So, no one blogs anymore? It's been a rainy Wednesday at Pam's blog for a week plus now. Come on! I need to know what Cowboy did today. Did he sleep? or run around? what? Need the details!
For my own blog of childhood memories, it takes me a while to fully conjure up the past and get the images in my mind. Like the story now -- I am going to walk to the store and meet Mr. Touch and Tom. I will describe them then finish up the store story (what should I buy - Lick em stick, Chick-n-stick, that big block of chocolate?- oh Chunky) then I was thinking of having a BBQ that night and kind of retelling my BBQ story (jasmine, albums, etc) then that night something happens! Something sinister that I am not sure happened. It might have been a dream but I think it was real. Oh well, you will see.
But Casa Fernandes will wait until Friday or so.
Today, I went to a restaurant for lunch and had to wash my hands. As I walked into the bathroom, I didn't see the familiar sign of a mens' room - the urinal so, I panicked and walked out thinking I had walked into the womens' room. It got me thinking of embarassing moments in life. They are probably bigger to you than to anyone else but the memory is usually strong. So what's yours?
In looking at the web, most moments involve farting in public, losing your shorts somewhere, things in your teeth, etc. One was for having huge sweat stains and trying to hide them.
My personal embarassing moment happened when Aunt Lydia and Uncle Don took me to Los Angeles to see a hockey game. The motel had a pool and on three sides was a restaurant with huge glass windows looking out over the pool. I had on white gym shorts as swimming trunks that became invisible when wet. So I had to leave the pool and get to my towel basically naked.
Awkward!
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Casa Fernandes Update
Ok - what happened to my last post? I had lots of pithy, funny comments in there and they got lost in the ether of the internet. I hate it when that happens. Well, I had to go to Murrieta for work and decided to drive. The first pic was going over the Grapevine. The snow had just started and it looked kinda nice. I took a pic while driving dangerously close to those big rigs. What was I thinking?
The other pic was Holden being silly and a picture of my rug which is really wood slats like a hardwood floor. I am on the only one who sees the irony in covering a carpeted floor with a rug that looks like a hardwood floor?
Anyway, I think I have a plot for this rambling Casa Fernandes tale. So here is the next mini-chapter. We have met James, the beautiful dreamer, and here is the intro to the next two characters we will meet - Mr. Touch and a guy named Tom. I couldn't remember his name so I went with Tom.
Trips to the Store
For whatever reason, my family required at least three trips per day to the local store – Food Town. Food Town was most easily accessed through the shortcut, through the church, past Casa Fernandes and around the corner to the store. Only one street had to be crossed and the total trip on foot was less than 10 minutes.
Food Town itself was a typical small market – some canned food aisles, a produce section, a butcher in the back and a refrigerator section in the far back aisle. The all important candy aisle was closest to the registers. The registers were those key-punch style registers. The numbers 1-9 ran in columns for the dollars and cents. I remember watching with fascination as the cashier could push several buttons at once without looking to ring up an order.
Maybe my grandma needed flour for her tortillas or a pack of Salems, maybe it was my great-grandmother’s need for a carton of milk and a pack of Marlboros, maybe my mom needed a loaf of bread or a pack of Tareytons. Now that I think about, we were just enablers of their respective smoking addictions. Don’t even get me started on why 8 year olds were allowed to buy cigarettes in the first place. Although we did have a note:
“Dear Food Town – please sell a pack of cigarettes to my son. He will not smoke them – honestly. Signed, his Mom."
Even more strange was that neither my brother nor I (the primary couriers) smoked – then or now. Maybe being the drug mules for so long turned us off to the habit.
I used to toss the cigarettes in the air and catch them as I made my way home. On one trip, I threw the box too high and it went over the fence into the neighbor’s yard. Our neighbor was insane and bought a ram to eat the grass instead of just mowing once a month like a normal person. The ram was a heartless creature who acted well, like a ram and tried to head butt you if you went into his territory. I had to hop the fence, retrieve the cigarettes and hop back over before the ram could attack me. Luckily I made it and the cigarettes were delivered safely.
The reward for a fast trip to the store was a portion of the change. Granma was the best tipper usually giving all of the leftover change. I never felt right accepting money from my Great-grandma. She spoke no English and I spoke no Spanish so even getting her order right was a small miracle. It usually involved lots of pantomime and pointing at empty containers. My mom usually allowed us to keep part of the change.
And with the newly earned cash, a trip to the store was in order to spend the tip. It was on one of those follow-up trips that I met two more residents of Casa Fernandes and gained a little insight into what really went on there.
The other pic was Holden being silly and a picture of my rug which is really wood slats like a hardwood floor. I am on the only one who sees the irony in covering a carpeted floor with a rug that looks like a hardwood floor?
Anyway, I think I have a plot for this rambling Casa Fernandes tale. So here is the next mini-chapter. We have met James, the beautiful dreamer, and here is the intro to the next two characters we will meet - Mr. Touch and a guy named Tom. I couldn't remember his name so I went with Tom.
Trips to the Store
For whatever reason, my family required at least three trips per day to the local store – Food Town. Food Town was most easily accessed through the shortcut, through the church, past Casa Fernandes and around the corner to the store. Only one street had to be crossed and the total trip on foot was less than 10 minutes.
Food Town itself was a typical small market – some canned food aisles, a produce section, a butcher in the back and a refrigerator section in the far back aisle. The all important candy aisle was closest to the registers. The registers were those key-punch style registers. The numbers 1-9 ran in columns for the dollars and cents. I remember watching with fascination as the cashier could push several buttons at once without looking to ring up an order.
Maybe my grandma needed flour for her tortillas or a pack of Salems, maybe it was my great-grandmother’s need for a carton of milk and a pack of Marlboros, maybe my mom needed a loaf of bread or a pack of Tareytons. Now that I think about, we were just enablers of their respective smoking addictions. Don’t even get me started on why 8 year olds were allowed to buy cigarettes in the first place. Although we did have a note:
“Dear Food Town – please sell a pack of cigarettes to my son. He will not smoke them – honestly. Signed, his Mom."
Even more strange was that neither my brother nor I (the primary couriers) smoked – then or now. Maybe being the drug mules for so long turned us off to the habit.
I used to toss the cigarettes in the air and catch them as I made my way home. On one trip, I threw the box too high and it went over the fence into the neighbor’s yard. Our neighbor was insane and bought a ram to eat the grass instead of just mowing once a month like a normal person. The ram was a heartless creature who acted well, like a ram and tried to head butt you if you went into his territory. I had to hop the fence, retrieve the cigarettes and hop back over before the ram could attack me. Luckily I made it and the cigarettes were delivered safely.
The reward for a fast trip to the store was a portion of the change. Granma was the best tipper usually giving all of the leftover change. I never felt right accepting money from my Great-grandma. She spoke no English and I spoke no Spanish so even getting her order right was a small miracle. It usually involved lots of pantomime and pointing at empty containers. My mom usually allowed us to keep part of the change.
And with the newly earned cash, a trip to the store was in order to spend the tip. It was on one of those follow-up trips that I met two more residents of Casa Fernandes and gained a little insight into what really went on there.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Top Album of All Time
I am currently listening to Ten by Pearl Jam and I was thinking that song for song this has to be one of the best albums ever.
So what's your favorite album (no Greatest Hits allowed)? You know, where each song is as good as the next and you don't have to skip the filler songs to get to the hits. Listening to an entire album is very rare is the randomizing iTunes world.
I got curious and googled it. According to Rolling Stone - #1 is Sgt. Peppers which is hard to disagree. Great songs. I would rank it #1 also. In fact the Beatles have 10 of their 12 albums listed and 4 of the Top Ten are Beatles.
U2 had 5 of their 10 albums listed.
The Police had 4 of their 5 listed.
Nirvana had 2 of their 3 listed.
Velvet Underground had all 4 of their studio albums listed which is pretty amazing.
That got me thinking of the actor John Cazale. Remember him? Well he died very young at age 42 of bone cancer. In his short but amazing career, he made 5 films. All 5 films were nominated for Best Picture at the Academy Awards. Dog Day Afternoon, The Conversation, Deer Hunter and of course, Godfather and Godfather II. Yes, Fredo from the Godfather who couldn't do anything right was portrayed by an actor who could do no wrong. Here's to you Fredo!
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