Just when I think life is boring, things happen to me that don’t happen to normal people. I wonder why?
I think I’m a good citizen. I respect my fellow man, follow the rules and try to conduct myself in a Christian manner. Okay, I do suffer road rage but I’m trying to get that under control. I try not to get upset when important people in my life disregard my emails, but it’s hard.
I try to advertise by books the best I can even though sales are shrinking….don’t know what else to do….I post them on Facebook and Twitter and my friends share them to reach another audience.
I’m upset with my body as I age because I used to have a flat stomach and now when I look at it, I can’t believe the mushroom top I have. Where did that come from? I exercise; I walk 4 miles a day, what is it? Grrr. After recovering from a broken ankle last year, I’m almost at my top speed of 4.0 on the treadmill which burns 611 calories when I do four miles. I’ve got to do more!
I live in a fairly safe town even though I know a lot of bad things are swept under the rug, I get it. But I do feel safe. Safe enough for the last four years to walk/exercise the many sidewalks around the town without being threatened.
So, after my hour on the treadmill, I write. Or try to. Between the damn telemarketers and the divorced biker guy who thinks he’s 18 and rips his bike up and down the street at breakneck speed thinking he’s cool, it can be hard.
Then, I walk, weather permitting, an additional three miles. I feel great and can go back to writing. The sweat pants I have don’t have pockets and it gets cumbersome carrying my phone and a bottle of water. If I have jeans on at least I can slip my phone in my pocket and my hands are free. I see my phone as identification; no need to carry my license. Well, did I get that wrong yesterday.
I’m minding my own business on my walk. Motorcyce guy really ticked me off. I’m ten minutes into my walk whe a Flower Mound Police SUV stops me. Huh? What did I do? He gets out of the vehicle and says, “Lois? Is that you?” I’m stunned, trying to figure out how he know my name. Did something happen to my husband? My daughter? “I said, yes. What happened?” He said, “Michaels?”
I’m not putting two and two together because my husband’s client is the Michael’s craft store. Did he think I robbed Michaels which is in the town next to ours? Now I’m flustered. What the hell is he talking about?
“Are you Lois Michaels?” he asked. Whoa! How ironic is this? Lois is a very unusual name and not too many people have it. “I said, no. I’m Lois Kasznia. What is going on?”
“Where do you live?” he asked. Now I’m flustered and I told him so. He’s getting cocky.
“I think you have the wrong person. I’m Lois Kasznia and I live in Lakemont Estates right down the street.”
“No, you fit the description of a missing woman.” He shows me this picture of a woman who could’ve been my sister.
“I don’t know who that is and but that’s not me,” I replied.
“Where’s your license?” he asked and then called for backup and shook his head when I told him I didn’t have it.
Now I’m really freaking out and mad. I hand him my cell phone and my hands are shaking. “Here,” I said and pulled up my photo on Amazon of my author picture. “This is me. Lois Kasznia.” He’s not buying my story. Now four other cop cars show up and I’m pissed. The second cop comes over to talk to me and asks the same question. I told him my name and where I lived.
He turns to the first cop and says, “No, this isn’t her.” First cop isn’t giving up.
Third, fourth and fifth cop ask me my name and where I live and I told them again. I heard one of them say, “Why did he stop her? The person we’re looking for is Lois Anne Michaels and this isn’t her.
Me? “Who is Lois Ann Michaels and why should I know her?”
Second cop says, “She was reported missing and she has dimentia. She left the house wearing a green sweater.”
I look down at my ratty Chicago Bears jersey and laugh. “I’m not wearing a green sweater. Did you pull me over because of my Bears jersey in Dallas Cowboy territory?”
Now, the other cops are laughing but not the first cop. I think he’s pissed he was wrong and he insists that he’s right. Finally, I handed my phone to the second cop and opened up my three FB pages. “This is me. Here’s a picture of my husband and me. Hers a picture of my daugher. I’m me. Lois Longo Kasznia!”
Second cop takes it over to the other three cops while cop number one is glaring at me. I’m being cooperative and friendly but inside I’m angry as hell. This was not necessary. Finally, cop number one concedes that I am not Lois Ann Michaels. Doesn’t even apologize and gets into his car. The other four cops thank me for my time and drive off.
I was able to snap pictures of the five SUV’s and called my husband who couldn’t believe it until I sent him the pictures.
Needless to say, now when I go for a walk? I’m taking my license!!!