I needed to drop off a paper at Social Security. There is no “drop-off” spot, so in order to do this you take a number and join about fifty other people who are also waiting for their number to be called.
I noticed when I entered that the security guard, who was a big beefy man was sitting behind a small desk using his I phone
The wait for my number continued and I had time to look around the area I was in. In my boredom, I counted the floor tiles and found there was approximately fifty feet between the desk of the guard and the first row of client’s chairs.
The guard never raised his eyes from his I phone and I realized he had fallen asleep holding his phone.
I wasn't about to wake him, but them he began to snore. And I mean Snore, just like you see in the cartoons. Big, HUGE, ZZZZ’s came from his mouth . It was so loud that a man in the first row even turned around to see where the noise was coming from.
He was braver than I, and walked over to the guard to see if he was OK, or if he was making a death rattle.
Just as he got to the desk, the guard woke up, and said to the man “what do you want?”
The man didn't speak English and the guard, in a not very nice way, repeated, “What do you want?”
The man looked toward me and I said, “I think he wanted to see if you were alright, because you were snoring so loudly, people were concerned.
The guard looked t me, and pretty much sneered, “Are you sure it was me?”
With that fifty folks in the social security waiting room all said “YES!” at the same time
Wednesday, June 10, 2015
Tuesday, May 26, 2015
Dragon house
A Chinese restaurant called The Dragon House in my area has closed. We all saw it coming. When you would go there in the past year, most of the tables were empty. The food wasn’t very good, but the portions were always enough for a leftover lunch the next day.
The staff was sweet. Once, when my son was very young I took him there and asked for a bowl of won-ton soup with nothing in it. By this “nothing” I meant no won tons or onions, and not realizing the waitress spoke no English, it was a little surprising when she placed an empty soup bowl on our table, and smiled at me.
It was just that kind of place, where the familiarity outweighed the taste. You could bring a book, when you were dining by yourself, hunker down in one of the booths and read with no one bothering you, except to refill the tea pot.
But in the 20 years or so, I went to this place, lots of other Chinese restaurants in the neighborhood opened. All charged just about double the price for a meal. Some were much better in the way the food was prepared, no question about it, but none have ever matched the cheerfulness of the owner of the Dragon House. On hot summer days, I had a ritual of buying a blended virgin pina colada with my take out. Since they didn’t have a liquor license, a non-alcoholic drink was your only option. But this drink, in its extra large cup took a Slurpie to a level that only the gods could make.
I’m sorry to see it go, sorry that there really isn’t another place that moves through a meal with no thought to making you hurry up for waiting customers. I thought lots of times to writing to Gordon Ramsey, to see if there was anything he could have done to make the place more viable, but never did.
So goodbye to my old friend the Dragon House, I hope you all do well, and I for one, will miss you.
The staff was sweet. Once, when my son was very young I took him there and asked for a bowl of won-ton soup with nothing in it. By this “nothing” I meant no won tons or onions, and not realizing the waitress spoke no English, it was a little surprising when she placed an empty soup bowl on our table, and smiled at me.
It was just that kind of place, where the familiarity outweighed the taste. You could bring a book, when you were dining by yourself, hunker down in one of the booths and read with no one bothering you, except to refill the tea pot.
But in the 20 years or so, I went to this place, lots of other Chinese restaurants in the neighborhood opened. All charged just about double the price for a meal. Some were much better in the way the food was prepared, no question about it, but none have ever matched the cheerfulness of the owner of the Dragon House. On hot summer days, I had a ritual of buying a blended virgin pina colada with my take out. Since they didn’t have a liquor license, a non-alcoholic drink was your only option. But this drink, in its extra large cup took a Slurpie to a level that only the gods could make.
I’m sorry to see it go, sorry that there really isn’t another place that moves through a meal with no thought to making you hurry up for waiting customers. I thought lots of times to writing to Gordon Ramsey, to see if there was anything he could have done to make the place more viable, but never did.
So goodbye to my old friend the Dragon House, I hope you all do well, and I for one, will miss you.
Sunday, May 24, 2015
the new laptop
was exhausted. My head was ready to explode from all the new information that had been learned. Thankfully Hilary kept notes for me during my education, so when they both left I was fairly confident that I could do this. I was very proud of myself in fact.
Yesterday early morning, I sat down with the new lap top and began to practice. I was doing pretty well until; a little box popped up and said my password was not usable. God, what had I done in the space of five minutes to screw everything up so quickly.
I re read all of the notes and began again.
Now the one thing I learned right off the bat is that the “mouse” on one of these new fangled things is uber sensitive. If you touch it accidentally, or touch it in a way it doesn’t like, well, it just takes on a life of its own.
But I stayed at it. I put my ADD aside, and hunkered down, keeping a close watch on the keyboard and the mouse to make sure I was touching the device in a way it liked. I got totally caught up, and was so intent on what I was doing that I didn’t even look at the screen…
Then I did, and got so frightened I almost screamed. There on the screen was ME! The whole area covered with my face grimacing back at me from the intent of trying to use the mouse. I don’t know what I did, or what I touched, but somehow I had managed to videotape myself on the computer.
Now for sweet young things who always look good, this is probably not a problem, but when you get to my age, and it’s 6:00a.m., and you are wearing your ten year old pjs, and haven’t combed your hair, or even finished brewing your morning coffee, you just have to trust me, that my face, that hour of the day, is not something I want to share with the world.
So, until I can figure out what it was that I did wrong, that gave the universe a glimpse of my Not Ready for Prime Time Punim, I am holding off practicing with the lap top, and am using the fact that it won’t acknowledge my new password as my excuse.
Yesterday early morning, I sat down with the new lap top and began to practice. I was doing pretty well until; a little box popped up and said my password was not usable. God, what had I done in the space of five minutes to screw everything up so quickly.
I re read all of the notes and began again.
Now the one thing I learned right off the bat is that the “mouse” on one of these new fangled things is uber sensitive. If you touch it accidentally, or touch it in a way it doesn’t like, well, it just takes on a life of its own.
But I stayed at it. I put my ADD aside, and hunkered down, keeping a close watch on the keyboard and the mouse to make sure I was touching the device in a way it liked. I got totally caught up, and was so intent on what I was doing that I didn’t even look at the screen…
Then I did, and got so frightened I almost screamed. There on the screen was ME! The whole area covered with my face grimacing back at me from the intent of trying to use the mouse. I don’t know what I did, or what I touched, but somehow I had managed to videotape myself on the computer.
Now for sweet young things who always look good, this is probably not a problem, but when you get to my age, and it’s 6:00a.m., and you are wearing your ten year old pjs, and haven’t combed your hair, or even finished brewing your morning coffee, you just have to trust me, that my face, that hour of the day, is not something I want to share with the world.
So, until I can figure out what it was that I did wrong, that gave the universe a glimpse of my Not Ready for Prime Time Punim, I am holding off practicing with the lap top, and am using the fact that it won’t acknowledge my new password as my excuse.
Thursday, May 21, 2015
Turkey Rebellion
The three wild turkeys took up residence on the
far edge of the asparagus plot that lay next to the side of our house. A male
and two females, and to me, seeing them for the first time in “real life”, they
were much larger than I expected.
The area they selected was rarely used once the crop was in. It was a quiet spot next to the dirt driveway that went around to the covered porch in the back of the house.
We never used the front door. Friends coming over would just tie up their horses to the back-porch rail and scrape their dirty boots on its weathered planks before entering our kitchen.
My son and I watched as the turkeys worked together gathering and making a mound with the straw that had lain between rows in the garden. Once done, their shelter stood about three feet tall, almost sweat lodge like in appearance. It was high enough that when they perched on top they had a clear view of anything coming down the road. We lived about six miles out of town, and with traffic almost non-existent, the turkeys would meander from our yard, across the dirt road, to the grassy field of the cherry tree orchard on its other side to forage.
We quickly became used their proprietary ways.
On more than one occasion, when we ventured too close to their fortress, they had taken off after us, squawking loudly until we made hasty retreats. We adopted a “we won’t bother you” attitude and, I guess, in some ways, felt a certain sense of satisfaction that our home was considered a safe place by them.
I was doing dishes at the kitchen sink one morning, gazing out the window, when I saw in the distance two people walking down the road headed toward our place.
From their suit and tie attire, and the bundle of leaflets in their arms, I knew they were Adventists, eager to share their literature with the residents of the ranch they were approaching.
I’m not interested in joining their group, and only a few of the stories in the Watch Tower are of interest to me, but I’m too polite to ignore their spiel, and always made a small donation to their cause for their efforts in making the trek.
I dried my hands, and took a last look at what I could make out now, to be two young men, who were just nearing our front gate. But before I could move away to collect my change purse, I saw that they had suddenly stopped walking.
I was trying to figure out what had caused this break in their service, when one of the men began running back and forth across the road, bending over again and again, and grabbing what seemed to be stones from the dirt.
The other man began yelling something. I couldn’t make out his words, but clearly he was agitated. Finally, I saw the reason for their actions. Two of the three turkeys were running quickly in their direction, making loud, raucous gobbles. One of the men took sharp aim and launched a stone at the lead bird.
This just made the situation worse. The turkeys picked up their speed and went after the two men with a vengeance. These carriers of the gospel clearly hadn’t come across anything like these furious feathered beasts in their scriptures. The men frantically turned back to the direction from whence they had come, dropping their papers, as the turkey front line closed in on their heels.
I watched the men run away as fast as they could to get away from these birds on a mission. Small clouds of dirt followed their screams as they all disappeared from my view.
After about a minute or two, I watched as the two turkeys could be seen slowly making their way back up the road, and once again take up their post, on what was clearly, “their property” in the asparagus patch. Their struts proudly announced their Victory over the god-fearing intruders, who were nowhere in sight.
Word of our new “watch dogs” must have gotten out, and we were never bothered by solicitors again.
The area they selected was rarely used once the crop was in. It was a quiet spot next to the dirt driveway that went around to the covered porch in the back of the house.
We never used the front door. Friends coming over would just tie up their horses to the back-porch rail and scrape their dirty boots on its weathered planks before entering our kitchen.
My son and I watched as the turkeys worked together gathering and making a mound with the straw that had lain between rows in the garden. Once done, their shelter stood about three feet tall, almost sweat lodge like in appearance. It was high enough that when they perched on top they had a clear view of anything coming down the road. We lived about six miles out of town, and with traffic almost non-existent, the turkeys would meander from our yard, across the dirt road, to the grassy field of the cherry tree orchard on its other side to forage.
We quickly became used their proprietary ways.
On more than one occasion, when we ventured too close to their fortress, they had taken off after us, squawking loudly until we made hasty retreats. We adopted a “we won’t bother you” attitude and, I guess, in some ways, felt a certain sense of satisfaction that our home was considered a safe place by them.
I was doing dishes at the kitchen sink one morning, gazing out the window, when I saw in the distance two people walking down the road headed toward our place.
From their suit and tie attire, and the bundle of leaflets in their arms, I knew they were Adventists, eager to share their literature with the residents of the ranch they were approaching.
I’m not interested in joining their group, and only a few of the stories in the Watch Tower are of interest to me, but I’m too polite to ignore their spiel, and always made a small donation to their cause for their efforts in making the trek.
I dried my hands, and took a last look at what I could make out now, to be two young men, who were just nearing our front gate. But before I could move away to collect my change purse, I saw that they had suddenly stopped walking.
I was trying to figure out what had caused this break in their service, when one of the men began running back and forth across the road, bending over again and again, and grabbing what seemed to be stones from the dirt.
The other man began yelling something. I couldn’t make out his words, but clearly he was agitated. Finally, I saw the reason for their actions. Two of the three turkeys were running quickly in their direction, making loud, raucous gobbles. One of the men took sharp aim and launched a stone at the lead bird.
This just made the situation worse. The turkeys picked up their speed and went after the two men with a vengeance. These carriers of the gospel clearly hadn’t come across anything like these furious feathered beasts in their scriptures. The men frantically turned back to the direction from whence they had come, dropping their papers, as the turkey front line closed in on their heels.
I watched the men run away as fast as they could to get away from these birds on a mission. Small clouds of dirt followed their screams as they all disappeared from my view.
After about a minute or two, I watched as the two turkeys could be seen slowly making their way back up the road, and once again take up their post, on what was clearly, “their property” in the asparagus patch. Their struts proudly announced their Victory over the god-fearing intruders, who were nowhere in sight.
Word of our new “watch dogs” must have gotten out, and we were never bothered by solicitors again.
Bad Drivers
I’m going to use this as a writing learning piece. To see if I can describe what happened in a way you can follow along.
I Made a right turn and began to go up a hill. Halfway up two cars were stopped. One in the left lane had their right blinker on, the other in the right lane had their left blinker on. I stopped until they could figure out what they were doing. About three minutes went by, ( and no, I did not toot my horn, judging from what was going on with their cars and blinkers, I didn’t want to take a chance on any road rage people)
So finally the person in the left with the right turn blinker faked a right and then made a left u turn to go back down the hill. The car in the right with the left blinker on made a right turn.
I continued on my way. Two blocks later I was at a four way stop, near the senior housing out here.
Besides me there was already a car at the intersection. Since they were there first I waited til they moved on. Then it was my turn except that a red Toyota didn’t wait for a stop went through the four way stop and was turning directly to hit me head on. I didn’t see anyone behind the wheel. I was stopped, thank god, and really blew my horn. The car kept coming and then swerved away at the last possible second. The driver, a very elderly woman could barely be seen. I don’t know what any of these folks were thinking, but I've decided to stick close to home for the next couple of days.
I Made a right turn and began to go up a hill. Halfway up two cars were stopped. One in the left lane had their right blinker on, the other in the right lane had their left blinker on. I stopped until they could figure out what they were doing. About three minutes went by, ( and no, I did not toot my horn, judging from what was going on with their cars and blinkers, I didn’t want to take a chance on any road rage people)
So finally the person in the left with the right turn blinker faked a right and then made a left u turn to go back down the hill. The car in the right with the left blinker on made a right turn.
I continued on my way. Two blocks later I was at a four way stop, near the senior housing out here.
Besides me there was already a car at the intersection. Since they were there first I waited til they moved on. Then it was my turn except that a red Toyota didn’t wait for a stop went through the four way stop and was turning directly to hit me head on. I didn’t see anyone behind the wheel. I was stopped, thank god, and really blew my horn. The car kept coming and then swerved away at the last possible second. The driver, a very elderly woman could barely be seen. I don’t know what any of these folks were thinking, but I've decided to stick close to home for the next couple of days.
Monday, May 18, 2015
Bombesque
My son just gave me instructions in how to blog. Needless to say it will probably take some time to get this right. At this moment, I have no idea how make this thing I'm writing connect to others. He has told me that no matter how bad I may be on a computer, I can not break the internet. I am not so sure, and envision people with aluminum collanders on their heads appearing at my door. "Is this the home of Bombesque?, the white haired woman who destroyed the internet?" I think I would just point behind me and say, "she went that a way."
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