January 2, 2011
The boot looks pretty like my hockey skates. My actual roller blades are used. And ugly
New year’s eve, hubby & I decided that rollerblading would be a fantabulous idea to get me more comfortable on my hockey skates. (Yeah, I have hockey skates, but can’t skate.) So off we went in search of blades for me. I guess this was a popular gift item because no one had my size in stock. We ended up at “Play it Again Sports” (used sporting goods store) and what do you know? We found some Bauer’s (same brand as my hockey skates) in my size – for $22. What a deal!
Now, none of you actually KNOW me. But if you did, you would know that this is a bad idea. REALLY BAD. I can’t walk from my bedroom to the kitchen (maybe 40 feet) without hurting myself, banging into a wall or falling down. I’m convinced office furniture is out to get me. It just jumps into my path. Granted, most of the injuries are minor flesh wounds, but no fun none-the-less. However, I am completely able to ride both street and dirt bikes without much trouble. So maybe that “law” will apply here. (Although I can tell you it didn’t apply to my ice skating ability.)
So today, we’ll be off to some unsuspecting basketball court somewhere trying to off me. If I never return, now you know why.
May 12, 2010
Yep, that’s right. Birthday wake. On what would have been our friend’s 71st birthday, we celebrated his life and how he touched ours.
I learned so much more about him. He was a second generation Californian – his dad was born here in the 1890’s and was involved in the development of the aqueduct. He was the original “eco-shirt” designer with his orignal art or fun phrases like “I Clove Garlic” and “The Right to Bear Arms” (with a bear holding a gun). I’m told that when an oversea company stole his idea of “I Got Crabs at Fisherman’s Wharf”, our friend stopped production. I also learned that his art had progressed to include welding and metals.
I also learned more about the accident he had several years back. A truck’s mirror hit him in the head, and the driver got out, saw what he did, and ran. He was never found. Our friend could not walk a block without resting. His sense of taste was gone – which for a gourmet cook is devastating. He was forgetful, and had difficulty producing the art he wanted. He took the time to clean the house and vehicle, as well as organize everything, and transfer all property to his wife’s name before committing suicide.
His wife and a friend gathered up most of his work and displayed it, along with tons of photos and several journals, for the group to enjoy. One of the favorites photos was with a group in Mexico in 1969. Another was a picture of him with his mom – clearly in the 1970’s (as evidenced by the replica Saturday Night Fever outfit). Each guest brought one of his favorite dishes or wines, and someone took the time to compile music from all his favorite CD’s. One friend, a Mexico City diplomat (I believe) attended, as well as friends from Denver and Washington state.
I finally got the opportunity to meet some of his old friends… after all these years, being able to place a face with a name/story was really fun. And it was wonderful to surprise so many old friends, most of whom I hadn’t seen since I got married in ’98 – or longer! It was a very touching tribute, tastefully done. Thankfully, the tears stayed at bay for nearly everyone for the duration of the night. Rest in peace, friend.
photo from islandlife.net
May 5, 2010
I am undecided about which day to begin my trek “home.” In discussing said indecision with my mom, she mention that they had plans Saturday, which could surely include me. It’s rare they “have plans.” Plans require… you guessed it, planning! I definitely inherited the non-planning gene.
Anyway, it turns out the plans are a birthday party. For a dead guy. Okay, that sounds a bit insensitive – and I certainly don’t mean it that way. Although it was a bit insensitive of said dead guy to commit suicide last winter. He was a really, really cool guy. My step-dad has known him for many years, and he was a part of this guy-gang (not that kind of gang – more like a hippie gang) of all these eclectic, (now) old-timers. There’s a millionaire (no wife), a German, a Brit, this guy who was the artist and chef, and a few others I never knew well. I’m pretty sure at least one was a musician.
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