"I'm so lonely, I called back a Wrong Number"

That's not quite the way it went, but it sounds like something Rodney Dangerfield would say.

The other day I received word from friends that they'd received a phone call for me from someone named Wilma.  Thankfully they don't just give out my number but did take hers.  I don't know any Wilma, and while I use my friend's address for packages that can't go to my P.O. box, I don't give out their phone number, either.

After a bit I considered I may have listed them as an emergency local contact, for doctors or Uncle Sam.  Where I live the phone reception is sketchy, so just in case I decided to give Wilma a call.

"I was hoping to hear from you.  The Pastor gave me your name," an unfamiliar voice spoke with that little-old-lady sound.  My brain immediately began thrashing about voices, faces and names, you know what I mean.  Maybe Pastor Chad from Hope Village?

"I was thinking that cookies might be good on Sunday," Wilma continued, "and maybe some refreshments, whatever you think would be..."

"Wait, wait, that's not me!  I'm an artist, not a caterer."  I felt like Star Trek's Dr. McCoy.  "How did you get my number?"

From her Pastor, but she either transposed numbers or he got it wrong.  Wilma was confused.  

"You're not Andrea," ...the granddaughter of a woman who recently passed away? Wilma was helping with the arrangements for after the service on Sunday.

"My grandparents are dead," I felt terrible saying, under the circumstances.  "I'm 64," I added at some point. 

"So you're not a granddaughter then, either."

"Not anymore."

She kept repeating she received the information from her Pastor but it wasn't making sense to me.

"He gave you my (wrong) number and name?"  I eventually put two-and-two together.  "Oh, ok, I'm not the only Andrea, and you just happened to get a wrong party who happens to know an Andrea."

She agreed there are more than one running around loose; and kept apologizing for the trouble she caused and thanking me for calling.

"I'll find out the correct information at tomorrow's meeting, thank you again."

Now, that made for a cute anecdote and it didn't take too much out of my life, and it's definitely nicer than hanging up, being snotty or simply ignoring people who interrupt our lives.  They could be having a difficult time and certainly don't need any attitude; and it could be important.  Besides, 'tis the season.

Photo note:  After moving off of Ruff Life and back to Oregon, I began a dog treat business and in 2012 participated in a Pet Expo up in Portland.  See how sunshiny I looked?  I was really anticipating getting Woofers and Tweeters off the ground and hoped to market my products around the Pacific Northwest; dragging my then-16-foot travel trailer home for economy and parking in different locations for a month's time.  Most RV parks have affordable monthly rates, and I would take that time to market the area.  Seemed like a plan.  

But that's when I ran into the disparity of renting long-term spaces to Recreational Vehicles (RV's) based on vehicle age (which followed the housing crisis of 2008 and continues to today), and why I have had such a difficult time finding a place to live.

However, this discrimination and the personal financial trauma which followed all ultimately led to my work with the homeless; so it worked out, or rather didn't work out, alright after all.

You can read more in My Karma ran over my Dogma.