Miser Family Los Angeles

Community Service

2012-01-08T20:21:00.000-08:00

What is the difference between Lindsay Lohan and me? She is young, rich and famous and I am old, miserly and unknown. Another difference between us is that she stole an expensive necklace and got arrested for it, and I did not. But I did make a righthand turn at a red light, and was captured on video tape doing so. I don't know if Ms. Lohan has ever done this, but most of Los Angeles has, or else we'd all be sitting at a dead standstill.

So what is the same about Lindsay Lohan and me? We've both been sentenced to Community Service. Another difference: She is fulfilling her Community Service by working as a janitor at a morgue, while I am carrying out my Community Service by volunteering at a youth center in Echo Park. I'd rather do my Community Service over hers, so I totally trump her there.

Almost two years ago, way back in March of 2010, I made a rolling righthand turn at an intersection where the light had turned red 1/10th of a second too late. In other words, I did not come to an absolute, complete stop at the red light before preceding to the right. I know for a fact that I looked both ways before I did this because I always make sure I carefully look both ways before turning right ever since that time I hit a pregnant woman, but that is another story... The unfortunate part of this whole thing is that I was photographed while not coming to a complete stop, and a few weeks later I received a red light camera ticket for $446! Which seemed to both Sparky and I to be an inexcusably exorbitant amount of money. So I called the number and protested, and they gave me an extension plus a court date - a victorious 15 months later. They told me about the appointment - and I really did write it down, but I somehow lost it, and then forgot all about it. So when I didn't pay the fine or show up in person to contest it, I was sent a rather nasty bill from collections. When I called to explain how I lost the original date (they really should give you a reminder notice or phone call for fuck sake) they gave me another extension, which was eight months in the future. This time I vowed to not forget.

Meanwhile, the Los Angeles Times printed a couple of interesting news story, first "L.A. Traffic Cameras May Get the Red Light", and then a month later "L.A. City Council Shuts Down Red-light Cameras". Which gave me hope of not having to pay the ginormous fine. But then I started doing research on-line, and found a rumor that stated that the city was going after all unpaid fines in order to recoup their losses. So that meant I would have to go to court and talk to The Judge. I firmly believed that I would be able to get out of it ... because how could they get money out of a Miser like me?

All of which led to standing in a very long line on my appointed court date to finally see The Judge. I then had to sit through a lot of other either guilty and/or not guilty people who had all committed/not committed various traffic violations. After a very long wait it was my turn, and I decided to plead No Contest just to get the goddamn thing over with. The Judge was very nice, I explained my situation to her, protesting the fact that the red light program was no longer in effect. She was very sympathetic and told me that I could do Community Service instead of paying that ridiculous fine. Hurrah! How bad could that be? I figured I would work a day or so doing something like clerical work and be done with it. But that wasn't the case. Instead, I had to stand in another very long line with all of the other poor saps who were also sentenced to Community Service. And when it was finally my turn, I found out that I would be forced to fulfill fifty four hours of Community Service. Which is the equivalent of being paid $8.26 an hour for over a week's worth of labor. Which is 26 cents above the minimum wage in the great state of California. (Now who could live off of such a miserly wage? Not this Miser.)

I've since had to go back and stand in more lines in order to obtain my assignment, which is at the Echo Park Youth Center. I haven't started yet but I don't think it will be very hard completing my Community Service hours there. In fact, I'm actually looking forward to it! I'm going into this whole thing with a positive attitude for once, and I'm thinking that if I like it I may just volunteer there on a regular basis (and not just because I'm being punished for making a rolling righthand turn against a red light). At least I don't have to go to traffic school. Or pick up trash on the side of the freeway wearing an orange jump suit. Plus I got out of paying $446 bucks. So I'm thinking that this may just be a win-win situation after all because it beats working as a janitor at the county morgue like Lindsay Lohan.

New Year's Resolution

2012-01-04T15:16:00.000-08:00

I have a very simple resolution for 2012, and even though I keep forgetting about it I'm pretty sure that I'll be able to stick to this one for life. My resolution isn't really so much as a resolution as it is just a new way of doing something. But I think that if I can do this one small thing, then I may just become a whole new and better person. Because I sometimes think that if you can successfully change one small thing about yourself, then you can also change the bigger things about yourself that you don't like. It's a start. Anyway, I have learned a brand new way of tying my shoes, and I resolve to tie them in this completely different fashion from now on. It's called the Ian Knot, and it is considered to be the world's fastest shoelace knot. And thanks to this knot your laces will last longer because there is less wear and tear on them. Also, you will save approximately 3.25 minutes over your lifetime. That means that you will have an extra 3 and one quarter minutes of your life to spend on doing other things besides wasting them tying your shoes! But the problem I've been having is that I keep forgetting to tie my shoes in this manner, and I end up tying them the same old way I've been doing since I was five, which is the Standard Shoelace Knot. I've been using the Standard Shoelace Knot for over forty years so it's hard to remember to use the Ian Knot. What I end up doing is tying my shoes the old way and then remembering that I want to tie them the new way, so I untie them and then retie them the new way. So I am adding more stress to my shoelaces plus wasting 3 and one quarter minutes of my life that could be spent on something besides tying shoes. Whatever. So that is my resolution for 2012. And it should be noted that I seem to be the only person I know of who has a New Year's Resolution. I wonder why that is?

Gorilla Glue

2011-10-30T20:19:00.000-07:00

I'm actually not a very good Miser. In the true sense of the word that is. I do try, I really do, but when it comes right down to it I'm just no good. The other day I came across a casting notice for a new TV game show/reality contestant show, searching for real Misers. I thought to myself that perhaps I just might qualify for something like that. But then I read the blurb which said: "Misers wanted! Are you the Queen or King of Coupons? Can you stretch a dollar further than anyone you know? Can you find the most incredible deals out there? Then we want YOU to compete with other like mind individuals for a chance to win cash prizes!"

I knew that there was no way I could ever win a competition like that. For one thing, I hate coupons. They are usually for nothing that I would ever buy, and the rare times that I do find a coupon that I might use, I invariable forget that I have it until after it's expired. Also, I cannot stretch a dollar very far, sad to say. I'm not even sure what that means. And I never go searching for deals, rather the deals have to find me. So I'm just not a good Miser in those terms. However, I do have some good Miser-like qualities, I think. For one thing, I've gotten very good at grocery shopping, only buying what I know we'll eat and never letting any food go to waste. I cook mostly healthy, nutritionous meals for my little family these days, and we hardly ever eat out anymore. So we save money there. (Back in olden times, before Bee was born and when both Sparky and I were working, all we did was go out to eat. We wasted so much money at restaurants and bars and cafes, but it was worth it at the time, so who cares?)

But the one thing that both Sparky and I are the most Miserly-spectacular at is our usage of Gorilla Glue to fix anything and everything that has broken. Why go out and buy something new to replace your old-broken-down-whatever when you can just fix it with Gorilla Glue (which just happens to be the best glue that has ever been invented)? I love this stuff. Sparky loves this stuff, it is truly a miracle worker. It works on any and all surfaces such as metals, wood, plastic, stone, ceramics, rubber, etc. And it is waterproof to boot. If something becomes broken around our Miser household, we just fix it with our trusty Gorilla Glue - instead of using coupons or stretching a dollar or finding the best deal possible in order to replace the broken-whatever. Which means that less of our stuff gets thrown into the landfills, less or our money is flying out of our pockets, and even more of our stuff is kind of funky looking. But as long as it still works I'm good with it. So in those terms I guess I am a pretty good Miser after all.

Back In The Saddle Again

2011-10-11T14:21:00.000-07:00

It has been quite a while since I've blogged. I suppose you could say I've been on hiatus. I've been meaning to blog and I've actually sat down and started to blog, but then wandered away from the computer in the middle of a sentence, distracted by something else that caught my attention. I guess I've turned into A.D.D. girl. I envy those Super Woman out there, the ones who faithfully and consistently blog, the ones who have kids galore and full time high-powered jobs and houses full of pets and a husband and all the obligations that go along with it and for some reason they DON'T have A.D.D. They are disciplined instead. How do they do it? They make me feel a bit feeble in contrast. I mean, I have one kid, one cat, one dog, one husband, and no full time high-powered highfaluting job to speak of, and I still haven't managed to blog in like a year of Sundays. But my intentions are good. I keep meaning to blog. I want to blog. But its been so long that I'm not sure how to start it all up again. So I decided to just sit down and write this and then I'll try to write again soon, and then it'll be a blog again. That is the plan, anyway.

Energy

2011-04-13T21:34:00.000-07:00

Our little girl turned four years old the other day. (I can hardly believe it, where has the time gone?) We celebrated Bee's birthday at her preschool, and it was a short but sweet celebration. My favorite part was before the party even started. We got there early to set up, and the kids were outside playing. They were frolicking around in the fresh air, and when they saw us they came running over. Well, the girls did anyway. The boys were too busy pedaling in giant circles on their trikes to pay us any attention. Bee was so happy to see us, and was extremely excited about her impending party. So were her little friends. They chatted and giggled, dancing around us in anticipation. And then it was time for them to line up to come inside. They were all so happy you could feel them physically vibrating with intensity, they could barely contain themselves. If we could find a way to harness all of that energy, oil would seriously be a thing of the past. Preschool Kid Energy is pretty clean, easily renewable, and healthy for the environment. If only I could figure out how to do this then we probably wouldn't be Misers anymore.

More Jewelry for the House

2011-04-05T17:09:00.000-07:00

I've made more tiles to hang on the house, around the downstairs doorframe, outside. I like it that they are not perfectly square, and some of them turn up a bit at the corners. The glazes also look much different than what I originally intended. When I first started making ceramics I would get upset when something came out of the kiln and didn't look I thought it would. But over the years I've learned not to expect too much control over my pieces as they rarely come out looking like they do in my mind's eye when they're being made. In fact, sometimes they are far better. And I've learned to like their flaws as well. Sometimes these flaws are the best part, but it usually takes me a couple of days of living with the pieces before I come to that conclusion. I have to first let go of my expectations, which is not always easy to do.

Snark

2011-03-30T12:18:00.000-07:00

I'm in a kind of snarky mood today. Which is probably fairly obvious by my utiliziation of the word "snarky", which I never use. Just now I drove by three giant billboards for the movie "Arthur" within a one mile radius. Really? They need that many billboards? For a movie that looks like it's going to be worse than dreadful? First of all, who actually likes Russell Brand besides Katy Perry? Secondly, why is Helen Mirren in this movie? She is a stellar actor and I cannot imagine why she would sign on to this schlocky remake. And why is Hollywood remaking this movie in the first place? I saw the original one years ago with Dudley Moore playing the lovable drunken billionaire buffoon, and I remember finding it funny. My guess is that the film didn't age well, though. But that doesn't mean we need a remake of it. Why can't Hollywood make better movies? Instead of throwing millions of dollars at a formulaic rehash, why not just take a chance on an original script? I know that there are good screenwriters out there who are coming up with unconventional, creative scripts. I just don't get it.

Mr. Happy

2011-03-18T10:29:00.000-07:00

Our neighbor's garage still sports those smiley faces, and amazingly they haven't been defaced by graffiti. We've found out that everybody on the block pretty much likes them, in fact people have been getting their picture taken in front of them. I guess the garage is earning something of a reputation. The other day (while we were out, of course) our neighbor, Jarvis, was outside with his tiny puppy, America. He noticed a bunch of people in front of the garage getting their photos taking. "Looks like a rock band," he thought to himself. Then teeny America slipped through the fence and ran over to the people in front of the garage. One of them scooped him up, and as Jarvis walked up to them he noticed that it was a rock band. Anthony Kiedis was holding America, and Jarvis snapped a photo with his cell phone of the Chili Peppers as they posed in front of our smiley faces! Of all the graffiti on all of the derelict garages in all of the gnarly alleys in all of the funky neighborhoods in all of Los Angeles, The Chilli Peppers chose ours for a photo shoot. Pretty cool... And if you happen to live in Los Angeles, you just may soon come across this same blue smiley face covering some hideous billboard in your daily travels.

Field of Wheat

2011-02-18T17:21:00.000-08:00

A few years ago, Sparky's dear old friend, Poppy, who lives in Rushville, told us a story about his father that I still think about from time to time. Apparently Poppy's dad was a crumgdeon and a misanthropic ass who didn't really like very many people. Including two of his own children, but that's another story. Anyway, one night years ago, Poppy, his girlfriend Sammie from the Big City (that would be Indianapolis), and his family were eating dinner. Most likely it was Sunday supper as the whole family was there. They started talking about politics and an argument insued. It got pretty heated, as these types of conversations often do. Poppy and Sammy from the Big City were of course taking a liberal bent, while some of the others at the table were a bit more moderate. Poppy's father was not only a malcontent, he was a hugely conservative one. Apparently Poppy's father didn't say anything at all during this conversation. Which was normal because on top of it all, he was a fairly taciturn man. As things got more heated, Poppy's dad suddenly said, "Field of wheat, field of wheat. I wish I was in a field of wheat!" Everyone stopped and looked at him, and he just continued eating his good supper as though he hadn't just said something out of the blue. The conversation started up again, and that was that. This has always stuck with me, Sparky, too, and when we are both in situation we don't fancy this sentiment comes to mind. Field of wheat. Field of wheat. I wish I was in a Field of Wheat!

God's Gym

2010-11-11T17:27:00.000-08:00

My friend and I joined a gym today, which kind of shocked me as I'm not really the gym joining type. But I've been taking a P.E. course this semester, circuit training, which I really enjoy. In fact it's my most favorite class (of all time!) and an easy A to boot. I've really gotten into the various exercise and weight lifting machines, especially the Ellipitical. I like watching its little computer tell me how many steps I've taken and how many calories I've burned. A woman in my class told me about a budget priced gym not too far from where I live and I decided to check it out as the price seemed right to this Miser. The gym is part of a church called the Dream Center, and it's actually named The Lord's Gym. I really think that it should be called "God's Gym" instead, as I like the alliteration, but oh well. You don't have to be a member of the flock to join, thankfully. It's clean and everything, but a bit on the funky side as some of the machines are out of order. I guess the lord is more concerned with saving souls than with helping people get into shape. But like I said, the price is right so we signed ourselves up. We are going to try to go twice a week, and are looking forward to working out at the Lord's Gym. Amen.

Hot Tub Time Machine!

2010-11-01T20:29:00.000-07:00

Last night, Sparky and I saw one of the worst movies ever made with one of the best titles ever: Hot Tub Time Machine. Maybe it's because I had such a hellish week, but when Sparky told me he rented Hot Tub Time Machine, I knew that I would watch it in its entirety no matter how dreadful it was. I needed escapism! I needed to watch a movie about time travel that took place in a hot tub! And even though it was a sadly bad movie, I made Sparky watch the whole thing with me. The title is so awesome! The movie does not live up to its name. Sparky thought it was going to be straight up slapstick, but it turned out to more of a post modern type comedy with not a lot of yucks but rather some mildly amusing bits here and there. There is time travel, however. That takes place in a hot tub. At least Nicolas Cage was not in it, because that would have been a deal breaker. (Krispin Glover has a small part in it, and I do like that him even though he is a bit of a wing nut.)

While we were watching this movie, Sparky could not help comparing it to other comedies, and he started getting all nostalgic for W.C. Fields. Sleeford loved W.C. Fields, and had all of his old movies on DVD, which he loaned to Sparky. They both admired his drunken curmudgeon character, and how he always worked to great effect with children and animals, two of the most notoriously difficult creatures to work with in film. Sparky wished that Hot Tub Time Machine was more like a W.C. Fields movie. Or like the Stooges. I remember when Bee was about seven weeks old there was a Three Stooges Movie Marathon showing on some local station during Memorial Day Weekend. Bee was still in that little newborn stage of waking up every four hours or so for a diaper change, formula, diaper change, and then back to sleep again for another four hours or so. And Sparky and I were both in that sleep depraved stage you get in with infants where your days and night become the same. So we took care of our little Bee and watched the Three Stooges. All weekend long. And we laughed our asses off. I remember we finally took a break to go to the grocery store for some much needed sustenance, and while we there all we did was talk about the Three Stooges (while Bee slept in her little car seat on top of the cart.) We must have been really tired. But to this day, Curly, Larry, Moe, Shemp, babies, and not enough sleep - they seem to all go hand in hand for me.

Anyway, when it is all said and done, I am glad that I finally saw Hot Tub Time Machine. Our friend Buddy predicted that it would do really well when it was first released (strictly because of the title) but it did not and I can see why. But still, if I ever went back in time in a hot tub, I would surely watch Hot Tub Time Machine once again.

Fingernail

2010-10-24T11:22:00.000-07:00

Today is a great day. The sun is shining once again, the birds are singing, and this morning my pinkie fingernail finally fell off. A few weeks ago, my little finger accidentally got pinched in our new gate as Sparky was closing it. It hurt like hell, I cried in fact, the finger turned different colors. I had a feeling that I would lose the little fingernail that eventually turned an unnatural shade of grayish blue. But that little nail was tenacious, and it held on to dear life for weeks. The nail itself became detached from the nail bed, but the cuticle would not give it up. So I had a dead, plastic looking fingernail that flapped around, getting caught on things as it went about its business. Sometimes I put a bandage on it to hide it from the world, especially when I was in public, but it always felt much better when I let it air out, free from its cover. Sparky and especially Bee were totally grossed out by it, and whenever I asked if they wanted to see it they would yell "No!" and run from the room. I continuously wiggled that nail around, much like a first grader does with a loose tooth, willing it to fall off. And this morning I managed to peel it away from the cuticle, and it's free at last! I was kind of sad to see it go as it was my favorite fingernail, but I'm hoping that a new and improved one grows in its place. I decided to keep the nail for prosperity (I had to hide it from Bee and Sparky), but I won't include a picture of it or my nail-less finger as it is kind of yucky looking. It is such a relief to finally get rid of that thing that I feel almost reborn in my new, lack-of-little-fingernail-state, ready to take on whatever may come my way. All is right in Peanutland once again.

Savory Sauce

2010-10-20T15:42:00.000-07:00

Every week, because I've usually got the time, I bake a couple of loaves of bread, make a big pot of brown rice, dog food for Glenn, maybe some pinto beans, maybe some vegetable stock for soups and stuff, and always a jar of Savory Sauce from The Spot. I heart this Savory Sauce. I guess you could say that I'm addicted to it. I put it over/on top/in everything, including Mac and Cheese, which Bee loves. I thought that I would share it as it's too good to keep to myself. It's from the "world famous" vegetarian restaurant in Hermosa Beach called The Spot, which has been around forever. This sauce, as you probably have guessed, is very savory and tastes great over brown rice, steamed vegetables, tofu, you name it.

3/4 cup almond or safflower oil
3/4 cup water
1/4 cup Bragg's Liquid Aminos
1/8 cup brewer's yeast (flakes or powder)
1/2 tsp kelp powder
1/2 tsp Spike seasoning
1/2 tsp basil
1/8 tsp granulated garlic
1 1/2 tsp lemon juice (I add more because I always have a ton of lemons)
1 1/2 tsp tamari (or soy sauce)
1 package firm tofu (16 oz)

Put it all in a blender and mix until creamy. You could easily halve this recipe or freeze it. Make some today and you won't be sorry.

Hit And Run

2010-10-14T22:29:00.000-07:00

Most people were very alarmed and concerned when they heard about the drama of our car crash disaster, wanting to know details and calling for updates. But not Sparky's mom. She didn't seem too fazed by it, and in fact was rather lackadaisical about the whole affair. But it turns out that she had problems of her own. They kind of trump ours, really. Her troubles concern a hit and run situation where a bicyclist was hit and severely injured. And the hit and run driver was her! She hit him as she was making a left-hand turn, knocking him off of his bike. She then proceeded to run right over him, and kept on driving. She did not see him, and at the time thought she had run over a curb or something. (At 84 she is not the world's best driver, and according to Sparky, she was never very good even when she was younger. But she likes being independent, and she still has good health.)

She read about the hit and run accident in her local paper, the Rushville Republican a couple of days after the incident. She got to thinking after reading the description of the car (small and blue), the description of the occupant (a single female driver) and the time and place of the accident (shortly before 9:00 a.m. on Third and Arthur Street) that she could have been the hit and run driver. She went out to look at her car, and sure enough, there was a huge dent in the front of it that hadn't been there before. So she decided that it must have been her, and she turned herself in. Luckily, she was commended for coming forward, and no charges were made against her. I'm not sure how she didn't notice that she hit and ran over the bicyclist, but she is pretty short, and she is old, and like I said, she is not the world's best driver. Her insurance will cover everything, and hopefully that will be the end of it.

I don't know how the bicyclist is faring these days, but he is out of the hospital and recovering at home. The nutty part of this story is actually his situation. He is a 62 year old divorced man who is living with his ex-wife and two other men who were also once married to this ex-wife. Three ex-husbands and one ex-wife all living together in a little house outside of town with no car, no phone, and one mangled bike...

Anyway, Joyce has been rather embarrassed by all of this, but is thankful that things were not worse. And an update on our situation: today, after almost 6 weeks, I have my car back. Finally! They washed it and detailed it, it's all sparkly and clean and looks like a brand new car again, only without that new car smell. Now we just need the stairs repaired. Or we could just install a rope, ladder, and slide. Bee would like that, but not so much Glenn the Dog. Or me, for that matter. I'm guessing that in another six weeks, we'll have it fixed, too.

Car Crash

2010-10-07T08:15:00.000-07:00

Almost four weeks ago, some crazy lady crashed her car into our gate, taking out my car and the staircase to our house in the process. Bee and I were not home at the time of the crash, but Sparky was. He said it made a terrific noise. He went out the front door to see what happened, and saw her SUV smashed up against the bumper of my car, the metal gate twisted up between the vehicles with broken glass everywhere. The passenger jumped out and said "Don't worry, she'll pay for everything. Don't worry!" A shocked Sparky attempted to walk down the still intact stairs, and the second he stepped on them they fell out beneath his feet. As he plunged down twenty feet, he grabbed the railing but this too gave out and he was dangling like Indiana Jones until he was able to break his fall by swinging away from the debris and letting go. As Sparky stood up among the rubble of the stairs, the passenger kept assuring him that everything would be taken care of.

Apparently the driver, who was picking up the passenger from our next door neighbors, thought that her car was in drive and she tromped the gas pedal in order to go up the hill. But her car was really in reverse, so instead of going uphill she went downhill right into our property instead. Just minutes after this dramatic event occurred, Bee and I returned home. I was very surprised to see a SUV in our yard, and I thought for a second that I must be seeing things. But no, there it was. The driver was still in the car, and I went over to ask her what the hell happened. Sparky and the Passenger were next door at this point, so I wasn't sure what was going on. The driver, Amber was her name, seemed completely out of it, and I asked if she was drunk. No, she said she wasn't. Amber said she was sorry, and that her insurance would pay for everything. At that point, Sparky and the Passenger returned, and the Passenger told me that Amber had a "medical" condition. Amber was definitely on something, I mean how to you confuse reverse with drive (unless you're a Republican)? It seemed so nutty.

Anyway, the police and fire department arrived, reports were taken, insurance information exchanged, the SUV was towed away, and to our amazement Amber wasn't arrested for driving while incoherent. Her mother came to pick her up, and away they all went. Sparky, Bee and I were left with a useless gate, broken stairs, and smashed car. It will be four weeks tomorrow since this happened. We now have a brand new gate that is like a penny, shiny and new. However, I still do not have a car. They are having a problem getting a new bumper for it. Also, no stairs! We've grown used to only using the downstairs as our only means of egress, but after it first happened, I kept trying to go out the front door, only to be confronted by a pile of rubble. Some day, hopefully soon, this too will be remedied. But it's funny what you get used to.

Mint

2010-08-23T10:03:00.000-07:00

I remember when I was young we had a patch of mint growing on the side of our house. It started off as just a little bit, but quickly grew into a big expanse. We had a neighbor at the time who was Vietnamese - she married an American service man during the Vietnam war and they settled in Bellevue when his tour of duty was over. One day she must have discovered the mint plant, because she rang our doorbell and asked if she could have some. My mother told her to take as much as she wanted. I don't think my parents ever knew what to do with the mint, maybe they put a pinch in iced tea or something, but it was hardly ever used it. I'm not even sure why they planted it, but our neighbors loved it and pretty soon her relatives and friends started ringing the doorbell to see if they could have some too. My parents finally told them all that they were welcome to our mint whenever they wanted, no need to ask first. These people were very nice, and they were also excellent cooks. I know this because they would come by from time to time to offer us some Vietnamese delicacy that they had just made with our fresh mint. I remember especially liking their fragile spring rolls that were bursting with fresh vegetables and that lovely mint. These foods seemed so exotic to me and my bland American palate, and opened up a peek into the vast, gastronomical world that I knew must exist somewhere outside of our very ordinary neighborhood. I'm not sure what happened to the couple next door, I think they may have gotten divorced or something and then they moved away. I remember that her family and friends still came over for that mint, until one day when they didn't. I later used it as a breath mint to mask the smell of cigarettes and liquor. I always did like that plant.

Today, that mint plant is no longer on the side of my parents house. I think they finally dug it up as they had no real use for it. But Sparky and I have mint growing outside with the other spices. A few weeks ago, I was picking some basil when I discovered a pot that contained a bunch of dried twigs with a sad leaf or two of mint still attached. It must have gotten moved around the yard and then lost in the shuffle, and it wasn't watered for a while. I knew that if it was properly watered again that it would come back - these are some hardy ass plants. My parents always said that it was impossible to kill a mint plant, even if you had the blackest thumb around. So Sparky watered that little guy and gave it some love, and lo and behold, we have abundant mint again. I use it all the time now. I just used some last night in a corn dish that I make. I really like this plant and I cannot say it enough: I love fresh mint!

Homemade Dog Food

2010-08-16T20:22:00.000-07:00

Today, for the very first time, I made dog food for Glenn. I've been meaning to do this for ages, ever since we visited our friends down in Ramona. They make their own dog food and always give some to Glenn, who is absolutely crazy for it. It's so simple to prepare - I can't believe I haven't done it sooner. I bought some hamburger on sale, browned it in a little bit of olive oil, then added broccoli, brown rice, and some leftover lentils. Next time I'm going to try chicken, rice, carrots and peas. You could also use ground turkey, grated cheese, cottage cheese, eggs, potatoes or oatmeal. The key is to mix together a meat, some vegetables, and a starch. I made a big enough batch to last him for about a week. The benefits are two fold: it's healthier and less expensive than canned dog food. It's fun cooking for your dog, and I highly recommend that anyone who has one give it a try. Your pup will love you for it.

Miser Facts

2010-08-14T13:04:00.001-07:00

Everyone knows that Misers hate paying for parking, and try to avoid doing so at all costs. Misers also intensely dislike paying shipping and handling fees, and often can be enticed into buying stuff over the interweb simply because of FREE shipping. Misers are DIYers, and thus never spend money on pedicures, gift wrapping, or dry cleaning. Misers love libraries, parks, and sunset walks on the beach. Misers are cheap, but dream of a future of rolling in money.

Tomato Sandwich

2010-08-05T22:05:00.000-07:00

When I was little, my favorite thing to eat for lunch was a lettuce and mayonnaise sandwich. Everyday in first and second grades, my mother would ask me what kind of sandwich I wanted to take to school, and I would say "lettuce and mayonnaise." She would ask me, "How about peanut butter and jam? Or bologna and cheese?" And I would answer, "No, I want lettuce and mayonnaise." Iceberg lettuce, lots of mayonnaise (NOT Miracle Whip) slathered between two slices of white bread. To me it was the perfect sandwich, and my mom made them better than anyone else. I tried to make it myself once, but I accidently used cabbage instead of lettuce and it was the worst thing ever. I finally outgrew my obsession with this sandwich, and these days it seems that tomatoes have taken the place for me. Tomatoes fresh from the garden, a little bit of light mayonnaise, and a sprinkling of sea salt, layered between two slices of homemade whole wheat bread. Yummy.

Our tomatoes are starting to ripen - finally. It seems pretty late in the season but its been a little bit cold and cloudy in Los Angeles this summer. It is especially chilly at night, which is very odd for August in L.A. (Hello, climate change.) So as a consequence our vegetable garden is nothing to write home about. But I was pretty excited to eat that first tomato sandwich the other day - it took me back to my old lettuce and mayonnaise days. I'm planning on canning our vegetables this year (which we'll hopefully have enough of), and was stoked to see an article in the Los Angeles Times food section today regarding this very subject. It seems that it has become pretty trendy to can vegetables, fruits, pickles, jellies and jams in these economically challenging times, just like Grandma used to do. Now that's a trend I can get behind. The DIYers are experiencing a Renaissance right now, and I am quite happy about it. The article was helpful because it explained that you didn't have to make huge batches of stuff, which I obviously won't be able to do. I'm not an expert on canning; I remember my sister and I helped my mother can fruits in the summers, but I didn't much enjoy it as it seemed like just another annoying chore. I have a whole different attitude now, but I'll need to read up on it before I start canning away. Tomatoes, chillies, zucchini, maybe something with lemons. And I may buy some fruit or something at the farmers market and make some preserves. Yummy.

The First of Octember

2010-08-04T13:25:00.000-07:00

Things have been pretty tight at the Miser household lately, but I'm trying really hard not to freak out or whine about it. Instead, we have been attempting to have some fun on next to no money. And we talk about what we'll do, where we'll go, what we'll buy, etc. when we finally have money once again. In our minds that magical day will occur on the First of Octember, the holiday that Dr. Suess invented where all kinds of crazy good stuff happens to you. The problem is that we're not really sure when the First of Octember is, but we do know that's when all of our Miserly problems will be solved! We'll be able to take that trip to France, eat at that fancy new restaurant down the street, buy some shiny new clothes for us all. On the First of Octember we'll eat whatever we want, drink whatever we want, go where ever we want, and stay up all night long. Until that magical day arrives, we will do our very best to hang in there and to be thankful for what we've got, because it turns out it really is enough.

The Prisoner

2010-07-31T19:14:00.001-07:00

The Deukmejian Wilderness Park in Glendale finally reopened last month after being closed for almost a year, due to the ravages of the Station fire. It was one of The Misers favorite places to picnic. We went there just the other day, sandwiches in hand, and discovered that we were the only ones there. We had the whole park to ourselves! It was a beautiful day, and after eating, Bee and Sparky threw a beach ball around while I perused a cookbook. It seemed so odd that no one else was around - we felt like we were in the Prisoner's village only without the crazy bright clothing and striped accessories. Where was everybody? It was all very relaxing and we Misers felt very lucky indeed.

Ghetto Life

2010-07-27T20:30:00.000-07:00

How can you tell if you live in a ghetto? If the super market down the street from you keeps their liquor and baby formula locked up. And how can you tell if your neighborhood is improving? When this very same market starts to leave the liquor unlocked. That's when you know that things are looking up!

Mr. Walking And Reading

2010-07-23T22:20:00.001-07:00

Sparky and I were saddened a couple of days ago when we heard that Mr. Walking and Reading had died. We did not know this man personally, but have seen him out and about Silverlake for years and years. We first espied him way back in the day when we were both employed at the Recycler Classifieds. He would walk briskly down the street in just a pair of shorts and tennis shoes while reading a newspaper. We saw him almost on a daily basis, and had no idea who he was so we called him "Mr. Walking And Reading." On cold winter days, Mr. Walking And Reading might wear a windbreaker. But on most days he was shirtless, and thus was deeply tanned. We saw him everywhere, and whenever we saw him we would say to one another, "Hey, there's Mr. Walking And Reading". Later, after we were both no longer working at the Recycler, we found out from a friend that Mr. Walking And Reading was a physician, and was well known around town. Apparently others had noticed him, too, and documentaries and murals had been made about him. We probably should have started calling him "Dr. Walking And Reading" but we never did; old habits are hard to break. R.I.P., Mr. Walking And Reading, you were a truly unique individual and we will miss seeing you walk rapidly thru the neighborhood while reading a newspaper and wearing nothing but shorts and sneakers.

Weed Whackers - guest blogger Sparky

2010-07-22T23:23:00.000-07:00

I awoke last night to a violent and perverse scuffling in the alley. It was after 2 A.M. For a few moments I was totally lost and thought a home invasion was in the works. The swearing was loud and drunken but no bottles were smashing or windows breaking. WTF?! I crept to the bathroom window, upstairs above the only streetlight in the alley. I refocused my eyes. I could tell from the swearing I was dealing with a couple of youngish white guys who were mad as hell, but this was not what I had expected. The taller one with hipster beard and glasses was wielding a sling blade, his shorter, bald pal with long baggy checkerboard shorts and big combat boots was attacking with a sword. Seriously, a sword. The blade was at least four feet long and had to weigh half as much as he did. They both hollered, grunted, and chopped with vicious abandon at every defenseless weed in the alley. Sample dialogue: "Fuck you motherfucker weed fucking with my fucking car one more fucking time...", etc. They chopped, swore and whacked their way up and down the alley. I bore silent witness to their mayhem as they branched out, slicing and dicing Mr. Piano Man's avocado tree into submission.

As I watched them move out of sight and into the labyrinth of barking dogs down the alley, it hit me that there was an entire segment of society that was feeling screwed over by the New Depession that I hadn't thought of before: guys in their late 20's-early 30's, making good bank in the industry, or at hip media jobs, where there is no sense of loyalty or job stability on either side. These guys used to go to work everyday with the attitude of 'take this job and shove it' because I can, and will, get something better that pays more in like, two days, man. And now those guys hadn't worked in a year, and their unemployment was a dry teat. Student loans the size of a normal mortgage were also raining despair down into their young souls, and they suffered the anger of the helpless. Fuck those motherfucking weeds!

And then they came back up the alley working the other side. They were still swearing like fucking mud wrestlers, but were seriously winded. Suddenly they stopped right below me, looking at my truck. "What the fuck is this?" Huff and puff. "A fucking Highlander?" "No, it's," huff, huff, huff. "A hybrid. Escape hybrid." The smaller, bald villain rested his weapon on his shoulder. "They're good people," the big fellow slurred. "Good people. They keep their shit trimmed." And they walked off. "As do I," said the sword whacker as he chopped a single foot long piece of bamboo from next to our gate. (Well, that filthy weed was getting a bit out of hand...) And as they walked on, I saw the unmistakable outline of the alley's only Great Dane, Mitzi. "Come on, Mitzi. Back in, back in." And the weed whacking neighbors returned home. And as weird as it was, it's always good to know that your neighbors think highly of you.

Lazy

2010-07-19T21:58:00.000-07:00

I'm feeling very lazy these days. Don't feel much like doing anything except for sitting on the beach looking at the ocean. Which is exactly what we did today. It's swell being able to go to the beach on a weekday - one of the few perks of being an under employed Miser. These little pleasures in life have become so important to us lately, and make us feel richer than kings and queens and even Oprah.

Summer Daze

2010-07-17T11:29:00.000-07:00

Summer is definitely here. Maybe its been here all along, and I'm just finally noticing. Which makes sense really, because I've been barely here in Los Angeles ever since school got out. But I'm back, ready and raring to enjoy every one's favorite season. I have that slightly giddy, anything is possible feeling in my stomach. If I were to have a soundtrack for my summer, it would have to include "Dancing Days", "Doin' Time", "Margaritaville" (as sung by Sparky), and anything and everything by U-Roy.

P 'n B In London

2010-06-29T19:22:00.000-07:00

Bee and I were happy to find out that our knitted selves made it safe and sound to Stitch London's headquarters. The show is tomorrow at London's Science Museum, and we wish that are real selves could be there as well. If you happen to find yourself in London tomorrow night, stop in and say howdy to lil' Peanut and lil' Bee.

Desert Camping

2010-06-23T23:14:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow, the Misers are camping in the Mojave Desert! However, we're not going to the usual spot (our caves in the Granite Mountains) instead we're going to Joshua Tree. A trip to a National campground with a three year old just seems easier. Our caves are all about primitive camping: we have to haul our gear (including heavy ice chests) over rough terrain for a half mile. I know that Bee would find that a forced death march as opposed to a vacation... So we are going to Joshua Tree instead, and I cannot wait! I've been looking forward to this trip for weeks now; it is what helped sustain me through my finals at LACC. Every time I felt overwhelmed by the amount of studying to be done, as well as papers to be written, I just closed my eyes and thought of the desert. It helped to keep me calm and focused. Sparky and I have always had a love affair with the desert and we hope to pass it on to little Bee. It's the place we always went to when the city became too much, too impersonal, too smelly. The Mojave is where we got back in touch with nature, back in touch with our inner Hippie selves. We are considering this trip a sort of practice run for our Bee as we will only be spending one night there. But we plan on making the most of it, and hopefully she will grow to appreciate the Mojave as much as we do. Plus an added bonus: at night, we'll be able to see tons of stars - and a full moon!

Stars In My Eyes

2010-06-22T21:14:00.000-07:00

We went to a barbecue last week in Waldron, Indiana - a teeny, bump in the road of a town. Sparky's niece Hopestar lives there, and she throws a barbecue for us every year. We love it out there in the country because it feels as though you've finally gotten away from the big city, or the sprawling metropolis known as L.A. It was a very hot and humid day, and we were surrounded by fields of grass and giant oak trees - very peaceful. Sparky and his pals played baseball while Bee and I chatted with the other guests. One of them, Lori, asked me if we saw many stars in Los Angeles.
"Not really," I told her. "It's so bright there because of all the streetlights, and then with the clouds rolling in from the ocean at night, it makes the stars seem quite dim. But out in the desert, you can really see them. It's fantastic out there!"
"No, I meant movie stars," she said. "Do you see many movie stars?"
I had to laugh. I don't see many movie stars in L.A. either. We don't exactly hang out with the monied of Hollywood these days. But I would rather see real stars instead of movie stars any day.

Back Home

2010-06-19T22:16:00.000-07:00

We got back from Indiana just the other day. It was a great trip - it's so verdant there right now. We saw family, friends, lightening bugs, thunderstorms, ginormous grassy lawns, and lots and lots of corn growing everywhere. Sparky's dear old friend Michael drove us to and from the airport, which is more than an hour away from tiny Rushville. (Which was my only complaint: everything is so far away, you have to drive and drive and drive to get anywhere. It seems like a lot of Hoosiers have humongous commutes.) When Michael picked us up at the Indianapolis Airport, he spoke about the good old days of air travel, before 911 ruined it for everyone. It made me quite nostalgic. Remember when you stepped off the plane and saw a friendly face waiting for you right inside the terminal? That's what Sparky misses the most. Michael misses driving someone to the airport and hanging out with them until they got on the plane. He says that he used to stand there and watch the plane take off before he would leave. The thing that I miss most is the free stuff, like meals and checked baggage. I'm a Miser, so naturally I hate paying for these things. Thankfully, Bee has her own carry-on with little wheels, so she pulls her own luggage these days. But I hate having to pack miniature bottles of things, and not being able to bring my own water. Also, I dread going through security, especially with Bee. We always seem to have way too much stuff that we are trying to negotiate onto the conveyor belt, and it's awkward having take off our shoes. I always try to be upbeat, and even cheerful, when enduring this ordeal in order to make it go by more smoothly. And this seems to actually help. But I really miss those days when you could just show up fifteen minutes before your flight and still make it onto the plane in time. Back in olden times when flying was actually fun.

Indiana Bound

2010-06-09T18:43:00.000-07:00

Tonight, the Misers are taking the red eye to the Hoosier state to visit Sparky's family and friends. Bee is excited, Sparky is excited, and I'm just hoping that Bee sleeps on the plane. That will make me happy. The thing that I'm looking forward to the most is seeing the flat, wide-open landscape and maybe spying a lightening bug or two. I especially like the weather in Indiana this time of year - I hope it's nice and hot and humid. Also, it will be great to see everyone again. This trip should be fun, and best of all: school is out for summer!

Our Knitted Selves

2010-06-08T14:03:00.000-07:00

I've joined a club called Stitch London. It's not really a club per se, more like a community. But still, it is kind of clubbish. And I'm not a really big fan of clubs. It's only the second one that I've been a member of in my adulthood. Well, I was also sort of a member of a book club for awhile, but wasn't able to attend any of the meetings due to work. And then I heard from one of the members that it was kind of over anyway. Apparently, one of the people in the club who actually read the book got pissed at the other members who hadn't read the book, and so she proceeded to hurl the heavy tome at them from across the room. She may or may not have hit one of them in the head. I think that was pretty much the end of the club. Anyway, Stitch London is doing a show with London's Science Museum for the re-opening of the Who Am I? gallery. And I've entered a knitted version of myself and Bee. I'm not sure if these knitted figures really look like us, but they sort of feel like us. Anyone and everyone who makes a little version of themselves will be in the show, and it may travel around the world. Pretty cool. I mailed us off today, and it only cost four bucks and some change. Not bad for a flight to London. Bee was sad to see us go, but I figure that it's the only way that The Misers can afford to go to Europe this summer.

Wall Of Bougainvillea

2010-05-21T18:54:00.000-07:00

Wall Of Bougainvillea

Smiley Face Garage

2010-05-12T15:42:00.000-07:00

Our neighbor's derelict garage is constantly being assaulted by our favorite gang bangers, The Mayberry Street Crazys. Sparky and I are always saying what a blight the thing is, especially when covered with their graffiti. But we've been hesitant to complain to the city to get it torn down as it would leave us with an uninterrupted view of our neighbors house, which is an unfortunate shade of bright turquoise. We've decided that this pathetic garage is the lesser of the two eyesores. Anyway, it has been covered with the Crazys graffiti for months now, and Sparky has called the Graffiti Abatement Unit at least a dozen times to get them to paint over it. We would have done it ourselves except we are out of house paint, and can't afford to buy a new can. (Paint is expensive, and we are Misers, after all.) In the meantime, somebody got sick of the Crazys monikers and painted two smiley faces over them. Today, finally, the Graffiti Abatement Unit showed up (after Sparky called them again for the millionth time) to paint over it. They painted everything out except for the smiley faces. (Why did the leave them? Did they think it was art? That it was part of the garage's charm?) So now we have to look at the mindless grinning blue faces for god knows how long. Oh well, I guess it's better than what was there before. By the way, thanks a lot, Sparky.

Hiatus!

2010-05-06T18:19:00.000-07:00

I haven't written in a very long time as I've been super busy with school. I've always hated it when people have used this as an excuse for not doing something "I've been super busy..." It seems so lame. But nonetheless, that is exactly what I am at this moment in time. Super busy. (And lame.) But maybe I should just say that I've been on a hiatus from my blog, which will end as soon as school is over. Soon. One more month to go.

Luck

2010-02-27T14:24:00.000-08:00

Do you believe in luck? I'm not sure if I do. Sparky does. He is superstitious like a baseball player. He says that The Misers have none. But very good things have happened to us in the past, for instance our darling daughter Bee. We feel very lucky and fortunate to have adopted her; she is the child that we were meant to have and to raise. But bad things have happen to us as well, such as being terminally employment challenged. Sleeford would say that there is no such thing as good or bad luck, that things just randomly occur in the universe and it's our big human egos that think things happen to us for a reason.

My grandmother was very superstitious, but in a much different way than Sparky. Hers was steeped in religiosity; she made the sign of the cross if anything out of the ordinary happened, like a painting falling off the wall. She claimed such things to be the work of the Devil. And she would have everyone else in the room make the sign of the cross, too. I remember being scared to death of this Devil when I was little, you never knew what He would do next.

Grandma also believed in The Evil Eye, that someone could put a curse on you just by intently staring/glaring at you, which was also scary as hell. And she thought that you could predict the sex of an unborn baby by tying a ring on a string and suspending it above the mother-to-be's stomach. If the ring swings back and forth, you're having a boy. If it is more of a circular motion, then it's a girl. And of course she believed in ghosts, but I kinda agree with her on that one. If you lived in her house, I'm sure you would believe in ghosts too. You see, there was a double murder/suicide in that house!

The people who lived there prior to my grandparents were having extreme marital difficulties. The wife was having an affair and the husband suspected as much. One day he came home early and caught his wife in the act with the other man. He shot them both dead, and then turned the gun on himself. Needless to say, it was a bloody mess. Shortly after this horrendous act, my grandparents bought the house. They got a very good deal on it.

They did not tell any of their children about this violent history. Instead, they gave my mother her own bedroom for the first time in her life. The very same bedroom in which this abhorrent crime occurred! But my mother never knew about it, in fact she didn't find out about it until years later, long after she was out of the house.

I loved that house because I loved the people in it, and I spent a lot of time there in my youth, but nonetheless it gave all of us kids the Heebeegeebees. I swear it was haunted. More than one relative has reported seeing ghosts in that house. But I digress.

Are The Misers unlucky? Is there such a thing? Sparky would say an emphatic YES. I admit that some things have happened recently that make me think that he is right, that we have absolutely no luck at all, and lately Cream has been playing in my head: "Born under a bad sign, I've been down since I began to crawl, and if it wasn't for really bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all." Goddamn it, it's an awful thing to think you're unlucky - it feels like you have no control over your life.

Which makes me inclined to agree with Sleeford. Random things happen, bad and good, and sometime you have control over it and sometimes not. But just in case Sparky is right, I'm going to start wearing a good luck talisman. Because maybe sometimes you really do get lucky. Maybe sometimes you just happen to be in the right place at the right time. Instead of the wrong place at the wrong time, which has lately been the story of my life. Yes, maybe a lucky amulet would help. After all, we could really use all the help we can get right now.

Math

2010-02-19T12:41:00.000-08:00

One of the classes that I'm taking at college right now is an algebra class. Math has never my favorite subject, nor does it come easy for me. I admit that in the past I didn't really care how well I did in math; I never took the time to try to really understand it and I certainly don't remember ever studying. I must have just winged it. I must have just closed my eyes while taking a test and hoped for the best. It's a wonder that I know any math at all. But I somehow must have retained enough to be able to test into a regular college algebra class. Not a beginning one, not an advanced one, but one right smack dab in the middle. An average regular old algebra class. Which is actually pretty damn good for me.

I'm working very hard in this algebra class. I'm reading and re-reading the text book, doing my homework in a timely fashion, participating in class, and studying my ass off. I'm finally understanding it all - which is quite amazing to me. I'm enjoying math for the first time in my life! I'm finding a certain beauty in the orderliness of mathematical equations. In the past I always thought, why learn something I'm never going to use? But now I'm seeing practical, bone fide uses for algebra. Like if I ever want to build a trapezoid out of wood I know I'll have to use this formula to figure out how much lumber to purchase: A=lw+1/2(a+b). It's that simple. I'm sure I'll figure out other uses for math down the road. In the mean time I'm just going to try my best to grasp as much as I can. Learning math is fun!

Valentines

2010-02-14T20:06:00.000-08:00

This year for Valentine's Day, as I was strapped for money once again, I made my Valentines some Valentines. We had heart shaped waffles for breakfast, and I knitted some hearts and a felted rose out of scrap yarn.

Bee likes the rose the best, and I kind of like the felted grey and blue hearts. Happy Valentine's Day.

Grand Slam Redux

2010-02-11T17:16:00.000-08:00

On Tuesday, the Misers headed to Denny's for a FREE Grand Slam breakfast. It seems like this free Grand Slam thing is becoming an annual event with Denny's - last February the Misers also took advantage of their marketing gimmick. This time tho' we went in the afternoon after my classes were out - breakfast for lunch! I gobbled down my scrambled eggs and fluffy pancakes, and Bee ate all of our sausages, dipped in syrup natch. It was pouring down rain when we got there and consequently there was a very short line - we must have waited for a total of ten minutes. Not bad. Especially when you are talking about FREE. The Misers fully intend to take advantage of every free offer that comes our way as we have become even more Miserly these days. It has become a way of life. Go, Misers! (Sometimes we need to give ourselves a little pep talk...)

School Daze

2010-02-08T17:34:00.000-08:00

My school started today. That's right, I'm going back to college to learn how to do something useful that will allow me to make some money for a change. A meaningful career that will help me become an integral part of society, also for a change. I'm nervous about this school thing because I'm taking a full load and my classes are hard! I hope I'm smart enough. Also, I'm an OLDER student which is kind of a strange feeling. I'm as old as the instructors, as old as the hills, or maybe even older. Plus, my textbooks weigh a ton. I'm lugging 25 pounds of books around the campus which is not exactly pleasant. That is only four pounds less than what Bee weighs. Bee is way more fun to carry around - at least she is cuddly and snuggly as opposed to my books which are cold and hard. And I can always put her down as she walks perfectly fine on her own (when she's not tired and crabby, that is.) I'm rolling this small library around with me in a carry-on piece of luggage with wheels. I feel a bit silly wheeling this thing around as I kind of keep banging into people with it (or maybe they're just banging into me), but it sure beats lugging it on my back. I'm going to need all of the stick-to-it-ness that I can muster for this higher education thing as it is going to take me awhile (years) to accomplish my goals. Overall, I have to admit, I am very excited about this new challenge. But I'm probably a little bit crazy for doing this...

Henry Heimlich's Maneuver

2010-02-04T21:20:00.000-08:00

Have you ever had to perform the Heimlich Maneuver on somebody? I've had to. Twice now. And fortunately I know how to do it. The first time I ever did it was years ago on the dog we had before Glenn The Dog, Gus The Dog. Gus was eating something meaty, and he must have been gulping it down instead of taking the time to thoroughly chew it, and it got lodged in his throat. He was lucky that I happened to walk by him right at the moment when he started choking. He looked frantic and had a wild look in his eyes and he wasn't making ANY NOISE. That was the clue for me that we was choking so I got behind him, put my arms around him below his rib cage and did the old Heimlich Maneuver. A wad of meat came flying out of his mouth and lo and behold - he could breathe again! Being a dog he then proceeded to eat the piece of meat that he just spat up, but this time he properly chewed it and all was good again in his little dog world. Prior to that I didn't realize you could do the Heimlich on an animal, I just sort of did it without thinking. And I found out that yes, it even works on animals.

The second time I performed this maneuver was Monday night while we were eating our good dinner and the worst thing that could happen happened; little Bee started choking on a piece of steak. I was in the process of sitting down next to her at the time, and I looked at Sparky who was facing her, and asked if she was really choking. She was waving her hands around and wasn't breathing and like Gus before her she wasn't making ANY NOISE. (For some reason I needed Sparky to confirm the worse for me.) "Yes," he said, "It's go time!" I picked her up, wrapped my arms around her and pushed up with my fist underneath her rib cage. It took a couple of thrusts for the meat to come shooting out, and when it hit the floor Glenn The Dog, being a dog, ate it. The whole thing only lasted about ten seconds but it felt like minutes. When I picked her up I had tunnel vision - I could literally only see her, everything else in the room lost its focus. My heart was hammering furiously in my chest and I remember thinking of what I would try next if the Heimlich Maneuver didn't work. (Turn her upside down and thump her on her back; stick my fingers down her throat to try to fish the offending piece of meat out; call 911!) Luckily it worked like it was supposed to work, and I don't think I've ever been happier in my life. Sparky and I were both in shock and feeling kind of giddy, and I held Bee on my lap through out the rest of dinner. We decided from here on out that Bee should only eat soft foods. Liquid food, food you don't have to chew! But that is highly unlikely, so the next best thing is cut everything up for her into even smaller pieces, and to always remind her to chew, chew, chew. Thank god for Henry Heimlich and his maneuver!

Biblioteca

2010-01-30T17:19:00.000-08:00

The Misers are fortunate to have not one, but two, library branches nearby - so nearby in fact that we could walk to them if we wanted. I don't know why we now have two branches in our neck of the woods, it wasn't always like that. When we first moved here we had to travel a few miles to get to the nearest library. But about five or six years ago they built the Edendale branch, and then just a few months ago the Silverlake branch opened. Neither of these libraries are very large, and the book collections in both are somewhat lacking, but nonetheless we have been enjoying them. I have always loved libraries as I come from a reading and a library going family. And since we can't take Bee to the park everyday now that we are officially in the middle of L.A.'s rainy season, we've been taking advantage of our local libraries. They are great for checking out DVDs for Bee, knitting books for me, novels, and CDs that we can download into our iPod. The Misers love free stuff, and we don't mind borrowing stuff instead of owning it. In fact, its better for the environment, right?

Anyway, Bee loves Dora the Explorer so those are the DVDs that we've been checking out at a furious pace. She especially loves Diego, Dora's cousin. She has told me that she loves him because he is so nice to animals and he can talk to them! He is kind of like an Hispanic Doctor Doolittle. (I guess he is her first crush, even though he is just a cartoon character.) I don't mind her watching Dora DVDs because they are educational for the most part. And since Dora is bilingual, Bee's been speaking a little bit of Spanish recently. She likes to count to ten in Spanish, and she also like to Mumba. (Hands on your hips and then wiggle your hips, wiggle your hips. Circle your hands, circle your hands. And march in place, march in place.) It seems like Dora the Explorer is quite popular these days with the preschool set. On the plane home from Seattle after Christmas, Bee wore her Dora pajamas because it was a late flight. We encountered a couple of young hipsters who were very nice to Bee, and to my surprise both of them knew who Dora was. One sang the backpack song to Bee, while the other kept saying "Swiper, no swiping. Swiper, no swiping!" Apparently they'd spent some time watching some Dora TV with their nieces at Christmas.

And even though I would rather that Bee was outside getting fresh air and sunshine, on the few days that it rains here in L.A, we don't mind her watching a DVD of Dora the Explorer, especially when it is free. The Misers love their local libraries!

Trailer Park Boys

2010-01-24T12:17:00.000-08:00

The Miser's favorite television show right now is a little gem from Canada called "Trailer Park Boys". It is effing hilarious and strangely comforting all at once. I mean, if worse comes to worse and we lose everything we own The Misers could always move into a trailer park. It doesn't look that bad. Well, actually it kind of does but at least we'll be surrounded by colorful characters who's main goals in life are obtaining liquor and smokes. And maybe some weed. And trying to stay out of jail. I mean, how hard can that be? It's just all about embracing your inner White Trash self.

Check it out: Trailer Park Boys

Rainy Day At The Griffith Observatory

2010-01-23T17:01:00.000-08:00

People Who Look Like Their Pets

2010-01-19T19:34:00.000-08:00

Today as I was perusing the job ads on craigslist I came across this:

Do you love your pet? Do you live in the Greater LA area? Do you want to look like your pet? We are casting men and women of all ages to be on our reality TV show, "We'll Make You Look Like Your Pet." Please send us a video telling us why we should choose YOU to be made-over to look like your pet. Please include your name, phone number, the type of pet, and why we should select you. Send videos to: blablabla. Thanks! We look forward to hearing from you!

I'm almost tempted to apply. Exactly what kind of crazy is this?

Love Ring

2010-01-15T11:02:00.000-08:00

Bee has a plastic yellow heart shaped ring that says "Love" on it. Sparky got it for her out of a gumball machine for 25 cents. She loves this ring. She insists on wearing it everyday, and as it is way to big she usually wears it on her thumb. Or maybe her index finger. Now the crazy thing is that because it is too big it is constantly falling off of her, and I am constantly searching on the floor or ground for it. "My ring! My ring!" She exclaims as it falls off her thumb yet again and tumbles into the apple bin at Trader Joe's. "I want my love ring!" Hang with the Bee for any length of time, and you'll find yourself repeatedly making sure that damn ring is safely on her person. That plastic ring is my little Hippie Child's most favorite possession at this very moment, and rather than finding it a little annoying, Sparky and I choose to find it sweet and endearing.

It's Back!

2010-01-12T15:16:00.001-08:00

The Hungry Tiger was one of my most favorite food blogs a few years ago. I loved the name of the site (taken from the Oz books by L. Frank Baum) and the vegetarian recipes. But for some reason the blog suddenly and without warning disappeared to a "members only" site and I was sad. There was no way I was going to pay money to join this site, so no more Hungry Tiger for me. (I guess I must have been a sort of Miser even back then before the New Depression hit.) And then just today I was thinking about cauliflower and how The Hungry Tiger had a great recipe for preparing it, so I sat down at the keyboard and typed in the name. And lo and behold, it's back again in the Wonderful World of Free Blogs! It seems like the New Year is starting off on the right foot for a change. Happy days are finally here. Yipee skipee. All is right in the world. Anyway, check it out: The Hungry Tiger

Jewelry For The House

2010-01-11T12:25:00.001-08:00

Last week, I picked up my most recent pieces from the kilns at Barnsdall Art Park. These tiles I made to hang on the outside of the house, sort of like jewelry for the house. I like making tiles because they are fast and easy, you can experiment with different textures, and they make good glaze testers.

I also made four matching leaf bowls. I'm getting better at throwing sets that are more or less the same size. Still, throwing is not exactly my strength at this point. It's all about practice, practice, and more practice.

These are a trio of bud vases hand built from very thin porcelain slabs. They were very fast to make and I really like the organic quality of them. But because the porcelain is so thin you have to be extra careful when handling them. I forgot how delicate they are and pierced a hole in the green one with tongs as I was glazing it.

Sentimental Fool For Christ

2010-01-10T14:53:00.000-08:00

I've decided not to throw away all of my old stuff. Instead, I sorted through it, kept some and tossed the rest. Some of the junk I tossed included old letters that weren't even addressed to me, but to Lew Wasserman. I'm not even sure why I kept them. Perhaps in order to line my little rat's nest. Or maybe because the letters were so damn nutty. You see, back in 1988 right before Martin Scorsese's film, "The Last Temptation of Christ" was released, I was hired by a friend of friend of a friend (who was a private detective) to sort through the bundles and bags and bags and bundles of mail that Wasserman was receiving. As chairman of MCA, Inc., the parent company of Universal Studios, which produced the film, he was the target they wanted to hit. Christians by the droves were sending him hate mail due to the fact that they assumed this movie would portray their much beloved Jesus in a bad light. The bizarre thing was that the movie hadn't even been released, so they had no idea what they were even hating on. (As we've seen with all Christian protests though, logic is rarely welcome.) These poor saps were told by their holy television and AM radio mullahs to send Wasserman letters to stop this blasphemous madness before it could begin. And did they try their damnedest!

Anyway, my job was to find any letters that contained actual death threats. But there were only a few letters that were violent crazy; most of them were just plain crazy. Some people even sent money, which made the job all that much sweeter. (I was confused by their "contributions" to halt the film's release, but Sparky thought they were conditioned to "tithe" money by their favorite televangelist. For them, stuffing small bills in letters had become a reflex.) Some sent bibles, rosaries, prayer cards, etc. And now, looking through the few letters that I've kept all these years I've found a common theme: "DON'T release this film and DO accept the Lord Jesus as your Savior and then you WON'T burn in hell for all eternity."

I didn't see the movie when it was first released, probably because after reading all of the hate mail I was already so over it. But I did finally see it a few years back and I remember thinking how weird Barbara Hershey's lips looked due to the fact that they were pumped chock full of collagen; and how wow, Jesus has a thing for Mary Magdalene. That's all I really remember. It did not strike me as a particularly blasphemous movie, just one showing the Christ Man as a human being, and not a god while he was alive on planet earth. What was the big deal?

Still, it was a great little part time gig while it lasted: I could do it from the comfort of my own home, make my own hours, and it paid $15 an hour (plus the occasional "tip" from the believers.) And any Miser has got to love that! (I am sooo going to hell...)

Sentimental Fool or Pack Rat?

2010-01-08T16:00:00.000-08:00

I'm afraid that I might be a Pack Rat. Today Bee and I spent a couple of hours going through some trunks and boxes that are stored under the house. Scary. I found letters and cards from old friends and family, and a stack of love/hate letters from an old boyfriend. I actually found a One Year Diary from 1977 with a single entry in it that says: "Saturday, January 1st. Hi Diary. Today is the very first day of 1977, and so far it has been a shitty day. I think Di and Tree are mad at me and school starts on Monday. Yuck! My New Year's resolution is to write in you every day, no matter how busy I am. Gotta go. Bye. P.S. 'Brian's Song' is on tonite." That is all that is in this diary, yet I somehow felt compelled to keep it for 33 years? What the hell? I've kept letters from people I'm not even friends with anymore, letters that I wrote yet never mailed, old birthday cards, postcards, notes, fanzines, notebooks, sketchbooks, journals, manila envelopes crammed with odds and ends, etc., etc., etc. I guess I kept all of this stuff over the years for sentimental reasons, but it's not like I ever look at any of it or even think about any of it. So why bother keeping it? I'm really torn because I just want to throw it all away, but since I've kept it for so long maybe I should just keep it for another 30 years. Yuck! Then I'll just be a little old lady with a bunch of crap from my past. I really should just throw the whole lot away. Except for the One Year Diary. I'm definitely keeping that.

Welcome Back!

2010-01-06T20:50:00.000-08:00

Bee and I got into Los Angeles last night, and we are very happy to be home again. Although fun was had, I'm really glad the holidays are behind us. It was rainy and grey for the most part up in the PNW, so the golden sunshine here is very welcoming! We both missed it. The best part of our trip was the train ride itself - it was so relaxing, and I highly recommend to everyone to GO BY TRAIN.

Puddle Jumper

2009-12-13T10:09:00.000-08:00

We were just a few blocks from the video store where new episodes of Dora & Diego had become available. Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young were working their way through "Woodstock", when I turned to ask Bee if she wanted to go for a walk in the rain. Her head was slumped all the way to the side and she was snoring. I turned around and headed for the Glendale Freeway and the baseball fields of Scholl Canyon.

By the time we made it up there, REM's "Green" was playing and the Bee was still sound asleep. I let the dog out and we pondered the post rain beauty in what until recently had been bone dry hillsides. Low white clouds of mist hovered about the tinderbox hills of brush and the higher mountains were completely hidden. All around the rain was working its magic as creosote, sage and eucalyptus gave thanks with their combined aromas. The ball fields were flooded.

And then Bee was awake. It usually takes her a while to come around, but not this day. Her eyes got big about the puddles, puddles as far as her big eyes could see. "Getta me down, daddy, getta me down!" Translation: "Get me out of this car seat right now you big boob!" She hit the parking lot running with the dog. Puddles over asphalt, and grass, and the red clay brick dust of the baseball diamonds all have a different quality that must be experienced feet first to be fully understood. It's safe to say that Bee knows all of them very well by now. It started raining again, but she was not deterred and ran away from me as fast as she could finally covering all three fields. One can become soaking wet by falling into a swimming pool during an engagement party, say, but it is nothing compared to the wet that you get from walking in the pouring rain with a toddler in love with puddle jumping. Who knew?

Guest Blogger Sparky

Radio Free Bedroom

2009-12-09T11:37:00.000-08:00

It's happening again. It's been about seven years since we last heard it emanating from the ceiling light fixture in the bedroom. Back then it was a rap station, and we were held hostage to the constant thump thump thumping. Now it seems to be some sort of Japanese game show station. No music, just lots of people screaming and squealing in Japanese. I'm not sure why our bedroom light fixture is sometimes a radio transmitter, but it is very annoying. And it's not like we can pick the station. It started again last night. During the day you can still hear it, but not as well. At night, it comes in very clearly. And like I said, it's been seven years since it last occurred.

Back then, Sparky even call the FCC to complain about it to no avail. And once, Sparky tried to take the fixture apart to bring an end to the madness. He thought the power was off, but as he touched the pliers to the fixture they flew across the room as he was blown off the chair. I saw him hit the ground with a thud and grunt. I was shocked, but not as shocked at he was. The pliers were melted where they had made contact with the light fixture. Sparky had black powder burns on his fingers from the pliers and his hair was standing on end. Whew.

I can't remember what finally happened to that radio station, but the problem went away on its own, and we spent a blissful seven radio-free years in our bedroom. But now its back, and we must find a way to stop it before it drives us crazy. In the meantime we may sleep in the backyard.

Christmas Cheer

2009-12-08T14:31:00.001-08:00

Since we are going up to the PNW for Christmas, The Misers are not doing any major holiday decorations this year. But Bee is beyond excited about the holidays, therefore we had to do something for our little one. And so the other day I hung up a single strand of lights over the credenza. Voila! Instant Christmas Cheer.

Little Buddha

2009-12-04T15:37:00.000-08:00

I swear Bee is such a compassionate little girl, she is like a little Buddha. The other day she ran some errands with Sparky, which is not exactly her favorite thing to do. Sparky was trying to load some groceries into the car, and evidently lost his temper for some reason - I don't know the details, but something set him off. Bee saw his distress and said to him, "It's okay, Daddy. No be mad. Be happy, Daddy, be happy." And she leaned over in her car seat and patted him gently on the arm, "No be mad, Daddy." Sparky laughed and agreed to be happy. Such is the power of Bee.

Miserland

2009-12-03T16:44:00.000-08:00

It's been awhile since I've posted a blog, and my sorry, lame ass excuse is that I've been too busy. Which seems kind of strange to say since I don't have a full time job or anything, just a full time life, I guess you could say. I'm making most of my Christmas presents this year, and so I've been knitting like crazy. Also, since it gets dark so early these days the Misers have been hibernating. We spend a lot of evenings having an early dinner, then sitting around in the living room all cozy together. Here is a typical night at The Misers: I'm knitting, Bee is doing a puzzle or looking at one of her books, Glenn and Lila are curled up asleep, and Sparky is singing and playing guitar for us. I know it sounds really smarmy, but it's free and what else should we be doing? Then after Bee has had her bath and is in bed, Sparky and I usually watch an episode of The Sopranos (we're on Season Five now.) We've gotten pretty good at living on next to nothing. I've wholeheartedly embraced the whole foods thing - it's cheaper to make most everything from scratch, and it's healthier then eating a bunch of processed junk. We never go out to eat anymore, which I don't even really miss.

I sometimes think that we should make a board game out of our lives called "Miserland" which would be a combination of Life, Monopoly, and Candyland. All of the game pieces would be little hobos, and the board itself would look like the song "The Big Rock Candy Mountain" come to life. You could land on squares that would say things like "Property taxes due: lose five turns" or "Get into fight with health insurance provider. Go back to beginning and start all over again" or maybe "Car needs new tires. Cross your fingers and hope for the best. Go back fifty spaces". The person with the least amount of money at the end would be the winner. Now there's a game that I could easily win!

But despite it all the Misers have been having fun, and are getting ready for Christmas and The Train Ride. We have splurged BIG TIME and are taking the train up to Seattle to spend the holidays with my family. We have a sleeper car on the Coast Starlight, and I cannot wait. It is one of the most beautiful routes that Amtrak takes, and it's Bees first time ever on the train. We are a train riding folk, and are eagerly awaiting this upcoming adventure, especially because it is the most Un-Miserly thing we have done all year long. Which would make us complete losers at the game of "Miserland."

MOCA

2009-11-25T20:53:00.000-08:00

Last Friday the Misers checked out the permanent collection at MOCA for free! As everybody knows, the Misers HATE to pay for parking, and since there is no free parking downtown, we had to spend a little bit of time searching for the best lot. The MOCA parking cost about $20 every 15 minutes, so that was out - way out. We finally found a place around the corner from the museum on 2nd Street that cost $6 for the whole afternoon. What a deal!

We met an old friend at MOCA and wandered around the museum, checking out the permanent collection. Sparky and I liked the Rothkos and Raushenbergs the best, while Bee preferred the fountains outside. MOCA is not as little kid friendly as LACMA, in fact most of the guards were scared of lil' B - I guess they were afraid that she was going to destroy the art. Sheesh! Don't worry about it uptight guards, Bee wasn't going to actually ruin anything, just "kid handle" it. So much of the work there is hung really low, or just placed smack dab in the middle of the floor just daring kids to go wild on it. What do they expect? They should have a "You Must Be This Tall" to enter sign in front. But they don't... And sadly, much of the work there seems dated. I suppose that is the problem with a lot of contemporary art - it just doesn't hold up well in the long run. But it was free, and the Misers always enjoy looking at art, and it was great to see our friend who we haven't see in about 15 years. Fun was mostly had by all!

Oil Change Holiday!

2009-11-17T19:57:00.000-08:00

The message could not have been clearer. CHANGE ENGINE OIL NOW, said the robot brain of our Ford Explorer. Firestone on Brand offered the best price & location. It was only one short block from the Americana At Brand, an indoor/outdoor mall perfect for southern California. Indeed, the sun was out, the weather threatened us with 80 degrees at noon, why not turn a tedious chore into something worthwhile? Misers ho!

After dropping off the truck we walked and skipped to the mall. Three years ago I could never have imagined myself doing something so gay - and I think I mean that in the right way. But there it is. Right as we reached the Americana borders, music from the bushes called out to us. Invariably it's Rat Pack music, not exactly kid music, and indeed Frank Sinatra beckoned the Miser Family into the alternative reality that is The Americana At Brand. The shimmering verisimilitude to the Prisoner TV show buzzed in the mild Santa Ana air. We rolled with it. Their 90 foot Christmas tree with ornaments the size of footballs swayed in the November California blue sky. My lips chapped just standing there.

Right off, at Jamba Juice, they were offering free flat breads. One for each of us! So lunch was on the house and the Misers were feeling good. We sat at a fountain-side table to enjoy our "pizza" as the waterworks started dancing. This massive fountain is constantly in motion, but once an hour a musical theme comes on and it's no holds barred. The giant gold statue of a naked dude writhing in watery paradise suddenly looked as though he were being hosed by the LAPD at a May Day protest. The fountains went nuts, gushing far into the sky, far enough to be blown into our faces - and you know that Bee loved that! Barry White was the rocking soundtrack...

After lunch we boarded the Americana Trolley and took a slow ride around the Prisoner mall fantasy that beckons with shopping imperatives as strongly as it blocks out the reality bucking at its borders. Hence, I'm guessing, the reason they offer condos for sale at the mall. Just imagine: you'd never have to leave if you could afford to live here! Anything not readily available could be easily delivered. For $750,000 you too, could be a permanent role player on The Prisoner.

On the way back to Firestone, and yes, reality, Bee pulled into a couple of shops with kid sized displays luring toddlers like flies to the web. It was beautifully sick... And then at the last stop, Bee popped into a Mexican cafe and stood transfixed at the elaborate ceiling art. It just may have looked to her like the Sistine Chapel. The hostess smiled big. "Do you want a lollipop?" Well, F-yeah I did, but she was talking to Bee of course. (So much for the F-ing Prisoner.) She gave Bee a red colored pop, and she dropped it immediately. It shattered with a stunning disconnection to the fun we'd been having. There were tears, sudden, sudden tears! The hostess came running to offer another lollipop. Again I accepted, got a weird look, and did not get a F-ing lollipop. But golly it was still fun.

All things considered, our oil change/Americana At Brand was easily as much fun as a day at Disneyland, and tremendously cheaper and more convenient. Perhaps they should consider offering free oil changes at the major amusement parks. After all, they now have competition.

by Guest Blogger Sparky

Pop Culture

2009-11-13T21:05:00.000-08:00

I have to admit that I've not been keeping up with The Kardashians. In fact, I don't even know who they are. I asked Sparky. He doesn't know either. He told me that he admitted his ignorance to a friend who said he was lucky, and told him not to bother about it.

I've always attempted to keep up with pop culture as I like to know what is going on in the world. I think it's important to stay current. But some things are better off not known. Like The Macarena, and I'm guessing here, like The Kardashians. When The Macarena was popular years ago I refused to have anything to do with it. I still haven't really heard it. (It's a song, right? But also a dance? It was performed at weddings, funerals and sporting events as I saw on the TV, but I don't believe it was ever done on Broadway. Was it?)

And some things I know about but would really rather not. Like John and Kate Plus Eight. What the hell? There was no need for me to know about that train wreck of a family, but unfortunately I do, and have actually seen their show once, back before they got into their marital trouble. (I was at my parents and they made me watch it.) And I know about Octomom, but thankfully haven't seen her show, and hopefully never will. Sometimes it really pays to be a Miser and not have cable. But I like pop culture for the most part, and will continue my cautious forays into it. After all, I don't want to end up old and out of it, wearing velour sweatsuits and wishing Johnny Carson was still hosting the Tonight Show. He is retired, right?

Carrots

2009-11-10T22:13:00.000-08:00

Lately I've really been craving carrots, and so I've been eating a lot of them. Before carrots I was completely into lentils - red, black, brown - I just couldn't get enough of that lovely legume. Prior to my lentil phase I was gaga for Ben & Jerry's Karamel Sutra Ice Cream, there is just something about caramel. And before that I was in my cauliflower stage, especially cauliflower cooked in a spicy Indian curry, yummy. I was mentioning my queer food yearnings to Sparky the other day, and it reminded him of Sleeford.

Back in the day when Sparky and Sleeford both worked at the Recyler they used to play tennis at night up at Scholl Canyon, where there are these well lit courts. Sleeford was a very competitive person - he always played to win, and it made Sparky become a better tennis player. Sleef was always a good sport, so it made his competitiveness palatable. Since they were playing at night they were both trying to get the edge on the other person by drinking carrot juice. They both swore that it improved their night vision, so they would buy some juice a couple of hours prior to playing. Sparky would show up after a break with a carrot juice, and Sleef would ask him about it. "Oh. Did you want one, too? I didn't know," Sparky would say innocently. Then Sleeford would go on break and return with a jumbo sized carrot juice and say; "They were all out of the regular size so I had to get a large." Then they would try to out do the other by sneaking off to buy carrot juice as close to their tennis time as possible in order to gain the upper hand. I don't know how much it really helped their night vision, but they both insisted that it did. And Sleeford probably won more tennis matches than Sparky because he wanted the win more. My recent carrot habit hasn't improved my eyesight as far as I can tell, but they sure are tasty.

Stuff

2009-11-09T16:19:00.000-08:00

We are still Misers. Nothing has changed, in fact we are now actually even more Miserly than we were before. Except for one thing: we have way too much stuff to be true Misers. To my mind, a Miser owns nothing! (Although we aren't the King and Queen of Stuff, we must at least be the Duke and Duchess of Stuff. Or probably more like the Mutt and Jeff of Stuff. Regardless, we have... Too... Much... Stuff.) My plan is to get rid of a lot of this stuff by year's end. We are probably going to be moving sometime down the road. When? Don't know. Where to? Don't know. All I do know is that we've outgrown our small house and need some place a little bit larger, a little less funky, a little more solid. I do know that I'm not packing up all of this stuff that we've accumulated over all of the years that we have lived here. No way. I dream of a simple, austere life where everything we own is handmade, and everything we eat is homegrown. This is unlikely, but we can at least get a little closer to the ideal. And it somehow starts with getting rid of a lot of our stuff. Who really needs it?

Back Home Again, Again

2009-11-04T17:16:00.001-08:00

Bee and I just got back from a trip up North to see my family. We went to meet the two newest members of our extended clan, my little twin baby nephews, and to see everyone else of course. Bee loved her new cousins and was very gentle with them - I have to say I am quite proud of her. I liked how she softly patted them on their tiny heads and sweetly cooed to them. The trip went amazingly well except for one minor-ish event which happened on Halloween. (But that wasn't nearly as bad as the multiple disasters we encountered last Christmas at my parents house which is something that none of us will ever forget, another story altogether.)

So Bee and I are back in L.A. with a million things we've got to do between now and Christmas. We are glad to be home and glad to be with Sparky, Glenn and Lila once again. We missed them! It's funny, but when ever I return to L.A. I am always so happy to see palm trees again. They are so exotic and quiescently Los Angeles to me, and seeing them is always comforting because it means I'm back in El Pueblo de Nuestra Senora la Reina de los Angeles de Porciuncula, which I always seem to miss. Even though the Misers get fed up and exasperated with this town and are often ready to get the hell out of here, it is our home for the time being and we kind of like it here.

High Holy Days

2009-10-18T14:43:00.000-07:00

There is a hint of crispness in the air lately, leaves are changing color and falling from trees, it has been getting dark outside way too early, all of which can mean only one thing - postseason baseball is upon us once again. Sparky loves this time of year, he is the biggest baseball fan I know. The Dodgers are his team, and luckily this year they are in the playoffs. They are playing tonight in Philadelphia, and for some odd reason the game is on cable only. That means that Sparky will be listening to Vin Sculley call the game on his trusty old transistor radio, which is missing its antenna and is held together with a rubber band. To Sparky the playoffs and the World Series are the High Holy Days, as baseball is his religion. Sleeford was also a huge baseball fanatic, and we spent many a night watching a game with him, either on the television or at Dodger Stadium. One time Sparky was out walking Glenn The Dog in Elysian during a playoff game, and Sleeford watched the game from home and called it out to Sparky over the phone. Sparky says he did a pretty good job - it was almost as if he was there. If Sleef were still around, we would be spending much of these playoff games with him, which is what makes this time of year so bittersweet. The Dodgers might actually make it to the World Series this year, for the first time since 1988 - High Holy Days indeed!

Hibiscus

2009-10-17T20:17:00.000-07:00

About eight years ago Sparky rescued this Hibiscus from certain death at the hands of our friend and neighbor Aimee (a.k.a The Plant Killer). There was a mate to this plant, but sadly it did not make it. Sparky says that they were both pretty much goners by the time he saved them, and he was actually surprised that one of them made it. Hibiscus are tropical plants and can be found in warm climes such as Hawaii, Florida and Singapore. They are a pretty hardy plant and apparently difficult to kill, so Aimee's talent must have really gone into overdrive. Red Snapper. I think that is the name of this one, but it's not really that red, more of a deepish pink. Anyway, The Plant Killer didn't even notice that her dead plants were missing, and was quite surprised when Sparky pointed the very much alive plant out to her one day. This Hibiscus seems to be in bloom all of the time, and I'm really very attached to it and am thankful that Sparky rescued it from an untimely death.

Blocks

2009-10-14T19:50:00.001-07:00

A friend of ours told us that playing with blocks helps toddler girls develop their math skill. Apparently, boys are better at math than girls. I'm not sure where she heard that or if it's even true, but I do know that playing with blocks helps kids with their motor skills, which is supposed to help them perform better both academically and physically. We got Bee a set of nice wooden blocks for Christmas last year, and Sparky and Bee play with them all the time. They build towers as high as they can only to knock them down. They build ramps for toy cars, and elaborate castles that they gleefully destroy by rolling balls into them. They are like the Hindu god Shiva. I like it that Bee enjoys playing with blocks so much; she is a girly girl but she isn't afraid to get dirty and she loves "boy" toys such as dinosaur, weird rubber monsters, cars and balls. Good for her.

Free LACMA

2009-10-13T11:39:00.000-07:00

Sparky forgot to mention the best thing about yesterday's trip to LACMA: we signed Bee up for a FREE child's membership, good until she is 18 years of age. With this membership she is able to get one adult in for FREE as well. How cool is that? I only wish that MOCA also had this incredible deal. Another good thing about yesterday: we parked for FREE at a broken meter. The Misers hate to pay for parking, so the broken meter was a great accidental find. And I have to mention that I liked the Chris Burden installation Urban Light. Sparky says he would have liked it better if the lampposts weren't all painted a flat grey, but I like their uniform color, which seems especially well suited to L.A.'s current rainy fall weather.

Misers at LACMA

2009-10-12T20:06:00.000-07:00

Guest blogger, Sparky.

Target paid the freight for everyone today, something about Columbus Day, and it made for a good reason to visit an old friend. Actually, some of it was quite new for us as we hadn't been to the Broad wing before, making us absolutely the last people of the art world to attend. All the work was dead familiar, but the shiny Koons gotta make you smile, and Richard Serra proved to be a monstrous force yet again. His giant walls of steel with their fuzzy brown patina almost look cuddly, until you touch them. A blanket only Superman could use. Bee found the maze quality of the piece indistinguishable from a really good playground. We took pictures inside the walls of steel until The Man came along to tell us yet again, "No Photos!" How a tiny digital camera could possibly damage those fabulous walls of rusted steel is beyond me.

We took a break for coffee and Rice Crispy Treats which simply made our day. Bee even shared the Treats with us. After that it was off to the original LACMA. What we liked best was being able to experience the verve of contemporary art and then steep ourselves in work that has stood the test of time, although a place can never have too many Rothkos for my taste. Funny, though, how so many of the Ab Ex works seem to have lost their mojo, never to return again. My theory is that interior design has so thoroughly co-opted these works as a decorative force (appropriated, really) that when you come face to face with the real deal it seems almost fake. Franz Klein used to thrill me like a Duanne Allman solo, but today it just looked like tired student work. And although I never cared for Morris Lewis or Frankenthaler, I now actively dislike their work. Ellsworth Kelley is another whose works just elicit a profound afternoon yawn. I shook my head trying to remember what used to stoke me about this work, and then I didn't. Win some, lose the rest.

At the suggestion of some elderly membership ladies, we went into the Korean exhibition where they've set aside a room for kids to paint. That was a gas. The entire Miser trio painted away and were really quite happy with our endeavors. All of them surpassed that massive Frankenthaler that was abusing a wall and wasting space a few doors over. Bee even got a balloon out of the deal - red or white as it was sponsored by Target.

And so a splendid time was had by all. I was even inspired to start a new series designed to succeed. It will be pretty much all red and white with Rauschenberg variations on the word Target. Maybe I'll be sponsoring a free day at the museum some time in the future if it does well.

Dog Mural

2009-10-09T20:44:00.000-07:00

There is a dog mural painted on the side of an apartment building in North Hollywood. We often drive by it on our way to visit friends there. The poor mural does a decent job, but the setting is rather pathetic. The apartment building is located on a beat up street, across from some large electrical towers and a dog park that once used to have grass but is now reduced to dirt and weeds. The whole place seems dangerous and downtrodden, and every time we drive by it I'm thankful that we don't live there. But Bee loves the painting and talks about it long after we've passed it. Sparky thinks its wacky and he likes it because Bee likes it. I'm just sort of amazed that someone actually took the time to paint it.

Knitting Redux

2009-10-07T22:31:00.000-07:00

Today I found myself with some free time, so Bee and I dug out my box of knitting supplies and went through it. I have five projects I've never finished, and out of that only three that I am actually going to complete. I'm currently making Bee a sweater, and it hasn't been much fun to knit. I'm not very good at knitting sweaters, I always seem to screw them up somehow. I'm not sure why. I can make blankets, toys, and accessories galore, but when it comes to sweaters forget about it. But the more I knit the better I get, so I'm going to soldier on with the damn sweater. Then I can start on the projects I really want to make: some stuffed animals and toys, a wrap, some scarfs, a couple of pairs of fingerless gloves, a felted bag, and a blanket.

Anne Wee

2009-10-05T16:40:00.001-07:00

A guy who lives up the street from us has three teeny poofy white dogs that he walks up and down the alley behind our house. This guy has long hair, a long braided beard, and multiple tattoos and piercings. He does not look like the sort who would have such precious little dogs; instead, he looks like he should have a large, macho type dog or two. Every time I see him, I am reminded of a comic I drew under the alias Anne Wee for an artist publication of comics way back in 1992. I have to admit that it was a poorly executed comic on my part, and the idea was hardly original, but I still laugh when I think about it. My brother Bruin (a.ka. John Steinbeck), was also published in this same paper, and his comics were by far the funniest.

Free Stuff

2009-10-01T18:22:00.000-07:00

Lately, for some strange reason, I've been getting free stuff in the mail. Last week, I received a free T-shirt from SPCA International with a picture of a patriotic puppy on it. Yesterday, Vons sent me some free cat food, and today I found a box of free Kotex samples stuffed into my mailbox. As a miser I appreciate it; Lila Mae Cat will enjoy the cat food, spare tampons always come in handy, and Sparky actually wore the T-shirt the other day. Now if only someone would send me some free money. We could use another stimulus check right about now.

Hetch Hetchy

2009-09-30T10:24:00.000-07:00

We've been watching the Ken Burns documentary "National Parks: America's Best Idea." Since visiting all of the National Parks with Bee has become our Thing, we are very much interested in this film. Sparky and I also have a keen curiosity regarding Northern California's Hetch Hetchy. We got lost on a road trip once and ended up there, and thought "What the hell? This used to be a valley like Yosemite? And it ended up as a reservoir to provide water to San Francisco... How could that have happened?" It looked like it was man made, it was rather unsettling. The other night we found out all about it from watching the Burns movie. OMG.

It was the Great San Francisco Quake of '06 that allowed Congress to turn a National Park into a Reservoir. The businessmen who backed this idea lied, and said that if Hetch Hetch had been dammed in the first place the Quake would not have caused so much fire damage. What? They could have found other sources of water, they didn't have to dam it. Hetch Hetchy is supposedly the twin of Yosemite, it was just as beautiful and awesome - before it was drowned by backward thinking politicians and businessmen. There has been a movement to drain Hetch Hetchy and restore it to its former glory for years, and it has been gaining traction recently. I think I need to join this movement. It would be great if this actually happened one day. Forget about San Fransisco; they can find water elsewhere. Give us back our National Park!

One Of Those Days

2009-09-25T20:24:00.001-07:00

Have you ever had one of those days where everything seemingly goes wrong, and then to top things off your small child is acting like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, all nice and sweet one moment and like a screaming little dictator the next, and what you really want to do is run away from home, preferably to some place warm and tropical, never to be seen by your loved ones again, but instead you opt for Plan B, which involves putting the lil' despot to bed, and then drinking copious amounts of wine and watching The Sopranos on DVD with your husband? I thought so.

Tongues

2009-09-23T20:32:00.000-07:00

Bee is very proud of the fact that she can curl her tongue. So can her Daddy. I, on the other hand, am not able to perform this simple feat, and Bee somehow finds this to be hilarious. I originally thought that the ability to curl or to roll your tongue into a tube shape was something that was passed down by your biological parents, but I found out today that it might not be the case! Here are some tongue facts:

Back in the seventies a study was done involving identical twins and it was discovered that although they shared the same genes, 1/3 of them did not share the tongue curling trait. So now it is hotly debated amongst the scientific community whether or not it is genetically inherited.

The majority of people worldwide are able to curl their tongues, therefore I am in the minority.

It is thought that perhaps our ancestors used this ability for speaking, eating, or drinking. That means I would have been screwed.

In our little family, 2/3 are able to curl their tongues. I am the odd man out. Sparky and Bee are Star-Belly Sneetches, while I am of the Plain-Belly Sneetch variety, sad because I am without a star. I feel as though Sparky and Bee owe me something, but I'm not sure what or why.

Civic Duty

2009-09-22T14:01:00.000-07:00

This morning, the Misers got on the subway at Vermont and Santa Monica and headed downtown for a health care reform rally. It felt good to get out there and support this very important issue, but I'm not sure if it makes a difference anymore. Sparky has become very disenchanted with this once mighty country of ours. He thinks it has becoming overrun by moronic right wing nut jobs who don't know their own best interests from a hole in the ground. I have to agree with this assessment as there are just way too many Sarah Palin supporters out there in Jesusland. (Because of the sorry state of these United States, the Misers have seriously been thinking about becoming expatriates.) The rally was at 7th and Figueroa, and although the crowd wasn't huge it was certainly boisterous. The busy business men and women who work downtown could not have been more jaded, and one of these suits actually shouted out "You lie." I kind of wanted to kick him really hard in the shins, but the police officers lurking about made way for him to beat a hasty retreat. Most of the crowd there were older folks and middle aged hippies. I guess most of the young Obama supporters were in school or at work. Sparky and I watched our President on The David Letterman Show last night, and we were both impressed with his eloquence, intelligence, and innovative ideas. It made us want to go out today and help try to make this a better country for all. The Misers are a family of idealists. Anyway, my favorite part of the rally was holding up our signs and getting drivers to honk in support. Sparky's favorite part was the chanting and the hooting and hollering. And Bee's favorite part was riding up and down the escalators in the subway stations.

Endless Summer

2009-09-18T17:16:00.001-07:00

If you have to be a Miser it helps to live in the right place. The weather in SoCal makes it pretty conducive for not having a lot of money, especially when you can go to the beach whenever you want. The beach today was brilliant, the water was sparkly and warm, and we had our usual fun. As long as the weather stays nice and the ocean stays warmish, we can continue our beach going ways well into fall. The Autumnal Equinox is in a few days - September 22nd at 9:18pm, but we are not going to let this stop our oceanic good times.

Giant Chair

2009-09-17T11:43:00.000-07:00

Today, as I was doing an errand in downtown Los Angeles, I was startled to look up and see a Giant Chair. It was just sitting there in a parking lot on Hill and Washington. What the hell? Where did it come from and how long has it been there? At first I imagined that it was a Claus Oldenburg, but it wasn't nearly pop enough to be him. I googled it and discovered that it was created by an Italian artist, Giancarlo Neri, it's 30 feet tall, and there is a matching table that currently resides somewhere in London. The work apparently is a comment on the loneliness of writing, but I think it might just be about really big furniture.

Musicals

2009-09-14T13:15:00.000-07:00

Though I've always been a fan of musicals, Sparky hasn't been, but he is starting to not hate them - believe it, or not. A couple of years ago we saw "Across the Universe" and we both enjoyed it immensely. Of course, in Sparky's case, it helped that he really likes the Beatles. I mean, you can't go wrong with that picture if you are fanatical about the Fab Four. The other night we watched "Singing In The Rain". Although in the past Sparky has seen bits and pieces of the movie, it was the first time he watched it in it's entirety. He mostly liked it. I think he preferred it to "The Sound of Music" which I made him watch a few months ago. He just thinks it's queer when people start to sing for no apparent reason, but he does like the insane dancing that often accompanies these numbers. He was quite impressed with both Gene Kelly and Donald O'Connor's hoofing abilities. And the crazy psychedelic technicolor sets. Our dear Sleeford was a musical buff, and he and I would spend hours talking about our favorites. We both liked Danny Kaye, Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire, and all the fabulous dancers of yore. Sparky would never participate in these conversations, and he thought we were both nuts. Bee also enjoys musicals, and I have loaded several onto the iPod for her. And for me. And maybe even a little bit for Sparky. We may get him on our side yet. Next on our musical agenda: "Westside Story." Sparky says he can hardly wait!

Giraffes

2009-09-09T11:15:00.001-07:00

Sparky has started a great new series of paintings whereby Bee tells him what to paint, and he incorporates her incongruous ideas onto the canvas. These paintings are colorful, and have a wonderful, happy loopy feeling to them. The latest one he is working on uses imagery of giraffes, peaches, and the Kentucky Derby. It reminded me of our last visit to the Woodland Park Zoo with my parents a couple of weeks ago. Bee especially loves elephants and giraffes, and we always have to see both whenever we are at a zoo. The elephants were especially charming this time around, as one of them, a young Asian female named Bamboo, peeled and ate an orange with her trunk, and then proceeded to pee and poop copious amounts of urine and dung for the entertainment of all the kids. They hooted and hollered as she peed what seemed to be a rather large river: this big stream of urine went on forever. And the poops were enormous. It was pretty amazing, and we all clapped when she was finished. Bee still talks about it. Next, we stopped in to visit the giraffes. The zoo has this program in place where you can pay $5 to feed the giraffes from a platform. We showed up right before this feeding took place and the giraffes seemed to know it was almost time. One of them walked up to us, stretched his head in our direction, almost touching us as he smelled for food. Then he'd back up and do it all over again. It was kind of weird, this poor giraffe just kept repeating this process, like a person with obsessive-compulsive disorder. I felt sorry for this poor OCD giraffe. I would much rather the animals were in their natural habitats instead of locked up, but some zoos were better than others, and Seattle's Woodland Park Zoo is pretty nice. And the giraffes had plenty of room, lots of friends to socialize with, and probably enjoy being hand fed by adoring zoo patrons. I recently read an articles in the Los Angeles Times about Jane Goodall. And although she would rather see animals in the wild, due to several factors (shrinking habitats, some animals being endangered, some being hunted), she feels that zoos are often a safer place for them, and I have to agree with her. (One of the interesting things about Jane Goodall is that she suffers from Prosopagnosia, a.k.a. face blindness, which is a memory impairment for faces and patterns. Oddly, she cannot recognize peoples faces, but has no problem recognizing her beloved chimps. How strange! It is mentioned in practically every article about her, but I always forget about it, and then I'm amazed by it all over again.)

Anyway, Sparky's new paintings are psychedelic both conceptually and physically, and have a wacky immediacy to them, and I can't wait to see this latest one finished.

Saucy

2009-09-08T20:00:00.000-07:00

Two of my all time favorite hot sauces are King Taco's Salsa Roja and Malo's Burnt Haberno and Creme Salsa. Yum. They are both muy delicioso: smokey and spicy with a nice bite. The Salsa Roja is a top secret, closely guarded family recipe. And the Burnt Haberno might be one as well be because I can't find the recipe anywhere. The ingredients for Malo's supposedly are: canned chipotle peppers, lime juice, orange juice, and creme fraiche (according to a food server who works there [according to chowhound.com.]) But I have no idea how much of what goes into it. Also on the Chowhound site are various attempts at recreating the King Taco salsa, but not a single person has been able to capture it in totality.

I'm thinking of both of these salsas right now because I'm craving them at the moment, and because Sparky's big mess of chilis are almost all ripe and we need to do something with them. We'll have to play around with them and see what we can come up with. We need to explore further.

Labor Day

2009-09-07T12:04:00.000-07:00

It's funny, but I've been working all Labor Day Weekend, and I have a lot more to do today. Labor Day! Wheeeee! I'm actually spending it laboring away, although I know that's not what the socialists who invented this holiday had in mind. Their intent was to allow the worker bee a day off from their normal five day a week, eight hour a day schedule - which they also came up with. What's happened? As far as I can tell, the normal eight hour a day, five day a week thing has gone the way of the platypus. If you are lucky enough to have a job these days, most likely you are spending way more more time doing it and getting paid way less money for your endeavours. What has happened to all the socialists? And why do Americans hate them so? We have become a country of whiny, self-centered capitalists who complain about every single little tax. As long as we have ours, what do we care about the rest of humankind who may need some help? Who wants to live in a civilized society anyway?

I remember hating Labor Day when I was young. It symbolized the end of summer vacation, and the start of school. Not that I hated school. It's just that I loved summer, as did every other kid I knew. Also, no Labor Day was complete without watching a bit of The Jerry Lewis Telethon. It is the Mother of all telethons. And it's still on. And still just as boring. Jerry Lewis looks to be about 100. But he is doing something for those less fortunate, children nonetheless, so you've got to commend him for it. Anyway, have I mentioned that Labor Day is not my favorite holiday? I want to be a good socialist and enjoy it, but I guess I'm just too radical. Oh, well. Back to the grindstone.

Aloe Vera

2009-09-05T12:50:00.001-07:00

Yesterday at the beach I made the rookie mistake of not putting sunscreen on my back. I can't believe I did it, but I did. I just forgot. I put sunscreen everywhere else but since I couldn't reach my back I was going to have Sparky do it, but I forgot to ask him and he forgot to offer. I made sure Bee was completely covered, and Sparky wears a short sleeve surfer top so he was covered as well. I have a pretty nasty sunburn on my back right now. The first sunburn I've had in years because I'm usually very diligent about sun protection. Thank god Bee is not burned anywhere on her still perfect creamy baby skin. Last night Sparky clipped some aloe vera from our yard, and rubbed the jelly of the freshly picked succulent all over my back. Fresh aloe vera is amazingly soothing, and works like magic on various skin woes - especially sunburns. Sparky first used this wondrous healing salve some time last century, back when he was a hippy hitchhiking across Florida. He had been standing in the sun all day, trying to hitch a ride somewhere and got horribly sunburned in the process. That night, after managing to catch a ride to where ever it was he was going, he ran into a woman who clipped some aloe vera from her yard and made him rub it on his sunburn. Who was this mysterious, wise and ancient shaman? Who ever she was, she was surely knowledgeable in the healing arts. At the time Sparky thought that she was so old, but now he says she was probably in her 40s. Jesus. Why do young adults always think people my age are so damn old? I don't feel old, just seriously sunburned. Sparky rubbed more aloe on my back today, and it is actually looking and feeling better. The lesson I learned is to always remember to coat yourself in sunscreen when spending a day at the beach, and to always have plenty of medicinal plants at the ready.

Misinformation

2009-09-04T20:35:00.000-07:00

Today after the Misers spent the BEST DAY EVER at the beach, we came home and grabbed Glenn The Dog to bring him along to an healthcare reform rally at the Los Angeles State Historic Park (a.k.a The Cornfield) in beautiful Chinatown. (Sparky and I have both decided that when we finally move away from Los Angeles, Chinatown is one of the few places that we will actually miss.) Dianne Feinstein was to be at this rally, and it was going to be huge! I received a phone call last night about this event from a lovely elderly woman from Chicago. She was a great gal, and we chatted about the sad state of healthcare in this great country of ours, and the crazy yahoos who oppose reform. I told her that I would be there for sure, and she said I could bring my dog and to tell my friends and neighbors about it as it was to be the last such event. When we ran home after the beach to get Glenn The Dog, there was a message on our home phone (in both English and Spanish) reminding us about the rally. We were on our way!

When we got to the park, we were surprised to see hardly anybody there. What? The? F? Where was everybody? We stopped and asked a Park Ranger about it and he informed us that it was actually yesterday. What? The? F? Why did that lady call me last night to tell us that it was TODAY, and why was there a message on our phone TODAY reminding us not to miss the rally TODAY? Was that old lady from Chicago really a Republican working for some insurance company purposely feeding me misinformation? How could that be possible? She seemed so nice. I just don't get it.

On the way home from the missed rally, we drove past Elysian Park where we saw a large gaggle of people. Maybe this was where the healthcare reform rally really was. We pulled over to get a closer look. It seemed odd that all the men and young boys were wearing kahkis, and all the women folk were wearing skirts. All of them. And then we spotted a "Vote Yes on Prop 8" sticker on a parked pickup truck. Whoops. Wrong rally. Feets, don't fail me now!

Salvation

2009-09-03T19:58:00.000-07:00

The beach today was great. The air there was a million times better than the air here in Echo Park. We walked along the beach with our shoes off, and Bee was fearless about running into the ocean. Then we strolled over to the Santa Monica Pier and had ice cream cones. It was so agreeable that we plan on going back tomorrow for an all day outing. We're going earlier this time, and I'll have a nice run in some clean ocean air. We'll play in the waves with Bee, picnic, boogie board, and then return home before rush hour. Sadly (or happily), working tomorrow does not fit into our scheme which means I'll be working all weekend. But it can't be helped because we absolutely need some salvation from the apocalyptic atmosphere that currently exists on our side of town. It's really grody here.

Back Home Again

2009-09-03T13:04:00.000-07:00

Bee and I just got back last night, having been up in the Great PNW visiting my family for the past two weeks. We left poor Sparky behind in Hell A, and as half of it is on fire, it really does seem like a level from Dante's Inferno right now. No Paradise anywhere as far as I can tell. What the hell has happened here since we've been gone? I walked outside this morning and my eyes stung from the air. There is a layer of ash on my car. The sunlight looks murky and strange. I had been planning on working today, but it is so gross out that we have decided to take Bee to the beach instead. Probably the air is better by the ocean. Sparky is amazed by how much Bee has grown in the short amount of time we've been gone. He missed her! Me, not so much. Well, maybe a little bit... Anyway, to the beach we go.

Watermelon Festival

2009-08-16T09:40:00.001-07:00

Yesterday, The Misers joined some friends at The Sunland-Tujunga Watermelon Festival. It cost $1 each for Sparky and I to get in, and Bee was free. Plus, there was free watermelon for everyone! What a festival! Sparky and his friend partnered up for the watermelon race, where they had to run carrying a greased watermelon. They came in third and won a pair of chessy sunglasses. The highlights for Bee were going down the Super Side with Sparky on a gunny sack and playing in the playground with her little friends. It was very hot at the festival, and when we left we were covered in sweat, dirt, and watermelon juice. Overall it was some cheap, dusty fun in the sun for The Misers.

"Soylent Green Is People!"

2009-08-13T11:07:00.001-07:00

I've never seen the movie "Soylent Green" but I've always wanted to. It's probably a better movie in my head, though: Sparky has seen it and says it's not very good. The main plot of this 1973 movie is that it's the year 2022 and the world is in horrible shape: it's overpopulated, almost everyone is unemployed, all the oceans are fished out, and there is no more arable land, thus no more food supply for the masses, plus it's hot as hell due to climate change. The world is so sucky, that people often opt for voluntary euthanasia or "going home" as it's euphemistically known. Soylent Green are these nutritional food wafers made from plankton that is rationed out to the population to keep them from starving. Anyway, a bunch of stuff apparently happens in the movie, which ends with Charlton Heston's character delivering the line: "Soylent Green is people! We've got to stop them somehow!" All the people who opted for assisted suicide were ground up and made into food! How scary is that?

It's almost as scary as Sarah Palin. She is actually out there inciting near riots from her idiot supporters (who are all those people? And where do they come from?) She is actually telling them that the government wants to take away health insurance from her and her baby with Down syndrome. What a liar. Plus, she doesn't ever have to worry about health care, not with her multi million dollar book deal. Rush Limbaugh doesn't have to worry about health insurance either, yet he won't stop inciting people to get out there and protest at these town hall meetings, based on a bunch of lies that he won't stop spouting. The Misers are very angry at these ridiculously uninformed people who call this "Nazi Health Care" and claim that the government is going to kill the elderly and infirm instead of take care of them. WTF? It makes me embarrassed to be an American. It's as though the ditto heads and Palin supporters are working for the insurance companies.

And it also reminds me of the hideous scenario in the novel, "Wicked World", where in 2067 the downtrodden of America with no other options line up outside of dog food factories, their heads hanging low. Soon they will ride giant conveyor belts set to drop them howling into giant blending machines. They do this knowingly, their lives are that bad. These machines then empty onto another conveyor belt where salt and seasoning is added before sending their pulverized remains into the cooking ovens. The final trip from there is onto the packing line where the finished product is stuffed into dog food cans. Sadly, many of these people's last meals had been dog food...

Palin and Limbaugh and their ilk, wealthy and insured with top quality care for them and their families into perpetuity, are doing nothing less obscene to the poor and middle class of America today with their sick tirades of nightmarish distortion and vehemence against health insurance reform. What are they really afraid of? Americans eating dog food? Already happens. Really, would Universal Care be all that bad, Ms. Palin? Our child would love to be covered by it, you can take care of your own quite nicely, thank you very much.

50 Cents

2009-08-11T20:14:00.000-07:00

Los Angeles is such a familiar place to me now that I'm jolted when the disparate, alienated reality of it strikes me from time to time. It's the usual cliches: cars are soulless boxes with soulless people locked inside of them talking on their phones to other soulless shut-ins. Talk to someone on the street? Are you kidding me? Conversation when walking the dog with other dog walkers? Typically hostile, put your dog on a leash type stuff. Talk to your next door neighbor? A rare occurrence, but possible, especially after a big earthquake when the power is out, the city smothered in darkness, and all desperate to know what the hell is going on. But more often than not you're on your own.

But at the confluence of Glendale and Alvarado, where two relentless rivers of asphalt are overrun by every possible vehicle, a pan handler works the crowd. He's a white guy, early 30's, skinny and not too tall. He is, of course, a little ragged around the edges, but that comes with the territory. His sign has seen better days. The beat down scrap of cardboard reads, "Hungry. Need Food. Thanks!" He's been living the dream at this intersection for the last five years.

One day, feeling no more prosperous or sympathetic than usual, I gave him some change while waiting for the light to change. Glenn The Dog was with me, and he's a large Dobberman mix. My feelings toward this exchange were equal parts hoping for good karma, altruism, and that sense of "there but for the grace of God go I..." And so I said as I put 50 cents in his hand, "It's all I got." He said, "It's all good!" And then he pulled the ill advised move of putting his hand just inside the dog's window. That could have gone two ways: he's now got a hook for a left hand; or Glenn would let himself be petted. That morning dog abided. "He's a good boy, man. Take care of that dog. I used to have one a lot like him." And then the light changed and I moved on with the river.

That was six weeks ago. This afternoon The Misers were rolling through the hood when the light went red at Panhandlers Gulch. We were three cars from the front, but I recognized my guy. I fished out the last of my parking change. He was wading through the cars rubbing his stomach and miming spoonfuls of porridge into his mouth as the windows slid shut leaving nothing but black tinting for the hungry man. I gestured to him. "It's all I got." "No problem, man. I appreciate it." And then, "Hey. I remember this guy." And he petted the dog once again. "You think he remembers me?" "I think dogs remember the smell of people. I think they have a rolodex of thousands of smells to remember people by." "Huh. That's something. Anyway, thanks again." Even with his back turned to the light he could sense a change of colors and jumped out of the way. The traffic he waded through daily would just as soon run him down and then flatten him car after car until he was nothing more than another mysterious stain on the road.

Peanut looked at me funny. Weren't The Misers supposed to be watching every nickel? I mean, The New Depression hasn't even gone into the fourth inning. "I just realized that I like to give that guy change because he talks to me. I know it's kind of pathetic, but for 50 cents, I get just enough conversation with the outside world to last me all day." And it was then that I had one of those previously mentioned moments of clarity involving the distance we all share in the Los Angeles megapolis. But to bust out of that for a few moments is easily worth 50 cents, even if you're a Miser.

(Guest Blogger Sparky)

Atheists United

2009-08-10T16:36:00.000-07:00

This morning when I was walking home after my run around Echo Park Lake, some guy flashed me the peace sign and said "god bless you." I hadn't sneezed or anything so I wasn't really sure why he said it and I think I must have mumbled "thank you," or "whatever," or "fuck you very much," in reply. The guy was with a gang of Christians on their way to the Dream Center at the Aimee Semple McPherson Angelus Temple a.k.a The Foursquare Heritage Center, which is on Park Avenue across the street from Echo Park Lake. (Marilyn Monroe was baptized there, which is it's big claim to fame.) Since I've been exercising at the lake for years now I'm used to getting accosted by the Christians from this church. I guess it's in one of their bylaws that they have to go out and proselytize. I am an atheist, but I never tell them. I'm always polite and smile at them. But still I get annoyed that they look at me and assume I need or want to be "saved". Even if I were Christian I would most likely be a Catholic because that is what I was raised as. And if I were still a Catholic I would be annoyed that they were attempting to convert me. I don't really mind religious folk as long as they keep it to themselves. I do mind when people tell me that my life must be empty, shallow, and without purpose because I don't believe in god.

Stair Master

2009-08-08T11:26:00.000-07:00

Since I can't run everyday as it's way too hard on my old body, I've been looking around for some other exercise to do on my off days. I think I found it. And it's free! I obviously can't afford to join a gym, and even though I do like yoga, the cost of classes are a bit too prohibitive for me these days, so I've decided to run up and down stairs. We are fortunate to live in hilly Echo Park, which is lousy with public stairways. There are more than a dozen of these gems scattered throughout our neighborhood. I even found a website that has a listing of The Echo Park Stairways, their condition and location, and the number of steps they contain. This morning, I ran up the Bellevue Stairways, which contains 55 steps and is marred by graffiti and a hideous mural of the L.A. Marathon. I went up and down these three times, and at the top was awarded with a beautiful view of Echo Park Lake. I'm just trying to ease my way into this new exercise of mine, I don't want to kill myself at this point so I've decided to start off slowly. Still, when I got home and walked up the stairs in our house, my legs felt like spaghetti. This new exercise routine is the poor man's equivalent of cross training. Kind of like Rocky but without the frozen sides of beef.

Fudge

2009-08-06T21:25:00.000-07:00

Today I received a letter in the mail for the first time in ages. Nobody writes letters anymore. It's all about e-mail, MySpace, Facebook, and other online social networks. It's really too bad, because getting a letter is one of the great little things in life. When I first moved to Los Angeles years ago, I used to get letter all the time from family and friends. That was before computers took over the world. I miss getting letters. Anyway, I found a bona fide letter addressed to me (Mrs. Sparky McManus) in our old, shot up mailbox. Our mailbox has five bullet holes in it, which happened to it before we moved in. Why would anyone shoot up a mailbox? For some reason it's always intrigued both Sparky and I, which is probably why we've never replaced it. The letter was from my mother-in-law. Nanny does not have an e-mail account nor a computer, so she still writes the old fashioned way. She owns stationary! It was a great letter, especially because it contained a recipe for fudge. A FOOL PROOF recipe for fudge. You see, I am a fool when it comes to making fudge. I can bake a perfect loaf of bread that rises beautifully but I can't make a pan of fudge to save my life. And for some reason, I try to make some every year at Christmas. Last year, I made two different kinds of fudge and neither one of them turned out worth a hoot. One pan of fudge never got hard at all, and the other hardened but had a weird grainy texture. Last Spring when we were back in the Heartland visiting Sparky's family, Nanny and I got to talking about fudge (I have no idea why) and I told her about my fudge making delimma. She told me that she had a FOOL PROOF recipe for fudge that she's been using for years and years and she would give it to me. Only she couldn't find it. She said she'd look for it and give it to me later. Well, she found it and mailed it to me, thus the letter. I'm not really in a fudge making mood right now as it's the middle of Summer, but this Christmas I'll make it for sure. I admit that I'm a little bit scared to try it because I'm sure I'll muck it up somehow. The recipe seems so simple, too simple if you ask me. Here it is: 1 package Nestles chocolate chips (already I'm starting to panic - milk chocolate or semi-sweet?); 1 can Eagles Brand sweetened milk (that's condensed milk, right?); 1/4 teaspoon vanilla - if you want (if you want? What does that mean? Is is better with it or without it? Also, 1/4 of a teaspoon doesn't sound like much. I'd be inclined to add more); Nuts - also if you want (I'm calming down a bit because nuts I get.) Melt chocolate and milk, mix thoroughly, spread in pan (oh god, what sized pan? Does it matter? And what about the vanilla and nuts if you want? When do you add those?) and refrigerate. FOOL PROOF!

View Out Our Kitchen Window

2009-08-04T20:45:00.000-07:00

I've always liked this view out our kitchen window at sunset when there are clouds in the sky. It makes our neighbor's pathetic garage look somehow romantic. I also like it when the clouds turn all pink. I've always heard that smoggy cities have some of the best sunsets.

Dog Days

2009-08-03T19:59:00.000-07:00

The Misers have been enjoying summer as much as humanly possible. We've been going on picnics, hanging out at our friend's pool, going to the beach, and basically just being lazy and not spending any money. It's the dog days and the living is easy. We've been keeping it simple, eating a lot of food from our garden (tomatoes, tomatoes, tomatoes), and enjoying the heat like a gang of lizards. Bee's is growing like a weed and talking like the little chatterbox that she has become. I've been running and not falling down (thank god), baking, knitting, making my ceramic pots, and working here and there. I've also been drinking iced green tea instead of Diet Coke, and I've stopped saying "You know what?" (Instead I've been saying "You know what I think?" Which is just as annoying. I probably need help.) Sparky's been gardening, working, and playing baseball whenever he gets the chance. It's funny, this is the most miserly summer we've ever had, but overall I can't recall a better summer.

Bowl Amarillo

2009-07-31T21:25:00.000-07:00

Sometimes you can see the sadness coming. The signs reveal themselves in advance instead of employing their usual obfuscation and stealth that leave you stunned when sorrow bites like lightening. This time I know it's coming, and will enjoy being in the moment even more so because the inevitable has already revealed itself. Bee's tiny yellow Fiesta bowl is not long for this world.
I first noticed the crack a few weeks ago, but fell into denial as it seemed to stabilize. In fact, I noticed no difference in it during the many hand washings during the month of July. This bowl is the perfect size for Bee proportions. Strawberries, hot dog slices, yogurt, peaches, pastas and broccoli, all have shared the tiny yellow bowl before becoming a part of Bee. But yesterday the truth confronted me as I stood stooping above the kitchen sink, scrubby in hand: the crack was growing. It's the size of the Arkansas River now, and shows no signs of slowing. And sure, we'll keep using the little yellow bowl until it pops in half. But as my religion forbids me from repairing broken crockery, the day the crack jumps its banks will be the end of the bowl, and the beginning of a small, sweet moment of sorrow. In advance I say, "Good-bye, Bowl Amarillo!"

(Guest Blogger Sparky)

Liquid Crack

2009-07-28T12:29:00.000-07:00

I'm trying to quit my Diet Coke habit. I usually have one every day, with ice. Lots and lots of ice. I know that Diet Coke is not very healthy, so I'm trying to give it up completely. I thought I'd switch to ice tea. Sun tea, in fact, made from green tea. With fresh mint leaves from our garden. Sun green tea has got to be way healthier than Diet Coke, and since I'm making it myself, way cheaper. A win-win for this Miser. But I'm a little nervous because Diet Coke must have some weird chemical in it that makes highly addictive. It's really difficult to quit drinking it cold turkey. I'm craving one right now, in fact. Diet Coke is my Liquid Crack.

New Career!

2009-07-23T19:50:00.001-07:00

The New Depression has us always thinking about ways to save, and ways to make money. I'd say by now we've honed our lifestyle down to one notch above homeless, so there's not a lot of work to be done in that direction. But ways to make money? They spring eternal. My latest career path hit me today as we drove into the San Bernardino Mountains for a picnic by the creek. The Misers have become hardcore picnickers, if there is such a thing, simply because it's so much cheaper than paying for lunch somewhere. And we get to bring Glenn the Dog. Among the Misers, he's happiest about this arrangement. Food and a park? Does it get any better for a dog? I don't think so.

As we entered the National Forest area of the mountains the ubiquitous Fire Danger sign caught my eye. Today we were at Level Orange. One match probably couldn't burn the forest down, but it could do a lot of damage... But that was it! The sign! It combined three things quite dear to me, wood carving, painting, and a strong concern for natural habitat. So I'm going to be out in the studio for next few weeks making a variety of Fire Danger signs. I'll introduce new imagery, a new set of color codes (really, yellow, orange and red are kind of played out), and maybe write some safety slogans like, "It's hot and dry, be careful with your fire, cause if it starts burning, we'll hang you from a wire." Then I'll put together a portfolio that I can trot around to all the National Parks in America. I'll become a kind of traveling salesman for wilderness fire safety. I may even knock out a few different models of Smokey the Bear, and introduce a new fire conscious spokes-animal, Flaming Giraffe. He'll be one level above old Smokey. Flaming G. will demonstrate the actual hurt that a fire can put on you and the land you're supposed to love. So next time you're entering a National Park or Wilderness Area, and wonder to yourself what the Fire Danger level is, be looking for some new signage. That'll be me!

(Guest Blogger Sparky "Fire Saftey First" McManus)

Zoo

2009-07-21T12:19:00.001-07:00

Last Weekend, the Misers headed down to visit friends in San Diego. They took us to the The San Diego Zoo's Wild Animal Park, which is close to where they live. I am not a huge fans of zoos because I always feel sorry for the caged up animals. But some zoos are better than others, and this one is pretty good. Originally you were able to drive your car around the zoo itself, which seems pretty crazy. I mean, what if a hippo decided to sit on your car or something? Maybe that's why they stopped allowing people to drive around. Now there's a tram you can take through the park, and some lame ass guy narrates as you go pass the various animals. This guy actually said, "There's the Wildebeest, the most boring animal in the wild." WTF? Why would a zoo employee say that? I happen to love Wildebeest; I saw an excellent documentary of them when I was a teenager, and I find their yearly migration to be quite fascinating. Plus I love their name. But other than the annoying "tour guide", the zoo was pretty cool. There were babies galore - baby elephants, baby giraffes, and baby leopards. Bee especially liked the rabbits, which ran around everywhere. Since our friends have yearly passes, the zoo was free for us, which is the right price for a Miser. All in all, a fun time was had by one and all. Except for maybe the Wildebeest.

You Know What?

2009-07-19T19:03:00.001-07:00

I have been saying "You know what?" way, way too much recently. I have no idea why. You know what? I just keep saying it. All of the time. I'm aggravating the hell out of both Sparky and Bee (and myself at this point), and I have got to get a grip on it. I'm like a broken record. You know what? Six months ago I couldn't stop saying "Oh my god!" every other minute. My mother became extremely annoyed at me and told me to knock it off. But I couldn't. I just got stuck on it. You know what? I promise that I'll never, ever say it again, Sparky and Bee. Cross my heart.

Bittersweet

2009-07-16T20:49:00.000-07:00

Bee now eschews the afternoon nap, which is a problem for us. Losing the daily respite from the rigors of a two year old is one thing, but getting a cranky two year in exchange at dinner time is no fun at all. But then we remembered how much she likes to sleep in the car, and the "driving nap" was created. The other day, Bee and Glenn and I took to the road about 3:30, but I had no idea where we were going... It rubs very hard against the grain to look for reasons to drive in Los Angeles, as I am always doing the opposite. So I just got on the 2 Freeway and headed north. It's the only freeways that seems easy going almost all the time, and it heads up to the mountains. It was the route we used to take on our visits to Tujunga where Sleeford and his family lived. I had barely passed the I-5 ramps for north and south when I looked behind me and saw a giant blonde head nodded over at a seriously drunken tilt. The dog looked a little nervous, but the big nap was on.

Up through the dry scrub hills opening into the lower mountains we went, summer having its way with the land as the shadows bore into the ground. Without thinking, I reached the end of the 2 and angled west onto the 210. Before I knew it the Lowel exit was upon me and I instinctively took it. I was on the way to Sleeford's and didn't really have any other plan. We haven't been there for a year and half, and since Sleeford died, we've had little reason to go. His father is full metal jacket nuts; his sister who lives next door did not fall far from the nut tree, nor did she move far from the Pollard compound. Bee slept through it all, but Glenn clearly knew where he was, and was looking all about for his favorite human in the world (besides me, sometimes) but there was, of course, nothing. Nothing but sad memories, and nothing like the sudden death of a healthy friend to put a monstrous hole in your world.

I turned around in the Pollard driveway before anyone saw me and headed back home, the dog and I both with heavy hearts. Back down Lowell we cruised and then onto the 210 heading east. Bee had been sleeping for about 20 minutes by now, and my goal is at least a half hour, so I set the cruise control on 60 and let everyone and their mother pass me. About two thirds of the way home the Glendale Adventist hospital caught my attention to the right. Bee was born there, and that's where we first met - she was 24 hours old at the time. I was a nervous wreck. We hadn't expected Bee to join us for another day, but there she was. I was so wound up I couldn't figure out how to strap in the car seat. But it has since become the biggest day for the happiest thing in my life, even if it doesn't want to nap in the afternoon any longer. And it occurred to me that our little drive had taken us to the place where Sleeford left this earth, and to the place where Bee entered it. Sweet. Bittersweet. Sleeford would have so loved her...

(Guest Blogger Sparky)

Tomatoes And Angel Hair

2009-07-15T17:02:00.000-07:00

The Misers love this time of year when our tomatoes are ready for picking. I like to slice the Roma tomatoes thin and put them in a sandwich with a little sprinkling of sea salt. Mmmm. The cherry tomatoes are excellent just popped into your mouth straight off the plant, or in a lovely salad. And any of the tomatoes are quite tasty made into a sauce for pasta. We like to saute garlic in some olive oil, and add chopped tomatoes, fresh basil, and oregano and lightly simmer. This sauce is especially delicious over Angel Hair pasta with some Parmesan cheese. It makes a nice, light summertime meal for next to no money, which as you know, is always a plus at the Miser house.