Hook... Line... and Sinker

Well, color me gullible. It seems that yesterday, after reading my latest 'blog' entry here, my husband decided to roll the calendar back-- from October 4th to April 1st (April Fool's Day). If you read yesterday's entry, you'll remember that I was so excited over the book "This Side of The Sky" that I sent an eMail to Oprah (via her web-site) because I was just so sure that she would love this story.

Around 9:00 last night, I checked my computer. And what, pray tell, do I see in the In-Box? An eMail from Oprah. Lord have mercy on my book-loving soul. It was a very short eMail, just saying that she appreciated me telling her about the book and she was looking forward to reading it. I read it twice, just to be sure I wasn't having a pre-senior moment. Nope. There it was, on my laptop screen, for all to see.

But who to show it to? Ah....... my husband, of course. He was in the TV room, watching a team dressed in blue, white and mud scrambling for a football. I stood at the door and announced: "You have got to come see my computer! Just look who sent me an eMail!" As he walked towards my sitting room, my mouth wouldn't quit. "You may get eMails from researchers all over the globe, but I got eMail from the Queen of Chicago. No, not just Chicago, but The World." By that time, he was sitting at my desk and looking at the sacred eMail on my screen.

"Well.... I'll be..... look at that....." said my husband. I told him--"Isn't that something? I just sent her eMail a few hours ago, and there she is, on my laptop in blue and white." My husband's right hand reached towards the keyboard. "NO! Don't go touching anything! I want to read it again and save it." Back he went to the guys in blue, white and mud. He was smiling, but I didn't make anything of it. I just thought he was thrilled to have been asked to look at my computer when there wasn't anything wrong with it, since I always call him when I do have a problem with this thing. Or maybe he was just happy for me about the eMail... he knows how much I like and respect Oprah.

So there I sat last night, right where I'm sitting now. I saved that eMail. Then I thought... should I send Oprah another eMail, thanking her for answering my eMail? Maybe not. Don't want to make a pest of myself. Let Oprah read "This Side of The Sky" in peace. I shut down the computer. Off I went to get my book and read for a while before getting ready for bed.

Couldn't concentrate on my book. Back I came to my sitting room. Turned on the computer again. Re-read that eMail. Then said oh heck, let's just send Oprah a short note. So I did. I thanked her for her reply, asked her to let me know after she read the book if she really liked the story, then I added a P.S. and thanked her for having Barry Manilow on her show a couple of weeks ago. Figured I might as well throw that in as long as I had her attention. After sending that off, I decided to forward Oprah's eMail to my friend "A." "Look at this!"-- I wrote -- "Oprah answered my eMail!!!"

My husband passed by my sitting room just then, on his way to the kitchen. He asked me who I was writing to now. I told him I just forwarded Oprah's eMail to "A." Then I said I was going to forward it to my friend "F" up in NY. He stopped in his tracks. Instead of going towards the kitchen, he went to his own computer in his home-office here. "Wait a minute before you do anything else," he told me.

Within ten seconds, my husband asked me to come into his office. "Can it wait?" said I. "Not really," said he. Walking towards his office, I asked him "Are you going to show me your eMails now? Who wrote to you tonight? The pope?" (As I said... my mouth just wouldn't quit.)

"Not exactly," said he. And he pointed to his computer. I looked at his screen and I see not only Oprah's eMail to me, but my reply to her. On my husband's computer? I looked at him. How can that be?

Stupid me. This man is capable of taking a computer and writing software for it that would not only put a football team on the moon but get them up there with a Rolls Royce, a five-star restaurant, and a miniature golf course. My husband had set up the bogus eMail address and had written to me as "Oprah."

I looked at him, this man I married. He was sitting in his desk chair, with his back firmly against the chair-back, left arm extended as if he was holding a fishing pole, right hand making a winding motion as if he's got an 80-pound red-snapper at the end of that fishing line. And he's whispering: "Hook.... line.... and sinker...."

Men. No wonder Oprah isn't married.