Sheilaclapkin's Blog;

The Benny Hinn Ministries have been hounding me and I call it harassment. They call about three or four times a week. When you answer the phone there is an elongated taped message. I am by no means opposed to the ministries, just opposed to harassment.

I called the phone company to ask if they would block the ministries phone number and they said it is a 6 dollar a month charge to block that number. I said that I pay a fortune already for your service and I want you to protect me. So, the operator reluctantly said she thought she would listen to the tape to see if she can help in another way. She asked me to hold on.

The operator came back on the line and said she listened to the tape. She also said there was a number the ministries give you to call at the end of the tape to set up an appointment. I took the number down and put it in my top right kitchen drawer, my catchall drawer.

So, Benny Hinn called again today and this time I listened. Sure enough they gave a number where I could reach them. I called the number. I begged the lady to stop calling my number and to take my name and number off of their calling lists. She asked if I was Alberta Hercules. I said, “No but that is our cleaning lady.” Now I know how they got my name in the first place. I said again, “ You HAVE to stop calling here. She was very polite throughout our conversation and said she would take my number off, but I had to tell her my name. So I did. I said, “My name is Mrs. Hinn.” She stuttered and was silent and then said, “Well, Mrs. Hinn, will you give me your address?” I said, “Which one do you have listed?” She gave me an address downtown L.A. I said, “Fine, that’s it.” I thought to myself, am not about to give her my name and address as I imagined the printed parade of Benny Hinn paperwork coming into my mailbox. The woman on the phone at the Benny Hinn Ministries finally ended with, “Have a Nice day Mrs. Hinn” I haven’t stopped laughing, but time will tell if they stop the harassment.

I am off in ten minutes to get my mammogram. and after, I am going to have luncheon with a 93 year old lady (in the city full of gosh darned traffic) who was a friend with my parents, actually lived across the street, catty cornered from us when I was growing up. Her name is Allegra.
Her family lived on the other side of the street and they had two lots. One held their beautiful home and the other, separated them form the chicken /poultry farm/market on the corner. I remember you could actually hear the chickens and actually hear them killing them. My mother was a good customer of the poultry market for years until, one time my mother went in to purchase chickens and the man behind the counter said an anti Semitic remark. My little teeny shy mama let him have it and never returned to the store. My brothers & friends used to collect the clawed chicken legs and one time put them into my bed. I have looked under the covers ever since and I assume it will be a lifelong thing.

Thought I would tell you about my newest Garmin story as it occurred on the way to meet Allegra. Garmin, you know my new personal navigational assistant. I guess her name is Garmin, but I call her Bitch. You see, I have not tried her services in any areas I haven’t gone before on my own. But yesterday I was meeting Allegra, and she said come whenever you want, so I relaxed and let the little sucker go. I cursed at her all the way there because she did not take me on any known route. But finally I said, “Bitch do whatever you want.” So she did. She took me through canyons of the back hills, over the mountain, into valleys over dales and meadows and finally I dropped down into the big city, full of gosh darned traffic and right to Allegra’s front door on Pandora Street. Ok good. So, on the way home, I punched in home and said, “Bitch, it is your turn.” She took me again over a different part of the mountain, into the canyon, through the valley and from side to side one street after another I didn’t know existed. Every once in awhile she would take me out for a peek into known lands and back into the woods (we don’t have any woods, but it looked like woods to me). I think she is programmed NOT to go on any freeways. I will have to see about that? Humm. Anyhow I thought about telling you. So I did.

I went for my mammogram, as I mentioned in the first paragraph. It is not funny to have one of those squeezes, but this story is funny to me. I went at the appointed time 8:45 A.M. The lady said. “ You are here mighty early.” “Oh,” said I. She said my appt. was for 8:45 P.M. I told her I could not possibly come back and that by 9:00 P.M. I would be sleeping. Usually not true, but true for this day only. What the… how can they have appointments so late at night? When do they go home? Must work in shifts. The little lady felt badly for me because the actual time written down on my appointment slip said: 8:45 A.M. Gosh. I must have looked panic stricken when she said it takes three months to get another appointment so, she said, “Since you are here, I think we can squeeze you in.” Right. And squeeze they did. I am still a little sore. Bit as I paid my $5.00 co-pay, I looked on the floor just to the right of my right shoe, there was a 5-rupee bill from India. It was all wadded up, but I know money when I see it. A bill from India poured down from the heavens above. Is this God speaking? Next trip?? What do you think?

I bought a pair of pinkish color pants the other day in not such a fancy place. I tried them on; they looked really good and, made my butt look two sizes smaller. They were so great looking and such a moderate price I bought the bluish pair as well. One is good two is better.

When I got it home and really looked my new purchases over, I found that the pinkish pair of pants had no pockets. More

A few days ago I bought an up to the minute personal navigational travel assistant for my car that heretofore has not had these navigational capabilities. I spent way too much money on this little sucker and have paid dearly not only in hard won cash, but time, energy and mental abuse.

I opened the lovely little package that said in big letters, THERE will be a 15% re-stocking fee if you open this box. Well, how am I to get the product out and begin to use it if I do not open the box. This should have alerted me or been my precursor to what has followed.

I turned on the personal navigational assistant and waited for nearly 10 minutes for it to find the satellite. Okay, I am on the road now and I want to test this little sucker out. Still searching for a satellite. I am now over 10 miles down the highway, thank goodness a familiar highway. Finally the devise kicks in and it spoke to me. It recalculated and told me to go south, I know I needed to go north. I tried 3 times to get it right. Wrong.

I registered this little sucker. The email I received told me to go to a particular website and download the upgrade to the 2009 maps. This little puppy is brand new out of the box needing an upgrade. I know I followed the download directions. First the download took 4.5 hours. Then the upload was to take another 2 hours, but the message read: Product Name: ( will hereafter be referred to as Product Name in consideration for this highly recommended company and their products) “MAC application cannot be opened because it is damaged.” Oh dear. I called Product Name and waited 35 minutes for them to tell me that I needed to be transferred to a Mac specialist. Okay, another 23 minutes and then, there was a real live person speaking to me. He had me check to see if my operating system can handle this download and sure enough it cannot. My computer is too ancient. Like me. So I asked to have a disc sent. He said the disc will not help in your present computer. I said I wanted to take the disc to a friend, but could not wait the 4.5 hours for the download. My friends would too soon tire of me. He asked me to hold on. He came back and verified my address. He asked me to hold on again, and my PHONE DIED. I nearly died. I am going to hope that he will follow through and send me the disc.

I am a bit disappointed I have had to work so hard and feel so frustrated. I am off to get new phones, off to get meds for my headache and I am going to take my new outdated navigational system with me to see if she works well enough to get me a to the corner drugstore.

My third set of checks arrived wrinkled and bent on some of the pages. Okay, okay, I accept because I can’t stand another round. The checks didn’t even come in the traditional check box we have become accustomed to receiving when ordering a batch of new checks, still okay, right? You have to make your own box which is tricky at best. I understand that the bank in question, whose name I can’t devulge, but has a sort of nicky name WAAAAHOOO does all their outside work in India. Oh, now I understand. Don’t you?

Everytime you want to make an old fashioned transaction, like deposite your money, they have to call a manager. If you wish to withdraw, there are a set of questions and proper answers and the showing of specialized documents, none of which I mind. Now, I am concerened that they have relaxed their rules on insurance so that you CAN put all of your eggs in one or two baskets if you are a normal depositer like me. This is scary. I am scared of WAAAAAHOOOO. How about you?

Our bank changed ownership. That is nothing to write home about these days, but getting check is a subject, which has become near and dear to my heart. I need checks, albeit not as many as in the past, but I need checks. I needed them, so I ordered them. I did not do it online, I did not do it over the phone; I went into the new establishment and face to face with the manager, ordered checks.

The checks arrived in a timely manner. They were in Spanish. I speak English. I took them into the bank with my old checks and said, I wanted the new ones to look like the old ones except, of course, the new bank would put their logo in place of the old one and of course it goes without saying, in English. This did not happen.

The checks arrived with my husband’s name on them, then, mine. I worked very hard for some identity, a name of my own. I want my name on my checks, I want them in English and have worked very hard all of my life in one way or another to provide the necessary items to have checks printed in English with my name on them. I await the arrival of the third set of checks. The bond fire looked hot as it burned the first two set of checks. I am thinking, should I have waited for the third set of checks before I lit the fire on the first two?

I knew not to get out of the shower through a different door than I usually use, but I just thought oh well, let’s give it a try. That day turned out to have more than the usual stress, belly aches, head aches and more. There was abuse, intellectual brain death for most of the afternoon, lies, cheating, shootings on the tele, and the news was more than I could fathom.

Oh, I am sure it had nothing to do with getting out of the shower from the wrong door, but how am I to be sure? What do you think? Try it, oh no, on second thought, don’t.