Musings from the Laundromat: nothing special edition



I’m still working on my ‘controversial’ piece – so I find myself at the laundromat with no topic today.

I have a composition notebook with pages of scribbles and thoughts, sources and notes (I will sometimes handwrite my  posts and type them out later) but have yet to complete the work.

I will confess that yesterday, with all my ‘to-do’ items staring me in the face, I ended up ‘to-do’ing nothing.  And it was delightful.

I watched the silliest thriller/horror movie – ‘The Sacrament’.  Acting was pretty good so I stuck with it, then realized 10 minutes in that it was a direct ripoff of the Jonestown events.

Even ended with the ‘Father’ (in sunglasses and with a drug habit) calling his flock to the ‘special’ punch.  *sigh*  This was after a helicopter pilot was shot and a note was passed to journalists saying ‘help us”.

How do you pass that off as an original movie?

Still, I had invested those first 10 minutes, I had to see it through.

I apply that in most all areas of my life – if I have invested time in something, I see it through.

Which means today I do the ‘to do’ items and the bath I considered giving Butters is a definite since I spilled some of my coffee on her.  In my defense, she’s known me a while and should be wary when I’m carrying ‘spillables’.

But wary she was not, and underfoot she was and so – to the tub i go after trying not to emit ‘bath time’ vibes and hauling her 70 pound wriggling manatee body into the bathroom.

I’ll set a timer for my chores – because I plan to be horizontal a lot today too – don’t want to get too carried away (like Butters will be in a few minutes).


Whorls in the wood and the stupid curtains

I was feeling a little melancholy.

I awoke with lots to do – but after a night of tossing and turning and dreaming of old love and new love – cats and snakes – I decided to ease gently into the day with coffee, breakfast  and a movie in bed.

The movie was ‘One Day’ a sweet romantic drama about a long-awaited love coming to fruition.  Their story took years – but having waited 17 months to be in my love’s arms – I related on an emotional level.

I was still in my pajamas – went outside to sip my coffeebefore the desert sun claimed that side of the house, and looked down at the deck.


I imagined myself in France or Italy, some small provincial town.  On a little patio, with coffee in hand – perhaps the aroma of  herbs and flowers drifting past me in a light breeze.

I imagined grass and gardens and quaint countryside.

I imagined going back inside and seeing my little home – a window seat next to piles of books.  Mismatched colorful pillows and copious amounts of fragrant candles, a tea kettle on the stove and a lazy cat sunning itself  on a comfortable chair.  Classical music filling every room as I padded bare foot with my coffee back to the bedroom.

I snapped back to reality when sirens sounded in the distance – had my usual ‘I hope no one is too badly hurt’ thought then returned to the whorls in the wood.

I could be sitting on any deck if I set my mind to it.  This was the thought I carried inside clutching my coffee – as I padded bare foot past my reality.

Herbs are present – in planters that take up the whole of my dining room table.  The rest of my home … well – it’s a rental and I think of it as a sufficient ‘shell’.

Nothing about it says ‘me’ except – inside, there has been so much love and so much laughter with my son.

This shell has seen me become humble and grateful.

Soon my love will be stepping through the very door I daydreamed through.

I’m anxious about the interior’s appearance.

My list of things to do consists of, once again, preparing the superficial to a degree of a satisfactory first impression.

An impossible task considering what i have to work with.

I hung new curtains in my bedroom and hated them.  I told him so.

His response:

“If you hate them, why do you use them?  OMG – ladies.   I will have you, not your curtains”

It made me laugh.

And of course he’s right.  And I’m wise enough to know the material things don’t matter, but I care about the shell being tidy and welcoming.

The curtains are lovely, but I refer to them as ‘the stupid curtains’ – mostly because they represent the silly need I feel to have objects make an impression.

As we skyped, and laughed today – while my very real dog barked from my comfortable sofa, I knew once we were looking at that deck – that whorl – together – nothing else would matter.

Especially not the stupid curtains.


Musings from the Laundromat: Facebook Food

I could have sworn Monday was the 30th – so when I spotted gummy eyeballs in a store I had to have them.  (This  is going somewhere.)  I figured I would  put my little pumpkin/ghost bowl out a few days early in anticipation of October.  I love October!  By Halloween we desert residents find  the need for a light cardigan at night and sometimes even long pants!   My favorite Seasons in the  desert are Autumn and Winter.

So out came the bowl -



Dark, I know – but he likes it that way.   We all know I have a fondness for gummy eyeballs – I’m reminded of this photo – can’t recall the post.


It wasn’t until Saturday that I realized I was ahead of myself by more than a few days … as my son pointed out ‘Now our house is like Wal-Mart’ – Not true! ! I have no Christmas decorations up yet!

Funny thing is,  I awoke to being tagged in this photo on my Facebook account by a friend – they know me – they really do.


Saturday was also Facebook food day.

Ever see a recipe someone posts on their wall and think – ‘hmmm, that looks good, I should try that’ and then never do?  Yeah, me too.

Saturday however, I made these.


I actually pulled it off!  If you’re one of those people that makes a hot meal in the morning for your family (i am not one of those people) then I’m giving this two thumbs up and recommending you try it.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees – pop a slice of ham in a muffin pan – crack an egg right into the ‘ham cup’ add whatever tidbits please you – I just used red onion, sharp cheddar, salt and pepper.  then cook for 15 minutes.  Ta-da!

I was dubious about how the egg would end up being cooked, so I scrambled a couple.  I prefered the whole egg ones.  I’d describe them as over medium.  SO good.

Then it was off to my moms for lunch.  She had lured me in with promises of hors d’oeuvres, smoked salmon and goat cheese salad AND dessert.  Not much gets me out of the house on a Saturday – but seeing my mom, eating and getting to watch a movie she recorded and said was hilarious had me heading out the door.

The salad was … EXQUISITE!  Everything complimented everything else on the plate, it was hard not to get a perfect bite on every forkful.


Then dessert.

Heres another Facebook recipe that had shown up.  Turned out to be a lovely memory for my mom and I, as she would make baked apples when I was little.

Also, it was fun playing with the little pastry cage.  She put hers on her  dog’s head and I imitated Hannibal Lecter by putting mine over my mouth.  Yes, playing with your food is acceptable.


I was stuffed.


Oh and the movie?  ‘Big Ass Spider’  which WAS hilarious thanks to Jose the Security guy and the protagonist the Bug guy.

Mostly because of Jose.  He delivered lines that literally had me laughing out loud for all the right reasons – considering it was a SyFy movie.  You know what I mean – Sharknado is fun to watch, but none of us watched it for the acting.

The scene in the morgue had me in stitches – no pun intended.


So make a Facebook food – watch Big Ass Spider and put out your Halloween knick knacks if you want to!  Life is short!  In the meantime, I’m working on a controversial piece that is requiring lots of research – so the musings will be a little more serious next weekend.

‘Til then!


“I’m Bear Grylls Bitch!” – or – ‘The night the pipe burst’

It already sucks getting older and not sleeping through the night … if I’m not having to get up to pee – I’m having to let my manatee outside or just randomly waking up for no apparent reason at all.

Friday morning began beautifully.  There was weekend excitement, a clear sky – and the scent of rain in the air!

I posted this.  (Of course, because if I’m not photographing the mundane, I’m typing about it)



Well, it hasn’t rained yet – but I did get my share of water that night.

I was tired – turned off the TV about 9:30 pm and awoke an hour later.

Let the dog out, shuffled to the bathroom – went to flush – no flush.  Took the top off of the tank and wiggled the little part you wiggle to fill the tank with water and then shuffled off to let the dog back in.

There was a strange sound … a very loud sound in the darkness.

I wondered if someone had their automatic sprinkler system set for 10:30 – odd.

Went back in the house and heard more loud noises – coming from my bedroom and bathroom.

Coming up from behind my toilet was water.  A lot of water.  I grabbed the closest towel, which happened to be a Pokemon towel from my sons past.  Pikachu (an electric type Pokemon) dangerously thrown to the watery ground.

Now I’m fully awake.  And after throwing flip-flops on I grabbed in the dark for a flashlight.  (Note to self: Buy a flashlight)

I did come up with a small miners light – which I refused to wear on my head, so I carried it outside.

The corner of my house was leaking.  When I say leaking, I mean, a mad rush of pressurized water was pouring out from under it – and down the siding from underneath my bathroom/bedroom area.

Now I’m no helpless maiden – I knew I had to turn the water off.  There was a pipe with a lever right next to the flood … I put it in the ‘off’ position.  Nothing.  I trekked over to another set of pipes and flipped that to the ‘off’ position.  Water subsided then stopped.

I learned the next day from the plumber that my first attempt turned the gas off.  Good to know, good to know …

They look-alike to me!



I went inside and called my landlady’s cell phone – letting her know what happened.  She said she would call a plumber.

Now – at 10:30 at night, I’m normally not in the market for water.  But isn’t it odd when you suddenly don’t have something you take for granted, you suddenly MUST have it.

I wanted to brush my teeth before going back to sleep. (I’m pretty obsessive about brushing my teeth – I go a little overboard)

I was relieved to find a small bottle in the fridge.

This was to be my ration – and I sparingly used some to brush my teeth and wash my hands.

Morning came and I had a little bottled water bird bath and then posted this:


That’s how I felt.

Situation dire.  I had planned to clean like crazy – and here I was – merely surviving on my precious depleting bottle of water.

The plumber came pretty early.

He took a look in my bathroom – then outside – then advised me it was an easy fix.  The tube thingy connecting the toilet to the pipe under the house had broken off.

Fun part was getting to be the one turning the water back on when he was laying on his back with his legs sticking out under the house.

“Okay!  You can turn it off now!”  I didn’t dally – I’m not sadistic.  But it was satisfying that someone could see that I was not exaggerating about the amount of water that blasted out the night before.

He was soaked.

It seriously had sounded like someone was power washing the outside of the house – THAT loud.

Here’s the damage it did, after the brief time it was on when he was underneath:


The floor of the bathroom was a little paddling pool – under the house was dripping, and the strength of the spray had dislodged insulation and whatever that mesh stuff is.

Water back on, plumber thanked – I went about my normal routine.

And now – should I have a gas leak, I’ll know just where to turn that off.  Although, once it’s off and I’m without gas, I’ll probably suddenly want to bake something.




Musings from the Laundromat: Pigeon edition



I do!  I do!  Before the new company opened, one of the owners and I shared a sparse room with quite a view – it was our temporary space to transition and get the new venture up and running.

It had a huge window,  and outside, was a nest.

The owner of the building had gone to great lengths to install pigeon spikes.  A deterrent that did not deter what first was a roadrunner, who had no success breeding up there – to a pigeon who did.

I watched that little guy grow a little more each day until he was practicing ‘flapping’ on the edge of the column and then one day he had left the nest

Why don’t you see them?  Because they don’t leave the nest until they’re full-grown!  The mom was still feeding her squab when he looked bigger than her – although, he still had a little tuft of yellow baby hair on his head.

Here’s a picture I didn’t take of a baby pigeon:



Fast forward.

Okay,  so we’re in our new digs now – and everything is up and running.  The suite we vacated next door was being cleaned and prepped for new leasing.  I caught wind of the fact that the complex owners right hand man had orders to demolish the nest.

I managed to snag him for a quick chat.  “What if there is a baby up there?  She’s sitting on something again!”  The answer was distressing – it would be, um, ended.

Now, considering I took and shared those photos of the roadrunner feasting on a small bird not so many posts ago, you might think it strange that I was so bothered by this news.

That bird had no chance, already caught and nature was in session.

Deliberately climbing a ladder to kill a bird is another story  altogether.

I pleaded to no avail.

A week later I saw this and my heart sunk:


My assumption was that they dislodged the egg.  Although, it was empty.  Which,  i didn’t notice at the time.

Another week and I see a ladder by the column.  A cleaning lady was outside – I ventured out to inspect the nest.

A baby!  The egg must have been discarded by the bird, not the right hand man.

I vented in the office – until someone came outside with me to plead my case once more.

She mentioned moving it – not killing it – but you can’t do that.  It takes the mother pigeon quite a while to recognize her baby by anything other than where she last left it.  This is true.  Move it, she won’t smell it or hear it – she’ll just think ‘where the hell did it go?  I know I left it here!’

I promised to clean the pavement until the baby could leave the nest – then remove the branches.

She was all for it – I  just hope the right hand man agrees.



Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 282 other followers