Coffee heat rising

When We Say Rain….

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Gosh!!  What a freshet is carrying on out there!

Low, thick clouds. Thunder near and far. And water falling out of the sky…big-time!

Wunderground has emitted a “Severe Thunderstorm Warning” (eeek! Be scared, be very scared!). Meanwhile, the local newscasters are predicting relatively light rain (up to a quarter of an inch) tonight, but nearly an inch of rain tomorrow night.

Just this moment, water is pouring out of the sky. Similar conditions are predicted for tomorrow — one to two inches per hour. 

Alas, that may put the eefus on the Hallowe’en hijinks. I do love Hallowe’en: all the kids dressed up, the teenagers running amok, the parents trying to keep up. 😀

But if this keeps on or repeats itself tomorrow, we’ll have none o’ that.

Meanwhile, I haven’t bought candy for the trick-or-treaters. 

And just now I’m debating whether to do that tomorrow…or not. If it’s gonna be pouring rain tomorrow evening, I sure don’t want to go out and spend a lot of money on candy.

I don’t eat the stuff, myself. So If I have bags of it sitting by the front door, I’ll have to take it over to some charity and donate it. Not the end of the world, o’course. But…not something I’d choose to diddle away cash on.

Too bad, though, if tomorrow night’s frolicks are rained out.

Hallowe’en is my favorite holiday. I do love seeing the kids and the teenagers all gussied up in their costumes, frolicking around the neighborhood.

Welp…we shall see. Online forecasts seem to indicate reduced chances of rain tomorrow…maybe only 25%.

Sooo…hmmmm….  I guess tomorrow a.m. I should run over to the low-rent supermarket to the north, grab a few bags of candy, and then if any is left after the weekend, just donate it somewhere.

Glub Is the Word, Alright!

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Two and a half hours after this morning’s early post, and it’s still pouring rain!

Worried about the babysitter my son has hired to nuisanceferize me…uhhhh…to take care of me. She was supposed to be here at 8:00 a.m. It’s after 10 now, and the woman hasn’t shown up.

Personally, that’s fine by me: I do not want some pest dear soul lurking around all day. Privacy is my Thing, after all. Truth to tell, I do just fine allll by my little pea-brained self. And  you may be sure, I do not need a prison guard to be sure I don’t drop a mug of coffee on my dainty little foot.

On the other hand, I do feel a bit worried about her. It is one bitch of a drive to North Central from the far east side, where (as I understand it) this one lives. And since most workin’ class folks here live in either the east-side or the west-side suburbs, traffic is heavy…and made much worse by rain.

Oh well. I’d hoped to recruit her to drive me to one of the nearby grocery stores, so I wouldn’t have to haul several pounds of chow home through threatening rain. But…it looks like that ain’t a-gunna happen.

Luckily, it ain’t necessary. We do have all the human-and-dawg food we need to cover the next few days. Soon as the sky clears credibly, I’ll walk over to one of the three(!!) nearby supermarkets and grab whatever else we need.

****

By sheer serendipity, when I moved here I landed in what may very well be the most convenient centrally located neighborhood in the city. Within easy walking distance of my house, we have an Albertson’s (equivalent of a Safeway), a Sprouts, and an El Rancho (also a major supermarket, only with a bit of a Spanish accent). We also have a computer store and a Walgreen’s, in the same vicinity. AND a veterinary!

*****

Ohhhhh DAMN!  I scribbled too soon! Here she is at the door…and now she’s parked at the dining-room table.

Ugh!

Well, on the bright side: at least she got here safely, thank goodness.

Driving through Phoenix’s (un)lovely rush-hour traffic is no fun under the best of circumstances. But doing so in the rain? That’s putting your  life on the line!

Anyway: that’s the end of my privacy for today. DAMN it. 

I just hate having people underfoot for no good reason. If we’re getting together to do something: fine. But if you’re gonna sit at my dining-room table playing with your phone so you can spot me every time I wriggle out of the bedroom at the far end of the hall…not so goddam fine.

And, dammit dammit dammit….to make things worse, I haven’t picked up the breakfast dishes. So really, I ought to drop what I’m doing and clean the kitchen.

Whee.

I can hardly wait.

Out the Door! (Glub!!)

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7:40 in the morning: Dawg and I just raced back in the door after  fast circumnavigation of the ‘Hood.

Thunder rolls: the sky is getting ready to POUR rain.

Still, in its way, it’s a GORGEOUS morning. Cool and soft and lovely. We got into the house just before it started to sprinkle. Pretty sure that before long, we’ll be seeing a nice deluge.

Ruby is in full i ain’t doin’ it mode. Ha! That turns every walk into a fight. What fun.

Uh oh…there’s that noise in the plumbing again. HAVE to get a plumber over here to look at that.

My son has forbidden me to do so: apparently he thinks I spend too much money on workers. On the other hand…he has no idea what to do with whatever is making that racket. So now I’ll have to sneak to get someone to fix that.

Goodie. Just what I wanna do.

The banging noise resonates throughout the house. No way in hell one could sleep with that racket…and it’s an alarming sound. One that says hey stupid! you need to get this fixed!!! 

So…that will be the misery of the day. I can hardly wait!

She knew…

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Yes. She knew. 

What she didn’t understand was that my father also knew. And he wasn’t going to put up with it.

***

My father rescued me from the most horrific cruelty my mother could possibly have committed. Ever.

What she tried to do was maneuver things so that I had to repeat what she had to do as a girl my age: minister to her mother as her mother was dying of a self-inflicted cancer.

Her mother was a fast little thing, back in the 1920s and 30s. Apparently, she would fu*k just about anyone and anything that  came along, and then some. My mother once told me about coming home from school one afternoon, using her key to unlock the front door, walking into the living room, and finding her mother and a boyfriend on the floor in front of the fireplace, in flagrante delicto. 

Not surprisingly, the woman fell prey to a number of venereal diseases. In the ’20s and ’30s, treatment for these was pretty fierce stuff. Couldn’t have been good for your long-term health.

Probably not for your short-term health, either. 😮

In due course, my dear grandmother fell prey to a reproductive cancer: one that killed her.

My mother, then a young teenaged girl, had to tend to her as she lay on her deathbed.

Result: she was determined that her own daughter would NOT do that. And the upshot of that was simply that my father chased me out of her room whenever I dared to approach her as she lay dying, years later, of the family disease: cancer.

In retrospect, I do understand what he was doing…and why.

But I also think he overdid it a bit. Probably he should have let me spend time by her bedside, even if I wasn’t toting bedpans and changing diapers.

Life. It distorts everything, eh?

Another Muggy Day…

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…in (un)lovely North Phoenix…. 

Ugh! It’s hot and overcast and swampy. WhatEVER possessed my parents to move here from California, dragging me along with them?

Ohhh well. In fact, the sky is mostly very beautiful, with towering cumulus clouds gazing down at us. No doubt we’ll get some rain tonight.

Let’s see what the Official Sky-Watchers opine….

Hmmmm…. 24% chance of precip tonight, and then…HOLEE molee: 87% chance tomorrow, with thunderstorms.

😀

Well, that ought to be a show. 

Most of the time, these predictions amount to nothing, or next to it. Now and again, though…they do hit the mark. We shall see…

Took off into the weird gray yonder without company of Dog. Didn’t want to have to wrangle her through rain, if any occurred. Plus it really is pretty hot for her…if you were wearing a two-inch-thick fur coat, you probably wouldn’t enthuse much about traipsing over hot concrete and asphalt in 83-degree heat.

Actually, that’s downright chilly for lovely uptown Phoenix.

Tomorrow, we get a bit more drama, or so the Weather Service opines: 90% chance of precipitation, thunderstorms, high of 69 degrees, locally heavy rainfall possible.

Kinda like to wash my hair…but figure with the air this soggy, shoulder-length locks may not dry before bedtime.

Yeah….I should get the hair mat cut short. But a) I like it long, old age or no old age; and b) I just don’t feel like dorking around with a beauty parlor.

Oh, my goodness! Patrick Stewart died! Captain Kirk!  How is that even possible? My, he was a delight…he made all his roles delightful.

Much to be missed…

Dog ‘n’ Human Walk, Redux…Update

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So here we are, once again, back from a twilight circumambulation of the ‘Hood.

WHAT a pretty neighborhood! If you have to live in Phoenix — or anywhere in the suburban reaches of the “Valley of the Sun,” you really can’t do better than this one.

********************

Well, I started to write this a day ago…then roamed off into the twilight of my life.

Oh, my. I’m SO sick. 

Surely it can’t be much longer before I’m dispatched to the next world. Surely hope not, anyway!

Speaking of that horrifying dispatch, my son just called to inform me that he’s dragging me to the old-folkerie of our choice: the place he plans to store me until I finally pass over into the Next World.

That would be kind and thoughtful and all…except…..

Very few things do I revile more than institutional living. I just HATE being crammed in with a bunch of other people. I hate listening to some dimwit’s TV blabbering on down the hall. I hate bad food dumped out of cans and boxes into steam tables.

Honestly: if I’m approaching the end of my life, then forgodsake it’s time. Time for me to go.

And that exit is not something I want to have drawn out.

Yes, I will say: I’m not especially well just now. And indeed, it won’t be long before I won’t be able to stay here in my home safely.

Already, my son has purloined my car (he believes I shouldn’t be driving), which means I have to hike some unholy distance just to go to the grocery store. And no, hiring the Uber driver across the street has proved not to be a very practical strategy.

The awful place where he plans to consign me is less awful than most of them.

My father put himself in a place now called The Terraces. He would have done fine there if he had not stupidly imagined he could replace my mother (the love of his life) with a dimwitted woman he met there.

So… Lesson number one: no love affairs!!!

😀

Seriously, though…you would not believe the horror show that devolved from that episode.

Because he had stupidly married the woman, he was afraid to break it up. He convinced himself (rightly or wrongly, I do not know) that she would get all his assets if he divorced her.

Personally, I doubt that would have happened: at the time, his daughter was married to a partner in one of the most powerful law firms in the Southwest. But he was just simply too scared to take any chances.

So he stayed married to her, in profound misery, until the last day of his life.

As for me, I hate institutional living. Hated every moment that I had to spend in the dorms in college. (Back in the day, unmarried women students were required to live in the dorms, unless they could prove they were living at home). And I just. don’t. want. to. go. through. that. again!!!!

I fail to understand, given what it costs to live in one of those hell-holes, why we can’t use the same amount of money to hire someone to come in and babysit me in my home.

So this morning my son is dragging me to the Terraces, for an introductory tour.

Goodie gumdrops. I can hardly wait.