I may have mentioned to you before that we are having a 90th Birthday Party for Granny B on January 1.
There is some debate as to whether she will be turning 90 or 91 that day, but really, at that age does it really matter?
Either way, somehow I got volunteered to be the person to receive the RSVPs. I had kind of forgotten about agreeing to that job until I answered my phone the other day to a number I wasn't familiar with.
Old Lady: Is this Airplane?
OL: Oh, hi. This is Isabelle. I got Granny B's birthday invitation. We used to spend a lot of time together. We had so much fun. Us and that other lady. I can't think of her name. Do you know her name?"
Me: Umm…was she from Buckeye?
OL: What? Oh, yes. Buckeye. Do you know her name?
Me: Ummm…was it Fran?
OL: Yes! That was it. How is Fran?
Me: She's good. (I really have no idea.)
That conversation went on for like 15 more minutes in which we had to talk about finding a zip code, her broken rib, my grandfather, and how she won't make it to the party (and her rib won't heal).
I called Match after I hung up and told her she was probably going to owe me a bottle of vodka for making me be the RSVP contact.
And I've stopped answering my phone for numbers I don't know.