Coffee heat rising

Shopping

Hot enough to fry your brain…if you still have one…

by

WILL WordPress let me back in this time???

Hmmmmmm…..  The answer would appear to be “Yep!” But…let us hold our wind and water…we don’t KNOW that it will let me post this squib. Ohhhh well...got nothin’ else to do just now.

M’hijito, my honored son, just called on the horn. He’s on his way out of town and all worried that I’m not competent to buy a bag of groceries. Or, more to the point, that I’ll try to walk to the grocery store (a distance of about three blocks) in the broiling heat.

{chortle!}  What CAN one say?

* Yes, I’m stupid, but I’m not that stupid.
* I’ll call Uber and ask them to drive me the three blocks to the store.
* Don’t worry: if the dawg and I run out of food before you get back, we’ll just do without until you get here.
* Pass me the goddam bottle of wine.

See, the problem I have these days is that people don’t seem to recognize when I’m kidding. And I don’t understand why. ‘Cause I’ve always been something of a kidder. Why isn’t it obvious anymore?

Well, to be honest (and no, NOT kidding this time), it’s 105 degrees out there. And no, I wouldn’t be happy about my 80-ish mother wandering around, alone, in 105-degree heat.

And that’s what we’ve got right now, in the balmy shade of the back patio: 105 degrees. Hevvin only knows what it is in the full sun. 

But…y’know…I’m stupid, but I’m not THAT stupid.

Of course I’m not about to junket up Conduit of Blight Blvd and across the parking lot at Conduit of Blight and Main Drag North through 105-degree heat. Soooo…WHY does he think I might actually be that stupid?

***

Okay….let us imagine some part of the agèd brain is still functional. How ARE we gonna get the chow we need?

Here in the ‘Hood, we have several possibilities for the agèd and the witless:

* Uber. This neighborhood is overrun with Uber cabs. If I wanted someone to drive me to a grocery store RIGHT NOW, I could call Uber.

* A train. It rides on tracks that run north and south past the Funny Farm, less than three blocks to the west.

* Busses. They run on the same thoroughfare; just not as often.

* Feet. The shopping center is only three blocks up to the north! Even in the blasting heat, a person in normal health (as I happen to be) is not going to expire from walking that far.

By the same token, neither am I about to pay a bus or a train to carry me three blocks to a store. Gimme a break!

* Time and the River Flowing… As a practical matter, in about six hours the sun will have gone down, the air will be much cooler, and walking up to that shopping center will be a simple and safe matter.

Yeah…WAIT until the sun goes down, forgodsake! Or start before the sun gets high enough to fry the landscape! How hard is that?

Oh well. Truth to tell, I wouldn’t have been real happy about my mother gallivanting in 105-degree heat. So I can’t bellyache too much!

Further truth to tell, though, the issue is not the ambient temperature. It’s the ambient humidity.

Ugh!!! As we scribble, it’s overcast out there (got that?: 105 degrees and cloudy!). And yeah, that does make for some real unpleasant heat — even dangerous heat.

So…yeah. Afraid it’s not a good afternoon to trot on over to the Albertson’s.

Deliver me the chow!

by

Okay, here we are in the 21st century, whither Yours Truly just arrived. 

As we scribble, it is hotter than the hubs of Hades here in lovely uptown Phoenix. I need to go to a grocery store: the only chow with which our shelves are well stocked just now is…yeah…dog food!

The human needs meat. It needs veggies. It needs fruit. It needs pasta. And it craves a glass of wine.

For some time, I’ve known that the local Sprouts will deliver. So, I gather, will Albertson’s. But I haven’t taken advantage of these alleged services, because…well…let’s be frank: Learning something new feels like more trouble than it’s worth these days.

My charming son has absconded with my car. Apparently he thinks that 80 is too old to be navigating the homicidal streets of Phoenix with much hope of survival. Ohhhhkayyyy…. Wanna know something? HE CAN HAVE THE THING! Because the real horror — which he seems to have overlooked — is that I don’t need that car to get around. 

Y’know… We have Uber. We have a wonderful shiny new lightrail that whizzes right up Main Drag West. We even still have old-fashioned boring busses. Dreary little hickish Phoenix has turned into a big city…and lo! These days we have big-city amenities.

Dudes and dudettes! We don’t need no steenking car!  :-D

Nevertheless, as we scribble, the outdoor thermometer reads 109 degrees in the shade of the (north-facing!) back porch. And y’know what I am NOT gonna do?

I am NOT gonna walk the two or three blocks to the Sprouts or the Albertson’s. NOT A FREAKIN’ CHANCE!  Nay verily: I’m gonna call Sprouts and order the meat and the veggies and the bottle of wine I crave.

Let’s see how they do! 😀

Americans are not good with fresh produce: they don’t know what good fruits and veggies look like. So…we shall see if Sprouts’ staff can overcome that cultural challenge. But if they can…I may never go into a grocery store again! 

😀  😀  😀  😀

Seriously: I do hate grocery shopping. If store staff can get their act together well enough to select decent produce, this ole’ lady will cheerfully hire them to do so.

The main problem will be scraping together enough cash to tip these folks — no, I do NOT carry cash with me. I put everything on charge or debit cards. And no, I do do NOT want to traipse across the city to the credit union to extract cash dollars from my bank account.

But there’s gotta be a way around that. We’ll figure out what it is. Maybe they’ll let me add a tip to the bill.

Heh!  Y’know, when we stayed in London, we didn’t own a vehicle. ‘Twasn’t necessary: busses and cabs would take you wherever you pleased in the city. If we wanted to take a weekend sight-seeing junket into the countryside, we’d rent a car.

Between  you’n’me, I don’t see why we couldn’t do the same here. What with Uber, why do you need to grace your garage with a hole in the ground into which to pour cash?? 

The Sprouts, the Fry’s, and the Albertson’s are no further from my house than were any of the stores in London — in fact, they may be closer. London had trains: we have trains. London had busses: we have busses. London had taxicabs: we have taxicabs. So…uhmmmm….

Yeah: at the risk of repeating oneself: why do you need to grace your garage with a hole in the ground into which to pour cash??

{Cackle!} Why do you need a damn garage at all????

Delivery? HOT diggety!

by

Eight o’clock in the morning and already hotter than the Hubs of Hades outside. Without a car, I need to get going RIGHT NOW to hit the Sprouts, the Albertson’s or the Fry’s to buy the groceries I need.

But…but…I also want breakfast. More than I want to go grocery shopping. By far…

The coffee is steeping. What passes for breakfast is ready to come out of the microwave. So…noooooo. Nope: not traipsing to a grocery store at crack of dawn.

And…LO!!!  Here’s a REAL good excuse not to do any traipsing at any time.

Albertson’s, Safeway, and Sprouts will deliver groceries!

Who knew??? 

Now that I know…we’ll be trying that out.

I’m dubious, though. My diet tends to be heavy on fresh produce. And in my experience, Americans know amazingly little about selecting and preparing fresh fruits and vegetables. So whatever those stores deliver is likely to be catch-as-catch-can.

But it’s worth a try.

Imagine! Never having to trudge to the store again!!!  

Woweee!

If one or more of those fine establishments can manage to deliver decent produce, I actually might not need a car. My son could be right!

Even if their staff can’t select decent produce, an Uber guy lives right across the street. He can deliver me over there, maybe for an extra fee help me gather the groceries, and haul the stuff back here. I mean…WOW!

Talk about the lap of luxury, eh?

An alternative might be to pay the Cleaning Lady Par Excellence to drive me to the store. That would work better, because then I could select my own groceries. But it would add to her workload and probably not ingratiate her. Not one…little…bit… 😮

Y’know… When we lived in England, we didn’t own a car. 

In London, a car wasn’t necessary. An unholy number of locals had them and trudged around in them…but…even more rode the Underground or the surface-street busses or…hang onto your hat..walked. 

What if…what if you thought like a Londoner? and behaved like one?

  • You wouldn’t own a car, partly because you couldn’t afford it and partly because you wouldn’t need one.
  • You would ride the busses and trains to and from work.
  • You would stop by a lovely little grocery store on the way home from the transit station; there, you would buy the makings for dinner, plus a bottle of wine.
  • You would eat like royalty, because virtually all of the food you bought would be sterling FRESH.

Well…o’course, we have no Underground. But we DO have the new fancy-dan streetcars, Hot diggety!

And we DO have Uber. The whole damn city is infested with Uber drivers. Hot diggett dawg!

Hmmmmm….. Intriguing!

The only time this would be impractical would be right now: in the dead of summer. Hiking around in 110-degree heat is not the best of all possible strategies.

However, the stores in question open as dawn cracks and stay open until well after dark. You could either start out at six or seven in the morning, or simply ride Ubers during the summer and shift to healthier (and cheaper!) walking when the weather cools.

Huh.

Today, I think, I’ll try the Albertson’s or the Sprouts delivery services. Let’s see how they do.

If they can select decent produce (and I’ll betcha Sprouts can)…well…

If they can, mirabilis! I’ll have groceries delivered here. Once in a blue moon I’ll visit the stores, explore their current offerings, and adjust my delivery lists accordingly.

First, though…I believe I’ll go back to bed for a nap. Was sleepy when I woke up at dawn’s first crack, and now am zombified.

Hotter than a three-dollar cookstove…

by

…as my father used to say about the lovely weather in the garden spot that was Saudi Arabia.

As we scribble, the back-porch thermometer claims the temperature is 108 in the shade.

Yeah. That’s degrees Fahrenheit.

Ye gawds! It makes Arabia look balmy.

But…but…seriously: it’s 12:30 in the afternoon. Earlier in the day — shortly after the local grocers and farmacias opened, our li’l thermometer was already registering 102.

And yes, that does make Arabia look pretty balmy.

Fortunately, we have actual air-conditioning, rather than the gummy swamp-cooling that Aramco installed in its residents’ homes in Ras Tanura. Even then, it’s damn hot and sticky in here.

Nevertheless, the brain continues to run on overdrive. 

All sorts of original, clever, and…uhm..weird ideas are drifting through my overheated little mind. And in particular, the most significant ones have to do with my son’s adventurous liberation of my car.

Yes.

The garage remains empty.

And y’know what?

I’m finding I just…don’t…give…a…damn. 

This neighborhood is overrun with guys who wanna get rich quick driving for Uber. A nearly brand-new train runs down Main Drag West, one that would drop me off six safe and quiet residential blocks from my son’s house, if I chose to ride it. And the city busses cruise right past the intersection of the nearest feeder street and Central Avenue, which would take me to the front door of the beloved AJ’s market. Or let me off a block from the kid’s house.

Personally, I’d choose Uber if I knew they would show up reliably.

That doesn’t appear to be the case…but…but…yeah. I haven’t tested any such thesis. I will, in the future…probably the slightly cooler future. But if I do find they show up when they say they will, then…well…

Wanna buy a nice used Toyota Venza?

Yeah. Y’know what I think about this caper? That kid did me a huge favor. He’s helping me to get rid of a tank that needs to be serviced (expensively) every six months, that needs to have $3.00/gallon gas pumped into it every time you turn around, that takes up space in a garage that could be used for any number of better purposes, that pollutes the air, that….

Uhm…and how am I gonna get the dog to the vet, in an emergency?

Uber.

Or the kid. He still has his car. If Ruby has to be rushed to a veterinarian, he can come up here and collect her.

Or on foot. A 24-hour veterinary hospital is right down the road: about six or eight blocks, on foot. She weighs all of 25 pounds: I can easily pick her up and carry her there.

Meanwhile, check out these contraptions! I happen to have one of these. As we scribble, it’s now all tricked out with cardboard panels, the easier to haul stuff without dropping anything.

Here in the ‘Hood, we’ve got not one, not two, but three major supermarkets within walking distance: a Fry’s, a Sprouts, and an Albertson’s. I can do most or all of my grocery shopping on foot, without ever leaving the neighborhood. And right across the street dwells an Uber driver. Matter of fact, we’re told the ‘Hood is over-run with Uber drivers.

Heh! I haven’t tested that hypothesis. But it wouldn’t take a mob of wannabe cab drivers to provide plenty of transportation to the nearby shopping. 

Summertime, And the Livin’ Is…

by

…the livin’ is sauna-like!

😀

You should be here to enjoy a fine, humid 102-degree day… Uhm…well, no…maybe you shouldn’t.

Seriously: it’s like a steam-bath outdoors just now. Hotter than the proverbial hubs, and SOGGY.

It puts the eefus on my plan to walk over to the nearby Sprouts and raid their fruit and veggie bins. I may hire the Uber guy across the street to schlep me over there…but…hmmmm…..  

Don’t think so. The hound and I have plenty of food. The fridge is more than adequately stocked. We surely can wait a day or two.

Besides, what I’m MOST interested in is learning about the new(ish) delivery services of late offered by most of the major grocery stores around here. By way of experiment, I may call the Albertson’s and order up some chow.

Main drawback to that scheme: Americans are not fresh-food folk. Most of us eat packaged or frozen chow. As a result, we have NO CLUE what a decent zucchini squash or head of lettuce or ripe peach is supposed to look like. And since I eat mostly fresh foods (I know how to cook! Isn’t that weird?!?), I’m reluctant to pay to have someone shop for me.

Hmmmm… Uber…Uber…Uber…  I’m beyond fascinated with the whole Uber phenomenon. It reminds me, richly, of our ten-year experience in Saudi Arabia, where Saudi drivers ran a fleet of taxis. They would come right up to your back gate (front yards were bounded by sidewalks and hedges), whisk you down to the commissary, then drive you home and help you haul your bags of groceries into the house.

Not that I would expect an American driver to help haul grocery purchases. But the experience would be similar in many other ways. If it could happen. 😀

Corner of Hell and Hades….

by

HOOleee keerap!

It was hot when I left the Albertson’s to walk home with a small armful of groceries. My GOD what torture! I hafta tellya…

For sure:  I’ll never buy groceries at that Albertson’s again. As we scribble, it’s 115 in the shade of the back porch. Wunderground says it’s 116.  Out in the middle of an asphalt road, no shelter anywhere to be seen? EASILY 120…very probably more than that

I have never walked through such gawdawful heat…and I grew up in Saudi Arabia, where a 115-degree day was normal.

Today all I wanted was a six-pack of beer and a bottle of white wine. That notwithstanding, the bags weighed more than I wanted to haul through that heat. Asked the clerk if it was OK to borrow a cart and bring it back in the morning.

Well. No. 

So…will I be shopping at Albertson’s again?

Well. No.

Nope. Never again!

A grocery cart typically costs a couple hundred bucks. I can spend that much in a typical trip to a grocery store. Let’s say I make two such trips a month… Today Albertson’s traded $200 for a $400/month loss. For a year’s worth of shopping, that’s $400 x 12, or $4800.

Mighty fancy grocery carts y’got there, Mr. Albertson!