Odds & Ends #7
The other morning I had to call the police, of all things. I witnessed a hit & run (car, no pedestrian, thank goodness) right in front of my house, so after three tries (because I had the wrong non-emergency number), I finally got a hold of an officer who had the sexiest voice, and, while friendly enough, grilled me like a cheese sandwich (not a euphemism).
“What’s your address? What did you see? Did you see who did it? Was he Caucasian, Black or Hispanic? What’s the make and model of the car? Did you get the tag #? Which way did he go? Was anyone hurt? How do you spell your name? Can I buy you dinner?”
OK, that last part didn’t happen. But by the time he got done with his line of questioning, I was so worked up, I needed a cup of coffee to calm down. It’s STRESSFUL talking to the police! I had been excitedly DM-ing a friend while all this was going down, and he cautioned me about trying to Cagney & Lacey this whole thing.
But no can do. Shasta is on the hunt. I know the criminal lives in my neighborhood, and I think I’ve found him. Between my neighbor’s Ring camera and a judicious drive-by down the street, I think I’ve found the car. So what to do now remains the question.
In other news, I bought some Kenny Loggins tickets for his farewell tour in April — “This Is It”, he’s calling it, which is a nice play on the title of one of his better songs. You guys, I’m an avid Yacht Rock enthusiast. The more Christopher Cross, the better. Anyway, my friend Kathryn from Big Sandy will be joining me, and I expect to rock it out. I’ve been listening to my “Essential Kenny Loggins” album on Spotify for days. I LOVE the fact that he wrote songs with Michael McDonald, who is another of my favorites. Saw McDonald a few years ago…Kenny completes the circle.
I have been gulping down as much tennis as I can take the last month or so. We are at the tail-end of the hard-court season and about to head into clay season. Can I just say something halfway political for a change? It is STUPID that Novak Djokovic can’t enter the US because he’s unvaccinated. There I said it. I absolutely don’t support this stupid “law” that says you have to be vaccinated when thousands of unvaxxed immigrants are streaming over our southern border. Ron DeSantis says he is willing to boat Djokovic in on the Florida coast to play the next tournament — that made me laugh.
Winnie is getting old, guys. He’s 13 years-old now, and he’s starting to get a little senile. Pee-peeing on the patio instead of the lawn, staring at the wall, falling on the tile — I “just” went through this with Daisy (4 years ago, but still); I’m not ready. He had a gurgly tummy the other day and spent the whole day sleeping. I kept checking to see that he was still alive. Yes, we’re at that stage.
And well, “we” are officially off our NYE resolutions. It only took 69 (NICE; IYKYK) days before I fell off the wagon and found myself wandering the aisles of the grocery store this morning, without a list, without a plan and buying whatever struck me might taste good — not actually be good for me. It is SO HARD to feed myself these days. I have the appetite of a toddler. And the figure of a peri-menopausal, grey-haired old lady, which I suppose is what I am.
C’est la vie!
