It has been over six months now, and even though Mel has been visited by countless dentists, the inflamed infected teeth now consumed each waking moment. And typical of the Sea Cliff Health Center, it behaves like a wax museum. He had been taken Norco for pain and like before, I knew that death might be on his front door if the teeth were not removed
My three hour stay with Mel on Sunday proved to be a mistake. I took Brother Mel's pain to bed with me so on Monday and had a sleepless night. At least he still went to rehab downstairs where Amber and where he could sing and walk and forget the pain in his teeth.
A block from my apartment is the #33 bus stop. With my Access card it is only a quarter to ride the bus for Disneyland. But this is not the amusement park one might expect. No, it is the ride to a cheaper Disneyland, called the City of Angels in the 30's - and for me again today.
It takes about forty five minutes to leave Surf City and pass Little Saigon, Garden Grove, Anaheim and my stop at the Texaco Gas Station. It costs me $75 cents to ride the long Metro bus but it is a idyllic ride. Good clean air uplifts my spirits as we get to the Norwalk Transit Station. Again I look forward to the hustle and bustle of downtown Los Angeles.
My ticket gets me on all the rides in the City of Dodgers. But first, I must visit my Grand Daughter, Li'l Nell. She call me "Papa" and I love it. Tonight I baby sits and she cuddles up with me in the back bedroom. Of course I don't play favorites and have Mickey and Mini Mouse sleeping with us...and I almost forgot about Donald Duck.
The next day it is all about writing. I to to Nate and Al's, in Beverly Hills for my matzo ball soup, of course with pickle sand freshly made rye bread. Including coffee it is all of ten dollars. Next to me are two lawyers who are chumming up with a lady who is in the midst of a divorce. Wow, they way they talk they could charm even Donald Trump away from a round of golf or his twitter.
My brother Mel is forgotten as I lavishly spread jam on my toasted rye. Even though I missed the toast and coated my just washed shirt with black jam, it did not curb my joy for this day.
After a visit to the San Diego Library I felt like using my free ticket for not the Grove, but for Santa Monica. While I wait for the 704, a multitude of wide eyed albino, cherub Chinese tourists remove themselves from the bus and peer at me as if I am some exotic specie. They probably think I look like Donald Trump. The 704 Sana Monica bus picks me up on amply-named, Santa Monica. The bus putters through Century City, West Los Angeles and finally Santa Monica.
My Disneyland ticket gets me a ride on the finest looking city in the South Bay. I get off on Broadway that leads me to my Thai restaurant on Santa Monica Blvd, across the street from the gap. You get a bang for your buck here with all the free soup your full belly can hold. But I need to get to the new library -- where there is a free stack of periodicals.
From the best free stack of periodicals, I removed the December of 1939 Times. History of these dark days is thrown in my face as the Reds have invaded Finland, and several countries have removed chunks of Czechoslovakia..It is now four o'clock and I needed something to hold me over. I cross the street for Philz Coffee.
It is worth three dollars and change for the cocktail mixers to put some ingredients in the coffee. Now I have never tasted such delightful coffee I remove two children't books and make my way to the bus stop on Fourth Street.
Yes, just another day in Disneyland, and how much for admission, almost nothing. Remember that the Best Things in Life are Free.
Thursday, March 28, 2019
Tuesday, March 26, 2019
The Los Angles Metro Bus
Needed to get away from the pollen-mold capital of Southern California, and the knowledge of visiting Li'l Nell excited me. After watching my brother Mel complain about his infected teeth, I needed to remove stress with a kiss the lips of Los Angeles. The air quality of Los Angeles is leaps and bounds better than south facing beaches of Southern California.
The Surf City 33 bus picked me up at at eight ten. Again, I said hello to my friends from Little Saigon who trick to the beach each morning. These thin-healthy ones are the happiest people in the Huntington Beach area. The twenty or so on board joke with one-another as they wait for their stop in Westminster
After Little Saigon or Westminster, the bus makes a sharp turn and Garden Grove is in view. I feel a surge of energy as the buses AC removes begin to clean my lungs air-filter. Tee bus ambles on to Anaheim before settling descending on Buena Park and La Palms. The Metro 460 bus stop fronts a Texaco gas station, a relic from the good-old-days. Gas has climbed to $3,50 a gallon.
The bus stop has been commandeered by two homeless transits. One lies on the bench while the other sorts his clothes inside his luggage. Like many homeless, the bus stop serves as their home before they find shelter or end up in the hospital or morgue. I wait a few minutes until the Metro Bus stops. Two climb aboard before I place three quarters in the cash slot. I walk to the rear and take a seat in front of the air conditioner. a large young man wears shorts and sandals is at the opposite end.
"Do you mind putting on ear plugs. I don't wish to hear music right now."
"Don't own any."
"Go right ahead then, I can live with it."
He moves to another seat. The bus makes a right on Beach as I say hello to Mr. and Mrs. Knots as a roller coaster zips by my head. The bus goes another miles and makes a right on La Mirada. We are headed for Norwalk as it zigs and zags back and forth through the City of Commerce.
I remove a plastic bag of Fuji apple slices.The flow of natural sugar perks me up. A smile comes over me as I begin to forget my Brother Goldberg's teeth problems The bus makes a turn on Firestone and Imperial and enters a side street. It pulls into the Norwalk Transit Station. Several hundred cars are parked there as they have taken buses or the Green Line train.
Finally my bus picks up a few more passengers and leaves the Center. It makes a sharp left onto the 105 Freeway that parallels the Green line tracks. Hunger overtakes me and I remove a peanut butter sandwich from my bag and munch on it. It feels good that I will be downtown in a few minutes in a trip that has taken me less than two and one half hours The long bus curves to the right and says good by to the 105. It is now on Harbor and makes stops at Manchester, Slauson and a U.S.C station.
Since it travels on is own bus lane, it is a breeze as the downtown sky-scrappers bestow their greetings to me. I wave to Magic Johnson at Staples, the renowned Pantry and finally get off at Seventh and Fig. I shake a leg and walk across Fig. A young chap is blaring rap as a business man in aa blue suit vapors himself and enters Morton's Steak House. I enter Staples and give my order after [picking up a New York Time.It is now ten thirty and i hear a commotion
A security guard has placed gloves on and shakes a sleepless one on the shoulder. The sleepy one tries to stand and does on the third try - it is obvious that he tries to make a scene and then sue Starbucks.
The headlines seem to be good for Trump but the story that grips me is the one about a a Vi\king Ship that is being tossed by 25 feet waves. Helicopters pick up many but the ship makes ot back to a harbor safe and sound. The homeless one return to the same area and begins to drink a latte. Going on eleven now, I head across the street to the \Seventh Street Station. I tap my blue card and elevator down to to the Purple Line. At Western, I pop up. The sky is blue, ever so blue and my tattered lung sing to me. Soon I will see a gift from God, my Li'l Nell.
NUTS and Bolts for today: Li'l Nell slept with me last night.. .so I got little sleep...but what I got was well worth it...A gift from heaven.
The Surf City 33 bus picked me up at at eight ten. Again, I said hello to my friends from Little Saigon who trick to the beach each morning. These thin-healthy ones are the happiest people in the Huntington Beach area. The twenty or so on board joke with one-another as they wait for their stop in Westminster
After Little Saigon or Westminster, the bus makes a sharp turn and Garden Grove is in view. I feel a surge of energy as the buses AC removes begin to clean my lungs air-filter. Tee bus ambles on to Anaheim before settling descending on Buena Park and La Palms. The Metro 460 bus stop fronts a Texaco gas station, a relic from the good-old-days. Gas has climbed to $3,50 a gallon.
The bus stop has been commandeered by two homeless transits. One lies on the bench while the other sorts his clothes inside his luggage. Like many homeless, the bus stop serves as their home before they find shelter or end up in the hospital or morgue. I wait a few minutes until the Metro Bus stops. Two climb aboard before I place three quarters in the cash slot. I walk to the rear and take a seat in front of the air conditioner. a large young man wears shorts and sandals is at the opposite end.
"Do you mind putting on ear plugs. I don't wish to hear music right now."
"Don't own any."
"Go right ahead then, I can live with it."
He moves to another seat. The bus makes a right on Beach as I say hello to Mr. and Mrs. Knots as a roller coaster zips by my head. The bus goes another miles and makes a right on La Mirada. We are headed for Norwalk as it zigs and zags back and forth through the City of Commerce.
I remove a plastic bag of Fuji apple slices.The flow of natural sugar perks me up. A smile comes over me as I begin to forget my Brother Goldberg's teeth problems The bus makes a turn on Firestone and Imperial and enters a side street. It pulls into the Norwalk Transit Station. Several hundred cars are parked there as they have taken buses or the Green Line train.
Finally my bus picks up a few more passengers and leaves the Center. It makes a sharp left onto the 105 Freeway that parallels the Green line tracks. Hunger overtakes me and I remove a peanut butter sandwich from my bag and munch on it. It feels good that I will be downtown in a few minutes in a trip that has taken me less than two and one half hours The long bus curves to the right and says good by to the 105. It is now on Harbor and makes stops at Manchester, Slauson and a U.S.C station.
Since it travels on is own bus lane, it is a breeze as the downtown sky-scrappers bestow their greetings to me. I wave to Magic Johnson at Staples, the renowned Pantry and finally get off at Seventh and Fig. I shake a leg and walk across Fig. A young chap is blaring rap as a business man in aa blue suit vapors himself and enters Morton's Steak House. I enter Staples and give my order after [picking up a New York Time.It is now ten thirty and i hear a commotion
A security guard has placed gloves on and shakes a sleepless one on the shoulder. The sleepy one tries to stand and does on the third try - it is obvious that he tries to make a scene and then sue Starbucks.
The headlines seem to be good for Trump but the story that grips me is the one about a a Vi\king Ship that is being tossed by 25 feet waves. Helicopters pick up many but the ship makes ot back to a harbor safe and sound. The homeless one return to the same area and begins to drink a latte. Going on eleven now, I head across the street to the \Seventh Street Station. I tap my blue card and elevator down to to the Purple Line. At Western, I pop up. The sky is blue, ever so blue and my tattered lung sing to me. Soon I will see a gift from God, my Li'l Nell.
NUTS and Bolts for today: Li'l Nell slept with me last night.. .so I got little sleep...but what I got was well worth it...A gift from heaven.
Wednesday, March 13, 2019
Happy Birthday Amby
He will turn 102 on April the 21st. As St. Patrick's Day is today, I hope that San Diego will honor you with a Schindler Day, and your number 24 hang on every flag pole.
"George, I was the best athlete to come out of San Diego, and
became the California Athlete of the Year for 1933 and 1934."
From the summers of 2006 to 2008 Schindler and I lunched together either at the South Coast Grill off the Hermosa Beach strand. Of course we began the day in his Torrance den before ambling off to a restaurant.
I worked the microfilm computers mainly at the Central Library in Los Angeles as well as the libraries in Santa Monica and his birth city, San Diego.
My folks subscribed to four different Los Angles papers, of course at different times. I needed to embellish and verify his many stories, and so became engrossed in the events of the thirties.
I became excited when to see the writers who helped me learn to read, since school never could. One story caught my eye from a 1936 edition of the Herald and Express.
Sid Ziff of the Herald and Express wrote an article that what it takes to become a great athlete or phenomenon. In one of his columns in 1936, he writes about Li'l Ambys work ethic and athletic ability.
" Ambrose Schindler carried a paper route in San Diego. One afternoon, the San Diego High team came to Occidental for a track meet without Schindler who had to deliver his paper route...but Schindler showed up later in his battered Roadster blowing smoke...He won the high jump with a jump of 6 feet 2 inches."
His story will change the lives of anybody that reads it. It gave mine a new beginning. The Trojans from the classes of the late thirties will come alive again if not in person than in spirit.
Remember that he became the 1940 Pasadena Rose Bowl Player of the Game and also the Chicago All Star Player of the game the same year
The Pop Corn is ripe for eating and I have splashed gobs of butter on it. The story will be made into a play and movie
Schindler as told to me: "The race between the rabbit and the turtle was won by the hair. It had a purpose.
Tuesday, March 12, 2019
A Strawberry for Mel
"Brought you some fresh strawberries. Bought them from Whole Foods, and just picked."
Mel lies in room 135 B. It is in the rear of the Wax Museum on Florida Street in Surf City. It is called the Sea Cliff Health Center and is a ;prominent nursing home in Huntington Beach.
Mel attempts to arise and does on the second try. No longer does he resembled the brother that came here almost two years ago from the Huntington Hospital. He is slim and can barely sit up in bed. I have been his advocate for over ten years now. It is not a miracle he is alive. I have supplemented his diet with fruit and meat.
"Also got you Panda Express." Mel smiles. In bed one, Charles lies flat and complains The 86 year old wishes to rise. He is big with size thirteen feet
"Help me up!" Charles explodes in anger. Mel is legally blind but the thought of eating Panda has juiced his appetite for life
"You been away two weeks. Thought you might be in hospital."
I take a fold up chair from closet as he had enough vision to dig into hit orange chicken, chow mien and rice. He smiles. I set a basket of $2.99 big and bright red strawberries on his food table.
He grabs one and places it in his mouth. Again he smiles
"Wow George these are real good."
He continues to eat and with a new found gusto. In bed one he continues to get out of bed, but without any success. Mel is upset.
"They promised to come and take me. My teeth still hurt." He has had the tooth decay for over six on months and has only four biting teeth left. I feel like singing, and begin to sing a Eddie Fisher song
If I ever needed love, I need it...All of a sudden bed one finishes the song. Bed one is happy now as one song follows another. The forty year sailor in bed one must know thousands of songs Mel joins in as he is almost finished with the food. He with Charles sings another Fisher ditty.
"Oh My Papa...to me he was so wonderful..." Well we jammed for about thirty more minutes. A few other patron entered and joined us.
I needed to get Mel outside. The Patron seldom, if ever, eat fresh fruit or sit under the sun. Much thinner now with less energy, He follows me to the patio area in the back. He needs help to find a chair. I don't know how much medication he takes now, but Norco has certainly slowed him down. Mel continues to sing but wishes to return to soon. No longer bulky, he can no longer withstand cold weather, and rain drops begin to all on hsi head. He pants keep falling down as we head to the front office where he attempts to get ten singles from his account. He has employees go to the coke dispenser every day.
We walk back to room 135 and he finds his bed. He thanks me and smiles.
It is going on four and the thought of waiting for buses in the rain causes me to walk the two miles to my apartment. I never buy fruit at Whole Foods but the smell of freshly picked juicy strawberries could not be ignored.
Mel lies in room 135 B. It is in the rear of the Wax Museum on Florida Street in Surf City. It is called the Sea Cliff Health Center and is a ;prominent nursing home in Huntington Beach.
Mel attempts to arise and does on the second try. No longer does he resembled the brother that came here almost two years ago from the Huntington Hospital. He is slim and can barely sit up in bed. I have been his advocate for over ten years now. It is not a miracle he is alive. I have supplemented his diet with fruit and meat.
"Also got you Panda Express." Mel smiles. In bed one, Charles lies flat and complains The 86 year old wishes to rise. He is big with size thirteen feet
"Help me up!" Charles explodes in anger. Mel is legally blind but the thought of eating Panda has juiced his appetite for life
"You been away two weeks. Thought you might be in hospital."
I take a fold up chair from closet as he had enough vision to dig into hit orange chicken, chow mien and rice. He smiles. I set a basket of $2.99 big and bright red strawberries on his food table.
He grabs one and places it in his mouth. Again he smiles
"Wow George these are real good."
He continues to eat and with a new found gusto. In bed one he continues to get out of bed, but without any success. Mel is upset.
"They promised to come and take me. My teeth still hurt." He has had the tooth decay for over six on months and has only four biting teeth left. I feel like singing, and begin to sing a Eddie Fisher song
If I ever needed love, I need it...All of a sudden bed one finishes the song. Bed one is happy now as one song follows another. The forty year sailor in bed one must know thousands of songs Mel joins in as he is almost finished with the food. He with Charles sings another Fisher ditty.
"Oh My Papa...to me he was so wonderful..." Well we jammed for about thirty more minutes. A few other patron entered and joined us.
I needed to get Mel outside. The Patron seldom, if ever, eat fresh fruit or sit under the sun. Much thinner now with less energy, He follows me to the patio area in the back. He needs help to find a chair. I don't know how much medication he takes now, but Norco has certainly slowed him down. Mel continues to sing but wishes to return to soon. No longer bulky, he can no longer withstand cold weather, and rain drops begin to all on hsi head. He pants keep falling down as we head to the front office where he attempts to get ten singles from his account. He has employees go to the coke dispenser every day.
We walk back to room 135 and he finds his bed. He thanks me and smiles.
It is going on four and the thought of waiting for buses in the rain causes me to walk the two miles to my apartment. I never buy fruit at Whole Foods but the smell of freshly picked juicy strawberries could not be ignored.
Wednesday, March 6, 2019
Cruisin' San Diego with George: Oh What a Beautiful Morning
Cruisin' San Diego with George: Oh What a Beautiful Morning: In the last blog, I had been assaulted at the Beverly Hills Library and somehow, misplaced my Qbar inhaler. I made it back to my apartment i...
Oh What a Beautiful Morning
In the last blog, I had been assaulted at the Beverly Hills Library and somehow, misplaced my Qbar inhaler. I made it back to my apartment in Surf City on a Thursday. I was mad as hell since not only did I not have my medication, but without it, my life was in His hands. The next morning, I cabbed it to the Beach Kaiser. At the pickup window, a pharmacist told me it was not ready...and it would cost one hundred dollars for a refill. Now one on a strict budget knew that this medication, was a must -- even if I would have to remove the Franklin from my budget.
"When can I reorder this medication without the stiff penalty of a one hundred dollar co-pay?
"Ah, don't know...you can pick it up in ten minutes." I saw my name on the screen and went to window one to pick it up. Supervisor Tran (not his name) was helping another patron.
"I asked the new pharmacist the same question without any answer. I wished to know when I could refill the Qbar...no big deal but here it was. I asked the supervising pharmacist the same quetion and told Tran that we should go to his office in the rear.
I asked the supervisor the same question and why did the price double on me.
"Don't know...ask membership maybe they do!"
We interrupted each and he began to stammer. He kept on repeating me. He refused to sign a paper as to the one hundred dollar amount. I had trouble communicating with him since most Vietnamese treat English as their second language.
"Are you threatening me!"
I knew he wished me to react but I am not so dumb. I kill with my fingers as you can readily see.
It felt good to become more assertive since I am not quite eighty. Whenever there is bullshit in my life, I tell the opposition to pick it or else. I told Tran that I would see to it that he is fired.
As soon as I left with my two medications, and walked out the door, I saw the number 76 bus on Talbert and decided to go to the Surf City Senior Center. I was in luck and it was a Friday so I had a chance to play their grand piano. A few ladies sat to listen, and one tapped me on the shoulder.
"Sir, you are real good. Do you play every Friday?...All you need is a tux and I will pay to see you."
I played a few show melodies like Oh what a Beautiful Morning and my mood changed It flet good taking two buses home but by that time I was all worn out. .
"When can I reorder this medication without the stiff penalty of a one hundred dollar co-pay?
"Ah, don't know...you can pick it up in ten minutes." I saw my name on the screen and went to window one to pick it up. Supervisor Tran (not his name) was helping another patron.
"I asked the new pharmacist the same question without any answer. I wished to know when I could refill the Qbar...no big deal but here it was. I asked the supervising pharmacist the same quetion and told Tran that we should go to his office in the rear.
I asked the supervisor the same question and why did the price double on me.
"Don't know...ask membership maybe they do!"
We interrupted each and he began to stammer. He kept on repeating me. He refused to sign a paper as to the one hundred dollar amount. I had trouble communicating with him since most Vietnamese treat English as their second language.
"Are you threatening me!"
I knew he wished me to react but I am not so dumb. I kill with my fingers as you can readily see.
It felt good to become more assertive since I am not quite eighty. Whenever there is bullshit in my life, I tell the opposition to pick it or else. I told Tran that I would see to it that he is fired.
As soon as I left with my two medications, and walked out the door, I saw the number 76 bus on Talbert and decided to go to the Surf City Senior Center. I was in luck and it was a Friday so I had a chance to play their grand piano. A few ladies sat to listen, and one tapped me on the shoulder.
"Sir, you are real good. Do you play every Friday?...All you need is a tux and I will pay to see you."
I played a few show melodies like Oh what a Beautiful Morning and my mood changed It flet good taking two buses home but by that time I was all worn out. .
Tuesday, March 5, 2019
Assaulted in the Beverly Hills Library
Feeling quite good at not quite eighty years old, I waltzed down Beverly Drive on the 27th of February. A crisp beautiful morning greeted me, and why not says I, think I'll dip into Nate N Al's for a bowl of Matzo Ball soup It was eight o'clock and the Beverly Hills Library would open at nine thirty - my destination.
As usual, I had visited my God Daughter Li'l Nell for a few days inside Beverly Wood. Unlike her Mom Karen, I loved reading to her. I had checked out a children's book Poops from the Roxbury Senior Center Library for Children. She grabbed the book from me and began to read it herself, mimicking me. She is my energy bar.
Nate and Al's was half busy as I motioned to the corner seat in the back, and the hostess smiled and waved me on. A mother with her child sat next to me. She must have had an enormous appetite as she ordered everything on the menu. While her daughter peered out on Beverly Drive, she watched something on her smart phone. The assistant waiter came my way.
"Would you like some coffee?"
"No, but thanks. Would like some pickles though," My grandma Goldberg always had a pickle barrel outside at her Holt address. We celebrated the Sabbath in those days of yesteryear. She was one hell of a cook.
I took out my book about Lore Nelson and Trafalgar and began to read it. The noise from the smart phone bothered me so I turned the maiden next to me.
"What you watching?"
"The Trump hearing. My God, he is in real trouble now...Do you wish to know what the inquiry uncovered?"
"No, I am an historian and have studied how Hitler came to power. But thanks. Here is a card about a famous U.S.C. football player.
She thanked me and began to look the name of Schindler up. The waiter came to my table.
"Sorry, need a menu?"
"No, know what I want. A bowl of Matzo Ball soup and a couple of toasted rye breads."
The food was served up a few minutes later. I took my time to butter up my toast and put lathers of packaged jelly over the butter. I then mangled and tore up the toast in my mouth until ready to swallow. Not having any upper teeth make it hared to swallow...and it you think it is hard on me just think of the trouble my teeth need to go through.
I paid the ten dollar bill and left two for the server. I felt satisfied and enjoyed the ambiance of Little Santa Monica until I arrived at the sanctuary, the Beverly Hills Library. I went to the computers and took the the corner one. All alone now, I never felt so good. I took out a cord that would allow me to download pictures from my cell phone....and then all hell broke loose
Somebody sat nest to me, made noise like an laughing elephant and banged the keyboard. <u serenity unhinged, I took my nap sack to a computer far away from the idiot who stole my mood and serenity. I felt assaulted
My concentration now was altered but with the held of Juan from the computer office, I was able to download pictures from my cell phone. Tired and upset, i left the library and trickled down Crescent Drive towards Whole Foods It was then that I discovered that my back up inhaler was gone.
I turned my nap sack upside down...but I could not find the Qbar inhaler. With a little bit of luck I did not need to use it while in Los Angels
As usual, I had visited my God Daughter Li'l Nell for a few days inside Beverly Wood. Unlike her Mom Karen, I loved reading to her. I had checked out a children's book Poops from the Roxbury Senior Center Library for Children. She grabbed the book from me and began to read it herself, mimicking me. She is my energy bar.
Nate and Al's was half busy as I motioned to the corner seat in the back, and the hostess smiled and waved me on. A mother with her child sat next to me. She must have had an enormous appetite as she ordered everything on the menu. While her daughter peered out on Beverly Drive, she watched something on her smart phone. The assistant waiter came my way.
"Would you like some coffee?"
"No, but thanks. Would like some pickles though," My grandma Goldberg always had a pickle barrel outside at her Holt address. We celebrated the Sabbath in those days of yesteryear. She was one hell of a cook.
I took out my book about Lore Nelson and Trafalgar and began to read it. The noise from the smart phone bothered me so I turned the maiden next to me.
"What you watching?"
"The Trump hearing. My God, he is in real trouble now...Do you wish to know what the inquiry uncovered?"
"No, I am an historian and have studied how Hitler came to power. But thanks. Here is a card about a famous U.S.C. football player.
She thanked me and began to look the name of Schindler up. The waiter came to my table.
"Sorry, need a menu?"
"No, know what I want. A bowl of Matzo Ball soup and a couple of toasted rye breads."
The food was served up a few minutes later. I took my time to butter up my toast and put lathers of packaged jelly over the butter. I then mangled and tore up the toast in my mouth until ready to swallow. Not having any upper teeth make it hared to swallow...and it you think it is hard on me just think of the trouble my teeth need to go through.
I paid the ten dollar bill and left two for the server. I felt satisfied and enjoyed the ambiance of Little Santa Monica until I arrived at the sanctuary, the Beverly Hills Library. I went to the computers and took the the corner one. All alone now, I never felt so good. I took out a cord that would allow me to download pictures from my cell phone....and then all hell broke loose
Somebody sat nest to me, made noise like an laughing elephant and banged the keyboard. <u serenity unhinged, I took my nap sack to a computer far away from the idiot who stole my mood and serenity. I felt assaulted
My concentration now was altered but with the held of Juan from the computer office, I was able to download pictures from my cell phone. Tired and upset, i left the library and trickled down Crescent Drive towards Whole Foods It was then that I discovered that my back up inhaler was gone.
I turned my nap sack upside down...but I could not find the Qbar inhaler. With a little bit of luck I did not need to use it while in Los Angels
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