Coffee heat rising

Idle essays

Never a Frikkin’ Dull Moment

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Now we’re told that a slew of aluminum pots and pans — sold by different retailers under different brand names — will leak lead into your food. Jayzuz! Never a frikkin’ dull moment, eh?

Looks like none of my cookware falls into these categories. Probably because I bought all my spectacularly overpriced pots and pans at Pottery Barn and Macy’s: years ago.  When I had an income…  Sometimes there’s an advantage to paying way too much for that kinda stuff.  Plus I believe mine are all stainless, not aluminum.

How can I count the ways that I don’t wanna get up and start charging around?

Well, it’s only quarter after seven, so Ruby and I can loaf for awhile longer. But soon we’ll have to get on the road for the morning hike around the ‘Hood.

My revered (reverewared?) son came over yesterday afternoon and supervised tha AC guy’s activities. That was a mercy! I wouldn’t have had a chance of climbing up to the roof or tromping around observing what the guy was doing — because I wouldn’t have any idea what he was supposed to be doing.

So just now the system is pounding away. Back porch thermometer says it’s 46° out there. Not unreasonably chill for December. I guess. Doesn’t do much to inspire me to schlep the dawg around the park, though. 😮

This evening we have to traipse to the physical therapists’ gym and waste another couple of hours going hup-hup-hup. I do not see that this routine does anything whatsoever for the hip pain. What works is…yes: time and the river flowing.

Anyway, the aches and pains have faded to near-absence. So I figure that in another week or so I can put my well-exercised little foot down and call a halt to the PT shenanigans.

Meanwhile, in the absence of said aches & pains (most of them, anyhow), I need to hike to the nearby Sprouts this morning. Just what I wanna do… /s/  Still too early and too cold for any such expedition. Probably the dawg and the humann will just climb back into the sack and loaf for a couple more hours.

********

2;10 p.m.

Back from the Sprouts…and the Albertson’s…and various stores in the associated shopping center.

The outfit that sold me the shoes, one of which fell apart, claimed they’d  never sold any such shoes.

R-i-i-i-g-h-t…  Like I buy so many shoes I can’t remember where I get them. 

So I got nicely screwed there. And will never buy anything at that store again.

The skies are vibrating with the roar of military jets charging back and forth. Think most of them are coming out of the Sun City area, which is almost adjacent to Luke Air Force Base. However, a few seem to be lurking on the opposite side of the Valley — the east side, which would not be true if they were Luke planes.

Haven’t seen any nuclear bomb clouds, so I assume we’re not at war. For the nonce.

***

Sit your butt down in an easy chair, fire up the computer, start dorking around online and… RINGIE DINGIE DINGIE * RINGIE DINGIE DINGIE * RINGIE DINGIE DINGIE… Some a$$hole on the line trying to hustle you.

My GAWD but I’m sick of our idiotic phone system

Really, sometimes I think that I ought to just unplug the phones whenever I’m home, unless I’m using them to call out. But..of course…that will mean that friends and business acquaintances will never be able to call in to reach me on the goddam phone.

Let’s see if we can make the phone jangle some more by trying to take a nap between now and this evening’s hup hup hup session…

😀  😮  😀

 

 

Another Night of the Sh!theads…

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BAM!
      BAM!
            BAM!
                  BAM!

The local sh!theads are out in force this evening, playing with their fireworks (most of them illegally smuggled in from Mexico) and scaring the bedoodles out of the dog.

Idiots!

Ohhh well…sounds like the li’l darlin’s ran out of ammunition. They’ve pretty well quit now.

What a bunch of jerks!

It’s not very late, though: hafta hand them that much. Only about 8:45.

O’course, that implies the jerks are kids, for whom some even more jerkish adult purchased the fireworks.

What IS the matter with people?

Women and Terror

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Loafing late in bed of a Friday morning (nya nya nyaaa! I don’t hafta go to work!!!), I find myself wondering about a peculiar behavior of my mother’s. She was scared, y’know.

Not just scared. But absolutely fukkin’ TERRORIZED. All the time. Any time she was alone in the house. Any time after dark.

One evening she came down to our house in Phoenix’s middle-class, rather boring Encanto district, having decided to spend the night. So we pass a nice day and watch TV all evening and then we unfold the big ole’ sofa-bed (queen-sized, it was) so she can hit the sack.

Make the bed, get everything all nice for a good night’s sleep, and, as she’s getting ready to climb into the sack…what does she do?

She opens her purse and pulls out a pistol! This, she sets on the TV table next to the bed.

No…

Kidding….

She was SO SCARED that even though she was at my house, with a German shepherd at her side, she felt she needed a gun.

I was just floored. 

No, she wasn’t putting me on. She really and truly was so frightened, of life the universe and all that, she needed a pistol at her side.

Trying to reassure her did nothing to help her to feel any braver. It just convinced her that I was crazy and not too bright.

****

A lot of women feel that way. I used to be scared to death all the time, too. That, as you might surmise, was the reason for the German shepherd room-mate.

Had something happened to her? Dunno. If it did, she never told me about it. But on the other hand, I’d never been seriously attacked (harassed, yes; but actually attacked, no), and I wasn’t scared witless in my own house. Scared: yes. That’s why we had the GerShep. But scared enough to be waving a pistol around? Not so much.

That German shepherd did earn her keep one night, after some poor wretch got into the house while she and her humans were sound asleep. Unfortunately for him, she did wake up…and got between him and the door he came in.

LOL! He found a door he could get out, just as the fangs were about to rip off his rear end. Last I heard he was still running.

It brings you around to the question of whether you really do need a gun in the house. And that question brings up a whole slew of other questions:

* Do you know how to use it?
* Would you use it? Really? On another human being?
* How are you going to recognize a false alarm? Hubby coming home late at night, for example. The teenagers roaming around in the wee hours….
* Can you (or can you not) get out of the house safely if some jerk comes in a door or window?
* What are you gonna do if you shoot some schmuck and kill him? How will you prove he didn’t belong in your house and you really didn’t know who he was? How DO you prove a negative, anyway?
* Wouldn’t you be better off just to close the bedroom door and lock it when you go to bed?

On and on.

I tend to feel that keeping a gun at hand every night is probably a bad idea. Definitely a bad idea if you have kids in the house.

Do I feel safe alone in the house here in lovely North Phoenix? Hell, no! It’s a dangerous area, no question of that.

But EVERY place where humans live is a dangerous area. So you can’t get too paranoid over your own neighborhood. Nor can you barricade yourself in the bedroom every night, armed to the teeth with pistols and shotguns. That just doesn’t make sense…and serves only to scare you more.

My own guess is that your best defense is an alarm system: whether the kind that runs on batteries or the type that runs on four feet. If someone’s around, you want to know it in time to get out, or at least to barricade yourself inside the bathroom. A phone in every room, including the bathrooms, is de rigueur.

***

I’ve lived most of my life now, and lived it with few truly dangerous incidents. I’m not a pretty young girl anymore (thank Gawd). With my boobs lobbed off, that’s one fewer attraction.

But that was true of my mother…well…she still had boobs, but she also had lots of wrinkles and stank to high heaven of tobacco smoke. And she was scared half to death: alll the time. As for me: well… Dude! Make my day!

Seriously: I don’t feel especially scared. I don’t recklessly put myself in situations where I might be at risk. But neither do I forget that there is NO situation where a woman is not at some risk. 

Thank You, Good Realtor!!!

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Y’know, my good Realtor Friend, a guy named John Shackleford, did me one of the greatest favors anyone ever did for me: by bringing me to this house, in this neighborhood.

What a lovely, peaceful, pretty place to live!

Ruby and I just got back from one of our circumnavigations of the ‘Hood. And oh, my! What a pretty day.

The park: brilliant emerald green in the spring sunshine. The weather; insanely beautiful. The kids: playing magnificently in the park, kicking  balls and chasing around. The dogs: handsomely trotting along  beside their humans. The sky, delicately painted with fine, thin white clouds against a deep blue background. The birds: singing and flying around in avian joy.

What more could you possibly want, eh?

Just now, I can’t think of much.

It really is a beautiful, upper-middle-class North Central Phoenix neighborhood. Just about anything you want or need is within easy walking distance — as I’ve discovered to my amazement, now that my son has kiped my car.

Yes, it’s true: living here, I actually don’t need a car! Get rid of the chariot, and come to find out you have, within easy walking distance,

  • 3 top-flight grocery stores
  • a veterinarian
  • a computer store
  • a bookstore/computer software store
  • a hair stylist
  • a doctor (of sorts)
  • a magnificently stocked drugstore
  • 3 pharmacies
  • 2 major urban hospitals with top-rated emergency rooms
  • a fine young lawyer

One could go on and on…but basically, the message is, you can get about 95% of the goods and services you need without ever setting foot in a gasoline-powered vehicle. 

Y’know, this characteristic of the neighborhood never fully dawned on me until after my son kiped my car. I mean…well, of course I knew all these places were here. But until the car disappeared from my garage, it never really registered with me that I didn’t need to drive to these places!

Seriously: in the summertime, get going early enough and you can do your errands before the heat comes up. Raining? Call an Uber…like, the one whose owner lives straight across the streeet. (Turns out a half-dozen Uber drivers live right here in the Hood!)

It’s every bit as good as San Francisco in that way. When my mother and I lived there, back in the Dark Ages of the late 1950s and early 60s, we did have a car. But we never used it unless my mother and I had to drive across the Bay to pick up my father when his ship came in. (He was a Merchant Marine pilot.) I’d guess we never turned on the ignition more than twice a month.

And now, between Uber and just about every daily need within easy walking distance, I find myself in the same situation. I don’t really need a car! 

Mwa ha ha!!!

My son has it in his garage. And frankly, he can have the damn thing. I may sign over the registration to him, next time I have to pay for it.

Glub!

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Yeah, verily: It’s a glubifarious morning. You should see that rain pouring down out of the skyfull of dark gray clouds! Thank Gawd for coffee, that’s all I can say!!

It obviates my plan to traipse to the grocery stores this morning. What with my honored son having persuaded the stump-dumb doctors at the Mayo to cancel my driver’s license (!!!!!!), I can’t get to a store except on foot or by paying through the schnozzola to hire an Uber cab.

Our beloved Uber driver lives right across the street…and I can assure you that he will not want to be rousted out to schlep the Little Old Lady six blocks to the Albertson’s or the Sprouts. Fortunately, there’s enough Dawg-and-Humann food in the house to sustain Ruby and me for a few days. So whenever the rain stops, I can run (literally!) to the nearest shopping center and grab enough chow to tide us over until the weather clears.

Wow! What an ugleeeee morning! Wunderground seems to have missed the boat (heh!!) by predicting a mere 30% chance of rain today. Asleep at the switch, eh, folks?

Today…

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Today while the horrors
Still cling to your vines…
I’d taste your strawberries if I could get to a store to buy some…
I’m not allowed to drink your sweet wine…

😀   Not to say “LOL”….  

Continuing in general misery this morning. Maybe, though, not as bad as it has been the past weeks. The gawdawful peripheral neuropathy is still present, but it seems a little milder than in past weeks…or maybe I’m just getting used to it.  Ear-whistling is torture. Lip-burning hurts, hurts, and hurts some more. Afraid to take an ibuprofen or aspirin for it, because we’re told that those fine nostrums can cause neuropathy.

Who knows, then? Could be I’ve brought this particular aspect of the ailment on myself, madly gulping down pain-killers. Wouldn’t that be par for the course?

Computer says today is Saturday. Who knew?  If you’d asked me, I’d have said it was mid-week.

Learned, by chance, that the old-folkerie where my son would like to consign me will send a worker to your home to babysit you.

!!!

Turns out Wonder Cleaning-Lady used to work for them, doing exactly that!

So, this presents two possibilities:

One is to call the old-folkerie and ask what they offer in-home, for how much money.

The other is to ask WC-L if she will come over on a regular basis — at least several times a week — to oversee me, drive me to grocery stores, help prepare a few days’ worth of food…and whatnot.

The latter…I think not. I’m still radically pi$$ed off at her for snapping a photo of me when I’d laid my head down on the dining-room table after a meal, because I was so, SO sick. With a wine glass standing by the dinner plate, that picture made me look like I was passed-out stone-cold drunk.

Ha hah, very funny, eh?

To add to the humor, she e-mailed the thing to my son! And “passed-out stone-cold drunk” is exactly what he thought. 

This threw a monkey-wrench into the mother-son relationship. Big time!

Things have never really gotten better: he’s now convinced I sit around getting snockered all afternoon, and nothing will persuade him otherwise.

Do I indeed sit around getting snockered all afternoon?

Not so much. As in “not at all.” I have one (count it: 1) glass of wine with my big meal of the day, which I take at mid-day. At an American’s evening dinner-time, I have what you would think of as a light meal or a snack.

Back in the Dark Ages, when I was at the university in Tucson, I had a boyfriend who did indeed start to drink around lunch-time and continued merrily through the afternoon. And I did indeed keep up with him. He, too, ate “dinner” at mid-day. So we were taking in a lot of food as we were swizzling away after our morning classes.

But in fact, I eventually tired of these shenanigans — and my parents just hated the man. When it became clear that I had a choice — him or my parents — I decided that my parents were the best bet…and so sent him on his way, weeping into the night.

Life: one little drama after the next, eh?

At any rate, the Internet reports that he seems to have had a successful career as a university administrator and to have spawned three kids through a long-term marriage. So apparently he wasn’t much harmed by my giving him the parental heave-ho.

Unfortunately, though, the habit that he had instilled — starting in with the wine at noon, along with a full-course dinner — stuck with me. I passed it along to DXH, and he and I were in the habit, through two decades of marriage, of swizzling wine around every major meal.

Bad habit, apparently. Especially when that major meal takes place in the early afternoon. 😀

These days I refrain, if for no other reason that I’m just too sick to enjoy a nice glass of wine. And of course, because I suspect the alcohol may have something to do with the peripheral neuropathy.

You’d think if it did, after a few weeks or months on the wagon, the PN would go away. But it hasn’t. So either the wine has nothing to do with the ailment, or I’ve poisoned myself permanently and am headed off to the Other World with a constant buzz in my ears.

Oh, well…  Just now it’s time to head off for a Doggy Walk!