Don't Make Me Laugh...

In the olden days, there were party lines. For you younguns, that was when two households shared a phone line - that's right, not just two family members but two homes. Separate families. SHARING!. I suspect that there was a price break though it may have just been too expensive to have a private line. We shared with the neighbor who was rather intolerant our house with chatty teens with our chatty ways. She would occasionally come to the door and demand we vacate the line. Occasionally we would.

We have now progressed to cellular devices. Or have we? When the text came in, I didn't recognize the number:

INCOMING TEXT: Wus up beezy?
ME: not sure you want to know. Wrong # I presume.
IT: Wat?
ME: Who are you? This is Debbie.
IT: Oh Im sorry wrng numbr. But wat r u doin tho?
ME: you're funny...I'm working.
IT: Im not tryna b funny. But, how old r u debbie?
ME: old...really old.
IT: Married?
ME: very
IT: Alrite. Im sorry 4 takin u away from your work. It was nice chatin wit u. And by the way, my name is Don.
ME: bye Don.

I figured this inane text "conversation" was over...then again with the "beepbeepbeep"

DON: U kno later maybe wen u get a break if u feel like chatting a little more y dnt u give me a buzz? If u feel like it. No pressure.

Dood, are you serious? Does this work for people? I told him I'm old. I told him I'm married. I USE PUNCTUATION in text message for craps sake. I tried to Google search the phone number but no luck. Did he really expect me to jump on this opportunity with someone who can't spell worth shit? C'mon! Are people really lonely enough to get picked up by a wrong number? Please tell me "no".

I Been in the Right Place but it Musta Been the Wrong Time

I could easily have been on a ship. The clang of the bell buoy rolling in the fat swell. The echoing of two fog horns, talking to each other from the spits at either side of the Channel. The surf hardly visible in the thick fog and only noticeable when it rumbled against the hull. In reality, it was just a walk on the north spit jetty and the water was thundering against the rocks underfoot. Slowly, the fog began melting away but not until after my walk.I took the day off work and was pleased to see a zero-tide was due at a reasonable hour. I headed out to the Breakers and climbed down into the rocks that make up the jetty, checking out the lifeforms normally hidden under water. Squatting down to see under the bigger rocks, I could see the beautiful purple and orange sea stars gripping the rock along side the anemones, drooping down like gooey wet stalactites. I could hear the chattering of the barnacles, searching the salt air for food that wouldn't be theirs until the water, once again covered them and brought them dinner. See the tiny little crab scurrying around the barnacles? Little devil was no bigger than my thumbnail and obviously too shy to allow a good focus. The low tide and fat swell brought out a number of surfers, many of whom entered the water from the jetty to save their arms from the paddle out to the break. As always with the surf, you have to be in the right place at the right time or the ride just isn't yours. Luckily, a few were in the right place at exactly the right time.

Hot Town, Summer in the City

While parts of the country have been dealing with triple-digit temps and cranking up the air conditioning, we who have chosen to live where 70 is a heat wave are asked to conserve. So we dutifully live in the dark while others luxuriate in their pools or in front of the air-conditioning. I've lived in the heat and have returned to my senses, thank you very much.

I grew up in a middle class neighborhood, built mostly in the early 60's. Nothing fancy but we did have curbs. No sidewalks; those were for the rich people on the next, newer street. We also did not have swimming pools. That, too, was for the fancy people above us. We had sprinklers and we had a Water Wiggle. For those of you not fortunate enough to have owned one of these entertaining devices, the attached commercial might refresh your memory. Looking at that commercial through the litigious eyes of a person who would, say, spill hot coffee in their lap then sue the restaurant that sold them the coffee, I see dollar signs. Through the eyes of a child, it was a blast. Oh sure, there were times it would THUNK you on the head or, better yet, wrap around your ankle then continue to ensnarl you like a boa constrictor until you could free yourself. Of course, as the hose got shorter and shorter, that put that vicious little smiling head ever so close to your face. You'd reach out and grab the hose trying to prevent it from smacking your face. Now THAT is a good time cooling off.