Coffee heat rising

Eeek! Be Scared! Be Very Scared!

‘Cause our roof’s got a hole in it, and we might drown….  

😀

No kidding. The news media’s weather reports are just hysterical. In the sense of irrationally terrified…  Hope you’re duly terrorized by this alarming News Flash!

Yeah. On Sunday — that’s tomorrow — it’s gonna…gasp! choke!RAIN.

EEEEEK! The TERROR!

IMPACT!

ALERT!

TROPICAL MOISTURE!

Horrors!!

Whatever shall we DO???

Come this time of year, we start to get summer rain- and thunderstorms. And yeah: sometimes they can be pretty dramatic, with high winds, loud blasts of thunder, and this weird WATER stuff that falls out of the sky.

Today it’s supposed to reach 104…which quite frankly is one helluva lot more dangerous to the natives than a freakin’thunderstorm. On my back porch just now — 2:42 p.m. — the temp reads 98. Fairly mild, for the middle of the afternoon. Some hazy clouds drift in the distance…they don’t much look like rain. My guess is it’ll be more like 2:42 a.m. before we see any water falling out of the sky. If we do.

Must be horribly boring to be a journalist around this place. 😀

Well, back in the Day, when I was writing for the local rags, I didn’t find the job especially boring. That may have been because I was a business journalist. The business scene here can be fairly lively…always something going on.

Today? I dunno. Doesn’t seem like much that’s very exciting is under way. Except…OH MY GAWD! OH DEAR OH DEAR!! TROPICAL MOISTURE THREATENS ALL CREATION IN THE VALLEY. BE SCARED! BE VERY SCARED!!

 

Strange Weather…

Looks like rain, but doesn’t feel like rain…know what I mean?  It’s a very weird-looking day out there this morning: high overcast. Is it gonna rain? I’d put 50-50 odds on the proposition. Right now, tho’, I doubt that it’ll rain soon.

So…I should get off my duff and walk down to the Sprouts or over to the Albertson’s. Or to some such. Just now, though, I’m a bit too lazy to work up that much ambition. Ruby and I have traipsed all over the neighborhood and the local park — probably a couple of miles. And despite the high clouds, it’s starting to warm up. Do I really want to trade a heat stroke for a handful of chocolate chips?

😀

Well. Possibly. Quite possibly.

My kid has made off with my car (note how tactfully I refrain from saying “stolen”…), and so shopping is restricted to stores within walking distance. Well, unless I want to brave the public transport system.

Believe me: I do not. Been there, done that, ain’t doin’ it again.

Truth to tell, Phoenix has grown into a Big City. And in such a venue, you can usually get most of what you need or want within a reasonable walk from your home. What that means, amazingly enough, is you really don’t need a car. And if you do? The place is swarming with taxicabs, Ubers, and busses. From here I can easily walk to…

* Albertson’s
* Sprouts
* Walgreen’s
* Bookman’s
* Walmart
* a computer store
* several restaurants

Plus a local shoe store, liquor store, coffee store…and on and on.

If I wanted to wait on a bus until after the cows come home, I could even get to the beloved AJ’s car-free. A guy who drives for Uber lives right across the street. He’d probably drive me down to the pricey AJ’s; from there I could get back home by bus and on foot.

The main problem with getting around on foot is that it takes A LOT longer than driving. In a vast, spread-out urb like Phoenix, there is a limit to how much time you want to kill traipsing from Point A to Point B. Same is true with the public transit system here: conveyances don’t come by very often. You can easily stand around a half-hour or forty-five minutes waiting for a bus. And it’s decidedly not safe for a woman to be standing on the street by herself here.

LOL! It ain’t San Francisco, that’s for sure!

When my parents and I lived there during the 1950s, a bus came by our high-rise apartment every 15 minutes or so. I could hop on the bus and ride to a stop within a block of my school. Down the street from the school, you’d find coffee shops, an ice-cream parlor, several decent restaurants, and a variety of nifty stores.

Here in lovely uptown Phoenix, you’ll wait as much as 45 minutes for a bus — any bus — to show up. If you’re female, you’re likely to be harassed as you stand there (and stand…and stand…and stand) on the corner. It decidedly does not feel safe. And that is why I would be willing to pay an Uber driver a fistful of dollars to take me wherever I need to go.

Then, too: it’s about to get VERY hot here. If I left the house right now — 9 a.m. — I could probably get to a nearby supermarket and/or drugstore and then reach home before the heat becomes absurd. It’s overcast today, and so the weather is only supposed to reach 99 degrees. Tomorrow, though, it’ll be 104.

And no, even an old desert rat like me ain’t about to walk across block on block on block of concrete and asphalt through 104-degree heat.

My son is willing to take me to doctor’s and dentist’s appointments…but that presents a monster time suck for him. Paying an Uber driver looks a lot more attractive than having the kid take off from his job every time he turns around. On the other hand…hmmm…he’s the one who ripped off my car.

Maybe he should be paying the Uber guy’s fees. 😀

Over the Hills and Through the ‘Hood…

Beautiful morning!  Edging on to 10:15 as we scribble: a warm mid-morning, “hot”by some standards. Hmmmm….  Wonder what the mechanical opinion is?

{tap tap tap…Enter...}

Gosh! It’s only 82 degrees out there! Feels a LOT warmer than that.

Which implies some humidity is lurking around… Oh, yeah: 20 percent!

Whew: A fifth of the atmosphere you breathe in as you stumble around the streets is…water!

What a kick, though: roaming through the reaches of the ‘Hood! I’ve lived here for one helluva long time. I think SDXB and I had been here around 10 years by the time he decided to move out to (un)lovely Sun City. Having lived there before, with my parents, I refused to go. To my mind SC defines “miserable place”….

And it defines “static”: as in unchanging and unchangeable.

The ‘Hood, however, has evolved. 

When SDXB and I moved here…what?15 or 20 years ago, maybe? — this was a mid-middle class collection of look-alike ticky-tacky tract houses.

Today?

My goodness...what a difference!

Over the past decade, the homes here have been gentrified, re-gentrified, and mega-gentrified. These 1960s plugs of boredom have been updated, fancified, and turned into”classic” — even “historic”– houses. Lawns and trees have spread across the gravel landscape. Ticky-tacky Nineteenth Avenue has taken on the spiffy, ultra-modern light-rail trains.

And now…what a place it is! I dunno what these houses are worth today, but you can be sure none of them will go for the hundred grand SDXB and I paid!

Well, hell! We have the freakin’ Internet to tell us what the thing is worth now. Let us look up the Shack’s address…

holeeee mackerel!

The “Zestimate” for the Funny Farm is $522,700.

Seriously?

And my old house, a block east of Conduit of Blight Blvd???

Gasp! Zillow thinks one of ém is worth $568,700. It’s the SAME MODEL, the SAME SIZE as our first house here!

And how much does Zillow think that place,located handsomely where you can be serenaded by car, bus, and train noise 24/7, is worth? $522,700. 

Most recently sold for a mere $389,000.

Good grief.

And yet, it must be admitted: as the area has matured, it has grown more handsome. Hiking up and down the old avenues was a pleasure. The houses have been well maintained. The city has kept up the streets.

And that fact alone: the place has gone uphill, not downhill; at the worst stayed steady in quality and value — that has gotta be worth A LOT. 

My father would faint dead away, if he could see these prices.

Y’know, when he retired (for the first time…) in the early 1960s, he figured a savings pot of $100,000 would see him and my mother through the rest of their lives in solid, middle-class comfort.

By the time I graduated from college — just four years later — he had to go back to sea. That’s how much the dollar’s value fell in just four years!

Makes it damn hard to plan for retirement. Or to figure you’ll ever really be able to afford any retirement.

How, really, do younger people manage to afford any kind of life at all, long-term? Really, today in calculating for retirement, you’d have to figure you just weren’t gonna retire. Not until you were hopelessly infirm, anyway.

Welp! I can’t stand it another minute! Gotta pick up the Funny Farm’s litter collection. Then fall face-first into the sack for a stupefied nap.

Another Junket Through the Hood

Yesterday’s little plug of sentementalia drew me onward ever onward: back out into the mid-morning heat (and in Arizona that IS heat) and into the depths of our lovely little neighborhood.

Yes, it is lovely! I was soooo lucky to stumble upon the Realtor who brought me here. The place is kind of a best-kept secret…and it is well-kept. The houses are tidy and nicely painted…the yards, whether grass or desert-landscaped, are handsome and clean…the towering trees: gorgeous gushers of shade. What a beautiful place to live!

Now that I’m old, one of my fondest wishes is to leave this lovely little house to my son, Ian the Great. I believe he likes the place…but even if he doesn’t, selling it would deliver a sh!tload of money to him. One way or another, he would profit: either a pretty house large enough for a family with three or four kids, or a highly salable place whose profit would set him up in business wherever he chose.

Sometimes I think…if I were young verging on middle-age, would I stay here if all my relatives croaked over?

Huh. As with everything, it depends.

But if I had a decent job that paid decently — my son surely does — I would think likely! Very likely.

If I needed to go somewhere else to pad the retirement fund..well…it would depend. And “depend” means an awful lot of things…

…depend on whether I had kids and where I wanted to send them to school
…depend on where the extended family lived
…depend on what the Honored Spouse wanted
…depend on future prospects for this proposed “decent job”
…depend on our idea of a desirable cultural life
…depend on whether the spouse and I could survive a 110-degree summer day…

Yea, verily! As we scribble, it’s only about 98 degrees out there — downright chilly!

Seriously: I don’t consider that very hot, having grown up in balmy Saudi Arabia and spent most of my adulthood in the Sonoran desert. But it just could be that normal humans would regard this place as an outpost of Hell.

Personally, I don’t. I think it’s frikkin’ gorgeous, an outpost of heaven. But…each to his/her own, eh?

Personicane!!!

LOL! You’ve heard of “hurricanes”?  What we have here this evening is the politically correct version: a fine personicane.

Wind is wailing, whaling, howling, yowling, blasting, bumping…auuughhh! Unclear whether we’ll get any rain: the wind is carrying on so dramatically it may freakin’ blow the rain away!

The house’s rafters groan. The trees dance and bend. The back-porch ficus plants flap back and forth in their pots. Wunderground predicts winds of 13 to 17 mph…  Yeah: sure, fellas. When 13 mph reaches escape velocity, you’ll have that right!

Ohhh well.

Think the daawg is wrung out — hope so, anyhow, ’cause I don’t wanna go out in that again this evening and you can be DARN sure she won’t go out there cheerfully.

Or., most likely, at all.

 

Chaos in Hevvin…

Well… {ahem}…one wouldn’t exactly call Conduit of Blight Boulevard “Heaven.” But it’s not too bad, as Phoenix-area main drags go.

Apparently some new catastrophe has taken place, though, amid the fine rush-hour traffic. Sirens have been yowling up and down Blight Blvd for the past half-hour. Probably a moron drove or stepped out in front of a train.

Conduit of Blight is one of the main routes for the accursed light-rail road-blocks….uhm, “trains.” They get in the way of everything and slow traffic on the main drags inexcusably.

This being Arizona — Home of the Rabid Driver — morons dart around the things and out in front of them and…HOOOlleee mackerel! You wanna talk about traffic hazards? Egad!!

That’s why I won’t drive on 19th Avenue, Camelback, or Central Avenue: not  along any stretch where the accursed light-rail trains run. Those fine politically correct conveyances have turned all of those main drags into clogged messes.

This adds considerably to the congestion and the frustration factor. Basically, to keep from tearing out all your hair, you have to drive anywhere from half-a-mile to a full mile out of your way to avoid the tangles along CofB .

Hmmmm… Speaking the local road-morons…someone just cruised up the alley behind our backyard. Sounded like they stopped at the trash cans or nearby. So…did they dump their trash outside my gate (again)? Fill up the freshly emptied garbage can with a gigantic pile of debris (again)?

Can’t tell by peering over the wall.

And so…awayyyyyyy!

Nope! If they dumped it in any of the other trash cans, it wasn’t here.

And speaking of trash accumulation:

Arizonans are now required to replace their (perfectly valid…) driver’s licenses with a new annoyance called a “Real ID.”

Jayzus Aitch Keeeerist! If the card with  your photo on it, acquired by taking a test and standing in line a good 40 minutes, does not suffice to show you’re who you say you are, then NOW what is?

***

That notwithstanding…

It’s an incredibly BEAUTIFUL day. Clear, with a few fluffy, cottony clouds drifting overhead, and cool.

Yea verily, I’m even thinking of getting off my duff and trekking around the nearby North Mountain Park.

Maybe.

But maybe not. The last couple of times I went hiking up there alone…well… I swore never to do that again. At one point I had to dodge down into an arroyo, tuck my  bright blue backpack underneath me and lie down on it, and pray the jerk who started following me didn’t see where I went after I ran around a bend.

No kidding. The guy stood on the trail a good ten or fifteen minutes, scanning the landscape and altogether too obviously searching for me.

{sigh} This is why every woman needs a German shepherd…