Sunday

It's Friday. We're almost there.

I think the days of the week are somewhat like the newspaper delivery. (For those of you who don't get newspaper delivery, it's an antiquated method of delivering news and information, daily, on paper. The print rubs off on your fingers, and the paper itself lines pet cages or compost bins, or ends up in the recycle bin, sometimes without being read. It comes in sections which makes for easy sharing. It's a quiet indulgence, free of electronics. But I digress....)

The newspaper parallels my expectations for each day of the week. Sunday is the ultimate, plump and fluffy with the promise of a lazy day. Jammies, coffee, feet up, no deadlines - except the one imposed by Monday. Slim, devoid of everything that Sunday was made of. But Tuesday's paper is a little thicker, as are the following days' (do they have names?), building, always building, to the Sunday paper and the fat pleasure of the day.

So, congratulations. We've made it to Friday. But, hang in there, the big payoff is still two days away.

(Thanks, Teja.)

Black Box

What if people had "black box" devices? I could rewind 15 minutes to remember what I came in here for.

While I'm At It

Why do drive through machines have braille?

Inventory Control

At my core, I'm a FIFO kind of gal. I like order and rules so First In, First Out makes sense to me. When I buy a box of cereal, I finish the box it's replacing before opening it.

But not when it comes to my lotions and potions, I tell you. I can't wait until the creme, lotion, scrub, whatever, runs out to replace it. And when I get it home, I have to try it, don't I?

What that means is, I have cabinet shelves full of stuff I'm not using, mostly empty containers with just a little left at the bottom. You'd think I'd just throw it away, right?

Nope.

Enunciate

I don't think they were saying "scurvy." I think pirates just had bad dentures and were saying "swervy" because that's how you feel after spending any kind of time on a boat. Swervy.

They need a better dental plan.

What's That You Say?

A sign I passed on my walk this morning read:

Bellevue Vacuum

Parking

Of course, I read it as:

Bellevue

Vacuum Parking

Yes, you can keep your car virtually forever, vacuum packed in its very own sealed pouch.....

The other thing I saw was a candy called Chocolate Covered Roasted Cacao Pieces which I thought was a bit redundant. Isn't that like chocolate covered chocolate? Don't know, but chocolate covered anything's not a bad thing, is it?

Retro

Incognito

Every time I play around with changing my hairstyle I get really uncomfortable - like the image in the mirror isn't mine or it's been altered in such a way that it's - at the same time - familiar and completely out of the ordinary. It's my face but it's someone else's hair. (46 year old face, 26 year old hair, scares me.)

What I don't understand is the long bang sweep that young women wear. I can't figure it out. When I do it, it looks like a really bad comb over. So I end up running my fingers through my hair, pushing it off my forehead, right back into my 1981 hairstyle.

I'm having a hard time growing up.

To Do

As in list. Easy to come up with when there's no threat that I'll actually do any of it.

Flotsam

More here.

Go Ahead and Light Up

A Federal Way man plead guilty to a charge of reckless driving which was reduced from vehicular homicide because a blood test found pot, and not alcohol, in his system.

In case you missed it, driving drunk/vehicular homicide. Driving high/reckless. To be sure, it's reckless but if you hurt someone does it matter how f****ed up you are?

By the way, this guy crossed a median, hit four cars and killed two people. Good thing he wasn't freaking drunk!

link

Screams

I hear children playing outside. I love that sound.

After Midnight

This song, sung by Eric Clapton, was on the radio as I drove home today in the sunshine. Top down, baby. Thing is, I've been crazy busy the last few days logging close to 300 miles carpooling, or rather schlepping, people to and from work, school, daycare, and one trip to the airport. Was there sun the last 300 miles? No. In fact, I got hail dumped on me Tuesday night - enough for an inch of the stuff to pile up on my wipers and nearly obliterate my plastic rear windshield of my little convertible. Poor thing.

Tonight, I've been relived of duty. No ferry service today - and the sun is out! The top is down and I've got nowhere to go! Argh! Anybody need a ride somewhere? Anyone?

DWH

Why is it that the most aggressive drivers either have a handicap placard or a Baby on Board sign? Really, does anyone know?

And, while I'm at it, do people who hold their phones away from their heads while they're driving think that's considered "hands free"? I think there's some confusion here.

Art

More pictures of Universal Studios Hollywood and other LA photos here: LA 2010

"Fancy" for Yummy

Besides, "Mm! Mm! Good!" was taken.

Fog

Not like Oso's Fast, Unlikely Friend at Laurasmagicday:

...a fat gray cat. I don't like using the word fat to describe her because she had a the kind of self-confident personality and depth of character that makes her so much more than her physical attributes.

I had a fat gray cat as a kid. His name was Fog and he was anything but confident. Fat and slow aptly describe him. Slow of speed and character.

He was the son of Mrs. Setzler-Angel, a cat my parents allowed me to name (a permission which they may have immediately regretted). When Mrs. Setzler had kittens we gave them all away, but one. A gray one who was slower than the rest and no one wanted.

Fog, named for his color, grew (and grew) into his name by also being dense. Round, he was, but as devoted as a cat can get, too lazy to be aloof. He would take a nap on one love seat only to wake, stretch, walk as far as the next love seat, and take another nap.

When out patrolling the neighborhood, Mrs. Setzler had to defend Fog from birds, rabbits, and small woodland creatures, Cowardly Lion that he was. But when Fog was inside he could watch the birds who came to eat from the bird feeder hanging just outside the living room window, immune from their taunts.

There was a radiator inside, just underneath said window which made Fog eye level to the birds feeding outside. With the window open in the Chicago summertime, he could hear them and smell them only inches away. These birds didn't scare him like other outside birds. Being in the domain of the household gave him access to a secret reserve of power, like a Super Hero dressed in tights and cape. I remember him as he once took a swipe at the birds with ultimate confidence until it was too late and his claws were neatly stuck in the screen that separated him from his intended prey.

Fog was embarrassed but I don't think he was worried about what the birds were thinking. He was worried about what the humans might be thinking if he was seen. This, I could tell as he looked over both shoulders back into the living room to see if there were any witnesses, a lovable look of humility across his gray face.

When he saw that I was there, he was humiliated not only by the failed attack, an heroic feat that could have supplied him with the only prize he'd ever possessed, a present which he could bestow, but by the fact that I would now have to rescue him from the screen, his claws trapping his paw in a permanent high-five.

I tried not to laugh as I extracted his claws from the screen that had fooled him, seduced him into a false, predatory confidence. I loved him for the hero he aspired to be.

Fog has long since shuffled off this mortal coil but before he went he signed his portrait. A closeup photo of his face, his green eyes peering into, exploring, a camera lens. Signed with his paw print on the back. It was a going-away present from my dad when I went to college.

School was only about 150 miles away but he wanted me to have something that reminded me of home.

Still have it. Still does. Always will.

(Thanks, Dad.)

Shadow of a Flip Flop

Backyard

Pool Party

Someone's having a pool party. I can hear it.

Just about every house here has a pool, or certainly one nearby. Makes sense, since it's 93 degrees in April. (Accuweather.com seems to think this feels more like 99. Needless, it's much hotter here than at home.)

I don't know exactly where the party is as I've not ventured outside the confines of our backyard all day today. Not since I took my coffee this morning in exactly this same spot. But I know the party isn't next door because I can peek through the fences that border all three sides of my outdoor domain. Nobody there.

I don't know if it's a party with cars lined up out front or if it's a loud pile of kids that live there. I guess I'll know tomorrow if it still feels like 100 degrees out there and school gets canceled on account of sun. Suppose that ever happens here?

Why is it that at every pool party, one kid is crying? Is he the one being excluded by the older kids or one being singled out for a nap? Doesn't matter, there's always one.

And, why is it, that only one person is plagued by flying insects and the other isn't even if they are sitting next to each other? I'm talking about my own backyard now. But, still, I don't get it.

Just glad it isn't me.

That was actually yesterday. Today, no crying kids. None splashing or screaming, so I guess they either don't live there or school has not been canceled. Instead, being Monday, people are back at work which includes all the construction folks working on neighboring remodels. Seems there are two such projects in progress across two of the three backyard border fences.

Loud, they are, an intrusion on my backyard serenity. Besides many flowers, smelling sweet in this hot sun, the backyard has a peach tree and lots of birds - some of which are really giant bees, I think. One bird, that I can never pick out, I call the Hawaii bird because it has the same hoot as one that, also unseen, makes quite a racket on my visits there. In fact, when I'm in Hawaii I call this bird the Wake Up bird because of his preference for early morning hours and a shrieking call that sounds like Wake Up Wake Up Wake Up and invariably sounds as if he is perched directly outside my window. (Once for fun, late at night in Hawaii I thought I would give the Wake Up birds a dose of their own medicine. Figuring they were at rest, I went out on my balcony deck and shouted Wake Up Wake Up Wake Up. Take that!)

The Hawaii bird of Palm Desert is not such an early riser for which I am very grateful. It occurs to me they must be on the same time clock even in different time zones since the Hawaiian Hawaii bird gets up exactly three hours before its SoCal cousin.

I thought I heard an owl last night and right now there's a bird that sounds like an owl except it's the middle of the day and it sings hoo HOO rather than hoot hoot. Not exactly the same, is it?

There are hummingbirds everywhere, and they will fly so close to my head that I can hear their wings beating. Yesterday, one hovered so close above the pool, I could see its surface ripple from the force generated by its beating wings.

There are a couple of other birds - I have no idea what they are - that swoop and dart from tree to tree. They have bright yellow bellies and white feathers in their tails and wings, all of which you can only see while they are in flight. These like to swoop over the pool to take quick sips, dodging back and forth.

I like the flowers and the birds, and sitting in the shade in a lawn chair, taking in the backyard activity, construction noise and all. (Pictures to follow.)

Without a party, my temporary backyard pool looks lonely. I should keep it company. (Picture not likely to follow.)

(splash)

Disguise

Cell tower as palm tree....