My neighbor yells at her old dogs when she takes them out at 3:00 in the morning.
Sometimes it's at 1:00.
Sometimes 4:30.
These are two very old gray-muzzled dogs, and apparently very deaf. They are slow to come out her door. She yells, "Hurry up. Come ON," over and over. Over and over.
She yells the same words as she leads them to and fro across her front yard. Because these dogs are old and slow, they take a long time to get back up the porch steps and back into the house after doing their business. "COME ON, HURRY UP, COME ONNNNNN" she yells.
She yells with a voice that is the exact duplicate of Edith's when she hits those high notes singing "Those were the Days" with Archie.
It pierces the night with horrible regularity.
I wonder when she sleeps.
It's a lovely Saturday when there's a chill in the air and what I think of as heaven on a plate has been roasting in the oven for three hours:
Archaic references:
1. We called the Livingroom the Front Room.
2. Not a Family Room, but a Den.
3. A table knife was a Case Knife.
4. To clear the table after a meal was to Read (pronounced "red") up the table.
5. We all pronounced Jaguar Jag-Wire.
6. Everyone from Ohio knew what John Marsetti was.
7. Everyone who lived near the Claremont, CA area knew what "The Vulch" was.
8. Madras was the coolest thing you could wear.
9. Everyone in California pretended to be surfers.
10. It was called a Brody Knob. Fabricated in Plastic Laminating Shop in high school and attached to the steering wheel, it made executing a left or right turn with the left hand a breeze.
11. For some odd reason, a small shoe size meant you were the hottest of babes.
12. Clip-on earrings made from feathers, fanning over the entire ear...were IT.
13. CrackerJack had REAL toys as prizes: metal cricket-clickers, siren rings, army guys.
14. Gasoline and a loaf of bread were tied for cheap: $0.59 (and you got another juice glass with the gas).
15. We dressed up to go shopping. Anywhere. Even to buy groceries.
16. Everyone. Everyone. Everyone knew how to use good manners. It differentiated us from wolves.
17. Imagine this: We were taught to stand up when someone older than us entered the room.
Bringing this back to the top of the page....because it's important......
Flu season is upon us.
The ads are starting already; in our office, E-mails, faxes, flyers, brochures and postcards arrive daily. Mostly, it's to raise public conciousness about the need to prepare. Many people, especially the elderly, are urged to get this year's version of the flu shot.
In my neck of the woods flu shots are not a good idea.
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Now is the time to prepare yourself for this upcoming season. Here are some valuable recommendations: | |
The purpose of this list is to give you examples. There are many wonderful remedies; herbal, homeopathic and nutritional available. Find what works for you and have them available in your health first aid kit. | |
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Ranting Politicalness is sooo not my style.
Well, maybe sometimes it is.
I guess I'm getting to the wearing-purple-hats-in-public-and-who-gives-a-crap-up-yours stage.
and I must share............
>>>> Read this and be scared <<<<<
They gave it to the Jews to keep them from insurrection during the Holocost.
It has been the main waste by-product of aluminum manufacture.
It's been added to our water for a looong time with no evidence that our teeth are really any better for it.
..........if the Powers That Be are soooo concerned with mass public health...why isn't it something like.....vitamin C added to "help the masses???" huh?
huh?????
.......and by the way.....why don't we get a say-so in this?
And what's the deal with this entity buying up public water agencies?????
Scares the poo outta me, Honeys.
Daughter Leslie and her dance troupe performed two weeks ago. It was a kick.
This time, thier routine was about dolls coming to life.
Too fun!
I get up early. I love to be up before the sun when the neighborhood is still quiet. My best energy is first thing off the pillows in the wee hours. This also means I don't stay up much past 9:00 most nights. Soon after hitting the door during the week, I'm in my p'jammies. I usually snug in about 8:00-ish.
Today after work, I drove to the LA Farmer's Market to noodle around and rubberneck all the seasonal goodies in the shops before walking to Barnes & Noble at The Grove for a book signing of "Drunk, Divorced and Covered in Cat Hair." I was so looking forward to seeing Laurie Perry, of whom I wrote in this post. If you haven't fallen for her writing yet, you have't read her blog.
I got there way early. They were still setting up. I grabbed a seat in the front row and snapped this gent, who was just taping up a poster:
It soon became SRO. It was requested of the crowd that photos wait until after the book signing.
You know people never listen. A few of us snuck a few shots...
Her reading was good; the funny/tragic first chapter. I tried not staring at her great SHOES. Little sparkley heels you would kill a Dancing with the Stars contestant for. The noteworthy Ellen Bloom even shot a pic of them (It's me, in the front row!!!). Then it was time to line up to get our books signed.
She recognized my name on my Postit and we chatted briefly about my bluejay clip.
She signed my book and thanked me for coming. To let her know just what it takes to keep me out in LA at this ungodly time of day I said,
" You're welcome. I stayed up late for you"
......blew her a motherly kiss and redfaced at my awesome cleverness, sashayed through the crowd to the escalator as fast as I could.
Brilliance.
PS.............
I was almost to the top step when I realized I couldn't see. Argh. I left my glasses on the face of Laurie's videographer, to whom who I'd loaned them when she told me she'd left hers at home.
So much for an embarassed, quick escape. I weaved back through crowd to the front of the room and waited until she was finished interviewing a chap in the audience before I gestured to her face. She thanked me a bunch and handed them over telling me I was a life-saver. THEN I hurried...no...galloped to the escalator and zoomed to my car.
Gak
This post was bound to happen.
It's somewhat of an issue..
I'm growing nostril hair. Ever since I turned 50. A black and grey crop that has sprung from whoknowswhy....
You can bet I'm dilligent about snipping, trimming and eagle-eyeing this phenomenon of aging.
It's gross. It means you're old.
A partner once pointed it out.
My granddaughter did it as well, but with the finesse only a four-year-old can muster: "Grandma, there's a booger hanging from a hair in your nose."
Now. I have women friends of my general age group who have chin hair issues (there are also disappearing eyebrow and pube ones as well...but that's another post) and they swap stories about how to effectively remove/conceal the offending sprouts. But ... I think I'm the only one who (if left to my true Hippie-in-my-heart devices on a desert island could bead and cornrow what grows out of my nose these days).... talks about nose hairs.
I think there's a nostril-hair closet.
Come OUT you old girls!!!! Stand up and be counted.
Buy a T-shirt, keychain and refrigerator magnet for the cause.
I KNOW I'm not the only one.
(Edit: ..... My daughters read this.... *waving* "Hi.")
I posted a few months ago about the High Wind in the Valley, and the resulting sad little stump.
The remaining stump started growing suckers. It became quite bushy and pretty.
One month ago:
Yesterday morning, I went out with the clippers and did a little trimming to expose the trunk. .
I had this flat copper dish that I'd been using in the garden as a drip-catcher. I drilled three holes in the bottom, sealed the holes with plumbing washers and clear silicon ......and using three screws, I secured the copper dish to the stump. I glued a ceramic frog to the dish, put flat rocks on the bottom and filled it with water.
BIRDZBATH!!!!
P.S.
So far the birds are avoiding it like the plague. I may have to lose the frog. Might be the felt-marker eyes.
Update: 10/7/07. Okay. I switched out the scary frog for a "Portlies" sculpture of a turtle. The birds are still suspicious.
Fireplace weather.
Such feelings wash over me when even a hint of these seasons arrives....different from the first cool sunshine of Spring, when it's time to get outside and smell the damp, fresh soil while dividing and replanting young succulents....different from the first desert wind that sweeps through, hearalding the scorch of Summer...
Satisfaction, contentment, anticipation, appreciation......a sense of love and joy and safety of heart and health....
For me, this is a healing season. This part of the year has always brought such richness of experience; smells of things simmering on the stove, things baking in the oven...friends and loved ones gathering....gifts to be planned....decorating for the holidays.
I was up before five o'clock. The house was chilly. What a pleasure it was to light a couple of logs and have the warmth of a fire so early in the quiet of the morning.
