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Annals of the Floored & Flabbergasted

Stormy Weather y-Cumin In…

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Looks like we’re going to get the leading fringe of that big California storm. Kind of a gray day now: high clouds coating the normally blue skies.

La Maya and La Bethulia came flying into town, leaving their retirement palace (a nice double-wide) behind in Sta Cruz. My escaped church friend Joan and her daughters, far as I can tell, are about in the thick of it, there in the middle of California’s inland valley. Yipes! Actually, in these parts it’s supposed to be overcast but calm until the middle of next week. Then: 75% chance of rain.

We’ve already had a little rain, but nothing much out of the ordinary. One night: enough to fill the pool almost to the scuppers. Otherwise: pretty low-key.

I could condescend to pick up the frost covers, since it never freezes here under an overcast and rainy sky. In fact, we’re in the 70s now. Kinda doubt temps will drop 40 degrees tonight.

On the other hand…if in fact it gets much chillier tomorrow night and the next (never believe Phoenix forecasts that predict temps in the mid-to low 40s: depending on where you are in the Valley, that can easily translate to the 30s), I’ll just have to lay all those covers out again. Probably better to wait until the Season’s Drama blows over.

***

And now we see that what has transpired here weather-wise is…nothin’ much. A whole day of high clouds. No rain, no wind — at least in these parts. Apparently the water falling out of the sky is confined to California so far. As you see on the news, that is quite the spectacular drama: floods, sinkholes.. WHAT an unholy mess.

Mighty glad I don’t live over there anymore! 😮

 

Merry Christmas, Everyone!

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Hope you all have a happy holiday!

Things are bustling right along here in the ‘Hood, very Christmasy. This quasi-historic neighborhood has filled up with young and ambitious new neighbors, full of civic pride and shenanigans. The neighborhood association is now run by young folks… This year they took it into their lively collective mind to promote displays of luminarias all up and down the streets.

The luminaria, in case you haven’t heard of it in your part of the country, is a Mexican tradition. You take paper bags and place candles in them, sunk in a bit of sand on the bottom of the bag, and then line your sidewalks with them.

They’re very pretty. And distinctively Southwestern. This year many of the neighbors have set them out along the sidewalks and drivewauys.

I don’t do it myself, because I think they’re a fire hazard. As Ruby and I made our mile-long perambulation this evening, I counted six of them that were totally, unmistakable fire risks: parked under shrubs and low-hanging tree branches. Personally. the chance of fire is more than I want to take on.

Plus it’s quite a project to fill dozens of paper bags with sand, park candles in them, and set them all out around your yard and driveway. To say nothing of having to pick them all up tomorrow morning! 😀

Next, as the night ambles on we’ll have the fireworks racket from the ethnic neighborhood to the north of us. This also is a popular tradition…and since fireworks are now sold legally here, we get banged and boomed all night for every possible occasion. Christmas, alas, is now one of the occasions. And New Year’s. And the Fourth of July. And Cinco de Mayo. And…whoever’s birthday it is…on and on and on. Some people’s dogs are very scared by the racket — and if they get out of your yard are likely to be GONE, never to return. Probably to get run over, in their panic, on Conduit of Blight or Gangbanger’s Way.

Ruby lives in the house — I let her out to do Her Thing, of course, but most of the time she loafs inside. Even then, she’s still scared of the noise. Takes up residence under the toilet, where she hides until such time as I go to bed, haul her out, and put her on the blankets with me.

Tomorrow it’s over to M’hijito’s house, where he intends to put on one of his feasts. That kid can cook!

As can a couple of his friends. When they were younger fellas, they seriously contemplated starting a catering business, cooking up fancy meals for customers. That never came to pass (they all went off to college and got — urk! — jobs, if you can imagine), but nevertheless around the holidays they still entertain the families.

Weather here remains steady: cool (in the crisp 60s, Hevvin help us!), classic Arizona climate. It looks like all He!! has broken loose across the country: “hundreds of thousands” without power as snow and storms swirl around them. Rarely is one really, really glad to live in Arizona. But this IS one of those times.

My mother spent part of her childhood in upstate New York, on what she described as a “dirt farm” owned by her paternal grandparents. They didn’t have the proverbial nickel or a dime, evidently: anything they ate, they had to raise themselves, and the house had no inside bathrooms — just an outhouse. One winter they had a monumental snowstorm, much like the one we’re seeing now. She said so much snow piled up, they couldn’t get out the doors at all: they had to climb out a second-story window. Her grandfather had to shovel a tunnel out front, so they could use the front door at all.

Sounds like what they have now is very much like that. Only at least they have vehicles that can navigate snow. And central heating (the only heat in her grandparents’ house was from an iron stove). Just imagine what it must have been like to live in those days!

Jeez. It’s only quarter to seven, and the nitwits are already out there banging away with their firecrackers. Why are people so…jerkish?

Ruby doesn’t seem unduly disturbed, though. Guess she’s grown accustomed to human foolishness. 😀Christmas tree

Life in the Land of the Dumb and the Feckless

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Correct position behind steering wheel for driving on Phoenix roads.

So you say you’re bored? Life is too calm? People around you persist in behaving like normal, sane human beings?

Welp, there’s a way to get around that predicament. It’s easy: Come to Phoenix, get in a car, and start driving!

Gaaaaaaaaaaghhhhhhhh!!!!!

If Days from Hell are crazy in normal times, in the Christmas season they’re BATSH!T crazy!

So I make my way to the Best Buy at about Camelback and 20th Street, there to glom a gift card for my son, as something that will pass for a Christmas present. Wander around ogling the technological wonders. Finally lose interest and roam back to the car. Start driving toward the’Hood, westerly ever westerly, and….

Ohhhhh yah. Wouldn’tcha know it? Traffic jam, traffic jam…and traffic jam on Camelback, one of the biggest surface streets in the city.

Crawl westward. Crawl…crawl…cr…HOLEE sh!t they’ve got the whole dam road, east AND westbound shut down at 12th street.

Guy ahead of me, bless his heart, drives like an old-time Phoenician. He’s assertive (read “aggressive as a hyena”) and he knows where he’s going. I settle into his tailwind.

We jerk north on 12th Street and proceed ever northerly. North. North. North. Now we’re in a neighborhood that I’ve never passed through slowly enough to examine. Twelfth is bordered on both sides by aging single- and two-story apartment buildings (once rentals, no doubt, but now condos). Lookin’ around, I think holeee maquerel, THIS is where we should have put Tootsie (SDXB’s mother) when we were forced to move her out of her beloved little condo after the damn place went to Hell on a Handcart. Why on earth didn’t we look in this area?”

Why…why…why, indeed?

Well, to begin with, I did look for places like that, but everything in our part of town — i.e., the area I knew anything about — was way too expensive. These places look like they would have been in the general price range of her soon-to-be abandoned garden apartment…and since her daughter, who was in on the project, was married to THE premier cardiac anesthesiologist in the Pacific Northwest…well, yes: they certainly COULD have afforded to get her into one of them. None of these places looked any fancier than Tootsie’s place, except (ahem) for the location.

But noooooooooo.

Some friend/distant relative of hers had bought a trailer on the far west side, where they would decamp to escape Michigan’s lovely winter months. Nothing would do but what, forgodsake, we had to put her in a trailer.

CAN you spell “stupid”?

It’s spelled t-r-a-i-l-e-r p-a-r-k,

So we get her into this tin can.

You understand: temps in the summers here range up to 120 degrees. Her relatives went home to Michigan in the summertime, so were unable to advise about the power bills in the multiple hundreds of dollars. You cannot air-condition a trailer…BECAUSE it effectively has no insulation.

Meanwhile, nothing would do but what she had to buy a trailer way to Hell and gone on the west side: a good hour’s drive from where SDXB and I were living.

You have not heard bitching until you’ve heard SDXB bellyache about having to drive (and drive and drive and drive and…) through the hideous westside traffic to attend to his mother. Wow!

Can’t say I blame him. It was a horrid drive.

He had an ex-girlfriend who was a Realtor. He asked her to advise…and…what a joke! She came up with exactly nothing viable. I looked around, but i are not a Realtor i are a english major…. I knew of a few patio home developments not far from here, but they were too expensive…and I was completely ignorant of the places to the east of 7th Street, where we could easily have found something that would have worked.

Picked up a Best Buy gift card for my son’s Christmas present. Now all I have to do is not lose it between now and the 25th. Easier said than done.

Son’s dog was surged yesterday. Nothing serious, he says: the dog grows these strange cysts…probably fatty tumors, I imagine. Greta the Gershep had a couple, but she didn’t develop them until she was well into her dotage. Charley the Golden Retriever has had these things since he was an addled-escent pup. M’hijito recently acquired a new vet — our old bunch having gone out of business and scattered to the winds.

Poor dog apparently was suffering somewhat yesterday. That — me being the skeptic that I am — would raise some real concern if he were mine. Not that I wouldn’t want to treat something that might harm him or cause him discomfort. But these things are apparently benign. Not at all sure I would subject an 11-year-old dog — who probably has just another year or two before the end of his normal lifespan — to any kind of unnecessary surgery.

ooooh wellll… Stop the world…i wanna get off!

And as long as we’re enjoying the Valley of the Sun’s blandishments…

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Pool Dude shoots in the gate. Bribes the dog. Throws himself around. Shoots out the gate. Bless that man!!! That pool has been crystalline GORGEOUS since the first day he showed up on the job.

Ruby dearly loves him. She knows when it’s Tuesday — Pool Dude Day — and lurks by the door or the gate waiting for him to show up. I suspect this is largely because he bribes her with treats. But in fact he seems to be a very sweet man, if somewhat eccentric.

I wonder if you can earn enough cleaning pools to actually make a living.

Hmmmm….  He charges me $110/month. This includes chemicals, though…so he’s not getting anywhere near that much. Let’s estimate that maybe he nets, after gasoline and vehicle upkeep, around $60/month…maybe $70. Hmmm…

If it takes him around an hour to drive from one customer’s house to the next, plus of course the drive time from wherever he lives, he can probably serve five to eight customers a day. So that would be, say, 5 customers/day times 4 (five-day) weeks/month: 20 paying trips per month.

ooohkayyyy…. 20 trips * $110 = $2200/month, gross.

That’s not a helluva lot less than I was earning at GDU. And he doesn’t have a Ph.D., 15 years of journalism experience, and 20 years of teaching experience. On the other hand, I didn’t have to purchase all the materials needed to do the job — and chlorine, in particular, ain’t cheap. Nor did I spend half the day driving from place to place…burning $4.25-a-gallon gasoline every inch of the way.

In other sylvan fields…

Yesterday’s freeway wreck, which I narrowly escaped, apparently was even more spectacular than reported. It looks like the cops actually RAMMED the guy’s truck to stop him! At freeway speed…

Wow! If I hadn’t gone into the Best Buy on that futile quest for…whatever I wanted, but instead had continued on north toward the Costco up the freeway, I would’ve been in the middle of that.

Y’know…I kinda doubt that I’d be real happy with a job that required me to drive allllll over the Valley every day. It is just too, too crazy out there to be in a car any more than absolutely necessary.

Phoenix: what a place!

 

Dispatch from Costco’s Tire Shop: Monday as Day From Hell

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Any day could be a Day from Hell, I suppose. Monday’s as good any for spiraling downhill. After a full morning in Hell (cleaning lady, nail in a tire, driving round and round Robin Hood’s Barn), as we scribble we’re now parked on a bench in the Tire Shop at Costco, waiting a predicted two hours to get one flickin’ tire fixed.

Again.

Dave, the doughty fella manning the customer service desk, is so busy he hasn’t had time to take a deep breath. Literally: the action here NEVER STOPS, not even for a minute or two.

This morning I had to take Ruby the Corgi to the vet to find out about getting her stinky teeth cleaned. This is a much neglected task: having foolishly imagined that I would be responsible enough to clean her teeth myself, I’ve let it go and let it go and forgotten about it and let it go until now she stinks so much she no longer can be ignored.

Actually…the issue is that her mouth is too small to allow me to fit the finger-sized tooth-scrubber thing in there. So no amount of pretend scrubbing does…well…anything. So this morning I took her to the vet, who wants A THOUSAND DOLLARS to clean her teeth.

This was no surprise, because the same vet used to pull the same stunt on La Maya, who (more or less) willingly forked over the cash for her two dachshunds.

Expecting this, I told her that on Social Security there’s no way in Hell I can afford anything like that.

She recommended some outfit called Doggy Dental, which supposedly does nothing but clean dogs teeth, for something vaguely resembling a reasonable fee.

That notwithstanding, she charged me for X-raying the dog’s teeth (did I ask her to do that?), and of course for the privilege of walking into her office.

So on the way home I stopped by a newer, closer vet to ask what they’d charge. Walked in. NOT A SOUL AROUND! Waited awhile. Left.

Next: low tire light comes on. Sumbiche!

Stop by the Firestone shop on the way home – they’re up at the corner Conduit of Blight and Gangbanger’s Way. Guy there says the tire needs to be replaced. And that’ll be a thousand bucks.

Uh HUH!

See ya!

So now here I am at the Costco, waiting and waiting and waiting to see if they can fix the tire and, if, not to simply buy a new one. Which, you may be damned sure, will NOT set me back a thousand dollah.*

This place is hectic!!!

The guys at the desk haven’t had a chance to take a deep breath since I walked in. But now…weirdly!…the crowd has abated, people have roamed off, and it’s downright quiet in here.

Meanwhile, NATCHERLY today is Cleaning Lady Day. So Luz is on her own at the Funny Farm. Fortunately, because I had to duck in there on the way, I did manage to pay her. That’s something. I guess.

Dayumnation! Somewhere, somehow I’m gonna have to find a vet that charges reasonable fees. And is competent.

That’ll be quite a trick. All the good old vets that I knew have retired and sold their veterinaries. So I don’t know anyone anymore. And they don’t know me, either…so haven’t the slightest compunction about charging me through the schnozzola. {sigh} Because of that, I reckon, Ruby  the Corgi is going to be the last dog to live at the Funny Farm.

How much longer, I wonder will the Ruby last? Overall her health seems to be excellent. So, barring accidents…what? Three to five years?

Holeee shee-ut! In five years I’ll be EIGHTY-TWO YEARS OLD! Assuming I’m still alive, that is.

Doesn’t seem possible.

That’s actually not out of the realm of possibility, though. On the California side of the family, women have lived into their 90s…and since they were Christian Scientists, that was in the absence of medical care. One of my uncles was 88 when he croaked over…. But… my mother’s New York grandparents weren’t so fortunate. Her grandmother died of diabetes in what must have been her mid- to late 30s…early 40s at the latest.

So then we’re confronted with the question of whether, after Ruby passes on to her furry fathers, can I justify getting another dog? Or even handle having another dog?

. . . .

Tire Shop Desk Dude: It’ll take about two hours to fix that.
Customer: That’s fine. I’ll do some shopping. The car is right outside.
TS DD: Where’s the wheel lock key?
Customer: In the glove compartment.

Uh huh. NOBODY would ever think to look for it there….

Guy just came in with a tire that needs fixing. Warrantee expired three years from the day he bought it: YESTERDAY.

Augh!

. . . .

As we were saying…. Can I, should I get another dawg after Ruby passes on to her Furry Fathers? Assuming she predeceases me, that is.

Unless the proposed successor to the Crown is already pushing old age when she arrives in the Realm, I’m not likely to survive her. So…who will take her? Can my son be bamboozled into agreeing to take in an ancient dawg when his mother croaks over? Hmmmmm…..

Old Guy comes in, pays a bill, walks out. He’s wearing well-used jeans held up with suspenders. Looks like he belongs in the Ozarks.

Prob’ly cruised in from Paradise Valley in his Rolls.

This is the West Side, though. Not impossible that he could be an old cotton farmer or rancher. Not likely, though.

Hey: Tire Dude says the guys are just finishing up with the Venza. Give it 2 minutes; then walk out to the second bay.

Hungry hungry hungry. By the time I get home it’ll be dinnertime, almost. So I guess that’ll be the main meal of the day.

How much longer before two minutes have passed?

Ohhhh how I wanna go home!

****

ESCAPED!

* Oh, and it cost $12 to replace the tire… It was on warrantee.

 

good-BYE, Costco…and dammit, this time I mean it!

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You realize…if you want to buy 89 tons of cheap individually wrapped candies to hand out to the Poor Kids who are bussed into your neighborhood for Hallowe’en, you can get that stuff at Target. Or Walmart. Or for that matter at Safeway, Albertson’s, Fry’s, or Walgreen’s. You don’t HAVE to go to Costco to buy a lifetime supply of junk candy. Or of…well…of anything.

Costco is where I went today, though, by way of stocking up for this year’s onslaught of kiddies and teenagers. The ‘Hood is flanked on two sides by low-income districts, meaning that every Hallowe’en we are flooded with hordes of cutie-pies and silly teenagers in costume. This makes for a great neighborhood party: everyone hangs out on their driveways to greet the panhandling kids, and a grand time is had by all.

So today I was despatched to snare a cache of individually wrapped candies for the coming shindig. Costco seemed like the logical destination, since while I was at it I could stock up on a few things that are running low here at the Funny Farm.

But…maybe not…

Alas. They have decimated their cheap wine offerings. They used to have a wonderful selection of wines in the $8 to $12 range — I mean, awesome. No more. Want a drinkable bottle of wine there? Prepare to spend upwards of 15 or 18 bucks,

No, this is not inflation. Albertson’s, Sprouts, Fry’s, Trader Joe’s, and — hevvin help us — even the ritzy-titzy AJ’s all offer a generous selection of cheapo wines, highly drinkable. Prices are about the same (in the $8 to $12 range), and deliciousness is highly comparable in all the other stores.

The Paradise Valley Costco’s layout is damn near non-navigable. In addition to our communal supply of Hallowe’en candy, I wanted to buy one of Costco’s lifetime-supply bottles of aspirin. Into the pharmacy dept. Search high. Search low. Search medium. Search high and low again. CAN. NOT. FIND. A. FREAKIN’ BOTTLE OF ASPIRIN.

Since this is a commodity you need by the time you get out of the place, presumably my fellow customers have cleared the shelves and gulped down all the product.

Did find a nice package of rack of lamb, one of the things I went specifically to that store to buy.

But…

Y’know…

AJ’s also has superior rack of lamb. And you don’t have to do battle to get to the meat counter for the purpose of grabbing a package of it.

**

But the main issue with Costco shopping is…well…Costco customers.

You think Walmart customers are characters? Jayzuz! Take 45 minutes or an hour to watch Costco customers in action! They leave Walmart People in the dust.

Honest-ta-Gawd, I do NOT understand how Costco employees who work the floor in those stores keep a grip on their sanity! WHAT a job!

Today, as is invariably usual, I got stuck behind some stupid woman who, mesmerized by the glory of the stacks and stacks of merchandise, was rolling her cart right up the middle of the aisles. She would stop, stand there, and stare…while everyone on both sides of her, coming and going, waited for her to get the hell out of the way.

This is not a “sometimes” occurrence. It’s something that seems to happen every time I go into a Costco store.

Y’know, aisles in a grocery store or a drugstore are no wider. If anything, Costco’s aisles are considerably more generous than a Safeway’s or a Walgreen’s. But people don’t seem to pull that stunt in those stores. For the life of me, I cannot understand what gets into people who do that!

Why this is happening — whether it’s because there’s so much variety of merchandise people zone out as they search for what they want or whether a particular type of chucklehead is attracted to Costco — I cannot imagine. All I know is it makes me crazy. And I think I’m not gonna go back there, unless it’s under exceptional duress.

There are things you can’t get in these parts except at Costco or at Amazon. For that reason, it makes sense to maintain a membership, either in order to go there oneself or so as to send Instacart runners. But…if the only time I shop there is when I need something that’s not sold anywhere else and I don’t wanna wait for Amazon to deliver it, I’m surely going to shop there lots, lots less.