Western Tanagers

They're back. I saw one last Monday and thought, "Maybe . . . " Today about a dozen flew right above my car, crossing the street from one old tree to another.

I don't see them every year. In fact, this year marks the third time in twenty years that I have seen them in numbers I would call significant. But no matter. This year, any year, I welcome their flash of cheery yellow as they fly from here to there.

I'm sure they nest in the very large old pine around the corner, and I have seen them running their errands of a late afternoon. They usually go together, a dozen or more at a time. I don't know where they go beyond that other tree. Food and a daily bath, I suppose. That should be easy enough with all the rain we're having.

But, really, I don't care where they go each day. I'm just glad to have them in the neighborhood again.

Poor Me

I am really tired. Actually, I am sleepy, having been deprived of sleep lately. Lately meaning the last few months.

They say all you need when you have missed sleep is a good eight hours. Okay, I'd settle for that. But I cannot remember the last time I slept eight hours straight through. And pretty much, even if I get to bed late and don't sleep well, I get up early. It's just me, the way I am.

Heavens. Look at all the to be verbs in this post.

So here is what I will do. Not about the to be verbs, about my tiredness.

1. A little laundry
2. Take a nap

I know. Not much of a post. But it is my blog.

WOW!

That's what Brian said today, kind of loudly, when I took my glasses back and asked for a refund.

Distance vision was blurry. It was that way when I picked them up, and I said as much to Angelina, but I thought I'd give them a chance. I gave them three days. This I explained when Brian asked me, "WHY?"

The WOW! came with a look of incredulity, shock, extreme disapproval, and a quick turning away from me.

Then he came back, having gathered himself, I guess, and began with the questions: Was I sure I didn't want him to check the prescription? Did I want to go over to their optometrist and have him check my eyes? Didn't I want him to take the glasses into the lab and see if they made them properly? There were others, but, hey.

I was sure.

You know, I've been through this stuff before--glasses not right, they'll make it right, no worries, etc., and I have three pairs of glasses in a drawer, glasses that didn't work and "they" could never make them right, and that cost me a lot of money because really I'm a nice person and didn't take them back for refunds--and besides, I just didn't have time to mess with this whole thing. I'm going to Canada. I have things to do.

I didn't tell him all this.

He walked away, got my paper work, came back and asked the same questions again. Take my word here, the same questions. It was like "I'm pretty sure you don't know what you're doing. I'm giving you a chance to rethink."

So. I should feel like I am doing something "wrong." I should repent. I should never bring my glasses back to Eyemart, and especially not to Brian, and ask for a refund.

Okay, I'm thinking it over.

Here's what I thought. No thanks.

His "Okay" was full of something like, "WOW!" all over again. He was not smiling. He didn't seem to consider me an old friend.

I was smiling. Truly smiling. I had made up my mind to smile before I went through the door into Eyemart.

Did I consider him an old friend?

Not really. It's more like I considered him the guy getting paid to be more courteous to me than he was being.

I thanked him. Sincerely. After all, I got my money back.

Okay, Brian

Brian helped me yesterday at Eyemart. Brought me many frames, "tried to save me money," then apparently gave up on that part. When I made my frame choice and we sat to fill out forms, he told me much about himself.

1. He's 30.
2. He worked in an optical lab for five years, so he knows everything about glasses.
3. One day his boss needed him to help outside of the lab. The rest is, as we all know, history.
4. This may be his life's work, because he loves it.
5. He calls this place a golden cage. They pay him well, won't hear of letting him go, will do anything to keep him. Yes, he's that good. Or so he says.
6. He has a photographic memory. He remembers everything, even the names of people who have not been in for years. They are amazed when he can call them by name.
7. He is wonderful with people.
8. People come in and ask for him. They'll wait just so he can help them.
9. There was more, but, hey.

Okay, Brian. I found you pleasant enough. Helpful enough. I liked you well enough.

My glasses would be ready in three hours.

I went back. Brian saw me but did not call me by name, look like we were old friends, or even say, "I'll be with you in a minute."

Is it me? Or had his photographic memory run out of film?

Oh well. They were busy. I waited, and when Angelina came free, I did not ask for Brian. Instead, I handed her my receipt and paper work. She helped me. I found her to be every bit as pleasant and helpful as Brian.

1. I don't think Angelina is 30 yet.
2. She seems to know plenty about glasses.
3. She told me nothing of herself.

I have to go back today and get a different kind of nose piece on my new glasses. We shall see who helps me. Frankly, I don't care. I might ask for Angelina, though.

Betty White, and isn't it a shame

In 1952 I was 11 and we lived in Santa Monica. Betty White had a local TV show, "Life With Elizabeth," co-starring Jim Backus. I loved the show, and I loved her. From then on I have liked to see her in whatever role she has played; even the stupid skits on Johnny Carson were often funny. She's good, fun, smart. And, for the record, I excused the occasional suggestive humor, the not very subtle double entendre stuff.

Now she's old, 88, but she is not dead and neither is her career. I have liked her in her occasional TV appearances, and I liked her in The Proposal. So it was logical that I watch as she hosted Saturday Night Live. Of course, I have seen the show, but it is generally vulgar and stupid, so I do not watch it. And I should have known because of the over-hype about it.

I did feel some apprehension, because I figured the writers would hardly change just because the host is someone I like. Right I was to be apprehensive. She even said the F word. Why? Just to prove she could? Ridiculous and quite disgusting.

Vulgar? Yes, and beyond the merely suggestive. And, really, those are all old jokes, if you can call them jokes.
Stupid? Very. And no imagination exhibited by the writers. I mean there are other themes that could have emerged beyond that of her age. Aren't there?
Funny? Not in the least.
Disappointing? Well, yes, because I expected she might be a cut above the crap. But she isn't.

I couldn't watch the whole thing, but I did give it nearly a full hour.

Today . . .

is Mother's Day. I prefer to let the day pass unremarked upon.

But if a person must say something on this day, let it be only that I love my mother. I love my children.

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggedy Jog

April in Paris. Beautiful days and most of them warm enough I didn't have to wear the jacket I bought in London. Or a scarf to keep my neck warm. I come home to a cold Idaho and pop down to Utah in time for a blizzard there.

What's the deal?

Someone asked yesterday, "Did you go to Harrods?"
No, we didn't. Planned to, talked about it, had it on the schedule. I even watched something about it on TV. But, no, we didn't go there. That's twice in London and no Harrods. Certainly not the end of the world. However, I may have to back for that purpose.

We did go to Bath, that lovely town on the River Avon--it's in Jane Austen, you know--and walk through the Roman baths. Walked through the whole town, actually, and love it there.
We did see Les Mis in London.
We did see the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace.
We did boat down the Thames from the Tower of London to Greenwich and have our lunch there.
We did walk through Westminster Abbey. Walk a lot in London.
We did hear Cockney every day, to our joy.

We did see the Basilique du St. Denis, Paris from atop the Eiffel Tower, Louis XIV's chateau at Versailles. And Marie Antoinette's "little" chateau nearby. Point of history. She was married to Louis XVI.
We saw Venus, Winged Victory, Mona Lisa at the Louvre.
Wandered through Notre Dame, Napoleon's Tomb, the Pantheon, and down the Champs Elysees. Visited Sacre Coeur and Montmartre, and everywhere we went we drew crowds. That's one way to put it.

These are the places one is expected to see. Okay, we did it, and we're all glad.

But the other places,
the everyday,
the mistakes we made--very few, I hasten to add,
the people,
the funny stuff--like the old woman in our very own London MacDonald's or the smell of the alley at the St Denis market place,
the crowded Metro trains,
the beauty and the unbeauty--graffiti all along the train routes and above-ground metro routes, everywhere there is a wall or overpass. And I'm not kidding. That's in Paris, not London.
the walking our feet off,
the folks who were good to us,
the quiet skies,
my very agreeable travel companions.

I'll put together my travel journal (one of these days) and these are the parts I'll write about.

By the way, in France, we did pick a decent place to eat now and then. But, trust me, it may be France, but not all the cooking is French cooking.

English food? Well, I like fish and chips; I like lamb. So I was okay.

Good to be home, but I'd go again, you know. So let me know if you want to.