Is someone missing a bookshop?

Our house is being overrun by books. No matter which direction you turn, you see a book. I swear, as soon as the lights go out, they get together and do things that result in them multiplying. Well, that's our excuse and you're sticking to it.

S reckons it's my fault. She says I force her to buy books, or, alternatively, I don't exercise enough control over her and prevent the purchase. Then she says they're mostly mine, anyway. Uh huh.

Anyway, to accommodate the abundance of reading material, we came to the conclusion we needed another set of shelves in the hallway. This meant emptying the overflowing monster you see below, moving it along the floor so we had room for the extra shelves, then repacking the whole thing.

How many books do you reckon would fit in this bookcase, bearing in mind that there two more shelves below the one you can just see at the bottom of the picture?

Well, let's start with these.

Then add these.

We'll put these ones in, too.

Oh! And don't forget these ones.

And just for something different, we'll shove these in as well.

As you can see, we had a task ahead of us. One that took all afternoon, and still isn't finished. S's Virgo-osity demands we don't just put the books back in the case willy nilly. They must go in alphabetically by author then title, subdivided into fiction, non fiction, children's.

Around one-hundred books got their eviction notice and will either be sold on E-Bay or evacuated to the Op Shop, but there are just so many.

I've always dreamed of owning a book shop. I don't think this is quite what I had in mind, though.

God's Phone Number. Chapter 1.

© 2006 Peter Stone. All rights reserved.

Chapter One

"A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step."

Lao Tzu, an old bloke from ancient China, obviously had a lot of time on his hands when he came up with that gem. I guess, in the sixth century BC, sitting around contemplating one's navel was as wild as it got so, in order to relieve the boredom, Lao decided to think up a few truisms.

I doubt very much he would have had in mind the ringing of a telephone as the first step of a peregrination, but that's how my journey through Hell began.

ooOO~OOoo

'Tangled Web.'

Silence. The hollow kind of nothing unique to telephones.

'Hello? Tangled Web. Can I help you?'

Stammering on the other end. 'Oh! Umm - I thought - I was look - this isn't ...?' A female voice, middle aged, sounded like. 'I think I've rung the wrong number.'

'What number did you want?'

She recited the phone number. Mine.

'Yep. That's the number you've rung.'

'Oh.' More silence.

'Maybe if you tell me who you're looking for, I might be able to help you,' I prompted.

'Umm, no. No, I don't think so.'

So what do you want, lady? 'You sure?'

'Well. I don't know. I feel kind of silly. I mean, what if ...?' She stalled again. Obviously having trouble putting her thoughts into words. Don't you just love people like that?

The phone call had come at the wrong time, interrupting me in the middle of trying to sort out a complicated piece of Java coding. I started to get a little impatient, hoping the woman would just spit out whatever it was she wanted, so I could get back to it.

'Look, it's a common mistake, people ringing the wrong number. Happens all the time. Nothing to get embarrassed about. But if I can help in any way ...?' I briefly entertained the notion that I may be able to sell her a web site.

Hey! You never know when opportunity's going to come knocking. Or ringing.

'But I rang you, not -'

'Maybe you wrote the number down wrong.'

'No, I don't think so. I'm pretty sure I got it right.'

'Well, then, who were you looking for?' Exasperated.

'God?' A small tiny voice.

'Excuse me?'

'I thought - believed - this was God's phone number. I mean, he sounded so sincere when he - and I thought it would be a really good opportunity to ...' Her voice faded again.

I blinked, closed my mouth.

'This isn't God, is it?'

I was flummoxed. I've had people ringing me with all sorts of odd requests - it comes with the job - but I've never had anyone call and ask to speak to God before.

My natural response was to burst out laughing which I started to do, but then I had a horrible thought. What if this woman wasn't all there? Matter of fact, what if she was totally insane? Laughing might really piss her off. At me! Maybe that wasn't such a good idea.

Picture: crazed harridan, huge carving knife, me running in the dark.

I've seen the movies.

I expertly covered the laughter by faking a coughing fit. Sir Laurence would have been proud!

'No, sorry, I'm not God. I'm Jim Kennedy.' Oh gee! That was clever! Give the crazy woman your name, she's already got your bloody phone number. Next thing you'll be giving her your address and inviting her to dinner.

'This is my business, Tangled Web. I design and create web sites for people, and that's pretty much it. Nothing to do with God, I'm afraid. Although - now I think of it - if you look at it from the point of view that my business is creating new worlds, I guess you could say there is some similarity. Of course, I have a long way to go before I get anywhere near His standards. But, given time ...'

I had to smile. It was so absurd. I mean, really. Who on earth would believe you could get in touch with God, just by phoning Him? Of course, I couldn't be certain that the woman on the other end of the phone actually was on earth.

'I feel so stupid. I really do,' she said.

'It's okay. An honest mistake.' Did that sound too patronising?

'I don't know what I was thinking. Please, forgive me.'

'Nothing to forgive. We all do these things from time to time.' Maybe so, but I couldn't think of the last time I rang God. 'No harm done.'

'This is so embarrassing. I must sound like such an idiot.'

No comment.

'I'm really sorry for bothering you. I don't know what I was - Anyway, I'm sure you're busy, and I've taken up enough of your time already. I better go. Thanks for being so understanding.'

I wasn't sure I understood anything. 'It's fine. Like I said before, no harm done. And listen, if sometime in the future you need a web site designed,' sometimes I just can't help myself, 'Well, you got my number.'

A pause. 'Yes, I have, haven't I? Goodbye, then,' she said, and hung up.

I couldn’t hold back any longer. I burst out laughing.

ooOO~OOoo

I know what you're thinking.

You're thinking I could have treated the poor woman better, not been so tongue in cheek about the whole thing. All things considered, though, I reckon I handled it all pretty well. I mean, have you ever had someone ring up and ask to speak to God? It was easy to dismiss her as some poor soul a couple of rungs short of a ladder. And there wasn't any real harm done. Slightly disturbing perhaps, but innocuous just the same.

But then, isn't that how all nightmares begin?

Just a thought.

If today's paparazzi had existed in the 1930's, Greta Garbo would never have died a recluse.

Sun, sand, surf, sea air and squelching soldiers.

A couple of weeks ago, S and I decided to just get in the car and drive. The idea was to simply see where the road took us, and escape the daily routine for a little while. The road took us to Phillip Island, where we finished up at the beach at Cowes. (The photo isn't mine. I borrowed it from someone elses' holiday snaps, with thanks. I forgot my camera.)

After having a wander through the town, and paying a pretty steep price for a coffee and a milkshake, S and I went for a walk along the beach. The tide was out and, because it was a week day, the beach was relatively quiet, with very few people. The water was calm, like it is in the photo. A light breeze ruffled the surface now and then, making the water sparkle with a million points of light.

As we came to a flat part of the beach, in between the water and high tide mark we noticed thousands of little bumps which I first took to be little balls of sand. As we got closer we realised they were small crabs, not much bigger than an Australian fifty cent piece. I have since found out that they were soldier crabs, but up until that time, neither S nor myself had ever seen these creatures before.

Our path was taking us right through the middle of them, so we approached carefully, thinking they would do what any crab would do and scuttle away. We couldn't have been more wrong.

They obviously felt the tremors of our footsteps, but instead of dashing away, they would drop down on one side, then spinning slowly on the spot, would dig themselves into the sand. It was like watching a break dancer melt into the ground. Naturally, S and I were absolutely fascinated by this behaviour, and we stopped to watch. It was kind of fun to move towards a group and watch them fade into the sand. And if we stood still for a short period, they would reappear, the same way they diappeared. A kind of now-you-see-me-now-you-don't-now-you-do.

At one point we came to a large clump of seaweed which had been exposed by the departing tide. The joint was jumping! This must have been the soldier crab's equivalent of MacDonalds. There were heaps of them all around and over it, enjoying a good feed.

But the really amazing thing, I felt, was that the beach was so quiet you could hear the crabs under the surface. Imagine it. Thousands of little creatures squelching through wet sand. Wow!

We both came home a little sun burned and a lot weary, but we really enjoyed our time out. Sometimes I think this metropolitan lifestyle can be quite stifling, and it takes a good dose of Nature to recharge. Perhaps it was fate which led us to Phillip Island and the soldier crabs that day, or maybe it was an unconscious desire on my part as the driver. Who knows? What I do know is that is that it was a breath of fresh air, in more ways than one.

Short briefs.

Emporer Howard decided to mark the occasion of his tenth anniversary in power with a dinner last night. He charged his loyal subjects $1,000 each for the privilege of kissing his butt. There are brothels where you can kiss butt for a lot less. And they're better looking, too. Probably more sincere as well.

The Universe is filled with paradoxes. One of the more intriguing is the trial of Saddam Hussein in Iraq. He rants and raves, and generally carries on like a petulant child, yet it is American foreign policy which is being exposed to the ridicule. I bet there are quite a few in the intelligence community wishing he had been killed in the first bombing run.

Speaking of Saddam, maybe he can employ the Abdication of Responsibilty Defence and sue the United States governement. Like the people in the U.S. who decided to sue McDonalds because they were fat. He could always claim the Americans failed in their duty to inform him of the possible ramifications of using the technology to build weapons of mass destruction when they sold it to him.

The weathermen are playing the roulette wheel again. They've upped the maximum for today by another three degrees.

Has anybody answered the musical question, "Is she really going out with him" yet?

I have learned; never yawn while spraying underarm deodorant.

Damn! I forgot the cake.

I've just realised.

Today is the Retreat's first birthday.

"Would you like to fly in my beautiful balloon?"

I looked out the window this morning and noticed the clouds to the west were tinged with a beautiful series of pinks. Naturally, I thought they would make a great photo. Lately, though, I've been somewhat reluctant to post photos in the Retreat because, for some reason, they sometimes don't like to share the post with any text. However, I figured you deserved to see the same beauty I was looking at, and decided to risk it.

Imagine my pleasant surprise when these three balloons drifted across the sky.

Now, I ask you, could there be a better start to the day?

End of a nervous week.

Much to my relief, I still don't know any psychopaths. Although, there is this bloke I work with ...

Anyway, no-one answered the question in the previous post with the response that would indicate they have psychopathic urges. But I do suspect there may be some issues with their sisters :-)

In a study carried out in the United States, diagnosed psychopaths were asked what they thought the woman's motive was for killing her sister. They all gave the same answer;

She was hoping the man would turn up to her sister's funeral, like he had for her mother's.

So now you know what to look for, if there's someone you're not sure about, you can perform this simple test. Of course, if it turns out that they do think like a psychopath, you might have to seriously consider moving to another town.

Are you a psychopath?

This is an actual test devised by an American psychologist, aimed at discovering whether an arrested murder suspect is a psychopath. The subject is asked a simple question, and there is only one correct answer if they have psychopathic tendencies.

For a bit of amusement, I thought I'd post the question here for you to ponder, and reply with what you think might be the answer. I'll leave it for a week or so before telling you what the correct answer is, and whether you're a psychopath or not (cheeky grin). So far, no-one I know has come up with the correct response.

But there's always a first time ...

A woman, while at the funeral of her mother, meets a man whom she has never met before.

She thinks this man is amazing. She starts to believe that this is the man of her dreams; so much so that she falls in love with him right there and then. However, she forgets to ask the man for his phone number, and after the funeral cannot find him.

A few days later she kills her sister.

What is the woman's motive for killing her sister?

Looking forward to your responses.

Sunrise, February 3, 2006.

One of those days when you look up at the sky, and go "Wow!"

And, somehow, it makes you feel really kind of small.