Coffee heat rising

funny

This post may be a paid guest contribution.

Where Are Ya Gonna Go?

by

So the question of the day is…AM I gonna stay here, in my middle-upscale house in moderately affluent North Phoenix? Or am I gonna sell the house and move into some dreary old-folkerie?

Once again, this morning some sh!thead vandalized a hummingbird feeder in front.

REALLY??? You seriously have nothing to do but sneak onto a neighbor’s front porch and dork with her bird feeders?

Sheee-ut!  What IS the matter with people?

I love my home and I love my neighborhood — by and large love my neighbors, too — and I do NOT want to move into a holding pen for old folks waiting to die.

Yeah, I know: I’m an old folk myself, and yes, I’m just sittin’ here waiting to die, myself. But at least I’m doing those things on MY terms, not according to some institution’s rules.

Speaking of the’Hood, my GAWD, what a gorgeous day! And how do I not want to sit on a 5’x12′ balcony overlooking a parking lot while I sip my morning coffee? Nooooo thankee!

And ohhhh, that little dog! Sitting there with her funny corgi ears upright, soaking in the splendid morning…why would one live where one could not enjoy corgi company?

LOL! What an outrageously gorgeous day!  I should get off my duff, walk over to the Sprouts, and load up on some more edible loot.

But y’know, I’m just too plug-lazy! Seriously: right this moment I can’t work up any enthusiasm for springing to my feet and hiking over to the store. Or for calling the Uber-driving neighbor and putting him up to schlepping me over there.

No. The important order of the day is to loaf. Loafing, loafing, serious loafing!

And y’know: we now have a mechanism that makes that important chore possible. It’s called AMAZON. 😀  Truth to tell, I don’t have to trudge or to taxi to a grocery store or a drugstore. All I have to do is call up Amazon on the laptop, pick out whatever loot I desire, and have it delivered to my front door.

Amazon — seriously — has saved my tail when it comes to living in my home through my dotage. Time after time, now, they’ve sent stuff to me that I would have had to hire a cab to buy, or that I probably couldn’t have found in any store anywhere near my house, here in (un)lovely North Phoenix. Hardly a week goes by anymore that I don’t order something from Amazon.

So the question is: “Where are you gonna go”?  

And the answer is: Right here. 

I’m gonna stay right here in my shack until I keel over face-first, dead as the proverbial doornail. Until that day, if I need someone to help me day-to-day, I’ll hire someone to come in to the house.

Matter of fact, it develops that Wonder Cleaning-Lady has done that in the past. So…I may even be able to hire her! No one new to get used to…no poor soul having to figure out my eccentricities…what could be better?

Sprinkler-Mania!!!

by

Well…and Old Bat Mania!  😀  Don’t get old, whatever you do!!!!!

In today’s episode of senility…ohhhhh, this is tooo good! Hang onto your hat! Today’s moment of what planet am i on entailed losing the lawn sprinkler. One of these cute little fellas:

These tiny metal numbers are about my faves, because they are quite small. You can fit them just about anyplace you please, but they emit a grand fountain of water spray, allowing you to water a quarter or half your yard in one swell foop.

But by this afternoon, the one I use all the time was GONE.

So I went to order one up from Amazon. They only cost about six bucks, so in theory this should be no big deal.

Except…every step along the way turned into a SPROOOOINNNGGGGGGG! 

No kidding. Whatever I touched, whatever I tried to do: I screwed it up!  Whaaaa???

FINALLY, after what seemed like endless dorking around, I got the damn thing ordered. Hope I didn’t screw that up… Amazon says it’ll be here tomorrow.

We shall see… /eyeroll/

Still haven’t found the missing number… Given our recent spate of bird-feeder thefts, it may be reasonable to suspect it was stolen. So, dammit…I guess after this, everything that is normally stored outside is going to have to be stashed inside the garage. What a PITA!

Well…made considerably less so by my son’s having purloined the car. 😀 Conveniently, the garage now stands empty. So…there’s plenty of room to store junk like sprinklers and whatnot. And therefore, I reckon I can’t complain. Much.

Who’d’ve thunk it, eh?

The Siege of the Front Yard

by

So the sprinkler is running in the front yard, outside the walled patio. It’s the kind of cheap little metal sprinkler that screws on to the end of a hose. So…given our late experiences with our patio thieves, now I need to wait till the watering cycle ends; then RUN out there, unscrew the sprinkler, and bring in inside.

Or at least hide it somewhere in front.

Nahhh….prob’ly bring it in will be safest.

Can you imagine??  Having to run in circles and jump hoops to keep the local morons from stealing ordinary junk like sprinklers and bird feeders?

The hummers’ feeders are now inside, or, to the extent that some of them are still hanging up, ensconced in the backyard.

I’m assuming that any idiot who would steal a hummingbird feeder — over and over and over again! — will soon come along and steal the water sprinklers off the frontyard hose. So…need to let that water run about 20 or 30 minutes; then run outside and rescue the sprinklers from the front-yard hose. Bring them inside and hide them in the garage.

I ask you: How stupid IS this?

Really, it makes living in the Beatitudes old-folkerie look good: someone else can deal with the rampant morons!

***

Y’know…this stuff is making me awfully depressed. 

Honestly: what kind of morons steal bird-feeders and lawn sprayers? And do I really want to stay here sharing a neighborhood with jerks like that? Maybe it’s time to move somewhere else!

Problem is, now that I’m old (with a vengeance!), about the only option for moving is to decamp to the Beatitudes: a dreary old-folkerie where they babysit you into the next world. And honestly: that’s not where I want to spend the last months or years of my life! 

Horrors!

Truly: I love my home, and I absolutely positively do NOT want to move into an institution. Horrors, indeed!

Yes, sooner or later it no doubt will be inevitable, unless I’m lucky and I drop dead. But I just want to put off that horrible inevitability as long as possible.

Jerk neighbors who dork with your yard ornaments and your sprinkling system sure as hell don’t make that easy! 😀

Hmmmm…..  Maybe a strategy might be to put up some small, discreet cameras out there. Let them run 24 hours or so. And see if they don’t capture our perps in the act. If I could catch them, I could report them to the police — or to their daddies — and bring a stop to the shenanigans.

 

Morning Gad-About

by

Wow! It’s wet and hot over at the park, whence the hound and I just returned. Didn’t realize it was so hot and sticky out, or we probably wouldn’t have started out. Yea verily: once a Dawg has got you into the park, you’re not gettin’ outta there easily! 😀

But whatever the weather, it’s always fun to walk around that upscale neighborhood. One of the houses, harbinger of a long and strange history, is now vacant and under major renovation. They’ve gutted the swimming pool, and it looks like they’ve pulled out just about everything in the home’s interior.

It’s on an upscale and desirable street, but the problem is that, as a corner house, it faces on an east/west mini-main drag that connects with the larger main drag running north/south through  the ‘Hood. This makes for a ton of traffic and repeating serenades from ambulances, fire trucks, and cop cars. Handsome as the house is, it’s not one I would choose to buy. Or live in.

The previous occupants had a kid who got in trouble with the law, and that exploit bankrupted the family. They  lost their home, which has stood vacant for months. Apparently someone finally managed to glom it, and now it’s on its way to renovation and sale.

That young fella is not the first I’ve known to go to jail over a fling in bed with some chickadee. If you have a teen-aged son, teach him to use discretion about jumping into the sack with any female under the age of 21. The risk is just not worth the fun!

But…onward, onward: around the park. Many of those homes are on lots upwards of half an acre, so they’re spread-out and green and handsome and…expensive. It’s a tony part of the neighborhood, indeed.

Guess I’m glad I can’t afford to live over there, though. The park, not surprisingly, attracts any number of undesirables (great place for bums to sleep!), plus there’s always some noisy, nuisancy event going on. Not the best of all possible venues for a private home.

Huff-ata-puffa…

by

Ten after 7:00 p.m. Trot up the hall and ratchet down the AC thermostat. Hotter than the hubs in here!

Actually, it’s prob’ly not that hot. I think it’s a little humid. Sticky and dark outside. Artificially cooled yet still plenty warm inside.

Ruby the Corgi has taken up residence at the foot of the bed. The human has perched on the bed, too…hoping against hope that the air conditioner will cool the bedroom into the sleep-able range. Both critters are huffing and puffing in an uncomfortable atmosphere.

At this point — this absurdly early point! — what the human would like most is to go to sleep. That ain’t likely to happen anytime soon, though. And so we loaf.

LOL! The best sound in the world resonates from the neighbors’ backyard just now: little kids playing and laughing. What COULD be better?

They have two tiny ones whose lovely voices fill the evening air. If they could just stay little for the rest of my life, eh?

I do love this neighborhood. Can’t imagine anyone wanting to live in Sun City, where the silence of the mausoleum holds forth. But…I guess that doesn’t fit everyone, eh?

My father hated the sound of kids playing. That was for a surprisingly rational reason: he worked the swing shift and so had to sleep during the day and go to work on the docks all night. So what he wanted most in the afternoons was…silence. Freakin’ dead silence! And he would get amazingly crabby if any of the neighbors’ brats were playing outside in their yards while he was trying to sleep.

He did love Sun City, though. As did my mother. When fighter jets weren’t charging around out of Luke Air Force Base, yea verily the sound of the mausoleum did hold forth. It was so quiet out there as to be positively creepy.

And as for my mother? She wasn’t any fonder of the symphony of kids’ play than he was. In fact, I don’t think she cared much for children at all. I often wondered why they had me — why, in particular, she had me, since she didn’t seem to enjoy children around her. But she was nuts about her own child, so I made out all right. I guess.

Actually, I think her grandmother — my great-grandmother — urged her to have a kid. Hence, I materialized one day back in 1945. VE day: the last day of World War II. Hence the name: “Victoria.”

Meanwhile, as we scribble…I reckon my excellent son has about finished off his endless and grinding and lonely day’s work — his employer discovered they could dispense with office rent by making their employees work out of their own homes! — and by now must be getting up from his desk to putter around the house.

Hmmm…. I do believe that if I had to do a full day’s office work, I would not like to do it from home. Altogether too grinding!

When I worked for the Great Desert University — mostly teaching, plus a little editorial — I did work from home most of the time. But the university provided me with an office and all its accouterments, so it was easy to break the monotony by traipsing out to campus and spending a few hours on the job there. But that doesn’t seem to be the case for M’hijito: he works from home. Period.

That, I prob’ly would hate. But then…let’s face it: I hate work. 😀

Go-o-o-d Morning, America!

by

Just back from a mile-plus peregrination of the ‘Hood, dragged along by my furry boss. How can I count the ways I just wanna sit down and swill a cup of coffee?

Stumble over to the easy chair. Flop down in it. And…

RINGY-DINGY-DINGY!

Goddamned phone. A Goddamned phone solicitor on the other end.

I tell him where to make his next phone call and slam down the receiver.

Honest to Gawd. Phone soliciting should be illegal. Seriously: I realize it’s “freedom of speech” and all. But shouldn’t the rest of us have something like “freedom of privacy” or “freedom of peace and quiet”?

***

The neighborhood park is so lovely! I adore this area. Beautiful, quiet, upscale, affluent, right in the middle of everything

O’course it ain’t perfect. Right across the street from the park stands a house whose occupants fled after a pair of home invaders barged in, grabbed them, tied them up, threw them in the bathtub, and proceeded to loot the house.

So. If you live here…yeah: you keep your doors locked all the time. And you do NOT answer the door unless you know who’s on the other side and what they want.

But then…come ON! No place is safe. Just the other day some sh!thead barged into a madly upscale home in Fountain Hills, a mighty swell dive. And I’ll tellya: before that happened, I would have said Fountain Hills is as staid and secure as you can get, this side of Sun City.

My mother, who was scared of her own shadow, cowered in terror all the time she lived in Sun City. She dwelt behind heavily locked doors and windows. And yet…really…she was less terrorized out there than anywhere else we lived.

Something must have happened to her. If it did, she never told me. But really: you wouldn’t act like that unless you had some reason to be scared.

Me, I find the company of a dog amply reassuring. Ruby is no German shepherd (not by a long shot!). But she does alert whenever anyone comes around.

And really, that’s about all a dog can do for you. You’re the one who has to take care of yourself: get to a safe place, grab your pistol, call the cops, whatEVER.

Ruby: the four-legged burglar alarm.
😀