10% Off

10% Off

Someone I love is addicted to OSH.  She makes stealth trips to this hardware store when I’m not around. Sunday mornings. Saturday at lunch.  During the week when I can’t tell.  Sometimes I don’t even know when she gets there.  All I know is that when I get home there are work gloves, paint, and yellow CAUTION tape strewn all over the place.

I don’t mind the addiction, but it amuses me.

Who gets up and first thing thinks, “Gee, we need sealer for the back patio?”

I don’t.

Who reads the Sunday L.A. Times and finds the most interesting piece to be the “10% off anything you can stuff in this bag on Sunday” ad? 

I don’t.

But she does.  I think she might need help someday.  I just hope she doesn’t come looking for me when she needs help painting.

P2 Karma

P2 Karma

A while ago, I mocked the name of a horror movie set in a parking structure.  The parking structure gods came after me for it.

The scene was the first floor of the One Wilshire parking lot in Downtown L.A. on Friday night.  I came in, paid my flat fee, and went off to celebrate a friend’s birthday.  When I returned to the parking structure a few hours later, I found myself locked in—the giant steel gate blocked my exit and I couldn’t get out.

I asked the security guys to open the gate.  They said they would and shortly thereafter the gate opened at the top of the ramp.  What they didn’t do was raise the wooden arm that blocked the exit lane that led to the security gate.

I figured my instructions needed to be more explicit, so I left my car and walked back up to the security guard.  “Hey, you forgot to raise the arm.”

“Uh, well, ma’am, we can’t find the key,” the security guard informed me. “Someone took it.”

“How do you expect us to get out,” I asked.  He shrugged. 

I called the building’s management company.  They’re closed until Monday.  I called the emergency number—it referred me to the security guard who shrugged.  I asked for any emergency number he had.  “Uh, I don’t have one,” he fessed up. 

I thought briefly about calling the fire department, and then I saw the security “supervisor” trying keys.  He tried about 50 before he decided none of them worked.  I guess he wanted to check if maybe he had unlocking authority he hadn’t been told about.

Finally, after half an hour, a maintenance guy found a wrench and unscrewed the arm.  With the last turn of his wrench, the arm raised and let loose the eight of us who waited. 

I swore Friday’s trip was the last one to One Wilshire, even as I vowed to keep my future mocking of parking structures to a minimum.

Random Danger

Random Danger

I have a friend who is marvelously dangerous—to himself.  His latest self-inflicted wound came when he put the weed whacker between his legs for “just a second” while he tended to something else.  He ended up slicing open the backside of his knee. 

My friend is a few years from being 40.  Because he is often the victim of freak domestic accidents, a group of us doesn’t think he’ll make it.  We’re writing his eulogy now.

Although I fall a lot, I’m not generally subject to quite the same number of random accidents as my friend.  This week was different.  I managed to get a paper cut behind my right ear. 

I know, it’s odd.  But, when you’re chopping up giant cardboard boxes and stuffing them into the recycling bin, sometimes the pieces of carboard resist the folding you’ve imposed and they jump out at you.  They did, and landed all around my head, slicing me behind the ear on their way to the floor.

Be careful out there, danger lurks everywhere.

My Genes on Easter

My Genes on Easter

Easter has never been a big deal in my family, but sometimes the stories are too good to ignore.  I’m just not sure if they speak to the good or bad DNA that courses through my family’s veins.  Two Easter observations from my side of the family:

  • The three-year-old niece doesn’t quite get Easter egg hunts.  When she and a throng of other little ones are set loose on the treasure trove hidden in the local park’s field, she just stands at the starting line.  There she is, a towering giant of a three-year-old getting passed up by crawling babies, and still she won’t pick anything up unless told to do so. 
  • My sister saw this coming and tried to prevent it by “practicing” an Easter egg hunt with my niece. 

I guess that means we are, at the same time, aware of the meaningless nature of things like Easter egg hunts, but too competitive to let them pass us by.

It Works Again

It Works Again

The point of this photo was supposed to be that, yes, a digital camera that decided to go swimming with you can work again.  This particular camera was cryogenically treated for three months, then air dried for another four. 

Yeah, so I did have to get another camera in the interim, but one day, this one came back.  This photo was supposed to show that the camera’s photo quality is just as good as before, but nightfall kind of got in the way.  Oh well, I still think the full moon looks very cool.
Darkermoon

I Hate You In The Spring

I Hate You In The Spring

Some years ago, I had a roommate who, about this time of year, looked at me and noted, “I hate you in the spring.”

More out of curiousity than hurt, I asked why.

She said that in the spring I came home from my teaching and coaching duties only to lift the couch on which she slept soundly.  As we watched telenovelas, I inexplicably pounced on her and tickled her until she said, “Chavo.”  At dinner, I just nudged her off a chair.

“It’s like I’m being attacked for no reason,” she complained.

I told her it wasn’t for no reason, it was just that in the springtime, when daylight lasts forever, and there’s always a game on where I can swing a bat, throw a ball, and have people chase me, I feel strong.  For whatever reason, that means roughhousing ensues.

I agreed to be more gentle with her.  She agreed to at least put up something of a fight.

I recalled this exchange today because I felt STRONG!!!  I’m not turning my blog into a workout diary, but after running 5 miles and doing a gazillion pushups, all I want to do is pounce. 

Get it right, folks

Get it right, folks

This correction, five days after the NYT’s big story on Barack Obama’s senate record.  Not quite the gotcha they’d hope for in light of the facts.

A front-page article on Sunday about the Senate record of Barack Obama referred incorrectly in some copies to his position on a drawdown of troops from Iraq. After joining the Senate in 2005 Mr. Obama spoke in favor of a drawdown, including in a speech on Nov. 22 of that year. He did not propose a drawdown “only after he was running for president and polls showed voters favoring it.” (What he did do after becoming a candidate was to propose legislation calling for a drawdown.)