Mysterious Caller

When I think about this story I can't help but think about our phone. My parents were given their first answering machine as a present from friends, who wanted to get in touch with them but were unable to leave messages. At the time I was in middle school. I remember calling home for various reasons and waiting for 12 rings...then I would know that no one was home. We didn't have caller ID nor did we have cordless phones...until I went to college. When I was little we had a rotary phone. Maybe you don't know what that is? I remember making my very first phone call to my friend Kayla. I stuck my fingers into the numbered holes and turned them around the circle. When I got to the very last number for my friend's house, I messed up. I had to start over. Even though we had a corded phone we made it work. My dad found this AMAZINGLY long cord. We could have used it as a jump rope! But we could sit on the couch and talk on the phone! Amazing. One positive aspect of this "vintage" phone: when the power went out we were the only family on the block with phone service!

I don't know when caller ID came out, but at this time my parents did not have it. And every once in a while we would get a very special, very weird...very...funny call. Usually at night. 

I wasn't very old, but I have a very vivid memory in my mind. I am sitting in my pj's on the kitchen floor playing with my Barbie dollhouse (a house made by my dad that was big enough for our Barbies, complete with wallpaper and carpeting!) For some reason it was in the kitchen. Anyway, I am sitting on the black and white linoleum floor while my Barbies are making dinner, or whatever...The phone rings. My dad rushes from the living room and across the kitchen to answer it. My mom is somewhere near, waiting to see who is calling this late. Then I hear the oh-so memorable stern response:

Rose does not live here. You have the wrong number. There is no Rose here!

My mom sighs then giggles. My dad hangs up the phone, rolls his eyes then smirks. Just another night at the Boyd home. My sister and I both mimic the man, in a deep raspy voice, "Is Rose there?" 

This is not the first time this man called looking for Rose, nor will it be the last. For years, YEARS, this man made calls looking for the mysterious Rose. We have no idea who Rose is. We have never known a Rose -- no one at church, no family, no one my parents worked with. With every call my dad or mom or us girls would explain "She does not live here." But for some reason this man was too drunk, forgetful, persistent, or determined....he would continue to call our home. YEARS! It has been a while since his last call and sometimes I wonder about him. Did he ever get a hold of Rose?

When I was chatting with my sis, the Bean, I could actually hear his voice again! so clear, as if we were on the phone again! It is amazing what one remembers after many many years! My sister said the same thing. We looked at each other and said, again with the raspy deep voice, "Is Rose there?" and busted out laughing! 

My parents have had the same phone number since they moved into that house some thirty years ago...so it is possible that one of these days a call will come from a determined old man looking for his daughter, sister...lost love?? Maybe we will finally ask him, "WHO THE HECK IS ROSE?!"

Is Rose there?