Coffee heat rising

funny

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Bashed!

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Seven ways from Sunday!  Not only physically, but apparently my feeble little brain has decided to quit working.

No kidding:  I just wrote this post, and now it’s GONE.  A draft was saved, but that’s gone, too. 

SHEESH! Ya can’t win for losin’!

Been a losing day today, more or less. Most recently: I bashed the bejayzus out of my left big toe while in the park this afternoon. Limped back into the ‘hood and presented myself at the WonderAccountants’ house — they live right across the street from the Funny Farm. Figured to have to ask them to drive me to the E.R., since my son has kindly purloined my car.

Just what I need: to have to limp around with a cast on my foot for gawd only knows how long….

But by the time I sat down and started to chat with my warm and friendly neighbors, the pain began to fade, and we could see I could walk on it. So…we’re assuming I didn’t break anything, and that it should be OK in a few days.

I hope. 

Interesting… Kindness makes pain go away. 

Ditch the Class Snobbery! I’M IN LOVE!!

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O…M…G… I just got a wonderful whack upside the head!

Did you read yesterday’s FAM post?  OINK, we say. Lady! Come down out of your classist eagle’s nest!!!

Okay…. Eventually I quit sitting here going oink oink oink and resigned myself to having to walk up to the (muy hispanico) corner at Main Drag West and Conduit of Blight North.

Trudge through the steamy heat and arrive in a classic corner shopping center. Barge into the El Rancho supermarket. Grab a cart and stroll around. And…

And…gosh.

I like this place!

Damned if it doesn’t have all the kinds of things I like to eat and to cook — bein’ WT myself, I guess, I fit right in. The staff: quiet, nice folks. The other shoppers: damned if they’re not my kinda people!

Suddenly, I’m NOT outside my social class…as is invariably the case at the ritzy AJ’s or the upscale Albertson’s.

I’m walkin’ around in there and thinking, “This ain’t real. IS it?”

But….yeah: it IS real. 

For the first time in I don’t know HOW long, I feel…where I belong. And that is not where everyone around me is better than me…

What fun! Omigawd! I felt like I’d gone home!

Gosh. I wish I’d found that place sooner…like when I first moved into the neighborhood, 87 gerjillion years ago.

Classism lives, folks!

Another Icky-Sticky Day

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Need to walk(!) down to the nearest supermarket to restock supplies. But… At 7:30 in the morning it’s pushin’ 80 degrees out there. And overcast! In Arizona, that makes for a hot and sticky morning.

Ohhhh how do I not feel like trudging down there?

Actually, there’s a closer supermarket-like affair in the corner commerce just to the north of us. But they target Latino shoppers from the mercado just to the north of us. Not a bad store, but they stock items that I would never buy, and don’t stock items that I regularly use.

Walking down to the Albertson’s will entail dodging through the neighborhood — adding steps on steps — in order to avoid the sh!theads on 19th Avenue who scream obscenities out their car windows at every passing woman. Even a doddering old bat!

Guess they’re so stupid they think that’s funny. I don’t: I think it’s damned annoying.

There isn’t an easy way to reach either of the corner shopping centers on foot from the neighborhood. Because several tracts built at different times stand between here and those markets, you pretty much HAVE to walk down Main Drag West to get to the stores.

The prospect of doing so in melting heat and sticky humidity does not appeal.

Nope. Not a-tall.

Ay, señors y señoras! I do believe we’ll be shopping latino today. That (mostly) Mexican supermarket carries about everything I really need, and it also has some fun stuff to experiment with. And it’s only about a ten-minute walk to the north of us. It would help a lot if I’d contrived to make myself fluent in Spanish during all the years I’ve lived in the American Southwest. But…never too late, eh?

In fact, maybe it would be worth taking a year of introductory Spanish at one of the community colleges here. If I could figure out how to get a ride to said institution.

Hmmmm….  This is innaresting:
https://www.thespanishexperiment.com/review

Since I’m fluent in French and can stumble around in Italian, an online course in Spanish just might do the trick. Bet I could learn enough to navigate the local commerce.

Yeah. Absolutely. It’s past time to learn Spanish!

Peace! Quiet!

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Who’d’ve expected it?  😀

Seriously:

Ruby’s spider bite has receded: looks like it’s about gone. Mine had the back of my right hand mighty sore last night, but today that attack, too, has receded, leaving only a mild, almost unnoticeable ache.

Never did find the dog’s kiped water bowl. Fortunately, we have plenty of bowls that she can drink out of. Grabbed one of those out of a cupboard and filled it for her.

Good Son seemed mightily irked at having to take time away from his paying work to schlep me to the Mayo yesterday…for which I surely do not blame him!  It’s a gawdawful drive, half the time for little or no purpose. And it soaks up half your day!

We need to find a doctor here in town…one that meets his standards.

Little progress has been made on the proposal that we can the hired help — i.e., the one who, I’m damned sure, spiked the leftovers in the fridge with ultra-hot chili. Waiting to see what happens next in that precinct.

Have yet to get the electrician over here to get the backyard outlets and power switches running properly again. There’s a limit, Lord! Given that stuff like this has happened at least twice, my sense is that we’re past said limit… But, we shall see.

So…  {sigh} A lot of stuff is up in the air. Some of the gliding stuff is damned annoying. But most of it is just time-consuming. 

 

Can’t Win for Losin’

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So, on top of all the other hassles and headaches — the purloined car, the black widow bite, the screwed-up yard lights, the cops-and-robbers frolic, the peripheral neuropathy — now the dog’s water bowl has disappeared.

  • No, it’s not in any of its “put away” spots.
  • No, it’s not in the garage.
  • No, it’s not on any of the backroom storage shelves.
  • No, it’s not in any of the closets.
  • No, it’s not outside…
  • No, it’s not in the dishwasher

Can you imagine? Stealing a dog bowl?

This is why I don’t employ a lot of indoor hired help.

Y’know, if some guy makes off with a sprinkler, it’s easy to replace and fairly cheap.

But a water bowl for a 90-pound dog?

Yeah.

To replace that bowl will cost me something between ten and thirty dollars. Cheaper ones can be had, of course: Amazon has a number of them.

But that’s not really the point.

The point is…some bi*ch is paid by my son to come into my home and care for me in what may very well be my final illness… And what does she do? Why, of course! She steals from me.

What IS the matter with people?

Bad to Worse!

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As if we weren’t having enough “fun” here, yesterday as I was puttering in the front yard a black widow spider bit my right hand.

OOOWWWWWWW!!! Does that HURT!

And it still hurts this morning, as dawn cracks.

This would be quite enough “fun” if I didn’t already hurt from head to toe with this accursed peripheral neuropathy. Add the pain from a spider bite, and…HOLEEE MAQUEREL!!!

To frost that cake, Ruby the Corgi is sick. She’s laying on the bed hyperventilating.

No way for me to get her to the vet, not without a car. My son is swamped with work and also sick himself, so asking him to come here, pick her up, and drive her back and forth is…out of the question.

Add the cleaning-lady maliciousness…and, by golly, we are in TROUBLE!