I've Been Kicked Out of Bars, But This Is Ridiculous!

Yes, I've been kicked out of bars, a hotel, a public park, and probably a couple of other places I can't recall anymore but this last incident was disturbing. On a recent Sunday evening, my husband, 14 year-old Australian Shepherd and I went on our normal walk. The same walk we've been embarking on for 9 years. Suddenly, a man's voice is screaming hello at us, and this pudgy, short figure waddles up behind us, scaring the beegeebees out of me. I shrieked and jumped a yard back not knowing what this stranger wanted. Was he on drugs, did he want money? Here we are, on a darkened neighborhood street with not a soul in sight, and this weirdo starts asking us if we live in the neighborhood. Are you kidding me? My husband, concerned for our safety, starts asking this seemingly mentally disturbed middle-aged guy why he wanted to know. All excitable now, the stranger states that this is a private street (not gated, mind you) and we are trespassing. My husband, still thinking this guy is on drugs, asks if he's a security guard or just out to lunch. Whipping out his IPhone, the crazy lawyer (yes, big surprise) announces he's calling the police to have us escorted out and proceeds to speed dial someone, probably his wife. We were escorted out by a paper pushing, overweight middle-aged white guy to the edge of the subdivision. I'm not making this up. We were told to stay south of Cholla Street where we belonged and never to return to Village Fairways subdivision (friendly place).
Why, you ask?? We still don't know why. We always pick up after our dog, although to our chagrin, our bag was empty during this incident. I think attorneys and dog poop go well together. We weren't dressed indecently, although our dog WAS naked. Obviously, he hates dogs. And people. Especially people who don't live in Village Fairways, where only unfriendlies are welcome.
So if you ever find yourself walking your dog near Village Fairways, and spot a late model black Mercedes Benz coupe (yes, the crazy lawyer's car), feel free to toss that steaming hot, full bag of dog poop at it. Tell him it's a belated gift from me.
P.S.- Will keep you posted on this one. Village Fairways is bounded by Cholla St. & Stonecreek Golf Course and 42nd St. to Tatum Blvd. in Phoenix.

Mamma Mia! Here I Go Again

Yes, it's a musical. With ABBA music. I omitted both of those facts when my husband asked what the movie we were about to watch, Mamma Mia!, was about. "It's a comedy, honey", I sweetly replied. By the time he figured out there was dancing AND singing at the same time, it was too late. He abhors musicals. If I ever want to torture him, I'll tie him to a chair and force him to watch "The Sound of Music" repeatedly. But I digress. The 70's were big. Big on everything. Sequined jumpsuits w/bell bottoms wide enough to hide a family of squirrels. Platform shoes for wading through rice paddies. Cars that could double as boats, and larger than some New York apartments. It was fabulous! Why am I blogging about this? Because of one scene. Forget the decadence of a Greek island setting, Meryl Streep singing her heart out and Pierce Brosnan bravely crooning onscreen. The girls on the bed jumping and hopping captured my heart. When is the last time you jumped up and down on a bed? Let your inner child go wild? Threw caution and propriety out the window and set yourself free? Our souls need to express their silly side as well as their introspective one. Life is way too serious these days. Bounce a yo-yo, throw a Frisbee, lick a Popsicle, chase your friend with a remote control car, shoot silly string at each other, blow bubbles, and don't forget to jump on the bed! Most importantly, laugh and forget your worries.

Viva Espana!

Felicidades a los campeones de la copa mundial de futbol 2010!!

Joy in a Lunchbox

Who knew Blondie could make me giggle like a little girl? The story I am about to tell you is true, to the horror of my mother, I am sharing it with the blogosphere. She would be mortified!

Once upon a time, at the bottom of a hill in a quiet, middle class neighborhood in Staten Island there was a pile of broken, used, loved but unneeded items waiting for the trash collector. My tear-filled 7-year old eyes kept staring in disbelief at the shiny metal lunchbox sitting there. I loved that lunchbox, but mom said we couldn't take it to Spain with us. There just was no room. No room for a lunchbox??? We had room for a stupid old baby grand piano but not my favorite lunchbox? I cried so hard and to this day, with crystal clear vision, can see my treasure waiting at the curb. I remember the day my mom bought it for me. I had waited for what seemed eternity for my Blondie lunchbox. Then, one day at the supermarket, I spotted it neatly lined up on an upper shelf above the open freezer with scores of other lunchboxes. I squealed with delight, jumping up and down pointing at it! I HAD to have it, so the nice clerk climbed up the ladder and handed it to me. I quickly unlatched it, but there was no Thermos. No Thermos? The man looked around at all the other lunchboxes, but this was the last Blondie left. I glanced quickly at my mom terrified she would make me give it back and told her there was no way I was giving up Blondie, Thermos or not. She asked the man if it would be possible to take one from a different lunchbox and my Blondie lunchbox was complete with a Yellow Submarine (yes, from the Beatles) Thermos. I carried that lunchbox everywhere! I was soooo happy! Until the day we moved to Barcelona, Spain.

I've never forgiven my mother for that atrocity, it was psychologically damaging. She has apologized over and over for this faux pas, and I certainly seem to have survived without it. In fact, I didn't realize how much it affected me until last week. A friend gave me an unexpected gift for just being a friend. You guessed it, a Blondie lunchbox with the correct Thermos this time around. See picture accompanying this entry to see me clutching it with absolute joy and delight!

Even I was surprised at how much joy and completeness it brought me. My friend remarked how brokenhearted he was when I told him the story a while back and wanted to show his gratefulness by giving me this incredibly thoughtful gift.

My Blondie lunchbox and I are reunited at last, a complete circle of sorts. I've forgiven my mother and I am NEVER letting this one out of my hands! Our joys in life sometimes come in the most unexpected packages. The gift of gratitude is the most awesome gift of all. May gratitude find its way to you, and when it does, pass it on!