Text noir

Every so often I get a text message that makes me think I'm in a spy movie, and someone is trying to communicate something vital to me in a confusing, obscure way.  I feel like if I were only smarter, I'd know what to do.

Over the weekend, I got this text:
 "Thanks for making that meal when my baby was born [3 years ago].  I'm sure it was delicious." 
 Odd, right?  I could only assume that she was in peril, and if I could rearrange the letters quickly, or otherwise solve the puzzle, I could save her.  I spent a few minutes studying the text.  What meal did I make?  Spaghetti?  Is she stuck in the spaghetti factory?  Trouble with a spaghetti strap?  Why is she even wearing a spaghetti strap?  Is she at a club somewhere?  Oh wait, maybe I made lasagna.  Which, if you look at that word, kind of spells signal, if you squint or put on those drunk glasses that R. keeps around.  Or, worse, it spells strangle.

When I thought the strangle thing, I took off the drunk glasses, picked up the phone, and called her.  I listened carefully to her answers to see she sounded like someone with a gun to her head -- someone who is forced to communicate in weird, mysterious phrases.  But she sounded more like the lovely friend she is.  In fact, she sounded like she just came across an un-mailed thank-you note from a few years back, which was a huge relief.

It made me want to say two things:

1) if I owe you a thank you note, please forgive me.

2)  We should all have a secret signal for if we're in distress.  I'm adopting the thank-you note thing, so if you get that text from me, call 9-1-1 or a film noir detective, and I'll do the same for you.

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