Coffee heat rising

Life in the Desert

Pool Dude!

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ARF! we say. ARF ARFETY ARF! IT’S POOL DUDE DAY!

Darned if I can imagine how Ruby the Corgi knows when it’s Pool Dude’s day to come over and shovel out the hole-in-the-ground-into-which-to-pour money. But by golly, she sure does! 

And she’s out there lurking by the gate — or in the house by the back door — waiting for him to show up.

Ohhhh how that dawg loves that Pool Dude!

So does the human… Bless’im, he relieves me of an annoying job. And, because he does the job SO much better than I can, he keeps that pool just spotless. Looking gorgeous. Free of casually growing sheets of green stuff.

Yeah: we’re both in love with Pool Dude. I’ll tellya: that guy is worth his weight in dollar bills.

Do hafta say: in the unlikely event that I were ever to buy another house, it almost surely will NOT have another swimming pool in the backyard. I do love having the puddle of cool water out there in Arizona’s gawdawful summertime. But..y’know…a shower will do the trick. 😉

Unless you have kids who play in the pool every day, owning one is hardly worth the cost. The pool really is an expensive nuisance.

It also poses a health threat that most people don’t think about: it’s a puddle spreading some very scary communicable diseases.

My next-door neighbor apparently decided she was done with maintaining and paying for her hole-in-the-ground, so she let the water drain out and then just went on about her business. Problem is: when you open the drain at the bottom of a backyard pool, not all the water drains out. 

Result: she had a nice little puddle sitting on the bottom of the plaster hole…and the mosquitos found it.

This created a fine mosquito nest, jacking up our buggy population handsomely.

Meanwhile, her other next-door neighbor, a European immigrant, had no clue about stale puddles, swarming mosquitoes, and their consequences. She liked to sleep with her windows open, and apparently had never heard of a window screen.

Next result: the skeeters flew right into her bedroom and made themselves to home, where they bit the bejayzuz out of her…and infected her with a fine case of encephalitis. She almost died from it.

Fortunately, she did recover after some time…even though her doctors had told her dad that she probably would not.

So…Ruby and I do not loaf around the backyard without being amply covered in clothing. We do have a mosquito-zapper out there. But most of the time, I stay indoors!

Therein lies one of the many drawbacks to having a swimming pool in your backyard…and it’s not even your pool!

Here in Phoenix, you’d have a hard time dodging mosquitos bred in one of the local holes-in-the-ground. Just about everybody does have a pool. You could probably evade the bugs if you lived in a high-rise apartment. But most houses…not so much.

If your pool is maintained properly, well then…no, it’s not breeding skeeters. But to take care of a pool properly is a PITA of the first water. You have to keep it steadily chlorinated. Sweep down the walls and steps. Vacuum out any debris that blows into it…. If you’re doing pool maintenance right, it’s pretty much a daily task. Or a stiff bill to a guy who comes around and beats back the dirt and the bugs.

When You Are a Dog…

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You most certainly do know how to loaf!

LOL! Ruby the Ineffable Corgi has been practicing her loafing skills all day…and by golly, it’s quarter after 1:00 in the afternoon!

And..there will be no distractions from the Ridiculous Human, by golly! 

It’s heavily overcast and just a bit chilly: 60 degrees or so. Rain predicted today and this evening; thunderstorms tomorrow.

Do we wanna go out and trot around the ‘Hood?

Hm. Prob’ly not. Normally, this cool, shady day would make a fine strolling occasion. But the agony in the right hip most certainly would not! OUCH! Dunno what on earth I did to hurt myself, but whatever it was, it inflicted a fine spavining job on the hip joint.

So I think rather than taking a chance on aggravating that — or on getting stuck several blocks from home, in the rain(!) — we will medicate ourself with heavy doses of loafing. Highly therapeutic, eh?

Boyoboy, is it ever gray out there. You just know, dontcha, that if we’re dumb enough to start hiking (heh! or limping) around the park, the heavens will open and dump BUCKETS of water on us. It’s supposed to rain today, tonight, and tomorrow, with thunderstorms tomorrow. So saith Wunderground.

This means we won’t be able to grill any of the meat that’s sitting in the fridge. However, and mercifully, my wonderful son bought several packages of delicious-looking prepared chow at the nearby Sprouts. So we have two or three days’ worth of meals sitting in the fridge!

Arf! we say to that.

Ruby is conkered out and seems not the slightest bit perturbed at the fact of missing out on the daily hike. I wonder if dogs realize that heavy clouds mean rain, and rain means (ugh!!!) getting wet?

BANG! BANG!! BANG-A-DA-BANG!!!

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Eight-thirty of a New’s Eve! And everyone within (and beyond) earshot is celebrating: BANG! BANG!! BANGA-DA-BANG!!! 

Amazingly, Ruby the Corgi is taking it all in…very relaxed stride. Really: I would have expected her to be all nervous and jumpy and spooked.

But nay! She seems to realize all that racket is coming from somewhere else: somewhere a fair distance from the Funny Farm. Not only is she NOT spooked, just now she’s flopped on the foot of the bed, loafing!

How weird is that, I hafta ask you?

LOL! This evening the brain-pan filled with memories of a very weird experience...one I never really have been able to make much sense of.

My father, you need to understand first-off, was a very macho sort of guy. Anything that smacked of “queer” would set off his rage genes. He hated queers (so he said), and would launch into paroxysms of disgust on the subject if given half a chance.

Sooooo….  It struck me as VERY weird when one time in a balmy Arizona season, he took it into his head to gather a bunch of Boy Scouts to go out on the desert and shoot at stuff. Target shooting.

Not too weird, until you learned that — hang onto your hat — he proposed to stay out there overnight with the passel of teenaged boys. All of them ejaculatedly revved up by shooting guns into the night air.

Yeah.

Whaaaaa???????

To my astonishment, my mother said nothing to try to derail this plan. Probably, I imagine, because she couldn’t think of anything…or maybe she just didn’t want to get into a quarrel with him.

So he rounds up a troop of senior Boy Scouts, and off they go into the desert night.

No other adults with them: just my father and a half-dozen or so teenage boys.

Uhhmmm…..

Since I wished to continue living, I, too, said nothing about this…but thought any number of unmentionable thoughts.

Well. OK….

Off they went, into the desert and the dark. Far as I know, nothing much transpired — or if it did, you may sure none of them mentioned it.  They drove off, set up camp somewhere, and spent the night shooting their bang-bangs and sittin’ around the campfire.

You understand: my father wasn’t given to that kind of thing. By and large, he didn’t much like kids — these were not kids, though, but teenagers. And this was the ONLY time in my life that I’d ever heard of him or seen him go camping. Not that he couldn’t: he grew up out in the Texas boondocks. But he didn’t subject me or my mother to it.

So…when I hear the BANG BANG BANG of fireworks or firearms echoing through the night, that’s what I think of: my father out on the desert with a passel of teenage boys, shooting off their guns into the dark.

Or whatever.

And that makes these firework-accented holidays feel…weird, to me. Very, very weird. 

***** GODAMMIT!*****

Now we’ve got idiots out there shooting off fireworks over the tops of the palm trees.

I’ll have to go out there and keep an eye to be sure the damn trees don’t catch fire.

WHY ARE WE SURROUNDED BY MORONS?

Pool Dude, Beloved Pool Dude

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HOW ON EARTH does this dawg know when it’s Pool Dude Day???  Do dogs have internal calendars?

That wonderful man comes around regularly to shovel out the leaves, the dust, and the whatnot, to update the chemicals, and to keep the pump equipment running. If it weren’t for him, by now I’d have had to do what my neighbor does: shut down the pool, drain it, and use it as a nest in which to breed mosquitos. (You can’t fully drain it: even with the drain open, a little puddle gathers at the deep end.)

Her neighbor on the other side is a lady who likes to sleep with her windows open. (Yeah, I know. But she’s from Europe and knows not about the risks posed by the local criminal set). So…European Lady naively goes to bed with the windows hanging open and apparently with no functional screens covering the empty space.

And…SURPRISE!!!!! She gets all bit up by the mosquitos breeding on the bottom of our neighbor’s pool, and this leads to a fine, roaring infection that damn near kills her. In fact, at one point the doctors told her dad she wouldn’t live through the night.

But she’s a tough lady, and so she surprised them. She’s back and going strong. And our neighbor’s mosquito pond still sits in that backyard, with a nice little puddle at the bottom.

I suggested to European Lady’s dad — who happens to be the famed Tony the Romanian Landlord — that he quietly toss some insecticide over the wall into the puddle. And…well…he must have done that, because we no longer get mosquito raids here.

What a place!

And to put the crown on that: this is one of the better “places” in Phoenix.

Wherever there are humans, there be morons. 

Wow!!

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Life in lovely downtown Phoenix…  This little adventure occurred right across the road from where I was gonna live. Yeah: just a few years ago, I almost bought an apartment just across the street from this spot.

What a place!!

Fortunately, I decided the price was too high for what the condos offered. And that the location would be too noisy. All very urban, y’know.

It was a conundrum, for sure.

I didn’t want to move to Sun City, where my parents held forth after my father retired, and where SDXB went. Old folks’ mausoleums aren’t my speed, alas.

We have our own little adventures, here in this middling in-town section of North Central Avenue. But so far nothing that dramatic! And certainly we have fewer incidents per month or per year than other centrally located districts do.

Honest t’Gawd, this place gets more and more like Southern California as the days trundle by. But really: I’m past the age where I feel any enthusiasm for packing up a house and moving into a new shack and finding new places for all the junk and unpacking box after box and stocking shelf after shelf. Ugh!

So I sit here and listen to the melody of gunshots — off in the distance, so far — and watch the kids play and…loaf. 

Outta There!

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Hmmm… Sounds like the cops must have chased off the legions of delinquents, drunks, and morons who inhabit Main Drag North at this hour of a weekend evening. The Roar ROAR ROAR that we normally enjoy at this time of night has suddenly ceased. So…presumably the gendarmes went after the roaring idiots.

It’s the kind of stupid stuff that makes Sun City look good. To the extent that a mausoleum can look good, I suppose.

{chortle!}  Actually, the racket from Main Drag North was one of the reasons SDXB took off for Sun City. He likes to sleep with his windows open..not, indeed, the ideal arrangement in a neighborhood bounded by drag-race tracks.

I, being a female type, keep my doors and windows shut and solidly locked at night.

BANG!

Charming. Another backfire…or fire-cracker…or gunshot.

At any rate…suddenly dead quiet emanates from the ‘Hood’s northern border. So presumably la policia have come awake.

Come a holiday, every moron in the city is outside shooting off their bang-bangs. That turns New Year’s, the Fourth of July, Christmas, Labor Day, MLK Day, Memorial Day…and on and on and on…into noise-making nuisances.

This is one of the reasons SDXB took out for Sun City. When you live in a mausoleum, you don’t have quite the noise problem that you get on the fringe of a slum.

That notwithstanding, I ain’t movin’ to Senility Central. Just close the damn bedroom windows!!