My neighbor, Bill Moore, who is in his eighties and has been surfing for most of his life, is feeling pretty poorly. I don't feel comfortable sharing the details without permission, but he isn't well. I went over to talk to his lovely wife, who has always been so kind to us, to see if I could take out their trash or do anything for them, and she told me that she thinks he's going to have to give up surfing. That would be such a shame, such a loss for him because he's surfed through everything, including cancer, it's clear how much it means to him, and we all love to see him put his big board on top of his luxury car and head off for the beach.
I heard the saddest story today about a police officer who accidentally ran over and killed a sunbathing tourist on the beach right in front The Embassy Suites Resort in Oxnard, near Ventura. This is the hotel where we always stay when we go up there to check on some property that we own. It's such a beautiful place and there are always weddings going on.
Apparently this poor unfortunate woman was there for her son's wedding. She was/is from Iowa and was staying with her fiance, who had just walked back to the hotel leaving her to stay on the beach to tan a little bit longer. According to Reuters she was laying face down in front of a small berm, when two officers patrolling the beach, in one of those beach SUVs, came over the berm and drove right over her. They didn't even realize they had run her over until they got a call about it. Somebody surfers who saw the accident tried to perform CPR but there wasn't anything they could do to help her.
Her family searched for her for six hours before learning the terrible news. As sad as this is for this poor woman, for her fiance, and especially her son and his new bride who will be haunted by the memory of this forever, because frankly how could you ever look at your wedding pictures without thinking about this, I feel even worse for the police officer who was only going about five miles per hour and couldn't have seen her on the other side of the berm. I mean whether it could have been prevented or not, these guys are the nicest guys, they care so much about the beaches, about the safety of everyone there, and to accidentally run over and kill someone would be the worst thing that could ever happen to one of them. I feel so sorry for everyone involved.
Wish I had something cheerier to write about. I had a dream last night that was so long and complicated that I swear it could be a romance novel, unfortunately I'm all about the big ideas and not to good at slogging through the detail work that would make them happen.
Beau just came in. He's been depressed because he thinks he's never going to get to see his girlfriend Jo again. She lives in San Francisco, is booked up all summer, and may not even make it to Burning Man. Poor Beau and Jo. Long distance love sucks.
Beau has a headache and so do I. Do you think weather can cause headaches, barometric pressure and things like that?
My tenant owes me some money and I need it badly but I hate having to call him to ask for it. I left a message on his machine but it looks like I'm going to have to deal with him in person somehow, argh, blech, ptuey. I've written about this before; this is the building I inherited from my Catholic Grandmother, the building my Mom neglected so badly before turning it over to me, that most of the tenants hadn't paid rent in months and the one main tenant had turned his lunch counter into a topless bar. Shortly after I took over he lost his liquor license and had to go all nude to survive. So basically I survive off of the rent I get from a building I own that houses the only all nude bar in the entire Coachella Valley. I never know how my tenant, Art, is going to behave when I talk to him, sometimes he's great, sometimes it isn't a good day for him, and most of the time he's pretty crusty and gruff. We'll see how it goes.
There is so much about my life that I'd like to write about, so much that I would have written about four or five years ago, but now that everyone and their pet parrot seems to be online, I have to be more careful about what I write, careful for the sake of the people I would want to share stories about. It's kind of sad because I hate to censor myself and writing about things here has been my main way to let off steam.
I can write about my cats, at least they haven't figured out how to get online yet, and won't be embarrassed by anything I have to say. You probably know I've been doing cat, and pretty much everyone and everything else, rescue since I was a teenager, but some of my pals remain with us for life, and when they get older they have assorted health problems. Rook is having kidney troubles and can't control his bladder. We have to give him fluids that we inject under his skin using a big bag of fluids. He's happy, he purrs, he jumps up into my arms, but he pees on my bed, which doesn't seem to bother him, but it sure sucks for me.
The night before last was pretty hot here and I was sleeping naked like I sometimes do. I was laying on my back dreaming some weird complicated dream about people chasing me when I suddenly awoke sensing that something wasn't quite right. I lifted my head to see Rook standing over me, squatting right over my crotch taking a good long pee. It was so weird.
I yelped and jumped up. He tumbled over, spraying more pee all over the blankets and sheets, and I had to run to the shower at four in the morning, then come back, clean up the bed as best as possible, lay down towels and fresh blankets and then sleep on that. Luckily for me, I have outsmarted these naughty pee cats and bought a bed that has a zip off top. It wasn't exactly designed for cats who pee on their human friends at night, I'm guessing it was made for incontinent people, but it works out perfectly for us.
And just in case you missed this the last time I shared the link, and because stories about accidental deaths, nudie bars, and cat pee can be a tad disconcerting, here he is, one more time, the Ask a Ninja guy, who makes me laugh so hard it hurts.
Okay that's about it my friends. I'll check back in soon with some catch-up entries and the last batch of photos from our Hawaii trip, and pictures of the latest dresses of my Grandmother's that I've purchased. I think I still owe you pictures from the fashion show, Halloween, and Burning Man. I'd better get cracking. I know, I know, I've said I'd do this before, but keeping all of my life balls in the air while being pretty much the only person who is taking care of my hormonal teenager, my ninety year old Mom who would rather eat chocolate chip ice cream than take her meds, and all of these many animules, makes for a fairly busy Jacqui bird. I do still manage to get in a good chunk of TV watching so maybe that's where I'll have to cut back, damn.
Big loving hugs,
Oh and PS: A dear old friend of mine, someone I love and admire very much, posted this on her blog, and I wanted to share it with you because it totally captures the way I feel about how I choose to live my life. When my Mom says, about all of these many animals and people I am forever trying to rescue and sort out, "Honey, you can't save them all," I'm going to tell her this story. It's so sweet it makes me cry;
"On a sandy stretch of shore, hundreds of starfish have stranded themselves in the sand. A young woman is walking slowly among them, picking one up here and there and throwing it back into the sea. A passerby sees her, laughs, and points out the futility of her actions. "There are so many of them" the stranger scoffs. "You can't save them all. What you're doing is a waste of time. It doesn't matter." The woman picks up a starfish and throws it back into the ocean. "It mattered to that one," she replies."