Coffee heat rising

funny

This post may be a paid guest contribution.

Lock It Down!!!!!

by

Arghhhh!  I have GOT to get special training on not answering the door, on not speaking to strangers, and on uttering the sound N-N-N-N-O-O-O-O!

Crimineee! The crooks are storming me from all directions.

Did I tell you about the Tree Dudes?

A crew of guys showed up at the front door saying they were here to trim the overgrown eucalyptus-like monster in the west yard.

Uhhhh….ooohkayyyyyy……

{huh?  Did I hire these guys??}

So they bang around and thud around, getting ready to assassinate my huge west-side tree, the one that keeps the air-conditioning bills down on that side of the house

About then, my son calls on the phone. I tell him what’s up. He says GET RID OF THEM!

So I end up having to toss that bunch out in the cold (or rather, the heat), just as they’re gearing their saws to chop down everything in sight.

Good riddance to that bunch.

Here’s the problem with Old Age: you can’t remember what you did ten minutes ago, much less a day or three ago!

I cannot remember whether I agreed to hire these guys to prune that gigantic tree. My son says I did not. Just in time does he say that: minutes to spare before they started to assassinate my trees. And my bank account.

My neighbor has (I think) a camera by her front door. She does NOT answer the door, no matter who’s out there. If she can see an image of someone she’s willing to talk to, she’ll open up. Otherwise, you and your fellow scam artists can stand there till the snow falls.

I think I’m going to install one of those. Hers allows her to see who’s out there without having to open the door. I can do that, too, by looking out through a window…but that allows the “guest” to see me, too. In Terri’s case, she can see who’s out there, but they can’t tell whether anyone’s home. So they can ring the doorbell to their idiot heart’s content, get nowhere, and let Terri go out in the back yard until the ring-fest ends.

We seem to get more and more hustlers showing up at the door, trying to peddle this junk or faze that scam past you. So…a way to see who’s out there without them seeing me would be MOST welcome. 

What happened next…

by

Yep: that appears to be what we have next on the agenda. My son is on his way over here to pick me up and drag me to the physical therapist’s gym, there to be pestered and exercised no end.

UGH!  How could I do without it??????

Well. Actually…I have no business bellyaching about this routine.

The spavined arm hurts like the dickens just now — and has done so all afternoon. Some supervised exercising should loosen up that shoulder and, with any luck at all, ease the hip pain, too…ohhhhhhg helle’s belles!!!!  Here he is!

*************************************
WOW!!!!!
*************************************

Did that PT guy make a difference?  Or DID he make a DIFFERENCE????

Oh, my goodness. It feels like I have a whole new body!

Well…not quite that far out in Left Field, but close. Very close! Seriously: the pain is SO much better, it’s hard to believe!

My splendid son has been schlepping me over to the therapists’ gym: a MAJOR hassle for him, as he has (of all things!) a job. Now that we’re home and back in the house, the hip pain is almost gone, and the shoulder pain: on the high side of tolerable!

WOW! This is the first time in weeks that I’ve been able to walk around without hurting!

By golly. Now I’ll have to stop bellyaching about these procedures. (Never can have any fun, can I? 😮  ) Seriously: if this kind of improvement continues over the next few weeks, before ya know it I’ll be walking around normally…and getting up from a chair without groaning in agony.

Really: I seriously DO hope this improvement continues. If it does, it’ll be some kinda miracle!

Well. If this is what you get from an evening in Hell…BRING IT ON!

Another Evening from Hell, Comin’ Up!

by

Yep: that appears to be what we have next on the agenda. My son is on his way over here to pick me up and drag me to the physical therapist’s gym, there to be pestered and exercised no end.

UGH!  How could I do without it??????

Well. Actually…I have no business bellyaching about this routine.

The spavined arm hurts like the dickens just now — and has done so all afternoon. Some supervised exercising should loosen up that shoulder and, with any luck at all, ease the pain…ohhhhhhg hellle’s belles!!!!  Here he is!

DAYUM!

Morning in the ‘Hood

by

Not to say “mourning.” One of the neighbors passed away this week, leaving a bereft spouse. Nice folks: it is a loss, for everyone who knew them.

Well, if you have to croak over, you couldn’t pick a nicer time of year to do it — not in central Arizona, anyway. Beautiful weather. Gorgeous day to be buried, if interment is your choice.

Unknown whether the widow will stay in the house — right next door to the Wonder-Accountants’ place. Can’t imagine what I’d do if I were her. As a practical matter, these houses are reasonably sized: not hard for one person to care for, and not so elaborate you can’t afford a housecleaner and a yard crew. I find this place easy to care for and pleasant to live in. But…well…if you had a miasma of memories to cope with, that might be a different matter, indeed.

***

In other sylvan realms:

Dare not leave Ruby the Corgi out in the front courtyard by herself. Just now we have a pair of coyotes roaming the ‘Hood. Saw them over at the park yesterday. One of them — to say nothing of two! — would make short work of the Short Stuff. 😉

Seriously: she wouldn’t have a chance to defend herself against a coyote. That’s one reason I don’t like to leave her out in the backyard alone: Our canine neighbors trot up and down the alley, and they could hop over that six-foot wall in a trice.

So anyway…Ruby and I are therefore loafing in the front courtyard, listening to the beloved Accountant neighbor working on his yard.

****

Meanwhile…serious loafing.

Probably not the most salubrious way to diddle away the day. Doing NOTHING led me to think about an old friend and colleague from graduate school, neither seen nor heard from in years. Stumble upon her name in LinkedIn. And yep! She’s apparently still teaching at Scottsdale Community College.

Urk! What a way to spend your life. How can I say how much I appreciate being so seriously without ambition that I haven’t spent the past 20+ years killing time and boring students witless at some junior college.

Have I done great things? Nope. Neither has she.

Have I been bored out of my mind for the past 20 years? Absolutely not!

Uhm…so…what HAVE I done?

Yeah, I’ve taught a few junior college courses.

I’ve published a pile of books, all of them through respectable publishing houses.

I’ve taught a fistful of university courses.

I’ve edited and published academic publications for that university. Also a PR publication or three.

I’ve traveled the world: Australia, New Zealand, South Pacific islands, Alaska, Mexico, the US..the US…and the US, Europe, the Middle East, on and on and freaking on….

And hey! I’m running one of the Great Blogs of the Western World!

😀

 

Coyote Jamboree

by

A pair of coyotes have found the neighborhood park. Ruby and I were over there yesterday…and kinda dodged out of the way.

{grump! crab!!}

Decided against taking her over there for this morning’s dog’n’human stroll. Not that I don’t think I can fend off a coyote (I do carry a shilelagh with me, partly for that purpose). But…well…just not in the mood for confrontation, whether of the human or the canid variety.

And so, we loaf.

Lately, I’ve daydreamed about moving back out to Sun City. 

Heh!

Know what roams around the streets and backyards of Sun City?

Ayup! Coyotes!

Two legs, four legs…what’s the difference, eh?

Neighbor across the street — one of the WonderAccountants — reports that his neighbor on the other side from my house croaked over last night.

That makes me feel so sad. I didn’t know them well — just to say “hello” as the dog and I stumble up the sidewalk in front of their house. But they are unmistakably nice, kind, lovely neighbors.

I wonder if his widow will stay put, or move into some more elder-oriented digs? I hope she stays…but…you’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do, eh?

Heh… One thing I don’t gotta do is move out of this house…and surely not to horrible Sun City.

My parents bought a house out there when my father retired. I just hated that place!

Actually my present house was built by Del Webb, the guy who engineered Sun City. But for some reason, I find it a lot more comfortable than my parents’ place. Something about the design, the size…whatEVER. Plus the backyards are all fenced in (none o’ that nonsense in Sun City!!!!), and the house has a gorgeous pool. And it’s close to shopping — from here I can easily walk (!!) to a Sprouts, to an Albertson’s, to a Fry’s, and to a Walgreen’s. None o’ THAT nonsense in SC, either! 😀

And we have kids. That, IMHO, is a very big deal, indeed. I do love the sound of kids playing.

Anyway, I wonder what the surviving neighbor will do?

Wonder if my son would like to buy that house, if she decides to trudge off to an old-folkerie? How KEWL would that be?

Well.

I’d think it was kewl. He’d probably think it was a PITA. 😀

Ohhh well. One crazy idea after another, eh?

LOL! I don’t wanna move, that’s for sure. Main reason: I have moved altogether too many times in my life, between spending ten years in the Middle East and then gallivanting all over California for six or eight years. Never wanna fill up another cardboard box with newspaper-wrapped dishes again!

EVER!

And truth to tell… I think (hope!!) I’ll be able to engineer things so that I can stay here in the Funny Farm until such time as I croak over.

As long as I don’t have a stroke that seriously disables me, that should be possible. I’d have to hire someone to come in — probably every day — but given the cost of an old-folks’ prison, the expense might not be any more than having to move into an old-folkerie.

Hire someone to come babysit — maybe even stay overnight in a spare bedroom, if necessary. Get someone to deliver food. And get Uber to tote me around the city…  And basically, that would be about it.

Yes, it would cost more than it’s costing me now to live here. But not THAT much more. And very surely nothing like as much as an old-folkerie would cost.

Well. It’s something to consider.

Stay Away from My Doorbell…Stay Away from…

by

LOL! How’s about “Stay away from My House“?

This town is alive with door-to-door nuisances. I’ve pretty well learned never to answer the door. As policies go, that one leaves something to be desired: it causes you to miss calls from folks you do want to see. But…they number only about one in five of the hordes who show up at the house.

My neighbor to the west won’t answer the door at all. Doesn’t seem to matter whether she thinks she knows who’s out there or not. Ring her doorbell, and you get…nothin’.  If you want to see her, you have to call her on the phone and arrange to get together.

Ahhhh, the good ole days…when people were people and neighbors were friends. If you can imagine, my great-aunt’s house in Berkeley had — hang onto your hat — GLASS PANES in the front door. She could see whoever was out there, and decide on the spot whether to talk with them or not. Today, I wouldn’t have glass in an exterior door, not on a bet.

“Pleeze! Burgle this house!”

But…forgodsake, can you freakin’ imagine??? We live in a country today where you don’t dare answer the front doorbell.  Certainly not unless you know who’s out there. Not just who they are, but what they want.

Dayum, I miss Berkeley. What a pretty, peaceful, and civilized little burg.

Not that way anymore, of that you can be sure.

Seriously: I don’t think I’d feel safe living in my relatives’ pretty little Frank Lloyd Wright-designed house today. Too many druggies. Too many burglars. Too many wannabe rapists. Too many plain ole-fashioned pests.

Today, there really are only two nearby places I can think of where I would feel relatively safe:

One is dreary, boring, Sun City, baking away like a plate of cookies under the roaring path of Luke Air Force Base’s endless battalions of fighter jets. Horrible, whitey-white, hostile place.

The other is Fountain Hills: quiet, cheaply built, and baking away under the desert sun. Well. “Quiet” except during the breakfast hour and the dinner/cocktail hour, when HORDES of passenger and fighter jets pour into Sky Harbor airport, just to the south.

No, thankee.

Do I feel safe here at the Funny Farm?

Surely you jest…. 😀

Just now, though, the back door is hanging open, beckoning to every panhandler, druggy, and wannabe burglar who wanders up the alley. They have to make a special effort to see over the back wall, though: it’s topped with a good three feet of thorny, tangled vines. And if you wander into the backyard from any direction, you set off the Doggy Alarm, whose barkfest gives me plenty of time to shut and lock the door or to grab a pistol. Or both.

What.
A.
Place.

But…far as I can see, just about all of America is What. A Place these days.