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Urban life

Rasty-Nasty Weather!

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That’s what my father called Ras Tanura, the company town where we spent ten years on the shore of the Persian Gulf: Rasty Nasty.

Today’s wet, soggy Arizona summer morning reminds one of Rasty Nasty. Hot and miserable: 93 degrees at 8:00 a.m.. No sign of rain that might leach some of the water out of the air. Just…yes: hot and miserable.

Seriously: today is one of the nastiest days I can remember since moving here. Maybe THE nastiest day.

Only 15% humidity, according to Wunderground. Heh! I sure wouldn’t put any money on that!

Ruby the Corgi and her human made it all the way around the park, but only by dint of the dog dragging the two-legged critter along. Drag draggity drag…about half the way!

Still… A few kids were tossing balls around. Several other dogs succeeded in hauling their humans along. But ohhhh my! Hot? Wet? Those words barely describe it.

We walked by the house where once lived the family whose son was sent to jail for allegedly “raping” a willing under-aged brat. That seems to be a “thing” in Arizona: accusing teenaged guys of raping some critter they met in a bar who turns out to have a driver’s license as fake as his, saying she was 18 or older.

A friend of mine went through that: her son picked up a chippie who had a fake ID. Naïvely went to her home to cavort in the sack. When her mother got home and caught them in flagrante, the woman called the cops and had him arrested for statutory rape. He went to prison, and his life was pretty much trashed.

He’s out of jail now. But as you can imagine, his prospects are somewhat…limited.

We do have a lot of crime in our society. But we seem to have about as much injustice…

At least my friend was able to hang onto her home. These people on our doggy-walk route lost the house, which is now an utter wreck. Presumably, if anyone ever buys the property to offer up as a residence, it will have to be bull-dozed and completely rebuilt.

It backs right onto the park, though. So — also presumably — a new or massively renovated house there will be worth a ton of money. Problem is, renovating it to that degree will jack up the sale price through the stratosphere, making it difficult or impossible to sell the place.

***

Lordie, it’s hot today! Not yet 9:00 a.m., but already too hot for viable life. Consequently: the Dawg and the Human are going back to bed!

Bye!

 

What WAS the matter with us???

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Ever have one of those reflective, memory-filled moments when you wonder…”Why didn’t I do this?” or “Why didn’t we do that?” Yeah…don’t we all, eh? This afternoon I’m haunted by one of…well, the most haunting such moments.

In the first chapter of our marriage, DXH and I lived in Phoenix’s downtown Encanto district, a quaint historic tract filled with beautiful old houses and, yes, lots of history.

Heh. It was filled with burglars and rapists, too: drawn by the affluent young people who thought a historic district was cool, and by their pretty wives (yes, in those days most young married women counted their occupation as “housewife”) who were were a sexy draw.

We lived next door to Mrs. Wilson: the widow of the city’s first city manager, a woman with some historic significance and a long, long-time resident of the central city.

Mrs. Wilson was scared.

But then, so were most of us. The Encanto district was richly populated with drug addicts, panhandlers, vagrants, burglars, and thieves. One never knew when any such worthy would come a-visiting. This fact alone was the main reason many of us lived with massive pet dogs: German shepherds, doberman pinschers, great Danes, and whatnot.

Well.

One morning Mrs. Wilson told me that she had gotten up in the night, walked out of her bedroom through the living room and into the kitchen…and on the way spotted some guy sleeping on her patio, right outside the living-room’s French doors.  

Holeeee sheee-ut!

What did she do?

Did she grab her pistol?

Nope.

Did she call the police?

Nope!

She retreated to her bedroom and cowered until sunrise.

No kidding.

What is the matter with people? All she had to do was lift the phone and dial our number. My husband would have gone right over and scared the midnight camper away. Or called the cops and sicced them on the guy.

Folks! This is why we have a  pistol. It’s why we have a German shepherd or a doberman. It’s why we have a FREAKIN’ PHONE!!!

Apparently it never entered her mind to pick up the phone in her hallway and call the police. Or us. Too terrorized, no doubt, to think.

No one would expect an 80-year-old woman to have a .45 at the ready. Okay, that makes sense. But she sure as Hell can have a telephone at the ready.

So can any of the rest of us.  

Whenever you’re home, ALWAYS HAVE A PHONE WITHIN EASY REACH. And know how to call emergency services. Most municipalities use 911; if yours doesn’t, you can dial the Operator and tell her what’s up, and where. She’ll call the cops for you.

This is easier now, with cell phones that don’t have to be plugged in. But it might be wise to have a land-line at hand, too…just in case.

The other thing we all need to do is think through what we’re going to do in this set of circumstances or that set of circumstances. 

What are you gonna do if you wake up and find someone creeping around your house? What are you gonna do if the house catches fire? What are you gonna do if you hear someone start up your car and drive it out of your carport?

And be prepared to make these maneuvers work. If you figure you’re going to grab a pistol, be sure that pistol is well lubricated, working, and loaded; and that you know how to use it. And that it’s kept out of the kiddies’ reach…  If you’re going to flee, have several escape routes in mind, and know how to get to them. If you imagine your dog is going to protect you, have your dog trained for the purpose.

Be set to go into action. Always. 

Hotter Than the Hubs…Crabbier Than a Dungeness Crab

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Man! It is passing cozy out there! Four in the afternoon and 110 in the shade of the back porch…augh!!!

A modest bank of clouds lurks to the north…this would add humidity to the mix. How much, I wonder?

Humidity: 16%
Chance of rain: 24%

Yech!  And we live here…why?

Totally not in the mood to fix dinner, but…well… Figure I’d better get out to that ‘cue, because — don’tcha just know it? — if I wait until a decent hour, those towering white cloud things in the sky to the north of us will invite themselves to home and dump all over us.

But…do I care? 
Nya nya nya! No, I don’t!

I ain’t goin’ anywhere. Ain’t about to go anywhere. Rain makes me no nevver-mind. Same for the heat.

Seriously: my son’s machinations of a few weeks ago resulted in his stashing the car elsewhere. 

My reaction to that was hah! BFD! I’ll just rent a car!!!! 

*****

But it was, shall we say, an enfeebled reaction. Because…I don’t need to rent a car. By dayum, I don’t need a car at all. 

😮

A guy who drives for Uber lives right across the street. Several others live here in the’ Hood. So if I want to go anywhere that’s outside of walking distance, all I have to do is call one of those folks.

But DO I wanna go anywhere outside of walking distance? Truth to tell: not often. We have three  major supermarkets within steps of the Funny Farm. A veterinarian. A storefront “emergency”clinic.

Hmmmm…. WHY spend a lot of money on a car, on insurance, on licensing, on whatnot…when you really don’t NEED one? When you can rent a car if you just must have one right this minute?

What an insight!

Seriously: it never entered my mind, before this, that I could get by here without a car. That a car is a superfluous, pointless expense… But y’know what?

At least where I’m living, it’s true: a car is a superfluous, pointless expense. 

So here’s my plan, to the extent that a plan is applicable:

* Trot on down to the DMV and be sure, in person, that my present driver’s license will cover me in a rental or borrowed vehicle.

* Trot on up (about three or four blocks) to the rental place and ask how much it would cost to rent a chariot, and for how long.

* Talk to my financial guy about the advisability of selling the Dog Chariot, and ask how to go about that most efficiently and safely.

* Move forward with that, as advised.

* Make friends with staff at the car rental place. Be sure my insurance will cover a rented vehicle.

* Discuss the plan with my neighbor, the Uber driver. Find out how to get an Uber (or other rental) on short notice, if needed, and what else I need to know about renting cars.

* Figure out what to do with the garage. One idea is to turn it into a studio for wanna-be artist friends. Get an art teacher to meet with a group, and use the space for art tables and supplies.

* And finally, if dispensing with the car altogether actually works, sell the damn thing — or give it to my son, if he wants it.

Probably this scheme is not going to save vast amounts of money. My car is paid for, and it doesn’t cost much to maintain and insure. But…who knows? Maybe the idea will save something. And it’s…well, it’s sooo very 21st-century, eh? 😀

If I need to get from Point A to Point B: ride a bus or the railway, or mooch a ride from my son.

If I need a car to take me to an appointment — distance here to distance there, on time — hire an Uber.

If the dog needs to be schlepped to a vet: impose on my son or a neighbor to help haul her there.

**********

LOL!

And probably this scheme is not going to prod my memory to post a post when I finish writing the post!  😀  😀  😀

/////

So here ’tis, a day late and many a dollar short.  Summarizing its message (such as it is…):

My son’s purloining my car (out of concern my safety) has opened the door to a number of big-city possibilities. Among them: the fact that my neighborhood is over-run with Uber drivers. One of these worthies lives right across the street! 

That’s in addition to the very busy train and bus traffic running up and down Main Drag West.

When my mother and I lived in San Francisco — lo! these many years ago — we did own a nice car. We thought of it as my father’s, though of course she drove it more than he did…because he went to sea. He was a Merchant Marine officer, and traveled far more on the ocean than he ever did on land.

He loved his spiffy Chrysler, though. And so my mother inclined to avoid driving it, in order to keep it safe from the City’s rambunctious traffic. She’d take it out and drive to a grocery store maybe once a month, but otherwise we walked or took the public transportation.

Welp…y’know what? A what that hadn’t dawned on me until the present altercation with Mijito? I don’t need a car here any more than she did when we were in San Francisco! 

Whaaa???????

It’s true! Living in my neighborhood, I really don’t need a car. Especially with an Uber driver living across the street and willing to schlep me to destinations like the dentist’s office or the Mayo Clinic.

No kidding. Everything else is within easy strolling distance. Right off the top of my head, for example, I can list a mob of routine destinations…ones that I can walk to without having to pay a dime.

  • 3 large supermarkets
  • A Trader Joe’s
  • A Walgreen’s
  • A delightful Mexican supermarket
  • A large bookstore
  • A computer store with a repair service
  •  My son’s house (a bit out of the way, but not an unreasonable walk)
  • A stop for a bus that goes straight down to the church
  • The same bus proceeds on down the road to the beloved AJ’s Overpriced Gourmet Grocery Store
  • A storefront doctor’s office
  • And if I’m not mistaken, there’s a veterinary office within walking distance.

See what I mean? In the time I’ve spent loafing in my car (a matter of years, it’s true…), Phoenix has morphed from a large small town into a real city.

Soooo…. Why not make use of the amenities of a real city?

Another Balmy Day in Arizona…

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“…Leave us all enjoy it,” as one beloved radio announcer (now extinct) used to croon.

Yeah. It’s 5:25 in the afternoon and A HUNDRED AND NINE DEGREES in the balmy shade of the back porch.

To gild that thermometer, a layer of overcast is drifting in from the east. So…it’s hotter than the hubs out there — and humid. 

Lovely. Feels like Saudi Arabia.

Anyhow…if there was ever a chance that Ruby and I could do an evening walk after the sun goes down, it’s rapidly melting away!

😀

What DO you suppose got into my parents, to drag us here to this balmy spot? Wouldn’t you think 10 years of 110-degree heat and sand by the Persian Gulf would have warmed the cockles of their souls enough?

ohhhhh well….  At least we don’t get hurricanes. Horrors!

Think I was supposed to go to the dentist this afternoon. That would have been impossible, as M’jihito still has my car. Just as well…I’m past my heat-and-hassle limit!!!

***

Ruby goes outside. Where is she? 

Call the dog.

No sign of her.

But also no sign that any of the PARCHED, FRICASEED TREES AND PLANTS in the backyard have been watered.

Call the dog.

Tear around trying to get the watering system to come on. Drag a hose to one especially fried tree.

Call the dog.

Set the water to running on the backyard orange trees.

Call the dog.

Bat my way back into the house.

Call the dog.

Finally find her: loafing in the bedroom.

Hot, hot, hot, hot, HOTTER THAN HOT. Air-conditioner is set to 79 degrees, and it’s pounding away.

Phone jangles. 

Leap up, run to the office, grab handset.

It’s M’hijito, calling to check that I’m OK in this unholy heat, and asking if I’d like him to take me to the grocery store.

<3

Hafta ask you: how nice is that??? <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Nothing needed here this evening. But tomorrow I may ask him to schlep me to the Sprouts or some such. No hurry, thank goodness!!

Arizona:
Garden spot

Freedom’s Just Another Word…

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…for NEVER HAVING TO PUMP ANOTHER GALLON OF GAS into a hole in the ground into which to pour money.

Seriously.

Folks nearby seem to think I’m going to be stricken, heart-broken, ripped-off, and agonized at my son’s making off with my Toyota Venza, and at the (amazingly short-sighted) docs at the Mayo Clinic issuing an edict that I must not be allowed to drive anymore.

Heh. If only, folks. If only! 

This afternoon Mijito and I took an informal inventory of all the places I can reach on foot, without ever having to turn an ignition key, pump a gallon of gas, or dodge a fellow homicidal driver. Let’s see…

1. Albertson’s
2. Sprouts
3. Walgreen’s
4. Bookstore/video library
5. Computer store
6. Hair salon
7. Bus stop
8. Lightrail stop
9. Asian restaurant
10. Mexican restaurant
11. Church
12. Liquor store
13. Another hair salon
14. Vacuum cleaner shop
15. Variety store
16. El Rancho supermarket
17. QT store
18. Circle K
19. Auto repair and maintenance shop
20. Boston Market
21. Cricket Wireless
22. UPS store
23. Doctor’s office
24. Regional hospital, with emergency room

It goes on and on. There are more…I just can’t remember them all. Add the lightrail and the bus stops, and the marketing potential is endless!!

Seriously: Today we decided, after an eye-opening experiment, that the smartest thing we could do with that $34,000 rolling hole in the ground into which to pour money IS….to get rid of it.

No kidding. Today we reached the point where we agree that this old lady doesn’t need a car. 

Nope. I live smack in the middle of Commercial Paradise. And right next to a lightrail line and bus lines that swoop down the city’s central corridor connecting the west-side bedroom communities with the mid-and downtown commercial districts and onward to Tempe, home of the vast Arizona State University. Thanks to transportation upgrades the city has installed over the past ten years, I no longer need a car at all! 

Jeez. What does this place think it is? San Francisco? 😀

That’s what it was like to live in San Francisco after we came back from our ten-year sojourn in Saudi Arabia: you could go anywhere you wanted or needed to go and get any product or services you needed simply by using the public transit. 

Well, amazingly, the central parts of Phoenix have evolved along those lines, too.

The Mayo docs want me to quit driving. Not because I’m any more of a menace on the road than my fellow homicidal drivers. But because I’m older than the hills and they’re scared of what I can do these days. 😀  Consequently — did you know doctors could do this?? — they have told the State of Arizona to nullify my driver’s license!

Can you imagine?

Well…what I can’t imagine just now is that I don’t give one thin damn about their arrogant little order. Because I can go wherever I want to go and get to whatever I want to do by train, bus, or taxi…for, ultimately speaking, one HELL of a lot less than it costs to own and maintain a car with a gasoline engine.

Over the past couple of weeks, the kid and I have run a de facto experiment: stashing the car at his place and leaving my garage empty. And to our astonishment, I’m getting everywhere I want to go or need to go in about the same time, without having to pour money into a car!

Wow! 

If this continues for another two or three weeks, we’ll be selling the tank, and I’ll be getting around as though I were a real, live big-city girl.

 

Staying Home; Getting Safe

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So as I advance into my dotage, I do worry — more and more — about falls or confusion or strokes or Gawd Knows What could happen while I’m here alone. Between you’n’me, I happen to know my son worries about this issue, too.

One way to address it, once and for all, is to sell your home and move into one of those horrible old-folkeries…uhm, retirement homes.

I regard that option with horror. First, because I abhor communal living — just HATE it. That’s not the way I want to spend the last few months or years of my life.

Second, because the expense of those places is hair-raising. Horrendous! Everything I could get from the sale of my present home would have to go to buying myself into a “life-care community.” That was the upshot, with my father.

Sorry. No. That money is my son’s. It ain’t goin’to your old-folkerie, friends!

It looks to me like there could be another option, if you think it through and you’re willing to devise your own system.

Have someone who calls you every day at a certain time. And, ideally, a paid person who comes into your house or calls you every day or two to check on you.

Also, bear in mind that in Arizona, any cell phone will dial 911 in an emergency. This is probably true just about anywhere in the U.S. and Canada.

Any cell phone. Any place. Any time.

So: step number 1 will be to get several cell phones, and keep them all charged up. And ALWAYS keep one with you…at all times. 

All times, all places: no exceptions.

So: if you slip and fall; if you have a heart attack; if the burglar is coming in the back door; if you rear-end the car in front of you; if whateverthefuck, within a matter of seconds you’ll be able to call for help.

This, obviously, would not significantly reduce the risk of falls or heart attacks or rampaging burglars or whatEVER. But it would allow you to call for help easily and fast.

So, with at least one emergency cell phone on you at all times — maybe also keep several around your property, so there would be one in the car, one in the bathroom, one in the kitchen, one out in the backyard…and so on — you would be able to call for help quickly and easily.

Next: set up your exterior entrances so emergency workers can easily find ways to get in. Keys will have to be NOT obvious to your pet burglars. But they must be placed in spots that you can quickly and easily describe over the phone, so a rescuer can find them.

With these and any other emergency amenities in place, now fix up the place so you can live comfortably and safely in it, with a minimum of hassle to yourself.

For example: grocery stores are now delivering. GET USED TO THAT. Learn how to use delivery services, and set them up now, not later. Then, if you get too sick to drive or your car craps out and you can’t afford to replace it or you just don’t feel like doing battle with a grocery store parking lot, you can simply call or email to get a week’s worth of fresh food delivered.

If you’re going to stay in a house (as opposed to an apartment, for example), be sure a trusted neighbor, relative, or friend can get in, should they realize you may be in distress. More than one person should have keys, your phone number, and your emergency contacts. Now, not later

In an apartment, make it possible and easy for management, family members, and trusted friends to get in. Arrange for someone to check on you  if they haven’t seen you for a few days.

So…hmmmm….  I think the key to staying in your own place as long as possible is collaboration and cooperation. It seems contradictory — stay independent by depending on others. But it’s the only logical strategy.

* Yes, you stay in your own place with your own keys and whatnot.

* But yes, you have at least a couple of friends or relatives who can get into your place, too: with their own keys and whatnot.

* These folks, by the way, must be given emergency contact information, so they can call your friends, relatives, landlord, or…whomever.

* You always carry a device that can be used to call for help. Keep it in a pocket or next to where you’re lurking, at all times. Keep it charged up, too!

* While you’re at it, in addition to quick access to folks who can get into your home and help you, the house should be old-buzzard-proofed as best as possible. For example, every shower and bathtub should be equipped with grab bars. Any steps should be flanked by banisters or handrails, so you always have something to hold onto, going upstairs or going downstairs. And any throw rugs should either have rubber backing or a slip-proof under-mat, to keep them from sliding out from under your feet.

Look around your house and your yard and THINK SAFETY. Consider what might happen, and install whatever might prevent a little disaster or help you get out of one unhurt.

Think of your home as a system, not just as a dwelling. Who do you train to operate that system? How can you and they collaborate to make it work? How do you kick them into gear when you need them?

Yes, we do want to stay independent and in our homes as long as possible. But to do that…well, we’re going to have to depend on people!

😮