Friday, May 29, 2015

Beverly Hillbilly

It was grey and foggy.  Gladys looked at her little dog Bozz, shook her head and said “let’s wait a bit buddy”.   She knew the May grey would creep out just as subtly as it had crept in.  She was used to the fog that occurs when the low altitude clouds form over the ocean then the winds blow them inland creating fog and drizzle.  Sometimes this weather phenomenon lasts all day, sometimes it lifts midday and once again the skies are azure blue and life returns to normal.

Most non-southern Californians know about the ill effects the Santa Ana winds have on people but very few know that May Grey or June Gloom also affects the inhabitants of the sunny desert metropolis.  It coats them in a film of despair from which only the brilliance of the sun can cleanse.  But I digress.

For clarity here is a little background on Gladys’ neighborhood.  The street is extremely narrow only wide enough for cars to park on one side of the throughway.  People in this area for some reason don’t use their driveways or garages, instead they choose to park along the narrow street.  In addition to being narrow the street dead ends and because of the row of cars it affords no possibility of a turn around.  One must either back their way out or park their car plant daisies on the hood and call it art.
The normal protocol for parking is to pull into the side street, which also is a narrow dead end, and then back up the street until you arrive at your destination.  The problem is directly across from the side street is a house.  The owner of the house usually puts his garbage bins in front of his house to prevent parking.  Let me also say that since Gladys moved here she has learned that there is a parking dick on our street. She isn’t sure who it is but said PD  has felt the need to put notes on her vehicle reprimanding her for parking in various spots. One was quite incoherent and hateful.  Luckily Gladys is easy going and wrote it off to it being Hollyweirdness.   Again I digress.

Finally the sun won the fight with the gloom and Gladys laced up her shoes and leashed up Bozz.  He danced happily as they trudged up the staircase leading to the street.  The neighborhood is mostly quiet; while it feels like a mountain retreat it rests above Sunset Strip in one of the busiest cities in the world. 

 There were the normal noises that permeated the day, birds chirping the construction workers next door pounding nails and sawing but there was also an underlying vitriol.  It echoed through the canyon.  This was the same canyon that echoed the lyrical sounds of Joni Mitchell, Buffalo Springfield, Graham Nash and others of the era.  Only this wasn’t the twangs of guitars and melodic sounds of harmony; it was yelling and cursing and what sounded like a jack hammer against a metal building.  

Bozz breached the street first and backed up a few paces.  There before him, stuck mid-turn around sat two large men encased in a giant green garbage truck looking fear stricken.  There was a stream of obscenities and nastiness emanating from the other side of the truck.  Bozz and Gladys approached the scene with trepidation.  Behind the truck stood a short woman with a baseball bat threatening the men in the truck as they inched forward and back in an attempt to make a 587 point turn.  They were attempting to make this turn while not backing into the car parked in the crash zone, her car.   This was the same woman who had left the note admonishing Gladys for parking her car too close to the turnaround site.  The incoherent note writer now stood in the middle of the narrow road replete in housedress and baseball bat threatening the very people who clean up her trash.  The men in the truck nervously look from the safety of the 5 ton truck carefully trying to avoid the deranged woman while still doing their job.  They inched forward, back, forward and back as the crazy woman screamed and swung her bat in their general direction. 

Bozz sensed discord, decided to piss on the garbage bin and head back to the house with Gladys in tow.  She cast a few glances over her shoulder as the big green giant inched it’s way to safety.

Gladys sat on the patio listening to the sounds of the garbage truck lumbering his way down the hill back into the safety of the bustling city.  She wondered was it May Grey that had the woman in a tizzy or maybe she had her first encounter with a real Beverly Hillbilly.

Friday, May 22, 2015


Remember when Memorial Day meant your life was about to begin?  What was the song?  “No more rulers, no more books, no more teacher’s dirty looks”?   What a wonderful feeling those final days of school were.  The electricity in the air was palpable and anything was possible.  Heck this summer we might build a spaceship and fly to the moon or a ship and sail the seven seas.  Yes the opening weekend of summer, Memorial Day weekend, was the portal to adventure.  

Gladys awoke with a start.  It was here.  It was finally here.  She climbed out of her side of the bed being careful not to wake Matilda.  You see Gladys was an early riser.  She did not want to miss one single moment of the day.  She wanted to see the sun rise and drink in the very first day of freedom.  She slipped into the kitchen which was still dark and quiet.  Nurse Meme had not returned from her night shift at the hospital and Trooper Bob was in the shower preparing for his day shift keeping the highways and byways safe from interlopers.   She got the stepstool from the pantry and drug it to the refrigerator.   The door opened with a stiff tug and illuminated the room with the soft cold glow.  She reached in  pulled a carton of milk from the shelf, made a swipe for the pitcher of Tang and a couple of eggs.  The stool then was drug to the stove and pots and pans were pulled from their storage space.   Gladys wasn’t afraid of the stove, heck she had been cooking since she was a little kid and now that she was seven she knew how to not burn herself, well, most of the time.  She went about her business of breakfast making and poured herself a glass of milk and then gingerly pulled the glasses with oranges printed on the outside from the cabinet and unsuccessfully tried to pour her Tang without spilling, because Tang is what the astronauts drink in space.  They were adventurers and so was Gladys.

Trooper  Bob walked in just as she was sopping up the contents of the juice pitcher from the floor.  “What’s going on here?” his voice shattering the quiet of the morning. 
Gladys jumped and turned holding the juice soaked towel.  “Nothing Daddy, I jist tried to pour me some Tang and I spilled a little”.
Trooper Bob side stepped the puddle in the floor careful not to get his polished Tony Lama’s near the sticky juice.  “Well, you better git this mess cleaned up afore your momma gits home.  She’ll have a can-ip-shun fit.  Wipe it up with some Spic and Span so it don’t leave no stickiness, now you hear.”  He made his way to the percolator and poured himself a cup of coffee and turned for the door.    He stopped, took a long look at his baby daughter mopping up the orange goop.  “Gladys?”

Gladys leaned on her mop “yeah, Daddy.”

“What the hell are you wearing?” Trooper Bob asked pointing toward her outfit.

“My bathing suit” she replied smoothing down her red white and blue two piece.

“Did you git up and put that on first thing this morning?”  He chuckled.

“Naw sir.  I slept in it.  It’s summertime that means you can sleep in your swimming suit.” Gladys answered matter of factly.

“Yep I guess it does.” Trooper Bob said as the door closed quietly behind him.

So happy summer everyone and I don’t know about you but I’ll be sleeping in my swimming suit.

Thursday, May 21, 2015


Tap…tap..tap… Is this thing on?  Anybody there?  (crickets)

I know it’s been a long time since I’ve been here but I’ve been in a coma and then I had amnesia when I came to Stefano DiMera had kidnapped me… oh wait maybe that was Days of Our Lives.  In reality I’ve been here and then I went there and after that well I went over there and now I’m here. 

Most important I realized I really missed this creative outlet and decided it was time to return to writing this blog whether there was anyone out there still following or not.    I may not be here every day but I will be here more often than every 4 years. 

One of the many things that have happened to me in my journey is I’ve come to the realization that no matter where you go there you are.  Life takes us down so many paths and we must learn to enjoy each and every road we are traveling in the moment.  It doesn’t come easy for me to practice being in the moment as I am one who worries about things that may never happen.  I worry that I worry too much and then worry because I’m worried about that.  Such is the life of a constant worrier.

I have been working on not worrying so much.  Nurse Meme used to tell me not to go borrowing trouble.  I would thinK “why would I borrow trouble?  I might borrow sugar or shoes or even a really cute purse but trouble?”  I realize now what she was telling me not to fret over things that have not and may never happen.

A little over a year ago we moved to Hollywood South to work on a project.  The old Gladys would have obsessed over where we were going to live, what we were going to do and how it would all come together.  The new Gladys just loaded up the beast and settled in next to her sweetheart and was thankful to be along for the ride.  We finished that project and headed back to Californica.  Again the old Gladys would have gnashed her teeth and wrung her hands fraught with worry but the new Gladys once again thanked the stars above for the chance of another adventure.  

Now we are on yet another adventure, one that I hope will lead us to yet another adventure,

 but I’m not here to borrow trouble, I am just here for the ride.