SEARCH AND RESCUE TEAM

I can't tell directions. Well, no, actually I seem to have a magnetic needle somewhere in my body. It doesn't point exactly north, but it generally gets me where I want to go.

But when I hear a voice (I mean, a voice that is not inside my head), I have to do a 360 to figure out where the heck it's coming from. It makes me look pretty goofy... okay, those of you who know me, it makes me just a little more goofy than normal.

So when my cell phone rings (BIZARRE-MY CELL PHONE JUST RANG), I check in the places I normally keep it - my jeans front pocket. I just don't keep it any place else - so I usually know where it is.

Today? Guess what? IT WASN'T THERE. And since I was driving at the time, I pulled over to the side of the highway.

By chance, I had also just driven past a group of workers who were creating a rather large rock entryway into a has-been-in-developement-and-yet-nothing-being-built-for-the-past-three-years area. And after watching a frantic white woman throwing random large items from her truck in a fruitless hunt for the ringing phone, several men offered to help (after muttering "una senora loco" or something like that), used their cell phones to make mine ring, located it, and pulled it out for me.

I also discovered that under my truck seats was an sickening, gelatious viscid MASS, composed of melted bubble gum, squashed Carls Jr. french fries (from when my son was driving my truck every day to work there), spilled Diet Coke and items that I don't ever want to acknowledge, and mingled with $8.39 (mainly in nickels and pennies), thirteen bungee cords, and two towels I must have snitched from Cochise Health and Racquet Club years ago.