Coffee heat rising

Idle essays

…And Day Fades into Evening

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My son will soon be over here to drag me over to the (hateful!!) physical therapy studio. Ohhhh  gawd how could I do without that place and its mindless routines?

Said routines do nothing to help the spavined hip and back. What helps, apparently, is Time and the River Flowing. And walking, walking, walking, walking…

Trotted up to the northside shopping center this afternoon. A beautiful afternoon, we might add. Enjoyed schmoozing with the employees. Eyeballing the weirdos who live in the slum apartment complexes across the road. Strolling around the rest of the mall. Headed back to the Funny Farm…

On the way, passed by the Ole Guy’s house.

The Ole Guy was a retired gentleman who lived in a corner house just to the northwest of our part of the ‘Hood. And he was on in years: I’d guess he was in his late 70s or mid-80s.

SDXB and I would march around the neighborhood every morning, by way of exercise. And generally he would be out puttering in his yard when we passed by. WHAT a nice man!!

His main concern, as the weeks and months passed, was for his wife. He felt she was no longer able to stay in the house unassisted. Wanted to put her in a venerable Phoenix old-folkerie called the Beatitudes.

She was having none o’ that!!

The quarrel…uhm, discussion…went on for months.

We would see him every day; say hello as we passed; get the current neighborhood and family gossip.

But..yea verily. One day he was no longer there. The only way he could get her locked up was to lock himself up with her, o’course. And so when the time came, they both disappeared from our parts.

Much missed, we might add.

Dunno who lives there now: one never sees them outside

Ruby the Corgi and I are outside in front just now…as befits old folks, I guess?  Ruby is telling every passer-by how the proverbial cow ate the proverbial cabbage. I am…umh…loafing

And waiting for my son to show up and tote me off to the endlessly annoying physical therapy gym.

My gawd, how I hate that place. Its exercising hassle truly IS the biggest waste of time I can imagine, other than solving algebra problems for your ninth-grade math class….

So this will blow away the evening, a pretty evening when Ruby and I should be strolling from one end of the ‘Hood to the other.

One night I got pissed off with the frustration and the time wastage and sneaked out the door. Took off down the road on foot.

M’hijito had gone home, I think (or somewhere), to wait out the time with less boredom.

He was mightily annoyed when he showed up there to collect me and discovered I’d escaped.

😀

So now he won’t leave. He brings something to read and wastes his own goddamn evening sitting there while nothing useful is being done to me.

Make it stop, God!

Okay okay…sooner or later He will. But…wouldn’t it be nice if that “sooner or later” time could pass without endless annoyance?

😀

Hmmm…  A neighbor’s fire alarm seems to be on the fritz. It’s going quack!….quack!….quack!…. 

Ah…apparently it either ran out of juice or somebody came along and shut it off.

Hmmm…  Speaking of front yards in the neighborhood, we could so with a li’l maintenance here at the Funny Farm. Couple of plants need some serious pruning. And a spot where another shrub died could be cleared out and replanted with something new and classy.

Well…we can pounce poor old Gerardo with that. Get him to work on it before the weather is too hot for working.

Hm,….quack! quack! quack! 

Dammit! The defunct fire alarm was not. Defunct, that is. It’s back to quacking…and quacking…and quacking.

Uh oh. Here’s the Kid. Sooo…bye!

 

 

 

 

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?

😀