"WARNING"

I don't even know where to begin this story, so I'll just spin it out the way I remember it. Keep in mind as you read, that there are multiple levels at play here, with lots of players and topics.

First, was the 08 Jeep, Patriot, that my granddaughter Kylie asked me to try to sell for her. Her older sister had just received a company car and offered her old car an, 07 Honda, to Kylie for her personal use. Now Kylie, who was making payments on her 08 Jeep, wanted to not make payments so the entire thing came together. All I had to do was sell the 08 Jeep, got all that?

Second, my beloved reclining chair, that I seemed to have moved into in 05 after my heart surgery..........broke! The supporting frame literally disintegrated, something that has happened before and I had it welded by Paul, my mechanic.

I posted an ad in Cars.com for free and waited for the first phone call, but all that came were scam artists in other countries with a multitude of scams. I should open a Pay pal account and they will pay me that way and send a courier to pick up the Jeep, (no thank you). Another was going to send me a check for a larger amount of money and all I had to do was refund the balance to them and ship my car and title to an independent transport company, (sorry, not interested) all I wanted was a legitimate phone call from an interested buyer, just like it used to be when I was in business, but that never came. I was beginning to get concerned that I was doing something wrong, so the next think I tried was lowering the price by $500. We made it through the weekend without a legitimate call, when suddenly on Monday morning when I awakened at about 9:30, there were 2 voice mails waiting for me from a man named Omar. He seemed extremely interested and was willing to come all the way from Tucson the look at the lonely Jeep.

A little about the Jeep.... The car was literally immaculate, unscathed, pristine and all of the words you can think of to describe showroom condition. Kylie dropped it off on the only rainy day we'd had in 70 days and regrettably explained that all the car washes were closed. I waited that day for the rain to cease and the following day, I approached the car like it was a child that had been playing in the mud! Soap, water and a shop-vac, along with plenty of clean dry towels. I used engine cleaner to detail the engine compartment and when I was finished, I was pretty impressed with my work! I took pictures and closed and sealed it up to wait. If I were to fault the car for anything, it was the tires that were about ready for replacement. The old Jeep had 94K miles on it but I don't think anyone ever sat in it to do the driving!

I decided that the very first person to look at this car was going to buy it. After a couple of more calls from Omar, that only confused things, he and his wife pulled up in front of my house. After about 3 or 4 minutes and they still didn't ring my bell, I finally went outside to see them leaning against their car just looking at me. Suddenly my phone dinged indicating a voice mail. It was he and we both laughed. Omar turned out to be Tomas, not sure how or why that happened and he was a retired Tucson cop, originally from Wisc. They looked and kicked the tires and took it for a nice long test drive. Kylie had gone to the trouble of filling up the tank before dropping it off which was a nice touch.

When they returned they started hmming and hawing and making going away noises, when suddenly I said, I thought certainly the first people that were lucky enough to see this car would buy it! Tomas didn't know what to say, it was obvious. It turned out that they were only the front runners for their daughter, who had the final say. They said goodbye and climbed into their car and got on the phone while I watched through the window of my house. Suddenly he hooked a u-turn and I watched him drive away, thinking it was over. About 5 minutes later my phone rang and it was Tomas and he was all excited. He said they would be back tomorrow with his daughter, she wants to see it too! I asked for a deposit to hold it and he explained it had to do with the credit union and suddenly it all started making sense. He had to get a loan first!

The following morning I get up about 9 AM and there are once again 2 messages from this time the wife of Tomas, Olga, asking if she can make an offer. Still sounding sleepy, I return her call and she says she wants to make me an offer on the Jeep. I reply, only if it's a good offer. she says she wants to offer $6900. I'm asking $6995, so that was a pretty good offer, right?

The transaction started the prior day at 9:30 AM and they finally picked up the car and dropped off the money at 8:30 the following day. Everyone was happy, the young girl that bought the car through her mom and dad just loved it, she got a great car and Kylie wound up with  lot more money than she was even anticipating. I was happy because everyone else was happy and that's something you seldom achieve in the car business.

The following day I have an appointment with the cardiologist and then my plan is to drop off my broken chair frame at my mechanic Paul to weld it. The cardiologist lays me off onto his nurse practicioner which was a pleasant surprise (cute), but she says they want to do an angiogram, which is how I got into this trouble to begin with, so I blew off the idea for a few months anyway and headed West to Paul's. Paul had his usual assortment of junk yard dogs around (none of them had 4 legs either), so I dropped off my frame pleading for a quick job, when Paul told me he was leaving for CA tomorrow, (So much for quick) and it was almost 3 PM, so I headed out.

I'm driving North on the I-17 and traffic is pretty bad, when I realize it's not yet 3 PM, so I can legally use the HOV lane. I'm cruising along and the only car that's hindering things is the DPS car that it directly in front of me, going 10 miles under the limit at 55 MPH. I look down at my watch and notice it's right at 3 PM and make arrangements to move over out of the HOV lane. I do just that, using my signal to execute the lane change. About a minute later, the cop pulls over two lanes and fades back behind me and then over to the left lane to be directly behind me and puts on his flashing lights. Using my turn signals again, I realize that this asshole is pulling ME over. I know by everything that is Holy that I was not speeding and I was out of the HOV lane in a timely way. I cross over 3 lanes in rush hour traffic and now I'm on the shoulder of the freeway and this jerk is right behind me calling in my plate for potential warrants, which I don't have. He approaches my car from the passenger side and tells me to lower my window by using the international sign for "LOWER YOUR WINDOW". I reach over and open the door explaining the window doesn't work. 

He's a little guy with blond hair and a lisp and he says to me, "are you familiar with the HOV laws?" I say yes! I show him my iPhone time and it reads 3:03 and we're now 4 lanes over and having a discussion, verifying that I was out of the lane at 3 PM, 3:01 at the latest. He says nothing as he retreats to his car to write me a ticket.

He returns a few minutes later talking about how he's done this big favor for me my only giving me a "warning", otherwise it would have cost me over $400 in fines. If he had given me a ticket, I was already planning on hiring one of OJ's defense team lawyers to represent me in court. I was SEETHING!!!

Late Night Emailing...

Last night at about 1 AM, I was laying in bed reading a book about a search looking for the Holy Grail, the chalice that Jesus drank from during "The Last Supper", me a nice Jewish boy from Skokie. Earlier in the day, I received a short note from a total stranger on Match.com seeking my attention. I didn't find her attractive and way to far away from me, so I sent her a brief polite note explaining that I didn't think we were a very good match. THE END, or so I thought.

Hello   

Let's get together for coffee and chat 602. 555.5555  

Kate

Shortly after 1 AM, I get a vibrate on the night stand next to my bed indicating a message from someone on Match.com. Here is that note and my reply.

Hi bill

Please tell me what happened. I would like to know what happened to us.Please let me know . 
Kate lord know I never met to hurt you for anything. You touched my soul . I need to know what I did wrong

MY REPLY:

RE: Hi bill

And there lies your problem, I am not Bill!

I thought that would be the end of it, as surely she would recognize her error, right? NOPE! About 30 minutes later, the next email came:

she writes:

Well then who are you. We have a lot going fir us
Please write back please

That's when I had to block her from contacting me. Here is another problem. I cannot decide if she was just drunk or the victim of the sleeping aid, Ambien! Let's face it, all users of Ambien have written emails like that, haven't they?

Headaches...

Some time about 30 years ago, my son Brad was about 10 years old. If I recall correctly, I wanted to go someplace that didn't particularly interest a 10 year old, like a mall and I recall Brad telling me that he had a headache, something he undoubtedly learned from his mother. Without waiting or stalling or questioning why, I immediately responded, "You have to be 12 to get headaches", and he put on his jacket we never discussed it again, all the while me thinking how I pulled that off without a hitch.

Fast forward 30 years and we're all at Max's hockey game on Sunday late afternoon about 6 PM. It was Brad and his wife Julie and Brad's business partner Maurice, who was stuck here for a layover, coming home from a business trip. The hockey game was over, our team lost by one, a real nail biter and Max had spent Saturday night at a sleepover at a buddy's house, meaning he got little or no sleep. The plan was that we were all to go to a restaurant for a quick meal, when Max, who was fidgety said he had a headache. Without thinking, Brad looked at him and said, you have to be 12 to get headaches and looked at me and smiled. A chill ran through my entire body as I realized, I guess I didn't pull that off so many years ago!

How to Make Chicken Broth out of Albertson's Dead Chicken...

Last week Albertson's had chicken breasts, boneless and skinless for $1.49 and pound. Although I don't usually shop at Albertson's, it's only because there is not one close by. I look it up on the Internet and discover one about 6 minutes away, according to Google Maps. I keep their ad on my counter for a few days and wait for my not-so-busy schedule to offer a time slot open for chicken shopping. Alas, on the 7th of Feb, something opens up, I locate the huge food shopping conglomerate easily and enter. I locate the meat counter placed easily within shopping distance and notice that there is a table with pies displayed on my course and pick one up, as I'm dangerously low on pie. That's when I notice that their pies are $5.69 each and they look exactly the same as Fry's pies, for $4.49. Same packaging and everything! I replace the pie back and make a mental note of my savings. (try to picture me tapping my head with my finger noting how bright I think I am for noticing the price difference). I find the dead chicken and make my purchase. The package I choose has about 5 huge breasts in it making my purchase about $1.50 per breast. The expiration date is 2/11 so I've got 4 days to use or freeze them, perfect!

Yesterday, I sliced the breasts thinly and make a marinade of olive oil, lemon juice and Dash for spices and let it sit in the fridge for 24 hours in my $11 plastic bag, as mentioned in previous post. Tonight for dinner, I lit my propane grill and heated the coals, sprayed the grill with butter flavored Pam and place a thin layer of chicken slices evenly across the cooking surface. About a minute later, (and I thought it was running low) my propane ran out and the fire went out! Dammit! (Somehow I always picture it running out right when my steak is perfectly cooked, but it never winds up that way).

Now I carry my half raw chicken into the house and decide to use the toaster oven to finish it off. I recently bought a pan that fit perfectly inside my toaster oven, so I lined it with tin foil and popped it in and waited. About 5 minutes later, I'm prepared to turn my dead chicken over, so as not to over cook it and what do I find? My chicken breasts are floating in water and boiling like mad! It was Chicken broth that Albertson's has injected into their meat products to increase the weight. I felt violated, conned, and still hungry! This is a plot to get more of our money, don't you see?

In addition, the reason that the breasts were so huge was that they were layers that had outlived their usefulness and were slaughtered. They had lived way longer than a spring fryer, that is usually about 6 weeks old when butchered. So, here I am without any real savings, chewing away to swallow my dry, dead chicken that tasted from a hint of lemon and I didn't even have a pie!

There, their heinous secret is out!

Is YOUR Costco, Like MY Costco?

First, my thanks to the nice people in New Orleans and Youngstown, Louisiana for their repeated attendance in reading this old unattended blog of mine. Not too many people are as faithful.

Today's post is more of a rant about people that displease me. Costco in Scottsdale is a great place to find them. It started rather quickly, when I first pulled into the parking lot and although pretty busy, I found a parking place that was just across from the handicapped section, right next to a burgundy Lexus that was almost parked straight, but really at almost a 45 degree angle. How rude! I wasn't even curious to find out who scratched it down it's entire length with a key.

It was a beautiful sunny day here in Scottsdale today (about 80) and I wasn't going to let this older driver change my mind. (When I say older, that means older than me, a month short of 68.) wearing my sunglasses and a bounce in my step. The guard, an older woman that has seen me a thousand times before, asked me to show her my membership card and I told her, " I was breaking into this joint, try and stop me!" She smiled and told me to go along and asked some woman behind if she were with me? Evidently, the stranger said yes, as she too kept walking.

I picked up a few staples, eggs, butter and bagels. (I had cream cheese at home) Suddenly, Around the meat counter I ran into a bottle neck, created by a ruthless driver in a motorized chair, supplied by Costco. Everyone was somewhat frustrated by this woman that stopped right in the middle of the isle and no one could pass from either direction. On my left, passing on the wrong side of the isle and willing to run down anyone in her path, a woman about 55 went shooting through. Throwing caution to the wind, I got on her tail, floored it and followed. Suddenly, she slammed on the cart breaks and stopped to talk to a woman that she knew, leaving me almost rear ending her. (She never even knew it). As I was passing her, she must have had enough of her friend and pulled out without using a signal or even looking and crashed right into me! Fortunately no one was hurt. I shook my finger at her and said, "You didn't even signal"! She replied, I don't have to, I was just going straight!" Crisis averted, I pulled out... but still thinking I should have asked her for her license, insurance and registration!

I know how to make lemon chicken. It's a fact. I use olive oil and lemon juice and most of the spices from the bottom shelf (omitting nutmeg) at my old house. Since my former roommate stole everything that wasn't nailed down, I no longer have any of my spices or pots and pans for marinating, so I figured if I bought those one gallon plastic freezer bags with the zip top, that should suffice. Being that I was at Costco, I wound up with 75 of them. Now all I need is someone to take my extra 74 and give me back my $11.

I was out of water so I did manage to buy 3 cases of 40 bottles each, so instantly my cart got pretty heavy. I checked out and when I got to the ladies that check to see if you stole anything at the front door, I realized that I had wanted to buy one of their frozen pizzas. I think they cost about 9 bucks but really pretty good. The lady at the door offered to watch my stuff, but between you and me, I think she had her eye on my butter! In addition to not trusting her, I didn't think a frozen pizza was worth going through the check out line again, so I just left.

As I walked to my car, that was in the perfect parking place, (except for the Lexus that was still there all cock-eyed). I tried to put the water into my trunk but driving a Volvo convertible, I sacrifice trunk space for the convertible top. So I walked to the side of the car and opened my passenger door ever-so-slowly, so as not to hit the stupid Lexus, that was parked well into my spot. I walked back to my cart and lifted the 45 lbs of water and approached my side door. Just then, this old woman comes limping up carrying an 18 pack of eggs and says she'd like to get into her car. In other words, she was way more important than me, a man carrying a case of water. I couldn't help myself, I told her that if she parked like a normal person, we wouldn't be having this talk! I walked the water back to my cart and closed my door for her not to be inconvenienced. I think it was then that I thought of all the things I should have said! She then backed out of the parking place and I noticed that she didn't move. I thought maybe a heart attack, (this woman was over 80), as traffic began getting irritated and honking. I looked into her car though her windshield and there she was reapplying her lipstick!

Rules of the Road at 67...

I was driving in North Scottsdale this past week and arrived at an intersection that I'm really not that familiar with. It was Raintree and Northsight. I needed to make a left turn there, so I pulled into the left turn lane, naturally. When I got my arrow, it was green and flashing intermittently. I did a quick inquiry into my memory banks from 53 years ago, when I studied the Rules of the Road, in order to pass my driving test when I was 16 and nothing came up. I was at a loss for this combination of traffic instructions. Let me add at this time that I have driving pretty successfully for 52 years and although I've received citations in those years, probably only about 4 or 5 total and they were always for speeding, that's right, I was in a hurry. NEVER for not knowing the rules of the road. Until now! I decided that it means the same thing as a solid green arrow and proceeded forward to make my turn as usual. Suddenly, I noticed just in time, that oncoming traffic was coming at a pretty good clip and they would probably smash into me if I proceeded forward, making my turn. I hit the brakes and just in time, as a plethora of vehicles continued straight ahead. WHEW, I thought, that was a close one. Am I the only resident of North Scottsdale that doesn't know what a flashing green arrow means? Do you?

Telling you all that reminded me of the very first time I'd driven a car. Like many things in my life, I didn't do it the orthodox way that most young men do. It was late into my 14th year on this planet and was I spending the night at my buddy Warren Wiczer's house. His parents were going out for the evening and he invited me. His mom and dad left and Warren and I were sort of the mischievous types. In spite of the heavy snow storm that was coming down, we (really he) decided to steal his mom's 59 Chevy Impala and take it driving down Church Street in our home town of Skokie, Illinois. In terms of the storm, I'd say there was 6 inches of fresh snow on the roads. Warren drove first, claiming he had done it may times before. Naturally, I trusted him. He kept slipping and sliding all over the place, so I asked if I could give it a try? I didn't do much better and it was back to Warren. Neither of us had any idea of how to handle the adversities of the weather and Warren suddenly swerved, hit the brakes and winded up driving up the front yard of some poor guys house, stopping about a foot from his front picture window, where the gentleman sat, watching the storm!

He came rushing out of the house and we were prepared for the worst, but all he did was help us push the old '59 out of his yard and back onto the road. We were petrified that first, he would be angry for almost crashing into his house and second, for being only 14 and driving a stolen car into his yard!

Somehow we made it home that night, back to Warren's house and when his folks came walking in after midnight, his mom asked if everything went alright and of course we nodded yes! Little did she know!

Psycho Lady...

I was going along pretty well in my life and on my dating services. I was interacting with a lot of nice women and one by one, without explanation, they began dropping out of my life. Oh well, such is the way of online dating. One day, I get an email remarking about one of my pictures and it says, "Nice dog, Nice pic!!! I looked at the lady that sent that note to me and didn't find her very attractive, but she was 56 and somewhat nicely shaped, indicated by her height and weight. She was 5' 6" and slender. I read her bio and found her drab and boring and a piano teacher, who teaches classical piano. I swear I read every word looking desperately for some kind of connection, but sadly came up empty. Just to be polite, I replied to her note with a "Thank you for the nice note". Period!  She writes me back, "What does your schedule look like for this week?" A few minutes later, I reply, "I haven't had a schedule since 2005"! I'm thinking that this is the end of it, but no. She replies, Really, no schedule?" I then reply, "Can we do this over the phone?" Her answer is, "Thank God"!!! and offers me her phone number. In spite of the late hour, it's like 10:30 at night, I dial and she answers.

For the sake of the story, lets call her Psycho Lady, but that gives away the end of the story, so lets switch to Candice, not her real name. To my surprise, Candice is charming and delightful and definitely possesses that certain "spark" that I look for in a woman. I can't believe she wrote that horrible profile, because it certainly doesn't reflect her true personality. We chatted along and laughed and joked and told our personal stories. I was excited. She told me that she takes awful pictures and I completely understood and that she looks way better in person. She almost HAD to! We didn't want to hang up and finally after 2 1/2 hours we did. I was anxious to speak with her the following day and could hardly wait to call. 

The next day, at 5:15 I rang her phone again and she politely and coldly explained she was giving a piano lesson and I should call her back in a couple of hours and then just hung up! No niceties, just "click", after she finished her message. I waited about 3 hours and now it was 8 PM, a perfectly reasonable hour to call a lady, right? She picked up and she was her old self, but I did notice she was very opinionated. For example, one of the shirts I was wearing in one of my online photos, she told me to throw it away and another picture that I was kind of proud of, with me coming out of an outhouse in Cave Creek, AZ, a tourist town and NOT a real outhouse, but just place to take pictures, she told me to take that picture down, it's gross. When I tried to explain that it wasn't a real outhouse, she talked over me and said, "just do it!" When someone starts acting in a strange way, you begin to question what just happened and I decided to let it go for now. Then the topic changed, obviously, and she started telling me something from her past about her immediate family when suddenly she began crying, sobbing hard and loud. Well, I didn't know what to do, like most men when a woman starts crying for no apparent reason. I waited and listened and soothed her. She told me she was crying because her father loved her so much, that when he was dying he sent her away, so she wouldn't have to see it. (I would have sent her way for another reason, because she was so annoying!) Not understanding why a woman might cry, after her father has been dead for 30 years, is beyond me, plus in front of a practical stranger? Within 5 minutes of the crying jag, she was laughing and telling me some funny story, about who knows what? Suddenly, without notice or change of topics, she begins crying again and I can't believe my ears! Is this more laughing or is this crying? After listening for a minute of so, I realize it's crying and she begins to apologize, but she's now crying about Harry, a 7 year old piano student of hers that needs a lung transplant or he will die!

Within a couple of minutes, she's yelling that she wants a Mercedes, that she drives a Toyota and wants to drive a Mercedes and do I have a lot of money. Well, it seems that the spark that I spotted the day before went out and all that was left was the bipolar Psycho Lady from earlier in the story! Back to the drawing board...