Coffee heat rising

Apocalypse!

Good Lord! Have you been following the nightmare news out of Southern California?

Sooooo thankful that we don’t live there anymore.

We moved to Long Beach, where I was born in another century, after my father changed jobs from Standard Oil to Union Oil. Upshot of that shift was that instead of shipping out of northern California’s East Bay (he was a merchant marine deck officer), he docked in Southern California.

Sooo…if the present apocalypse were going on 20 or 30 years ago, we would be right in the middle of it.

In Long Beach, my mother lived in terror of exactly the kind of conflagrations we’re seeing today. The potential for fires like these has always existed, though it wasn’t anything the normal person on the street thought about.

Arizona presents a similar potential, though as far as I can tell, it doesn’t apply inside the major cities. Well…not to the degree that it applies in Southern California. But that potential is one of the reasons I chose not to move up to the little mountain town of Payson when several of my friends did so. We do get some major forest fires…but because many, many fewer people live here, our fires don’t get the kind of publicity we see coming out of Southern California now.

But gosh, am I ever glad I don’t live in California now!

Coulda, Shoulda, Woulda…

Ever look back on some damfool thing you should have done or, more to the point, shouldn’t have done and think…”coulda, shoulda, woulda,” all the while kicking your idiot self in the metaphorical tuchus?

The past couple of days have been haunted by that less-than-charming state of mind:

What the F**K was the matter with me that I didn’t jump up and down hollering NO, DON’T DO THAT!??

What was the matter with me that I didn’t say, as calmly and rationally as possible, “NO, DON’T DO THAT!

Why the HELL didn’t I say Wait! Just WAIT six months and see how things shake out then?”

Why didn’t I say to my father, DADDY, RUN AWAY!

Welp. Some of us are just plain plug-stupid. And evidently I’m among that number.

Dunno why that episode has come back to haunt me of late. But yeah: over the past week or two I find myself reliving the (annoying!) episode when my father and the Dragon Lady came to me like a pair of 16-year-olds and begged my permission to marry.

WTF was I supposed to say? They were both adults. They both had been married before (twice, in my father’s case). They both knew what they were getting into. And they both knew that since in their 60s they were unlikely to spawn any offspring, it fukkin’ DIDN’T MATTER whether they married or lived in sin.

Well. Of course, about all I could do was give them my daughterly blessings.

Dayum! I must have been smoking something especially toxic that day.

The upshot of this little circus performance was misery. Years of misery for my father.

He was afraid to divorce the Witch. “SHE’LL GET ALL MY MONEY,” wailed he. Nevvermind that his daughter’s husband was a senior partner in one of the most powerful lawfirms in the Southwest. Ohhh eeek! SHE’LL GET ALL MY MONEY!

Holy shit. Some things matter more than all your money.

Why didn’t I tell him so?

I dunno.

Just stupid, I guess.

Argh! When was the last time….

I felt this weary at 6:00 p.m?

LOL! Just this minute, I could very easily fall face-forward in the sack and conker out…

Alas, that would mean that along about 10:00 p.m. — tonight! — I’d be WIDE AWAKE with noooo hope of getting back to sleep…

Ohhhh well….

Dawg and I: just back from a mile-long perambulation of the park. Pretty quiet out there. Numbers of cute li’l kids playing. A couple of athletic teams bopping balls back and forth. The moon glowing brightly against a dark blue dusk sky.

Ahh, the young people are so fine, so much pleasure to watch. It really IS a beautiful neighborhood, full of excellent young folks alive with energy. My idea of energy is getting all the way around the park — about a mile — without conkering out.

The hound, being as lazy and as superannuated as her human. has taken up her position at the foot of the mattress and is busy conkering out. It’s only 7:00, but frankly I doubt if I’ll last much longer than she will… zzzzzzzzzz

*****

After Dark…

LOL! So there I wuz, going on about how beautiful the’Hood is. That was this afternoon. Now it’s coming onto 8 p.m., and what we have is BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

Gunfire or backfires — or maybe a bit of both — resonating down from Conduit of Blight Blvd.

Honestly. This kind of sh!t makes the mausoleum that is Sun City look good. Which is sayin’ something.

Something horrible.

Ugh. I should have moved out to Sun City when SDXB did.

Trouble is, I hated living out there with my parents. The Silence of the Mausoleum is just not my idea of pleasant.

On the other hand…the whiz of ricocheting bullets is prob’ly not all that grand, either.

Phoenix: LA. East.
What a dump!

Worser and Worser

Our honored civic leaders are engaged in another gambit to degrade the quality of living in our part of town.

One of their favorite projects is the lightrail, a boondoggle that multiplies the cost of public transit, limits it to specific routes (unlike a bus route, a train must stick to the expensively installed train tracks), and hauls derelicts and criminals up to the end of the line and drops them off at the top of our neighborhood.

It’s the stupidest thing you ever saw.

Compare it with a bus line:

* A bus does not need train tracks installed at taxpayer expense.

* Bus lines can go just about anywhere, rather than being confined to routes followed by train tracks.

* A bus line does not require overhead electric lines.

* One bus is a helluva lot cheaper than a passel of train cars.

* The end of the line for a bus service can be in the middle of a gigantic shopping center parking lot, dropping the bums off far from residents’ homes. (We have one of those, just on the other side of the freeway, which itself is about three blocks from the western edge of the ‘Hood.)

* Such a shopping center can house social services, reaching out to the drug-addicted and the brain-addled rather than dumping those unfortunates on a street somewhere. Or into the alleys behind our homes.

Why do such stupid people get into public office? Is “dumb as a post” a requisite quality for those who would be civic leaders?

***

We have a nice park in the middle of our neighborhood. Kids played there, teams played baseball and volleyball, people walked their pets there.

Not so much anymore.

I won’t go in there at all unless a lot of people are around. You just never know what the loafing bums are gonna do.

Well…yeah: you DO know they’re gonna hit you up for a hand-out. And when you refuse, then what are they gonna do?

Ruby the Corgi is too small to be any protection. So…we have no choice but to stay out of the park that my taxes pay for.

Pisseth me off.

If my son were not here in lovely uptown Phoenix, I would move away.

Where?

Probably Fountain Hills, a suburb of Scottsdale. Upscale, clean, relatively free of bums and crime.

Failing that: a suburb of Tucson called Oro Valley.

Both of these are relatively free of transients; relatively low in crime. Both have neighborhoods that aren’t impossibly more pricey than my neighborhood.

Friends have retired to a little ranching town/tourist trap on the Mogollon Rim called Payson. It’s a pleasant enough place, though not to my taste: I don’t care much for small-town living. For me, neighborly nosiness is not entertaining…and I do like having access to at least one or two major department stores and a first-rate gourmet grocer. And, we might add, to the kind of doctors and medical facilities that are attracted to affluent cities.

Ohhh well...time to walk the dog; then get back to work. Ugh!

Been there… Yow!

Holee mackerel!

I can remember smelling the smoke from fires like this when my parents and I lived in Long Beach — back in the Dark Ages. Quite a few ages have passed since those days…and now, here we are again.

Five major fires around L.A. and Malibu… What a horror show! Some estimates claim 11,000 buildings have been torched. Sure am glad I’m not there, these days.

Welp…I guess that yes, I’m glad I’m out of California. It doesn’t say much, though. Arizona is full of forest land, too, equally vulnerable to fires. So far, we’ve been (relatively) lucky. Almost surely, though, as the climate gets hotter and drier, we’ll see more and more fires like this: here, there, and everywhere.

Just look at this stuff. Among the many things that strike you: your dog will have to go to a special animal shelter: you can’t bring him or her with you!

Well…I’d be sleeping on the side of the road with the dog, thank you. But…it strikes me that if one doesn’t have relatives someplace within a far-stretch drive of where one lives, one should make arrangements well before the event for where to go and where to take one’s sidekick. Or always have camping gear stashed in your vehicle, so you and the critters can get up and get out, fast.

Another thing that strikes you: You should keep your gas tank at least 3/4 full. Probably better than that, if at all possible. It means you’d be traipsing to a gas station every time you turn around…but that would be one helluva lot better than running out of gas while you’re on the run from some catastrophe.

Probably also should keep a kit of your regular and emergency medications at hand — either in your car or right by the door you’d go through to get into the car.

Good times, eh?

Conflagration!

Wow! Can you believe those wildfires in California?

Wildfire in Kaibab National Forest, Arizona. Photo:  Mike McMillan, U.S. Forest Service.

When I was in high school, we lived not far from some of these venues — although in solidly urban, in-town areas. Not in combustible suburbs, that is. Though we were a goodly distance from fire-prone areas, I sure can remember, as a kid, worrying whether the current conflagration could come our way.

Unlikely: we were in the middle of Long Beach, a highly citified stretch of concrete and asphalt. Even in the good ole’ days, though, a barrage of media hoo-ha would make it sound like disaster was lurking at the next stoplight down the street.

La Maya and La Bethulia have a place by the seashore, somewhat south of San Francisco. Far as I can tell from reports on the Internet, the fires haven’t reached their parts…yet.

But even way over here in the depths of the Sonoran Desert, we’ve got a stiff wind blowing.

That suggests it’s at least as windy — probably more so — on the coast. And of course wildfires travel on the wind. Sure am glad I’m not there!