Taking a Brain Break

"Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under the trees on a summer's day, listening to the murmur of water, or watching clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time." ~John Lubbock (English Biologist, 1834-1913)

"Rest when you're weary. Refresh and renew yourself, your body, your mind, your spirit. Then get back to work." ~Ralph Marston

Good idea. Taking a brief hiatus, be back soon. Until then, behave.

Words with Friends

It's official: I've joined the masses.

That's right. Thanks to the iPhone, I've become one of those people that I used to sneer at. Techno-Zombies who are constantly checking their iPhone, linked to it like a new appendage; sneaking peeks during meetings, eyeballing it in movie theaters, glancing at it ever-so-casually during conversations, paying half-attention to TV shows, and jumping out of bed with a Pavlovian response when we hear the "ping" that indicates an incoming message. Now I understand why everyone is so addicted to these infuriating iPhones.

They're all playing Words with Friends, of course. You know, the online version of Scrabble. I mean, duh, is there anything else?

I've always loved Scrabble, but it's kind of hard to play when you live alone. Now, with my iPhone, I have the game literally at my fingertips and can play anytime, anywhere. Cool. Like the other day, when I had time to kill while waiting for a doctor appointment. Yowza, how 'bout a game?

So there I was, studying the "board," calculating moves, stragetizing options and using brain cells that haven't fired up in years. And then I found The Perfect Storm. A word that utilized a coveted "Z" (ten points), two triple-letter blocks, and created a horizontal and vertical word.

It was the white whale of board games, the Scrabble equivalent of The Holy Grail. Not quite believing my good fortune, I held my breath, hit "play" and WOW! It was a bazillion points more than I had calculated! I was so delighted, I actually cackled, drawing odd looks from people sitting nearby. I was feeling pretty darned smug, imagining the look of total shock and awe on my game partner's face when her iPhone "pinged" and she saw my brilliant move.

Then the game crashed.

And with it, my bazillion points. My white whale. My Holy Grail. Gone in a nanosecond, thanks to modern technology. The very technology, I realize, that allows me to indulge in real-time Scrabble with a friend who lives 50 miles away.

Can't argue that. Game, anyone?

I'll Take a Ban Extra Dry, Hold the Foam

So I'm at Starbucks this morning when I notice the sign that says "Deodorant & Delicious."

Really. Like, when did deodorant become a breakfast staple?

Only after doing a triple-take do I realize that the sign actually says, "Decadent & Delicous."

I gotta get my eyes checked.

"Wheeling" and Dealing

This weekend, while most people were nesting indoors from torrid rains, I was selling cars. Two of them, in fact; one was my '99 Rav4 that was Blue-Booked at $2100 and needed $2500 worth of repairs. Pretty much a no-brainer. Buh-bye.

But getting rid of the other car was more difficult. It was my mother's 2004 Corolla and the car that I inherited when she passed away. Despite being a fine little car with great gas mileage, I've never been comfortable claiming it as "mine." Every time I sat behind the wheel, I'd look at the passenger side and expect to see Mom's smiling face. I'd remember our Sunday afternoons tootling off for yet another lunch at Alberto's, family dinner at Jenny's, or movie matinee. And I'd feel that now-familiar ache and miss my best friend--my mother--for the umpteenth time.

How could I enjoy this car, given how it came to be mine?

So I sold it.

But before doing so, I asked the buyer if I could keep the personalized license plates. Bearing my mother's maiden name, de Roux, the plates brought back a more pleasant memory: the day she phoned me, roaring with evil delight.

Seemed she had just gotten off the phone with her older brother who was angry. Boy, was he ANGRY. Seemed he'd submitted a request for personalized license plates and had been denied by DMV. Seemed somebody else had already claimed the name. His name.

"Who else in this country has my name?" he seethed to Mom."de Roux is French! It's not a common name like Smith or Jones, for gawd's sake. Who is the sonofabitch that stole my name?"

To which, barely containing her laughter, she replied, "Uh, that would be me."

The car is now gone and with it, another remnant of mom. But the license plate will hang in my garage--a reminder of her wicked glee the day she trumped her brother.

Letter to Toyota

Dear Toyota~

Yeah, you've had some really lousy PR lately, what with malfunctioning brakes and stuck gas pedals. Those drivers, picky, picky, picky. But hey, at least you're in a position to ramp up the one thing within your immediate control: customer service. Right?
Which is why I am just slightly dismayed at the treatment I received yesterday at your Dublin Toyota dealership. Now, I realize that I'm just a purdy lil' thang without two brain cells to bang together, but I'm pretty darned sure that English is my first language. And, unless I was suddenly overcome by The Spirit and speaking in tongues, English is what I using when attempting to communicate with your sales force.
"I'm here to test drive and check prices only," I told Scott. "I'm buying a used car next month and if you're straight with me today, I will return and buy that car from you." And I meant it.

But apparently Scott learned everything he knows about selling cars from endless viewings of the aptly named movie, "Suckers." Immediately he steered me to a brand new Rav4, insisting that old cars are nothing but trouble and I had to try this beaut because the color looked great on me.
Really. I'm going to spend $23,000 on a car because the color compliments my skin tone?
"How is it a babe like you isn't married," Scott asked upon learning that I was checking out cars all by my big-girl self and without benefit of a male escort. "And hey, you've got beautiful hair. No seriously, I mean it."
Why sir, you're making me blush! I was so darned flattered by Scott's genuine sincerity, I could almost overlook his reptilian behavior.
"Almost" being the operative word.
Finally, he showed me a used Rav4 with more mileage than Amtrak. When I balked, he accused me of having "issues" with old things. "What's wrong with a little mileage?" he argued. "You just buy the extended warranty!"
"Well then, Scott, if old things are so swell, why wouldn't I just keep my current Rav4?" I asked. He looked befuddled. Then he disappeared and returned with the Big Guns: the General Manager.
"What's it gonna take for you to buy a car today?" he asked me. To which I looked him square in the eye and replied that he could be Jesus Christ Himself, announcing that the Second Coming was contingent upon me buying a car today and a sale still wouldn't happen.
My, how attitudes changed. I left the dealership with a raging migraine and I'm pretty darned sure Scott had one, too.
But I do have to say one thing: when it comes to strong arm tactics, Neanderthal attitudes and repugnant dispositions, Dublin Toyota is sticking by their motto and "doin' it right."
Plus, they think I'm pretty! Because really, would a car salesman lie?

Birthdays - the Real Mother's Day

On this day several years ago, I had a beautiful bouquet of flowers delivered to my mom at Macy's, where she worked in retail sales. When she received the unexpected gift she immediately phoned me, delighted but confused.
"It's your birthday!" she exclaimed."Why are you sending ME flowers?"
Maybe because on this day many moons ago, mom's the one who went through all the work. Starting with labor, her life was newly dedicated to child rearing, counseling, teaching, worrying, investing, praising, sacrificing, reprimanding, developing, nurturing and loving. Always loving. Heck, the very fact that she tolerated my manic, prepubescent "Osmond Brothers" years should have earned the woman a Nobel Peace Prize.
But me? On this day many moons ago, all I did was get born. Pop my wrinkled, cone-shaped head out, wail and go with the flow. Really, how difficult was that? A very passive act, if you think about it.
"I wouldn't be having a birthday if it weren't for you," I replied. "I just wanted to say thanks for giving me such a great life."
A great life, thanks to a great mom. On this day especially, oh, how I miss her.

Showdown at the Coffee Corral

The scene? A Starbucks parking lot at 6:45 am on a damp foggy morning. The players? Me in my Corolla facing a woman in her Explorer. The dilemma? A lone parking space. We had each pulled up to it at the same time, so it was really all about being nice.
Except on this cold-for-California 35-degree morning, I was feeling sleepy, cranky, and anything but nice. Still, I waved for her to take the spot. She didn't move. I waved again and when she didn't acknowledge my gesture, I figured okay, fine, and swung into the space with a clear conscience. There were other, albeit further, spaces for her to choose from, and I didn't have all day hanging around trying to be "nice." Besides, I wanted my damn coffee.
Like I said, cranky.
Inside the shop I was soon lost in my own comatose thoughts and didn't notice that the driver of the Explorer was behind me in line.That is, until a Starbucks clerks said, "Cute shoes!" Since we were the only two customers in the store and I was wearing what my best friend refers to as "those ugly man-shoes" (hey, in my defense they're incredibly comfortable), I knew the compliment wasn't directed towards me. Slyly, I peeked at her shoes.
"Oh my gawd," I gushed before I could stop myself. "Those are the cutest shoes I've ever seen!" Black, hot pink and yellow plaid, they were peep-toe Mary-Jane stilletos on a 3-inch heel. And indeed, the cutest shoes I had ever seen. I'd fall and break my neck before I could even begin to stand upright in a pair of shoes like those, but I could certainly admire them.

"On sale, $10 at Burlington Coat Factory!" she gushed back with delight. "Seriously, can you believe it?"
And as I waited for my venti soy latte and she her grande peppermint mocha, we jabbered about how a good pair of shoes could make even sweatpants look stylish, how much we loved a good sale, and by the way, you should check out Aerosoles because their shoes are comfortable, yet stylish and affordable.
Etcetera, etcetera.By the time our coffees arrived, we were chatting like old friends. As we walked towards the exit, I held the door for her. "After you," I offered. "No," she insisted, "after you!" When she drove off in her Explorer, she gave me one last friendly wave, which I readily returned.
Suddenly I felt a little less cranky and a little more nice, warmed by the unexpected exchange on this damp, foggy morning. And all because of a pair of shoes.