Too Real Halloween

On the building site of the latest mini-mansion to invade the neighborhood, I noticed that the construction workers had decorated for Halloween. It's not unusual in this part of the 90210 adjacent to see the spooky signs of the season. So what that the workers don't live there? They get to whistle while they work! Their decorations were very simple. Rough-hewn plywood grave markers with epitaphs written in black ink--stuck into a pile of dirt. Very effective! It wasn't until I took a closer look that I noticed what was written on the headstones. A little too real in this LA gang-land! I just hope they weren't real homies!

Anthony

10-26-07

Gun Down

(Hmm....Maybe I ought to dig up that pile of dirt)

"The Blinkin' Stick"

Via telephone, I am attempting to teaching my mom, who is 3,000 miles away, how to use the Internet. This is a woman who, prior to buying her laptop a few weeks ago, had NEVER even touched a typewriter keyboard in her life. Talk about a quantum leap from the the pencil age into the "post-future"! It's been an education for both of us, though I can only speak for myself.
We've gotten terribly frustrated with each other and have come close to slamming down the phone. She's a perfectionist and really hard on herself. (So that's where I get it). She thinks she's stupid but I think she's brave. She becomes frustrated easily, as do I. She's smarter than she knows because not everyone could follow directions over the phone to navigate an interface that is completely new and alien. Until a month or so ago, she didn't know from a dialog box. She calls the cursor "the blinkin' stick,"no pun intended on her part or mine. Just days ago, I received from her the "first email (she) sent without any help." I wanted to cry with joy and pride, but I don't do that sort of thing, so I didn't. She even reads my blog. So in case she reads this, she will know that as crotchety and impatient as I am, I do enjoy the privilege of being with her on her discovery of the vast digital-scape. It's not nearly as much as she has done for me in this life!

20% off and on and off again

The coupons kept coming so I kept going to the big box-store bonanza, that triple-B chain, renown for their endless coupons and generous, "bring it back, no questions asked" return policy. Bad policy if you ask me, a recovering boomerang shopper! Thanks to loving pressure from my husband and belle-mere,* I have been avoiding, for the most part, whiling away hours combing through aisles looking for round trip bargains on buyer's remorse! But the coupons keep coming and to throw them away feels, to this penny-pincher, like burning money! God grant me the serenity...
So yesterday I fell off the wagon, and proceeded to push it through those narrow Triple B aisles, crammed with boxes of must-have gadgets stacked strategically to fall right into your eager hands at the slightest bump. "Oh, what luck. I needed that!" you say to yourself, mesmerised by the mysterious sweet smell permeating the store. I can blame my brief relapse on two wedding gift cards and a long held store-credit. Free money and a dozen coupons--what's a tiny lapse? Oh, only about $100 extra! And yes! I wound up back there the next day, boomeranging a fancy knife set and a exchanging one gadget. The lapse wasn't all bad since the return allowed me to recoup much of the extra $100 I'd spent. Further, the blame really falls on the store's liberal return policy which benefited the previous owner of the apple gadget which I was then forced to return. My new gadget, as it turned out, was a pre-owned boomerang--missing the instruction booklet and encrusted with some gross brown crud. Though, now armed with a truly new apple slicer/corer/peeler gadget, I wonder just how often will I be cranking it up?
(*french makes mother-in-law sound much better!)

The Grass is Greener...Fractionally

Now for the latest dispatch from that beleaguered patch of grass in the no-man's land between my neighbor's place and mine. You may remember from a previous post that the poor dear was brutally mowed in half? Now it's been "done like a kipper" in the latest round of the gardener's lackluster attempts at horticultural rejuvenation. Again, it seems like the gardener wanted to respect the boundaries while spreading the fertilizer, but from the looks of it, he was having a spot of trouble with the fractions. No King Solomon that one.

Seems to me that if they just leave the grass alone it will grow and you won't need all that fertiliser. It's like over plucking your eyebrows then having to pencil the bloody thing back in.

Future Human

I read an article in the Daily Mail about the possible evolutionary future of humans. Turns out we may evolve over the next thousand years into two distinct species: the beautiful and the ugly people, with the latter, genetic have-nots, working to keep the former happy. A prediction, according to the article, in the vein of H.G. Wells' novel "Time Machine."

"In the 1895 book, the human race has evolved into two distinct species, the highly intelligent and wealthy Eloi and the frightening, animalistic Morlock who are destined to work underground to keep the Eloi happy."

Hmmm. Sounds to me like we are already there, economically, if not genetically. China, India, Pakistan, Indonesia, Micronesia, Dubai, Walmart, Free Trade Zones, cheap labour...anyone? But take heart, the prediction may have a silver lining. The scientist says once we hit our species peak, our heavy reliance on advanced technology will have set us on a course of devolution that will eventually do in the species--at least the pretty ones (and that's assuming the degraded enviroment doesn't do it first). Perhaps, finally, the poor uglies will catch a break! But wait! If it is true that the "meek(read:have-nots) shall inherit the earth," then it makes sense why the current "haves" are doing their darndest to muck up that inheritance. The ugly can't win!

"Zoo-do"

Today I attended a free composting class offered by the city of Los Angeles in lovely Griffith Park. I went with high hopes about my future in composting. I had my heart set on buying a fancy backyard composter, which the city subsidizes. Instead I settled for a simple Rubbermaid(tm) container with holes drilled in the lid and sides. Here begins my adventure in vermicomposting. A bit gross--worm poop and all, but as my landlord gets a bit picky about what I do in the back yard, I shall have to secret my clandestine garbage eaters under the sink.
I also came away with some free compost, which, they proudly say, contains "Zoo-do" courtesy of the unhappy elephants in the nearby LA Zoo! I can't wait to transplant my olive and mulberry trees--maybe the pachyderm poop will plump the harvest. Who knew what the city sanitation department could do?
However, the big takeaway for the day was yet another reminder of why I so dislike attending workshops and seminars with the general public. People aren't all terribly sharp. There are people(like bloggers I suppose) who like to hear themselves talk. People, there is such a thing as a stupid question! It's that question about the thing the instructor just addressed, but which you missed since you were too busy on the cell phone, or because you were chatting to your seat mate, or because you showed up thirty minutes late. I suppose I should give people credit for coming to get free "zoo-do" compost and and appearing to want to do something good for their little patch of planet!

N.O.W.?

There comes a time in every woman's life when she has offspring on her mind, so every month she has to think about NOW or, no ovulation wasted. Unless you are a sweaty teen aged couple writhing in the back of a pimped-up SUV on Mulholland Drive, getting pregnant is a bloody lot of hard work. By the time you get to a certain age, the age at which you should have enough sense to not be writhing in the back of an SUV, you'll wish you had been a teen aged fool with shiny, teen aged fresh eggs. When recreation turns into procreation, it's all business and face it, only one person has to really enjoy it!
I think going the clinical route may not be a bad idea. I like the clean, shiny futuristic feel of it all. Extract, inject, insert, implant. Tidy. Neat. Efficient. Practical. Not at all like that goal-oriented intercourse which probably feels just like it sounds. Yuck! Sure, you can try to put lipstick on that pig with some smooth jazz and candlelight, but it just ain't the back of that steamed up SUV on Mulholland.