Hair cuts and mystery lollipops!

So it’s Friday – and … I took Monday and Tuesday OFF!  WOOT! WOOT!

Stoked.

Want to chill and be silly and nap and watch movies – a ‘staycation.’

We also did a video tonight for you.

Enjoy!

Musings from the Laundromat: The Glaucoma Man Monologues

Left the house in less than 10 minutes after waking up, dragged the laundry basket into the car, noticed the temperature was already 98 degrees and it was only 7:50 a.m.

I’m tired.  So tired and disoriented that I actually had a fleeting panicky feeling that the weekend was over when I woke this morning.  Then an internal exhale of relief that it was Sunday.

A night of dream after dream, nightmare after nightmare, had me waking to glance at the clock at strange intervals.

But for once, no bags under my eyes, I think I can owe that to the humidity.  If anything, when it’s NOT a ‘dry heat’ in the desert, the moisture in the fiery Summer heat does serve as a lovely wrinkle plumper.

Reached the laundromat and after answering “Sleepy” to glaucoma man’s “How are you?”  Proceeded to literally (yes, I’m using it correctly) LITERALLY listen to at least 10 topics of monologue.

It was not a conversation.

I had been a little nervous about how our chat today might go on the heels of the Supreme Court ruling.

But no equal rights topic came up.  Thank goodness.  I wasn’t ready to debate him.

Remember?  I’m sleepy.

So I just walked by him (in time to see him folding his Y-Fronts –  that was something I could have gone the rest of my life without seeing) and grabbed a cup of coffee.

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Standing there, you get to see a little ‘behind the scenes’.  Doesn’t that press look like a sun-bed?

Anyway.

I’m caffeinated now.

Glaucoma man is gone.

And I’m still super sleepy.

It’s quiet.

Cool.

Peaceful.

And if you were here, reader, I would ask, “Is my ear bleeding?   It feels like it may be bleeding.”

Too much information – too much of a barrage of points of view.

But I’ll keep listening.

Glaucoma man needs someone to listen.

My son the narrator

Was watching a spoof, ‘the walking deceased’ and thought, “hey! That sounds like my kid!”

and it totally does, and they did their thing before the movie.  Just saying.

#lovewins

6/26/15

Our Supreme Court declared legalization of nationwide same-sex marriage.

Which means, while States still can decide if they get married in their state, if you are married, you are married in THEIR state.

No more ‘same sex’ – only  ‘MARRIED’

I love that my son get’s this.

I’m not sure I totally get it – I’m reeling!  I THINK it means, no more ‘gay marriage’ and only ‘marriage’.

I love that my grandchildren will wonder why this was never a ‘thing’.

I love that we changed our profile pics to this:

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I also love that it comes on the heels of  such intended hate – that resulted in such an unintentional positive change for our RACIST country.

But this says it all.

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I am proud today to be ‘American’ (I immigrated here) – although, 5-4 is too pretty damn close.  But it is enough.

Enough is all you need.

In anything.

Life.

Friends.

Today, I’m just proud that someone gets to love someone and have it count.

They get to show up at a hospital and not be turned away because ‘they’re not family’.

They get to share insurance, deeds, LIFE legitimately with their LIFE partner.

And be acknowledged.

THANK GAWD!

Musings from the Laundromat: Threads and Tales edition

I’m here early.  And as usual, glaucoma man was here before me.  It was just he and I and the laundry lady.

First words out of his mouth: “Oh here you are!  I was just telling her about that Bruce Jenner.”

Oh boy I thought … because I already know where he stands on a lot of topics and they are – um – antiquated points of view.

Him: I don’t know why he had to go and do that, he had a perfectly good life!

Me: Well, he felt he is a woman.

Him: He’s going to have a hard time finding high heels – he has size 13 feet!  (Hearty laugh ensues)

Me: Well, I have size 10 feet.

Him: He doesn’t even LOOK like a woman!

Me: It happens, he needed to do this to be happy.  (I sustained from using ‘she’ considering who I was talking to – pronouns were the least of my conversational concerns.)

Then I used coffee as a reason to excuse myself.

Laundry lady: Doesn’t he drive you crazy?

Me: Nah … he’s lonely.

Laundry lady: He drives ME crazy, he tells the same stories over and over again.

Me: Well, I put myself in his shoes, and know I’d want someone to listen to my same stories if I was lonely.

Laundry lady: Yeah, but he shoves past me when I am trying to open.

Me: Well, that’s not good.  You open early to accommodate people.

Laundry lady: Sometimes, if it’s just him outside … I make him wait.

I tried not to laugh.  I mean, the laundromat opens at 8 and she will open at 7:30 sometimes.  She doesn’t have to do that.  So she’s well within her rights to keep that door closed until 8 O’Clock exactly.  But I  remembered all the customers that have given her grief that I’ve witnessed, and that’s only a tiny fraction of what goes on.

The way she said “I make him wait” in a confessional stage whisper just tickled me though.

The only power she had – she used.

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Our chat was paused when a lady came up to the counter counting change and mentioning waiting for a Western Union from her daughter.  I’ve counted change more times than I care to remember, and while money is super tight right now,  I did still have a few dollar bills in my wallet.  I offered them to her.

Turned out she had enough.

I returned to my table.

Then Mr. Same Old Stories surprised me.

Him: Not a lot of men in here today, Fathers Day.  Looks like woman’s day.

(That didn’t make much sense to me, but I kept listening.)

Him: I’ve got to call my son later –

Me: Oh! Happy Father’s Day!

Him: Thanks.  He doesn’t call me.  Haven’t seen him in over six years.  His wife controls him. She’s ten years older than him.  He found himself a ‘mommy’.   His mom died when he was one.

Me: Oh!  I’m so sorry.

Him: That’s ok.  I was never really a good dad.  He doesn’t owe me anything.

And I sat there – and he walked off to fold his clothes.

And as I sat, I thought about the lives people have led.  The reasons behind their loneliness.  The need to retell the good stories.

The desire for companionship.  To have a familiar face show up and to look forward to that brief interaction.

Laundry lady confided in me too.  Turns out she lost her father seven years ago.  She flew out for the funeral, across country, only to find herself at a party disguised as a memorial – and not once was her father mentioned.

Me: Well, you made the effort.

Her: Yeah.

There was sadness in her eyes.  Regret.  And I wanted to hug her.

There are so many stories here.  SO many threads and colors and sizes.  Not just in the washing machines, but sitting beside me and in front of me.

So I’ll continue to listen.

And to muse.

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