Me: Back better yesterday. More food failure for dinner.
G: Suggested we eat out after dinner smelled bad. It did. We ate a heavily chocolated desert.
Work: Padre’s 2008 Schedule. We only have to work 77 out of 84 games this year. Wow.
- ”Am I going nuts?”
G paused. “Weren’t you always a little nuts? Does it matter?”
There are these long silences now between paragraphs. When we talk, we put our heads right up to his ears and yell our answers.
We told him about his ears. Told him that he is getting five treatments on his ears. Something is getting done.
“Should I remember this?”
“No.” What a sad answer. He won’t remember anyway.
We thought we had him safely parked in the dining room and were starting our way out when there he was again. Whistling to catch our attention. Rolling down the hall to catch us.
“I didn’t know you could whistle,” I asked him.
“I didn’t know either,” he replied then turned to G. “Is there something important I need to remember?”
“Nope, just go back and eat your dinner.”
“You are so kind,” he said turning back to say it again before slowly going down the hall to the dining room. We watched him go.
“How can he know we are kind?” I asked G.
- Woke in night to power supply alarm sounding, this morning I’m unable to get online. I know how to use computer programs, but the hardware speaks twenty foreign languages at me. Yes, reset power supply, router, modem, and computer twice. My computer is up and running. Called G; G calls back. Empirically, my computer talks with the other computers, so it is the modem that died not the router. Progress….I suppose. Frye’s tonight after a Duck Visit. I’m walking and scanning my way into an online day.
- Note from CPA:
1. How much did you pay for DMV fees in 2007?
2. How much did you pay for long term care premiums?
3. Did you receive a distribution from Americorp-Prudential?
If so, please provide the 1099-R.
Imagine my pleasure to discover most of these questions could be answered from my seat in front of the computer, (last night when it was working). I turned my car and truck registrations into PDF documents and sent them via email. I also emailed him the sum of my medical premiums then emailed my money man the question about distribution. Truly the lazy woman’s solution to taxes….send it off in an email, when you can get online. Let us hope that I can get back online in time to reply to any queries from the tax man or money man this Friday afternoon.
- ”How do I look?”
Marion B answered, “Middle class.” I laughed.
“Good.” That’s just the image I wanted to portray. Solid. Substantial, reliable, the good employee kind of look. Boring, but I wasn’t going to say that. (In baby blue turtle neck, black pants, sensible shoes, and my Queen of England black sensible purse.
It was delightful to see Tehachap looking sun touched, happy, thinner, and glowingly healthy. Her new home up north is more than she thought it would be. She finds our big city crowded now. I’ll let her tell the story.
Marion B was Marion B in the midst of complete chaos. She has no living room or kitchen and is downstairs camping out in her renter’s kitchen. We sat in the downstairs living room which looked calm and peaceful in the midst of all the construction confusions. To go with our brown bag lunches, she offered perfection by way of giant strawberries with a sauce of sour cream mixed with powdered sugar and a squeeze of lemon.
I left them early to brave traffic to the baseball field. Yes, Grumpy and I need to drive a bit more often. Yes, I found the parking lot where they said we would only pay three dollars. Then I kept going to use the one across from Palm court which cost me a dollar in the end.
More confusions. The man running the interviews had started them a week early, alfresco, and he hadn’t expected a long line before he opened the doors. There was. He had no framework, had us scribble out the days we would not work, our info, if we would work the CIF finals, what date we would train……all on a scrap of yellow paper.
“What can you bring to your job here at the ballpark?”
That was a good question. “I was shopped last year by MLB, and I was judged the best Guest Service Rep in all of MLB. Mr. A came by to shake my hand and tell me about it. Stan, the head of Guest Service, came by to congratulate me.”
He didn’t really want to listen. It was proforma. I did get a chance to tell him how hard it was for me to get home after a game now that they added an hour to my time when the bus system cut the bus hours to my house. He made notes, he cared, but he really wanted lunch and someone to help with the crowds.
- Mr. William F Buckley died. The founder of the modern conservative movement, the founder and editor of the National Review, radio and TV talk show host, and author of eight novels. I often wonder what he thought of the religious right taking “his” conservative movement. I will truly miss his writing about sailing and ocean crossings, though I always felt guilty reading these. Owning these too. I will miss his erudition in a world of simplified language and patois my ears don’t understand. As Lyndon B Johnston once said, “he was a man of his most recent word.” His words weren’t often mine.
- Only five more of the hard bound journals left to scan. The one I am doing today is the year of the big flood in Ocean Beach. Boy, do I have Pictures.