Reminded me of Beetlejuice

It's a common thing I do all the time - sit back and people watch. No matter if I am at the mall, the doctor's office or in a public place like at a baseball game or at a concert, it's just part of my 'norm' to sit back and observe human conversation and actions. I'm not trying to be rude or anything and I don't stare. I just casually observe. Many times it's the watching that gives me good stories, laughs later in the car and even, material for my blog.

My latest escapade takes me into a local medical lab on a Friday morning with my daughter to get some blood work done for her cheer physical. When we arrived at 9:30am, I was hoping perhaps we were there on a day and at a time when we would miss having to wait behind a million others just for her vein to spit a little blood into a vile and for her to piss in a cup. After all, how long can that really take, right?

To my horror, the waiting room was absolutely packed with people and there was not a chair available to sit in. After a few minutes of walking around outside, two chairs next to each other opened up and we proceeded to sit down. Little did I know that the people around me would lead me to feel many emotions in my time observing - laughter, sadness, wonder and frustration to say the least.

Well we ended up being in there for an hour and half and in that time, I watched. I watched because what else is there to do in an hour and a half in a waiting room with other people in chairs surrounding me. At a certain point in time, I realized that this particular day reminded me of an episode of the Twilight Zone.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized a better description would have been that it reminded me of the waiting room scene from the movie Beetlejuice. You remember, that strange cast of characters? The lady he was feeling up that was cut in half and slapped him? The native Shaman sitting on the couch with the shrunken head dude? And how can you forget Miss Argentina, the red headed hotty waiting to guide you towards your final destination? Yeppers. A strange cast in deed, all right there in front of me in that waiting room.

Allie was actually the first to notice it. She pointed out to me (whispering in my ear) that the kid in front of her was wearing handcuffs and shackles. And yes he was. Justin Bieber himself sporting his shiny bracelets and his 300lb big black bodyguard escorting him (or in this case, his parole officer). I swear this kid looked like he could not even grow hair on his face yet and looked too clean to have even done something so terrible as to be in such a situation. And he had the Bieber haircut which made it even weirder.

Then there was the old man with one leg. I'm not talking about one leg and a stump, I am talking about one leg and no stump, cut off all the way at the hip. That poor guy had those short crutches and could barely get in and out of his chair. This made me wonder why he was not at least in a cheap wheelchair or something. How come he was having to suffer getting in and out of chairs like this, with no aide to help him nor a relative or nurse to escort him. This was simply sad.

There was also a big 330lb man (he made sure to tell me this) and his wife sitting next to us. He attempted to talk my ear off, grey tooth in the front and all. This man mumbled like he was drunk and I could barely understand most of what he was saying to me and at times, none of it. He was probably the only reason I had a small laugh internally while we were there. I had to snicker when he was at the counter as his shirt proudly exclaimed "By the time you are done reading this I will have farted". Ah the joy of those terrible t-shirts. Gotta love em.

There were also only about 20 chairs in the waiting room for people to sit. At one point, Allie stepped outside to answer her phone as there were no cell phones or camera's allowed in the office, to my dismay or you would have had candid photos of my observations, secretly taken of course. I know, that's rude of me. But I like photographing things that interest and entertain me and obviously these people did just that or I would not be writing about them here now.

Any way, Allie's leaving for a moment seemed to signal to some Mexican lady that it was okay for one of her 3 kids to swoop in and steal Allie's chair. And so she told them to grab it. I promptly let her know the seat was taken and that it was my daughters, which she told them in turn so that they could move when Allie returned. I suggested that they actually take up another seat across from her on the other side that had just opened up, trying to be at least a little helpful to her. But the truth is that there were two Mexican women there with 3 kids each and when I sat back and thought about it, it sort of made me mad. Really? You have to come down here for yourself or perhaps one of the children but you have to drag them all along with you? And out of allll the family members you must have being Mexican and all, you can not have some one watch the rest of them for a few hours while you take care of business? These two would rather take up 8 of the 20 measly chairs then to be courteous and leave the majority of the burrito at home. It blows me away. Who the heck would want to drag 3 or 4 kids along with them anyway if they did not have too, especially to a doctors office?

Lastly, a young white lady came in with 3 other ladies and took up another 4 chairs that had just opened up. In over hearing their conversations, I take it she was some kind of bus driver driving them around to their appointments as she mentioned dropping one of them off at the YMCA. I sort of thought the same thing about this arrangement - you can't just drop the one off having tests run and then come back for her? You gotta come in and take up 4 chairs for an hour plus? Why could she have not dropped them off at the Y before coming to the appointment?

Any way, these ladies proceeded to gibber about lots of stuff and ended up talking about making beaded necklaces and things as a hobby. One of them mentioned that one of the other ones had just made her bracelet and anklet that she was wearing and she proceeded to show it off. Someone suggested that they all do it together and one even asked if the others were interested in learning. Then the 3rd Indian lady spoke up (there may have been something wrong with her, but it did not seem so) and as if she was willing to share, said "I have beads and string in my room". That would have been fine, but then it started to sound like a broken record "I have string in my room. I have string in my room. I have string in my room." By this time  it was going on the hour and a half of me sitting here and I had no patience left. I just wished some one would acknowledge her so that she would shut the fuck up already.  I wanted to take the damn string in her room and strangle her with it.

By this time, I had just about had it, so I told Allie I was going to step out and smoke a cig for a minute. Thank goodness, when I returned, Allie was gone and I only had to wait a few minutes for her to get out and for us to be able to leave. All I know is this - I left this place wondering what the hell had just happened. I had never been in such a weird environment at a doctor's office or lab before and this was just an overall weird experience for me, one that I care never, ever to repeat.

I know there will be many more days ahead of me where I will people watch but I hope to never again have the weirdness of that day.  Give me the people of Wal-Mart any day, at least I could take photos of that. But please, keep the Beetlejuice characters in the movies and out of any place that I might frequent.

Until next time :)

The love of a house

Over the years I guess I have come to realize one thing – I will never own my own home nor much of anything else that has not been previously used by someone else, in another time during another era. I am a lifer - a life time renter and scavenger of other people's used 'junk'. I enjoy living in a gently used home that I have furnished with used things. Things that at one time, were loved by other families and have history behind them.

This is not a sad thing for me, I see it as a great thing. I love being a renter because I love being able to call my landlord to fix things when they need fixin and it not cost me a dime. I love not having to pay for pest control, plumbers, a broken air conditioning and leaky faucets. I love the fact that at any time, I can get up and move to another house if I so choose. To a new floor plan, in a new area of town or in a new state if I so choose.

The house we currently live in is older. It was built in 1975. But it has given me a lifetime of memories to remember it by when we leave. When we first moved in, it had a dirt yard in front, one that I thought would never grow grass. But I watered that dirt and it grew. I took the rock planter and dug out the rock, restoring it to it's previous purpose of holding rose bushes and plants instead of rock. I have little planter boxes under each window out front, on top of broken wood platforms that probably use to hold more elaborate planters. But that's okay: I have made it my own using what was available at the time and that's just fine by me.

We have also filled this old house with various pieces of used furniture and knick knacks from many different places. Our living room is not fashionable and immaculate, but comfortable and lived in. Our sofa we bought off of my sister and hauled it back from California. Our oak entertainments center was my dad's back in the 80's. I spent many years dusting those shelves and still do to this day. Our coffee table, one we got from Willie's Mom & Pop in California. One side of it opens up for storage (I store comforters for guests in here) and has lots of little drawers on one side of it. Useful still and made of good wood, I felt that it was not done with it's life as of yet and Mama brought it out to us last year. When we refinish it, I am sure it will restore it to it's previous glory days and serve it's purpose for many years to come.

Our TV came from our friend Greggy, who is wasteful and one of those who just has to have the latest and greatest and just had to have an "HD TV". He has a TV in every room, including the bathroom, which to me is simply overkill. Our kitchen table and oak roll top desk were hand me downs from my dad. The kitchen table was years old and turns into a nice poker table, but was not even gently used by my dad; it was literally brand new. The roll top desk, well that thing is going to be a family heirloom passed down to my girls. One of them has wanted to haul it away, but I am not ready to give it up quite yet.

The antique china cabinet came from my mom. That was a piece left behind in the home she currently lives in and one I filled with a whole set of 1950's China, not one piece broken or missing used just ONCE, that I got handed down to me from our friend Greg's mom. She was going to take it to the Goodwill.

Our bed, dresser, armoire, bookshelves, computer, printers, deep freezer, bar stools, washer and dryer, outside storage cabinet, BBQ, filing cabinets, bird cages, even the chairs that were just put into Allie's newly re-decorated room, our swimming pool and my beloved goddess rain lamp and smoking cowboy painting - all things that came from others and mostly deemed 'junk'. Now it's my junk and still providing some one with many more years of life.

And I love it. I am proud of my old rental house and all of my 'junk'. I love the fact that I don't have to live in a fancy neighborhood that has an HOA and that I don't make payments on a new couch. I am proud that my refrigerator does not have a water system in the front of it nor an ice maker and that my kitchen does not have all stainless steel appliances. I love the fact that I see the life still left in these old things and the fact that I have saved them from the dump before their time to go there. I love the fact that I don't have to be as wasteful as others and don't feel the need to have 'the latest and greatest'. I love the fact that I know (if no one else does) that a 'home' is not one in which you have prized furniture that cost a fortune and that does not get used. A couch that butts don't sit on and that the dog is not allowed to jump up on. Nope, not for me. 

The love of a house is simple - it's a place to come home too where you can be comfortable and things get used. Somewhere that I can kick back, put my beer on the table without a coaster if I want to and let my dogs come sit next to me on the couch. No formalities here. I love my old house, filled with all my junk, surrounded by those I love. That is the love of MY house and I am proud.

Peace, love and happiness!

And yet, another blog

Hello! I just wanted to let you all know that while I am excited about getting back to my blogging, perhaps I am a little too excited. I have begun yet another blog and plan on starting a 3rd one soon. Both based on particular subjects that I am fascinated with - ghosts and living sustainably.

Below is the link to my newly created 'ghosty' blog. You will need to start at the oldest post and read up to get the full history behind why I have decided to start up yet another blog site. But there are only three posts so far so get going! Please join me on my ghost adventures! Don't forget to click follow. I would love to hear your comments, suggestions and for you to share your ghost stories with me!

http://thehouseonplataavenue.blogspot.com/

The Great Outdoors

Logan & Will rock hunting

Ah, the joys I get from camping. From being in the great outdoors, fishing, swimming and loving nature as it should be - desolate and quiet, just the hum of the bugs and the songs of the crickets and birds to keep me company. I love sitting around a campfire at night, looking at the stars while drinking a cold one. Watching the sun come up in the morning and the fish jumping out of the water in the lake. I love to hear the blast of a good jet boat as their out for their first morning ski. I love looking amongst the driftwood for unusual pieces and rock hunting with my awesome hubby Will.

I truly believe that you grow up to take on certain traits of your parents. Things they would do and that they would expose you too, you tend to like. My parents raised me camping. In the dirt, in a tent, around the boats, skiing, riding motorcycles. And somewhere along that road, I became a dirt girl. I can camp for 5 days straight taking a bath in a stream and eating sandy potato chips and be okay with that. I don't need an outlet to plug in my blow dryer or curling iron and I don't need makeup on my face. I'll take the sun kissed cheeks over applying makeup any day of the week. Bottom line is, I was never a hotel girl. I could live in the wide open and actually ENJOY it without having all of the modern conveniences that many girls require.

I write about this now because it has been a long, long while since we went camping. Perhaps even 2 years now. I think we quit camping locally because we are getting a bit older, and as such, just really started hating the whole sleeping bag on the ground thing. Our old backs can't handle the dirt and rocks anymore.

The Vantastic

Recently though, we bought a van. The Vantastic to be exact. A vehicle that would allow us to throw a cooler and some pillows in the back and get out into those wide open spaces once again, without having to kill ourselves to do it. And boy let me tell you, that van is quickly becoming a much loved item in our family. What better way to travel? We have a bed, a mini fridge, a TV and VCR...some of the little comforts of home while being able to dip out of the concrete jungle for a few days.

Lake Pleasant

Our first trip out was the weekend we bought the van. We decided to try it out and took our neighborhood punk, Logan, with us. We just went for a quick over nighter to Lake Pleasant, AZ. Well, we had a few hang ups to say the least. It was still a bit 'wintery' for camping, so we froze. Had to start the van up and run it with the heater on throughout the night just to keep from freezing. My husband was uncomfortable and ended up sleeping in one of the bucket seats. We did not sleep well at all. Someone accidentally turned the fridge from "cold" to "hot", so our soda's were frying. And we caught no fish. Not one single bite. Not the best return trip we could have taken, but hey, the kinks had to be worked out you know.

Bartlett Lake

This past weekend, we decided to try again with another over night trip to Bartlett Lake this time. It's a little bit warmer and has actually been real beautiful out for Arizona this time of year. This time we took our friend Jeff with us and met up with our friend Flint and his girl Lulu.

Now Bartlett is a better lake and actually, Will had never been there so it made for a better trip right from the start. Will was a happy camper this trip, which made all the difference in the world. He slept well in the Vantastic and woke up in a great mood (must have been the beer) and we were surrounded by good friends, lots of food and a lake full of water and fish. Could we get it any better?

Flint & one of his "big" catches

We fished for bait fish the night before and even thought the morning was not what we expected (to catch the BIG one of course, at least we caught SOMETHING this trip. Fact is, we all caught fish and that was a plus. Small yes, but not a lost cause like the last trip.

We swam and had an awesome dinner and breakfast and just enjoyed being  in the wide open once again. And overall, the most important goal we had was met - we RELAXED with friends and had a fun time.

So I guess we're back "on" now. It's that time of year again. Time to start taking many, many camping trips like we did before we got 'old'. Just to get out of town, away from the noise, the traffic, the concrete...the people...it's wonderful.

Maybe city life is not for me as much as I think it is. I grew up in LA, yet hate big cities. I'm fine with no TV, no radio and no phones. Maybe at some point I will find that I need to live out in those wide open spaces. Nope. There's nothing quite like i.

Until next time :)