Coffee heat rising

Idle essays

Memories…of Nightmares

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{chortle!}  Sittin’ here over breakfast remembering my beloved San Francisco Bay Area relatives of the prior generation. They lived on the side of a hill in Berkeley, just below a tunnel where the train to San Francisco entered the neighborhood.

Those were cool ladies: my aunt Gertrude and her mother (my great-grandmother) Clarissa, lovingly known as “Gree” by the family.

By the time I came along — after nine years in Saudi Arabia — Gree was well into her 90s. That seems to have done nothing to slow her down. She walked up that (steep!) hill almost every day, headed for a little grocery store where she bought lovely fresh produce.

Neither Gree nor Gertude drove a car. They had no need for it, truth to tell: the train would carry them into downtown Berkeley or across the Bay Bridge into San Francisco. On foot, a short climb up a set of outdoor stairs would deliver them into Gertrude’s son’s neighborhood.

At some point along the (very long!) line, though, they decided that Gree should learn to drive. I was not along on this famous ride: mercifully, I wasn’t born yet.

So Gree and Gertrude had acquired a car, and now they decide to hop into it and take a drive.

Yeah.

Somehow, they get on the Bayshore Highway — Gawd only knows how. It wasn’t designated a “freeway” yet, but that notwithstanding, it was already magnificently a main drag. This was all very Californian of them…except…well…somehow Gree made some sort of a wrong turn and drove the wrong way up an offramp! 

No kidding. There they are, two old ladies in a clunk, headed onto the Bayshore Freeway going bass-ackwards up the offramp.

They make it onto the road, and now they’re driving against the traffic on what was then one of the most dramatic freeways in the land.

Got it? Wrong way on one of the fiercest freeways in North America!

Somehow, Gertrude managed to coach her mother across the lanes of 60 mph traffic and get her to drive off the road and safely onto the shoulder. HOW…really, I cannot even begin to imagine.

If I’d been her in that passenger’s seat, I would have utterly panicked and probably been unable to utter a word. You have to say about Gertrude: she was one helluva woman!!

Ever-So-Slightly De-crippled…

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The spavined hip I’ve been whining about seems s-l-o-o-w-l-y to be getting better. The Dawg and the Human managed to make our usual perambulation around the populated part of the ‘Hood — short version — without crippling the old lady. Still hurts, but at least the leg & hip are now functional.

With any luck, the undercarriage will be back to normal within another three to five days. And then we’ll be back to our usual cavortings. Yay!

Sure as Hell hurts right now, though. 😮

Incredibly beautiful stroll! Lush, gorgeous twilight evening. Most of the kids are inside for dinner, or so it appears. So it was quieter than usual as we strolled around.

Haven’t heard from my excellent son this evening, nor have I attempted to pester him from this end of the phone line. So I hope he’s having a quiet evening…ideally, hanging out with friends.

Meanwhile, also hoping to hit the sack early — Dawg is already conkered out at the end of the bed. Maybe a good night’s sleep will help the spavined hip…with any luck and enough ibuprofen.

sigh! <3  This is such a lovely neighborhood!  I hope I can contrive to stay here until I die. Really: it couldn’t cost any more to have a caretaker come in and babysit me here in my home than it would to lock me up in some dreary old-folkerie.

Well, we shall find out before too long, as I don’t seem to be getting any younger. The longer that exigency can be put off, the better!!

Rain, Wet Dog, Cranky Human

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As predicted, water is falling out of the sky now, along about 9:00 p.m. And, as predictable, Ruby the Corgi decides nothing will do but what she must go outside.

Of course. I expected a unicorn?????

Drag dawg off bed, stumble to the back door, stagger out into the soggy darkness.

For a change, Ruby performs promptly. But it’s wet enough that she IS a soggy doggy by the time she trots back in the house.

Weather reports imply that it’s likely to rain all night. This would suggest an even soggier morning.

arf!
😀

Hope she stays down all night, ’cause I yam not in the mood to stand around in the rain at two or three in the morning.

***

Gosh… Just ran across — quite by accident — the obituary notice my not-quite-relatives posted after the death of the woman my widowed father married. LOL! Just as obnoxious as she was in person. They list her relatives, including those on my father’s side…and leave my name and my son’s name out.

Cute, huh?

They hate my branch of the clan because we’re LIB-uh-rulls. My former husband was president of the ACLU’s Arizona chapter and was on the Civil Liberty Union’s national board. This, to their minds (well, to the extent that they have minds) proved that he and I were COMM-you-nists! 

No kidding. If you’re anywhere to the left of Adolf Hitler, you’re a commie.

Gosh, I get tired of narrow-minded stupid stuff. Don’t you?

Brats and Morons Abroad!

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Saturday night! A lovely night, actually: cool but not cold, soft of air and clear of sky….

The racket from our local morons’ unmuffled hot-rods echoes down from Main Drag North. And what a racket! The cops have lots of other things to do than enforce the law that requires cars to be equipped with mufflers. So…that’s one that’s ignored consistently.

And so here in the ‘Hood we get roar roar ROOOAAAR into the night. All night, every night. With ROARS in spades on the weekends.

And just now we’re getting BAM…BAM…BAM BAM from an idiot neighbor playing with his gun. And probably one or two other idiots setting off fireworks.

Makes Sun City look good, I’ll tellya!

And I ain’t fond of Sun City….

It’s agin’ the law to run your car without a muffler hereabouts. BUT…this bein’ Arizona, it’s a law honored more in the ignoring than in the enforcing. So here in town, we get blasted with engine noise, way into the the night.

And one has to allow: no doubt the cops have lots better things to do than bellyache at people for making a racket.

Speeding.

Gunshots.

Rattletrap junkers.

Stoned drivers. 

Ech! What a place!!

But I suppose most places are like it, eh? Well…city places, anyway.

Wish there were a quieter place to live in these parts. NOT the mausoleum that is Sun City, that is. But really: far’s I can tell, there’s not.

Just get used to it and enjoy it, eh?

Real-Estate Dreamin’

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The idle(!!) mind returns to the fine overpriced patio homes I saw yesterday while roaming around the neighborhood. Parked between the canal and the neighborhood that DXH still inhabits, one of those places would be exceptionally convenient for my son. And about three blocks from a major supermarket, allowing me to stock up on groceries without ever thinking about having to drive to a store.

Uhm…

But…waitwait! Don’t I already live in such a ‘hood? Maybe even better: the Funny Farm is not just within walking distance of ONE market, but of FOUR: a Sprouts, a Safeway, an Albertson’s, and a Fry’s! It’s a three-minute drive (or an easy walk) to DXH’s place.

OHHHHkayyy… So much for that excuse to spend money and discommode oneself for a month or so! 😀

Out of sheer luck (given that I didn’t have the faintest idea what I was doing back in the house-hunting day), my present house happens to be located in just about as convenient a spot as possible.

My son’s car makes the location no less convenient for my son than the one down the street from his dad’s place.

The house on Central Avenue…well, it is nigh onto Central, a busy and noisy commuter thoroughfare.

It’s really no closer to shopping than where I am…and as a matter of fact, it has fewer nearby outlets.

Truth to tell, this li’l house here — the one in the neighborhood that my Realtor friend brought to me lo! these MANY years ago — very probably is in about the best location available within Maricopa County.

> It’s in a solidly upper-middle-class residential district

> Trains and busses serve the ‘Hood pretty much 24 hours a day

> Not one but three major hospitals serve the area (John C. Lincoln, Abrazo, and HonorHealth). A number of independent doctors practice out of offices within walking distance.

> The house is within easy walking distance of three major supermarkets (a Sprouts, an Albertson’s, and a Fry’s). And not one but two specialized computer stores.

> And if you have a kid, two excellent K-12 schools and one of the best public high schools in the city serve the district. Plus several private schools.

What more is to ask for? Truth is, this location is by far superior to any others I’ve seen in the past few months.

And…ahem… It’s paid for. 😉

Truth to tell, I don’t at all need a car to live here. This is a perfect neighborhood for an old bat who is reduced to having to get around on foot or by public transit!

And furthermore…  If I’m able to hang in here until I croak over (not unlikely, given my relatives’ track record for health & longevity), my son will inherit a nice house in a pleasant neighborhood that is paid for. 

Hm.

Soooo….no. I reckon I’m NOT interested in any kewl patio homes on the high end of tony North Central Avenue. Who needs it?

😀

Unmerry Christmas

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It’s noon on Christmas day and NOT ONE PERSON has bothered to so much as call on the phone and wish me a Merry Xmas. 

Gosh.

I knew I was repellant, but I had no idea I was that bad. 

🙁  🙁  🙁

The sky is overcast and threatening to rain. Otherwise Ruby and I would set off on a good long hike. An hour or so of walking would shake off some of the depression. But…

But dontcha just know that about the time we get 45 minutes out the front door, the skies will open and POUR on us. So…to say I hesitate to take off down the sidewalk or up into the hills is to understate. Significantly.

*****

Call up SDXB to wish him a Merry Xmas. He’s busy fixing dinner for guests.

He’s still going strong with New Girlfriend. Which is a good thing: she’s really a neat lady, perfect for him, and she lives out there in Sun City, where he does nowadays.

He wanted me to move out there with him, at the time he decided to head west (FAR west) to escape the Tony Situation. But I’d lived there when my parents were holding forth in those parts. And…uhm…nooo thanks!

Not that it’s a bad place. It’s just…well…majestically not to my taste.

But meanwhile, in our parts the Tony Situation has subsided handsomely. Yea, verily: Tony is actually friendly to me. And weirdly, I rather like him. He really is an amazing man.

So any chance SDXB had of persuading me to move back to noisy, dreary Sun City dissolved in that cauldron.

And therefore what I’d really like to machinate, for the future, is staying here in the Funny Farm until I can’t waddle from the bed to the bathroom; then conveniently dying and leaving the place to my son.

Alternatively: sell the shack, take the proceeds, and buy myself into some miserable old-folkerie.

Few things do I detest more than congregate living. But given the track record of longevity in my family, chances are hideously high that I’ll wrap up my life in one of those horrible places. Lacking a nice Golden Gate Bridge from which to take a flying leap….  😉

*****

Have you noticed how ditzy Americans are about the subject of Death & Dying? Poor creatures! They don’t seem to grasp that Death is part of Life…and that if one person croaks over — for whatever reason — the planet does not, after all, stop rotating.

Oh, well.

****

My plan right now is to ask Wonder Cleaning Lady if she can be hired to come in and take care of me during the pre-Demise weeks or (heaven forfend) months. She worked for the Beatitudes and so has experience in that department. The big roadblock, though, would be that she has — of all things– a family(!!). And no doubt will feel little enthusiasm for lurking around all night to babysit an old lady.

She may, however, know how to find sources of 24-hour care…preferably the kind that does NOT require you to move into a dormitory for old bats. We shall see: so far I haven’t worked up the nerve to ask her.

JAYZUZ!!! Check out the entrance fee for The Beatitudes, the most prominent and probably the best of the old-folks’ prisons here.

Welp. Suicide is painless, so they say…

Better that than having to fork over your kids’ entire inheritance to have someone babysit you into the grave….

****