blue skies, blue cap and gown, pomp and circumstance and blue lips

Buddy can you spare a dime?

One Friday night last month I was coming out of my temple from Friday night services when my friend noticed that his car (an Infinity) wouldn't start. He kept trying to turn on the ignition many times and so did each person who came over to give him a helping hand and who each had a new suggestion on what to do. I had to be up at 7:30 a.m. the next day, which is a time that I only observe as a wake up time with my grandkids when I'm up at their house. It's an ungodly hour for me. That said, I wanted to get out of the temple parking lot as soon as possible. So I called my housemate to see if he could come down to the temple and give me a ride home. My friend called his girlfriend to do the same since he figured that AAA would tow his car off somewhere for the night. So 20 minutes later I'm picked up, we drive up Jamboree and right before we exit, there's a sign that says Jamboree exit. But, I must admit, it's a little confusing at the turnoff point and many times it's a natural inclination to want to go one exit more before we REALLY have to get off before the toll. Well, we were talking and naturally missed the exit. So there's a toll fee we have to pay for just literally ONE BLOCK. My friend asks me how much change I have (the toll is .75 cents!) Together we've come up with .55 cents. Yes, we each have dollars on us but, believe it or not, this particular toll station doesn't make change at all; nada, zippo, zilch! Now there are 2 lanes for the toll road, one is for the Fasttrak, the other is for putting your money in the basket. No one at all was coming behind us in the change lane. Everyone was zipping through with their fasttrak passes. Finally I hailed down a lovely man who barely spoke English. He pulled over from the fast trak to check his coins. Nope, he didn't even have .20 cents to his name. So while I'm talking to this foreigner , who really could have been the grim reaper for all I know, my friend was literally on his knees outside the car checking in the front and back of the car to see if he could scrounge up .20 cents more maybe from under the mats or in between the seats. He found 2 dimes. Twenty minutes later we were home free having gotten the green light to pass through. Thinking my other friend was still at temple waiting for AAA, I gave him a call to find out how he was and to laugh about our adventures; he was already home. When his girlfriend arrived, she suggested he start the car again and lo and behold, it started! Boy I hang around with some doozies, huh? One floods his car over and over again and the other is scrounging for change under the carpets of his car! There's something wrong with this picture.

Shopped 'Til I Dropped

Last weekend the SEARS ESSENTIALS closed in my neighborhood. Ever since I knew the store was closing I'd visit it regularly to see how the merchandise was selling, what percentage off was being given, and was there something I had to have. So I missed out on the wine rack that I'd been touching, feeling and measuring for about 6 weeks, I missed out on some toys for my grandkids, there was no jewelry that interested me, basically nothing but a few bras. After I purchased one bra at 50% off, I waited until the line would go down more. But alas, when the 75% sign went up, the brand that I liked had nothing to offer me but 2 sizes larger. So, had to have the bargain, and bought it at 2 sizes larger. Then last weekend, I went in early Friday morning, just to scout out the store for the last time. Not much left. Saturday, after work, I was so tired but had to go in again. Even less left. I decided that was enough. I'd touched everything, tried on what was slightly interesting, and just went home. No more, don't go back; you've seen it all. Except that Sunday night, the last hour of the store's existence, I just couldn't drive home after work without giving it one more shot. I'm now completely exhausted having worked and been on my feet the whole weekend. So with painful heel spur and all, I park my car and with 45 minutes left until closing, I decided to try on a few blue jeans in Omar the Tentmaker size. The clothes were 80% off with an additional 50% off of that. Can't beat that. So I figured I'll buy one size larger, just to get me through this overly fat, outrageous BMI number that I've earned. And for $3.50 I walked out of Sears Essentials with my new oversized jeans that I can throw out after I stop eating walnuts, yogurt, M&Ms, chocolate and all the other midnight snacks.

Younger than springtime, am I

When two of my grandkids were very small but old enough to sit up and hold onto objects, one of the first animated things that each of them did was to hold up an adult shoe to their ears and make believe they were talking on the phone. Of course I thought that each one of them was so creative and brilliant. I marveled how they could substitute a shoe for a cell phone. Sometimes they would just pick up anything that was more or less rectangular and hold it to their ears and pretend to be talking.

This image came back to me this afternoon as I dried myself off from the shower. I always bring both my cell phone and landline to the bathroom area (God forbid I should miss a call from my gallery!) So I'm all dried off, have put my clothes on and go to return both phones to their proper places in my bedroom. Only as I was going to put my landline phone back in its cradle I realized that I had picked up the Dove body lotion which is also white and sort of rectangular in shape.
Now either I am younger than springtime like my grandkids or older than dirt. Unfortunetly it's the latter.

"I'm Not A Snake."

Don't call me; I'll call you

My sister told me recently that she'll know she's really getting really old when her kids start calling her every day. Which, of course, is very funny since we're always saying to each other that we rarely speak to our kids unless we do the calling. I have one son who calls me about every 6 or 7 weeks and tries to time it when he knows I won't answer my home phone. This way he can leave a message and doesn't have to hear how I'm doing. He just always assumes I'm okay; if not, he'll hear from his brother or sister otherwise. And my sister is so right. Because I used to make my perfunctory phone calls to my parents once a week when they lived in Florida. But once we moved my mom out here to California in her 90s, I was calling her every day. So for right now, I just giggle from the fact that my kids have their own lives, are busy working, driving their kids everywhere, cleaning the house etc. and it's hard to take the time to make small talk with me. And I'm content with knowing that I'm still able enough to call them and not have to wait for them to call me.

53% of who?

It has been 10 months since I have "ruminated" anything on my blog site. And I have been asked repeatedly why I stopped blogging. I have no answer except that blogging takes time, at least for me, and since I started working 6 days a week, I spend most of my free time eating, sleeping and watching Law and Order. So speaking of work, here goes my newest blog and newest rant.

I am a progressive Radio Talk Show aficionado and listen to Air America, or Nova whenever I'm going to and from work. Invariably I get very involved with the topic on hand and hate having to park my car in the parking structure at work. I am just at the point when the guest speaker is exchanging some very important statistics with the talk show host, or a person calls in with unusual information when I have to enter the parking structure. It's like "Well, you know Tom, 53% of all --and I lose the signal. WHAT? I'm missing the most important stat due to complete static for 4 floors until I reach the 5th floor which is outdoors (employee parking.) It happens to me everyday 6 days a week. It's as if the most important bit of information is being given out as I enter the parking garage. Sometimes, although rarely, when no one is behind me, I just let my car idle at the point of entry to hear the rest of the comment. It's no different when I get off the freeway sometimes and I have to go under the freeway bridge to get to the main street. I mean, men and women fly to the moon, astronauts are floating in space making finite adjustments to the Hubble Telescope, we can fly to the east coast in 4 1/2 hours; but no one has found a way to get better reception when we're in parking structures! I drive an Acura and can't hear squat inside. If any readers drive a Lexus or Infiniti or BMW, please let me know if you have better luck. Until then, yours in static.