At The End of a Rope

It's true - we only hurt the ones we love. But I feel truly like my life is a soap opera. Hate to be a drama queen but I'm at the end of my rope.

I haven't been able to shake this sore throat, I'm stressed about the internship starting in 11 days, have a home filled with anger management issues and wish more than anything I was a member of the Brady Bunch.

I've learned long ago to discount it when people appear happy. One never knows what lives behind the facade. So jealously is not my issue. But couldn't I have a moment when we could all get along?

I look around the world and realize, I have no problems. The only problem is, everybody's got problems.

Sigh!

Dreaming of Riches

I know it's a bad idea to spend the money you've earned before you actually get it, but I can't help myself. I worked at the homeless shelter this summer and was promised a check this past week. What I got in the mail was a request to fill out a W-9 form for income taxes.

Oh boy,am I disappointed! I mean, I could have filled that thing out when I filled out the other paperwork that allowed me to work there. So now I'm mad, grumpy, hungry, and pissed all at once.

Of course, I could take the high road and say it's all part of the plan G-d has for me. That, and a little piece of chocolate is gonna go a long way!

Wish They All Could Be Californians

People who aren't from California look upon those of us who are as different. And we are. In a really good way.

I came to realize that today when I was talking to a dear friend over a plate of Israeli salads at the local kosher hole-in-the-wall. She told me about what happened to her in Israel, as an Israeli, trying to get married to another Israeli. Kinda scary and pathetic.

No only was the Rabbinate secretary not helpful, but she was downright mean-spirited. Instead of helping my friend, she tried to drive her away, until my friend, with one week to go before the planned wedding, was reduced to tears and started really bawling.

We began our conversation about the topic of confrontation, and how in Israel, confrontation is how people communicate. Which really puts Los Angelenos at a disadvantage because we say we're sorry when we're being mugged. For the most part, we thrive on courtesy here.

I told my friend about my trip to New York in 2002 to visit my boys in an upstate camp. Oh my gosh, people were so rude. I don't mean the people walking around, I mean the people who work in the public sector. Frankly, after that visit, I came to the conclusion the Trade Center was destroyed not because the Jihadis hate America, but because they hate New Yorkers.

The truth is, Californians are different than most other people. They are more service oriented, aim to help out. We're a good bunch. Yep, I wish the world could all be Californians.

Oh Happy Day?

I hate to be over dramatic, but today really was too much. To paraphrase someone else, it was always something.

It started out well enough. I went to Kaiser to do my lab work in advance of a physical exam on Thursday. Came home, ate breakfast, showered, and took my eldest to school to settle the tuition bill. We stopped off at the Metro office to renew my bus pass, but the line was unbelievable and if we stayed, he'd miss class.

We went to his school instead, a wise choice, since we settled the bill and my son got to class on time. I decided to try the Metro office again, in the hopes of getting the renewal. After all, the day was young and I had time to spare.

OMGosh, the line was twice as long and only one clerk was working. It took 45 minutes for me to move 20 feet - I knew it would take another hour and a half to get to that window. I called my Congresswoman's office for some intervention, but her staff said no. This is a county issue, and she's federal. I gave up, threw in the towel, wished my fellow line standers good luck. We're talking high school kids and a young girl on disability.

I walked out of there pretty upset. Got home, ate lunch, called my city councilman's office, whose staff promised to call the Metro main office, but they too, told me this is a county issue. I called my county representative, who's staff really got bothered by what I told him and also promised to call the Metro office.

But that's not all. My youngest son came home from school with his hand still swollen from a bee sting the other day; my middle son MADE me take him shopping after dinner for pants, and there's algae growing in the water cooler, the only source of cold water in the house. Add to that my lab results for my fasting glucose test is borderline pre-diabetes. Oy vey.

Other than all that, I can't complain.

Taking A Hike

I've been sitting around a lot lately, working on several projects that require computer time.  I have a tall computer stand where I can stand up, but for these projects, I need to think things through, and sitting is the best way for me.

Since today is an American holiday, I decided to take a hike.  Not in the hills, or the valleys, but to the store.  Not just any store.  Target.

The closest one to me is about 6 blocks away.  I know - my life is a real struggle.  But for that, I took my umbrella and a purse backpack.  There were a fair number of people on the street walking around, and it felt good to be out.  And it felt good to shop.

Took my sweet time about it too, knowing that I couldn't really get very much because I was going to have to carry it home.  In the end, it wasn't the accumulation of stuff, just the getting out and walking that counted.

Topped it off with a quick trip to the 99 cent store.  Picked up just a few odds and ends I've been meaning to get and finished the rest of the walk in peace and quiet.  I am one happy lady right now.  Obviously, sitting down at my computer, once again.

Postscript from Costco

When my father died somewhat unexpectedly about 10 years ago, my siblings and I were very grieved.  And then I started to notice something weird.  Everywhere I went, I saw someone who looked like my Dad.  I mean same baseball cap, jacket, jeans, glasses, gray hair.  On a few occasions I had to stop myself at the last minute from actually going up to the stranger and talking to him.

When I told my sister, she confirmed that this was happening to her as well.  We figured it was Dad's way of saying that he was alright and we shouldn't be sad anymore.  It hasn't happened in a long time.  Except for the few hours I was at Costco.

There he was - a man who looked just like my Dad.  And even more creepier, he kept staring at me.  Everywhere I went, I would see him inside the store, and we're talking about a big store.  I wonder what the message is this time?

Take Me Home

I stopped by the homeless shelter on Thursday to wrap up my 10 weeks of employment there and to say goodbye.  It was a labor of love but very work intensive. I don't have the time, or the brain matter to go anymore because I need to concentrate on other projects.

One of the things I love about the shelter is that it's right next door to Costco.  I've never been to Costco on my own, you see, and when I tried to get my husband to go with me this time, he told me to take my own card and go by myself.  Think mother bird pushing her baby out of the nest.  Think Nana out of control at the happiest place on earth.

For once I finally understood my husband - in terms of why he likes to fly solo at Costco.  It's a much more intense experience on all the senses - sight, hearing, taste, touch and smell.  I just love it.  Walked up and down each aisle, thing how many calories I was burning and how much good stuff I need to figure out to fit in my house.

I went there for two things, left with about 20, which is about right.  While it's not the kind of store you can visit every day, I know I'll be back.  Thank you G-d, for giving someone else the wisdom to make that store, and me the ability to buy stuff.