Coffee heat rising

Angst

Thank Goodness for Amazon!

by

Saudi-style weather: Hot, wet, sticky. Eighty-four degrees right now, at 7:20 in the morning: 105 predicted.

Out the door with the corgi, at dawn’s early light. Everyone else has the same idea: we have to circumvent the park to evade the potential dog fights.

Cleaning lady on her way this morning. That….

wait wait wait! It’s not the cleaning lady! WonderAccountant (who lives across the street, BTW) reports that her understanding is the woman who is supposed to show up is more on the order of a babysitter…hired by Dear Son.

Ohhhhh gooooodie…  

Just what I need: someone new to poke her nose into my business…

Mwa ha ha! Today, what we’ll have her poke her nose into is a grueling trip to Sprouts!  Poor babe….

Seriously: I need a few grocery items, but not enough to justify trudging block after block through 100-degree heat. If any such person does show up, what we’ll do right off the bat is put her up to schlepping around.

Hmmmmm……  Along that line, d’you suppose Sprouts delivers? If it does…how does one engineer that?

Hmmmmm….. They do deliver, but….the process to order up stuff is brain-banging. And it’s not clear that they deliver in this area.

Anyway, I can order up the dawg food from Amazon. Fresh groceries: apparently not so much.

Well. Let’s see if the proposed woman shows up here. If she does, first thing we do to make her crazy is ask her to schlep us over to the Sprouts. From there: straight downhill, the poor child!

😀

 

“SIZZLE!”

by

You think I jest?

Nay, verily: it is SIZZLING hot out there, on the streets, in the park, in the grassy yards. Hoooleee maquerel!

Just staggered back in the house. Fortunately, I had enough presence of mind to NOT take the dawg with me when I left the Funny Farm a couple of hours ago.

That was because I’d planned to go by the nearby office of a lawyer-for-all-trades, as it were, and ask him to help ensure that, when I croak over, everything in my sticky little hands will transfer smoothly, quickly, and with ZERO hassle to my good son.

In theory, it should: I have no other heirs. None that I know of, anyway. But who knows? We’re talkin’ bucks here. What with the wonders of inflation, the house alone is worth in the vicinity of a million bucks. And I want every single one of those bucks to go straight to him.

Don’t you know that someone, somewhere will jump into that fray and try to rip off a chunk of that bread dough?

Yeah.

So. Get lawyer now. Get will scam-proofed. Get everything set up for my excellent son. 

Navigating to said lawyer’s office, in the absence of a car, entails traipsing through UNGAWDLY heat. And alas, at this point — a little after 4:00 in the afternoon — this old bat is in no shape to trudge over there right this minute.

Tomorrow.

Let’s hope I live until tomorrow, eh? 😀

I’ll charge over there in the morning, along about when I hope they open. Not open yet? Coffee shop lurks right next door!

My son’s father is a lawyer…of the retired variety. What I’m hoping is that I can set things up with this new guy, and then DXH can review whatever we come up with to be sure it’s OK. If not, the two can work together to make it OK.

This would evade any question of a conflict of interest. And yet still be sure someone who cares is overseeing things.

Í hope.

 

 

Arrrgh!!!! I hate computers!!!!!

by

Round and round and round and ROUND Robin Hood’s Barn trying to get back online and back into Funny about Money.

WHAT an AGGRAVATING time suck!!!!!!!

Dammit! Now I’m so frustrated and so upset, I’ve forgotten what I was gonna write about!!

LOL! I hate computers. 😀

Ohhh well….  On the subject of nothing much: Ruby and I hiked all over the ‘Hood this evening. Beautiful night. Beautiful houses. We’re incredibly lucky to have landed in this tract.

We walked by one especially lovely house that until recently was occupied by a gentleman who used to sit out in the front yard and putter. He was a sweetie! Apparently he and his wife moved, though…or, more ominously, one of them passed away. No sign of either resident lingers.

They are much missed.

As for their handsome house: it’s for sale.

Too close to Main Drag North for my taste — the noise would be interminable and obnoxious. So, even if I could afford it, I haven’t inquired. And believe me: that house, I could not afford! 😀

Most of the ‘Hood is well outside my price range. Ruby and I live in the low-rent precinct, which is on the top end of what I could afford. Actually, values have shot up since I bought here: what were once normal, middle-class tract houses are now priced on the high side of ridiculous.

Oh well: we’re brought back to the long-range goal: to pass this house along to M’hijito. If I can hang onto it…if I don’t get consigned to some prison for the elderly…he will inherit this paid-off shack, lock stock and proverbial barrel. That will present him with some appealing choices:

* To stay where he is (he has a nice, centrally located house) and sell or rent this house, thereby collecting several hundred grand

* To sell  his own place, get completely out of debt and move into this paid-off castle

* To sell his place, invest the proceeds in the stock market (or some such), move in here, and watch his investments grow

* To sell it all and RUN!

Interesting….

Fire Central!

by

Gosh…am I glad we’re not still in Southern California.  That’s where I was born, yea verily. Though I grew up overseas — in Saudi Arabia — when my father retired, we moved back to the States, where we ended up in Long Beach, part of the vast L.A. sprawl.

Never cared for Southern California, myself. Smog is not to my taste. Nor are the noise and the traffic and the overall atmosphere of Looney Toons. But boyoboy! Today those fires would tear it for me!

I imagine my mother would have packed us up — well, “us” would have been “her and me,” since my father continued to make a living going to sea with the Merchant Marine — and we would have headed up the coast to the San Francisco Bay Area. She would have barged in on our relatives in Berkeley, and there we would have stayed until the drama subsided.

They would have put up with us for awhile, I expect: a couple of weeks, probably. Much longer than that:  ????  Unknown. But I suppose if she were really scared, she could have rented a motel room for us.

Anyhow…awful glad not to be there now!!

Another Fine Day in Southern California

by

Holy mackerel!  THIS is going on right in the vicinity of where my parents and I lived in Southern California. Really: it’s right down the road from where our apartment building stood.

My father would have been at sea, of course — he was an oil tanker captain. But by now my mother and I would be at her grandmother’s house in Berkeley: several hours’ drive away from the present scene of the drama.

Apparently thousands of people have been evacuated from the region. Or relegated to shelters…doesn’t that sound like fun!  My mother would have been terrorized!

My father, o’course, would have been off at sea. So she and I would have been left to cower at home…or to jump in the car and start drivin’ drivin’ drivin’.

Kinda doubt she would have betaken us to a motel. Most likely she would have driven up the coast to the relatives’ house in the Bay Area, and we would have camped with them until the drama subsided.

Mighty glad not to be in that melodrama this afternoon!

Unclear how long this is gonna go on, or how much risk of a real catastrophe exists. If it were me, though, I’d be sooooo far outta there! That’s for sure!

How Could She Do That?

by

Y’know… It’s one thing to poison yourself.

But another thing altogether to poison your child.

How on earth could she have done that?  Why would she have done such a thing? Year in and year out?

My mother smoked. She didn’t just smoke a little. She smoked constantly. She was never awake when she didn’t have a cancer stick in her mouth. Not even in the shower! You knew when she awoke in the middle of the night by the stink emanating from her bedroom.

And I was sick all the time I was growing up in her household. Constant, unending respiratory illness. Never stopping. Not until I got out of her house.

She smoked herself to death. And she damn near smoked me to death. Maybe she imagined it would be fitting and lovely for us to share a grave?

Yeah, I understand: it was an addiction. 

But you know, a person can beat addiction. Apply some knowledge and some will power, and you can take it down.

She knew exactly what she was doing. The word came down in the late 1950s: tobacco smoking causes cancer. And it makes the people around you sick.

Oh, yeah. She knew what she was doing. She did it anyway.

It killed her.

What a waste.