An August Evening on Waldron Street

A view from my end of Waldron Street

Last night was National Night Out in my neighborhood – nice excuse for a potluck and chatty gathering. While last year’s event was dang near intimate; just the neighbors on my street; Waldron. This year the event covered the entire neighborhood, although if you look at the photo above, the event was still small.

So with my Indonesian Cold Rice Salad in hand, I trooped the half block to the Pot Luck gathering. I only recognized two of my neighbors; Bill, who arranged the whole event, and Mark who lives next door. This year there was no safetly talk by the local sheriff’s crew, but there were reps of the local fire department, who gave tours of their big, shiny red, fire engine. I didn't know that 8 out 10 calls the fire department get, via 911, are for health emergencies – you know the sort - grandad’s having a stroke. The whole fire crew is trained and they carry an EKG machine, heart paddles to jump-start the faulty tickers and even oxygen-to-go.

The Fire Truck; always at the ready to save Gramps
Loads of knobs and shiny buttons to hit

The neighborhood kids got to make a mess – note homie in his bad*** Potter T-shirt

My new favorite neighbor – 9 years old, Thor the Italian Mastiff

The last event of the evening was a free raffle, and in keeping with my recent string of luck, I won a prize – a Jama-Juice Card. Hurrah! I get to try a charged-up Jamba Juice, heavy on the wheatgrass.

For Whom the State Sucks...

The Governator strikes yet-again - at 11:00 today he signed a bill to screw State Workers as punishment for our having - uh... well, actually I have no idea what we have done to deserve this. You see, the State legislature is tardy in passing the State budget for the new year fiscal year - an annual occurrence. To make up the naughty lawmakers, I and all my fellow State workers will have our pay cut to Federal minimum wage level until the legislature 'makes nice' and passes the annual State budget. No worries; my credit union will cover our arses as it has done in the pass when the State toys with its workers lives.

So... what to worry about...? Aha! How about August? Last night I got a letter from my credit union; my State paycheck was not deposited in my checking account as it ought to have been yesterday. You see my credit union has my initials down as 'C' but the State has my initials down as 'NC'.

*GULP*

Mind, if a chimpanzee, with a copy of my drivers license - in crayon - swung into the State Controller's office to demand my paycheck, I strongly suspect there would a happy chimp, having the time of its life at Disneyland on my dime. But put my paycheck into my account, when the only thing different is ONE freakn' initial? Hell no.

Alas. A few months ago, I visited my safe deposit box at the credit union. There was a minor quibble that the name on my safe deposit box doesn't match my driver's licence. I told them to just drop my unused first name. Voila! The problem disappeared. Well, Voila again, the problem has reappeared and has brought reinforcements. Who knew a 'minor change' would, two months later lead to the State's sudden decision that all other things being the same, Norma Claire M. and Claire M. are 2 different people.

So now I have to spend tomorrow scrambling to get $$ into my account before my automatic mortgage deduction, utilities, and everything else I have on automatic payment, hits my account. The fun starts on Monday when my mortgage comes due.

Funny - I bought barrels for my garden, now it seems, if I can't get the State Controller's Office to see reason, I may wind up needing the things for day wear.

Uh... pardon me... does this barrel make my arse look fat?

[Management is happy to report, that on checking with the State Controller's Office, and after going on line to see for one's self, Ms. Claire's cash is where it belongs -in the #$&% bank. An unsettling question remains of why the EFF the letter, that began this Tempest in a Teapot, was mailed to Claire in the first place.

Hearty thanks to the head of the Payroll at the Controller's office, Ms. R., without whom by now Ms. Claire would have torn out the remaining vestigial bits of her hair.]

My Other Potter Obsession

I have distinct memories of when I was in first grade or so, of the closet of the narrow front hall our Bronx home. The closet had no door, only a drapery curtain, the same as every other closet in our 2 bedroom flat. But in the closet on a top shelf where I couldn't reach, and when I was a very good girl, my mother would climb up there to fetch my reward; The Tale of Peter Rabbit.

I loved the story, not just because getting to read it was a humongous sort of kid reward, but because Peter was a naughty rabbit and I was fascinated by the final lines of the tail... I mean, tale... which take place after Peter was so bad that he lost his shoes and jacket in Mr McGregor's garden.

"I am sorry to say that Peter was not very well during the evening. His mother put him to bed and made some camomile tea; and she gave a dose of it to Peter! "One teaspoonful to be taken at bedtime." But--Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottontail had bread and milk and blackberries for supper."

To this day, if you want to get on my good side, read a few lines from The Tale of Peter Rabbit, or maybe just offer me bread, milk and blackberries for supper.

I have GOT to bake some blueberry bread pudding...