Tag: California

Living in the Dark in La La Land

It is becoming increasingly evident to myself and all the other poor unfortunate hostages in Los Angeles that gross mismanagement by our pathetic politicians is over the moon. Spoiler alert: If you think La La Land is the greatest, you need read no further. I’m not mincing insults here. And I have spoken with residents across the entire spectrum of political beliefs and guess what? Everyone agrees that no matter your politics, California is ridiculous. If you live in other states, I say Congrats and I don’t blame you if you are clucking your tongue and wondering why we’re still here.

What once used to be the rare occurrence of an electrical outage has now become a regular event. A few weeks ago, the electricity went off for two and a half days. I bring this up because as I write this rant I am once again without lights or power.

When something rarely happens it can be understood and forgiven. Being from Detroit, I fully understand that the weather, especially in the winter, can create some dark and powerless days. Often in the U.S. spring rains bring raging floods and brutal hurricanes take a great toll. And yes of course, being without the Internet and some lights for awhile is in no way any great hardship. There are many tragic events we all witness in this country every day, and not watching television most certainly doesn’t qualify. Yet when these events occur, not because of nature or unforeseen circumstances, but because of political incompetence, it’s inexcusable and frustrating. Why should Beverly Hills be without power? Were too many laser treatments happening at the same time?

Here in LA, the inconvenience of living without lights or electricity is clearly another signal the city is being tragically mismanaged and totally lacking in capable leadership. I’m not blaming in any way the men and women who work hard in the field at all hours fixing what’s broken. They can’t be blamed.

I also believe a year ago when water was nowhere to be found during fire season, it should have been a clue things weren’t being handled properly. Sheer incompetence resulted in the tragic loss of so many homes and lives in this area. Instead of a wake-up call it became a blame game of gigantic proportions. The victims are still waiting to get their lives back as empty lots dot the landscape. Despite the rhetoric construction here is a Herculean effort beyond belief.

Our dysfunctional politicians spent all their time finding excuses and others to blame. While they should have been invested in ensuring such events are handled and prevented, they spent their time covering their own rear ends.

There is one thing you can say about California politicians, they are great at deflecting their pathetic inability to govern with any intelligence or accountability.

So here I am, once again sitting in the dark and pondering why anyone would want to live in this ridiculous excuse for a state.

Where once the weather and beauty of the landscape was a good enough reason to dwell here, it is no longer. Traffic, inept politicians, crime, filthy air quality, the unbelievable cost of living and higher and higher taxes are reason enough to leave. And now LA is proposing a higher sales tax to pay for more fire capability. I guess the billions they waste and misplace each year on frivolity is more important than providing civil services. Did I mention the politicians?

It’s no wonder the moving business is the best place to invest in this state.

So many say the weather makes it worth the grief, I must disagree.

Having lived through a major earthquake, I’ll take an ice storm anytime over a crumbling building.

Yes, I admit it’s nice to awaken to sunshine instead of freezing and darkness, but at what price?

I suppose human beings adapt to their environment. Still there comes a time one must wonder if sunny days make up for the idiocy of living in a place run by people that go out of their way to make citizen’s lives harder.

If those in other states actually knew of the outrageously insane laws being passed here constantly, it would provide hysterical fodder for any dinner party.

“Can you believe the people in California allow this to go on? They must be mad.”

I concur as one of the mad ones who feel powerless to stop such madness.

Despite the insanity of the politicians, people continue to vote for the same efficiency-challenged leaders that make their lives unbearable.

When LA DA Gascon initiated cashless bail and raised the financial threshold on jail time for robbery, there was a recall to remove him.

He won and remained in office until it became so unlivable and dangerous they eventually voted him out. But sadly, not by that big a margin.

The answer is simple, either the majority of voters are devout masochists, or are totally oblivious to what is going on around them. I’m probably being too kind here.

Either way it portends badly for the voters that would like to see someone in office that actually has brains and ability. Someone who actually cares about the electorate and not merely their own political agenda. (Dream on, Norma). Still the die-hard LA lovers would tolerate anything and anyone to live here.

So by now you’re wondering why I’m still here. After all, I’m free and light years past twenty-one, why am I bitching instead of packing? Sadly, it’s quite impossible to leave one’s family and friends and start over when you reach a certain age. Certain shmertan age, okay the golden years. I said it. And I’ve figured out the only reason for that name is all the gold it takes to keep yourself healthy. But that’s another blog. If you live in other states, I say Congrats and I don’t blame you if you are clucking your tongue and wondering why we’re still here. But as I said, not so easy.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem likely that in the near future brains and common sense will return to California, but one lives on hope.

Where once people came west to make a new and better life, now sadly they must leave to achieve that goal. Many successful people still live here, but they pay a high price. As someone recently commented about LA, “they don’t make it easy, that’s for sure.”

I’m no Pollyanna who walks around in a dream state. I know life is difficult everywhere. But much harder and unnecessary when politicians are grossly incompetent.

One can only pray the people in this state finally realize that voting for the same horror show of leaders guarantees the same pathetic results.

Maybe looking at a few more pictures of the barren ruins of Pacific Palisades and Alta Dena will jolt them into reason. Alas, I wouldn’t take that bet.

The Tragedy of CA Fires Seen Through the Eyes of an Old Broad

Our lives are fraught with emotions. Each day we experience a cornucopia of feelings as we trudge along the path.

Yet there are times when we must admit to ourselves these emotions actually exhaust and deplete us, both emotionally and physically.

When we are spent from a mind and body overload of constant barrages of emotional bullets hitting their target.

The Los Angeles fires were just such an emotional roller coaster of exhausting proportions.

There are those that would say any natural disaster would feel the same. Watching the recent floods after Hurricane Helene was tragic and beyond belief. Seeing devastation and total loss tears into one’s soul like only a knife dipped in reality can cut. The chemical disaster in East Palestine, Ohio brought fear and anguish for those afflicted and their prospects of further dangers.

War, floods, earthquakes, tornados and all the frightening sights we as humans witness and experience each day, deliver a clear message that we are powerless against the forces of nature. This is a knowledge mankind has never responded to well.

So we attempt to shore up our chances of survival by building guards against these events, and as we have seen we fail miserably with many attempts.

Oh sure we can put shutters on homes to avoid the winds of hurricane force. But there is no defense against the power of rushing waters the ocean can deliver to our doorstep.

We can try, but we fail. Not often because there aren’t ways to avoid some of the harm or disasters, but because we depend on others that are incompetent to make decisions that will stand between us and safety.

The Los Angeles fires are a perfect example of nature enjoying an easy conquest because our generals lead us blindly and unarmed into battle.

Last year there was so much rain in Los Angeles I was waiting for Noah to return and build an ark.

This is of course a rare occurrence. One that should be embraced fully as an opportunity to collect and store much needed water to use at a later date.

This fire was no surprise. One can count on the Santa Ana winds coming every year as much as a five-year-old counts on Santa to deliver his presents.

A nationwide report in 2024 by researchers with the Pacific Institute,” ranks California ninth among states with the most estimated urban runoff. Rainwater flows off streets and yards into storm drains that eventually empty into waterways and the ocean — carrying pollutants picked up along the way.” 

According to reports, the last major reservoir built in California was New Melones Lake in Calaveras and Tuolumne counties in 1979.

That seems a long time to go between adding new sources of water to a state that grows increasingly more arid each year.

So where was the water? And why wasn’t anyone responsible for ensuring there was enough?

There is a sea of blame to go around for these fires. And like most other issues that will make bureaucrats look bad, the truth will be covered up and shifted onto those with less power.  If I sound cynical it’s the investigative reporter in me unleashing my frustration and mounting up to do battle. Yet the simple truth is like President Harry Truman said, “the buck stops here.”

Gavin Newsom is responsible for running an incredibly hypocritical so-called environmental state. They run around beating their chests about how they care about nature even as beaches are being closed because of the raw sewage on the sand where children walk and play. Or as surfers become ill from fecal matter piped into the ocean.

It’s a joke to anyone who understands how tragic ego-driven madmen and women can be.

Watching the fires I listened intently for the sounds of the clip clop of the Four Horseman galloping down the street.

The movie visuals of end-of-world scenarios were suddenly happening in full technicolor. Including all the smells and sounds to convince one of the impending Apocalypse.

Natural disasters are an act of nature. Man cannot avoid these battles, and of course we understand well that the odds are with the house here. Mother Nature’s house. Yet with intelligence and some prevention lives can be spared.

If that weren’t the case why would the state retrofit buildings against earthquake damage? Why would the army engineers build dams in New Orleans or cities salt the roads in huge snowstorms.

No one is saying the Santa Ana winds could have curbed.

Yet, couldn’t they have been anticipated. One hundred per cent, yes. Could the brush and dead twigs that acted as tinder for the fire been cut away after all the growth from last year’s rain? Absolutely.

Is anyone with half a brain aware that after these fires rain will threaten burned-out areas and create mudslide dangers for most homeowners in the burn belts?

Absolutely.

As someone from the Midwest where we “cotton to” common sense solutions, it has been increasingly difficult to understand how the minds of Californians operate. I am not speaking from a political point of view, just a midwestern belief in solving problems with good old down-home know how. It’s as if I’ve entered a foreign land and cannot speak the language.

Yet at the end of the day I may not understand what they are saying or doing, but the repercussions of their flawed thinking are felt by all.

The fires were a tragedy of apocalyptic proportion. Everyone is involved whether their house burned or not. We all experienced the emotional toll of watching and worrying for loved ones and friends whose homes were threatened or ultimately succumbed.

Yes, there are unbelievable amounts of donations to help the victims. But perhaps we should have all donated to some common sense votes last election.

Sadly, there are still many who will give these inept politicians a pass for their egregious policies. Actions that caused more harm than would have happened if they weren’t so busy with their own selfish agendas.

As always, it’s the innocent who suffer. But is innocence any excuse for bad judgement and believing corrupt and uber-ambitious politicians?

I guess that will be determined in upcoming elections.

For the good of the people of California and everywhere, I sincerely hope so.

Saying No to a Visit to a World of Hurt

How many times has someone threatened in a movie or real life, to send someone to a world of hurt?

So, what would a world of hurt look like?

Would it look like the earth spinning in space in a black, blue and red color scheme?

Or perhaps Mars with a reddish hue?

Would it have rings like Saturn to signify different levels of hurt?

Would you need a passport to enter?

I have no idea how or what worlds of hurt would look like. I just know I see too many I care for visiting it too often.

Of course no one would choose to live in a world of hurt?

How can someone choose to send you to a place that one knows is inherently unhappy and painful? I’d just say, “no thanks, I’ll stay where I am.”

Not quite sure anyone could be convinced to live there even by threats.

Many people live in that world as unpleasant as it may be.

I wonder how populated that world could become before climate control becomes an issue? Or even the Ozone layer or carbon emissions?

Do they drive in a world of hurt or is it only mass transit?  Do normal people live there or is like California, an asylum with palm trees?

And here is my big question…in a world of hurt is it physical pain or mental anguish that sends and keeps you there?

Can you leave or are you stuck there for life?

This world of hurt we hear so much about perhaps we should examine exactly what it entails and how many actually choose to live there. Then there are others who run in the other direction when they see the charter arriving at the airport.

I am a firm believer that there is more than one world of hurt. Although never mentioned in the threat there are probably levels here.

No one says I’m going to put you into a world of hurt on level two. Would that be hurt that comes in waves instead of being present all the time?

Sort of like the feeling you get when you watch the news. Sudden pangs of nausea followed by moments of relief and then the nausea strikes again.

Do they pass out medication to relieve the hurt in any way? On earth people turn to drugs to take away hurt mental or physical, like a bad bout of arthritis. Yep, there are lots of worlds of hurt after all.

I imagine there are lots of bars and cocktails flowing in this world of hurt no matter what level you land on.

So, if level two is waves of pain, what is level one? Is that easier or more difficult to maneuver?

Perhaps the worlds of pain are set up like Dante’s levels of hell. Each getting progressively worse until all hell breaks loose at the lowest level.

Let’s face it. No one has to leave this planet to experience a world of hurt. I’d say that alone negates the need for any such threats to anyone.

I’m going to put you in a world of hurt is rather redundant for there is enough in this life to supply that need if one is thrust there involuntarily.

Sadly, we all know too many who are hurting. Some even in a constant state of hurt that seem stuck and mired down in a muddy puddle of pain.

So how much can one do to leave this world if the pain is thrust upon us?

If the cause cannot be rectified or changed by circumstances beyond our control?

After all we as humans only have so much power here.

Sure we hear a great deal about attitude. You have to keep a positive attitude and life will again become a bed of roses.

Sorry, no roses when you can’t resurrect the dead. And relying on happy memories to get us through doesn’t cut the mustard when a broken heart is involved in the equation. So begs the question…are there levels in this world of hurt that cannot be transcended?

Or is the human spirit designed to allow for a method of surviving in two worlds at once. Side by side where hurt and pain can co-exist alongside happiness and joy?

Is this automatic and something humans can control, or a part of us already inside like a switch that turns on and off?

None of us reach Baby Boomer age without experiencing pain and loss. The levels may differ and let’s face it, the strength and resolve of the human spirit differs in everyone.

Some may bounce back more quickly while others dwell for long periods of time mired in sadness and loss.

We as humans are unfortunately afflicted with many chances to visit this world of hurt. Death sickness, loss, and all the other misfortunes of this life.

We suffer for ourselves and we also suffer for others we love and care about. By very virtue of our compassion, we find ourselves thrust into sadness. So there is little chance any of us has not visited this world of hurt numerous times.

Whether we leave quickly or spend a great deal of time there depends not only on us, but by circumstance.

We all seem to travel between realms and I imagine it’s best to remember that we live in many worlds, joy, elation, happiness, contentment and peace that we move between daily. Don’t we all come out a bit battered and bruised as we pass through?

Hopefully we become adept and fortunate enough to remain in worlds of peace and joy most of the time we spend in this universe.

In this new year I’m buying a ticket for the world of optimism. I hear there is a four-star restaurant on every level there. Please join me and enjoy a fabulous new year filled with joy, happiness and hope for a great future.

Dressing Your Age is Like Dressing a Stuffed Turkey

Dressing Your Age is Like Dressing a Stuffed Turkey

Since spending more time on YouTube I’ve seen an abundance of women advising other women on how to dress.

How to look thinner, younger, taller, shorter, more modern, more stylish, more French and on and on. It’s like trying to figure out if you should stuff the Thanksgiving turkey or just bake the dressing in a casserole dish to let the poor bird breathe.

My first response to these self-proclaimed fashion experts is, funny you don’t look like Anna Wintour or Diana Vreeland.

And since they’re not top dog fashionistas, why should I take their advice? But I watch despite myself to see if there are any little stylish tidbits that have been hiding in the fashion bat cave.

I am usually taken by how ordinary their own fashions seem to be. I don’t remember once seeing their outfits and saying, “Wow I’d like to look like that.”

I’ve always believed fashion has to capture us and spark some type of excitement. A pair of jeans and a striped t-shirt may be standard fare and always acceptable, but sparking, not so much.

If I were taking advice on looking fabulous, I’d take it from Giorgio Armani or Ralph Lauren.

Help me Giorgio, Help Me!

I have come to the conclusion there is fashion and then there is dressing appropriately.

They are two different things.

I think we forget that fashion can be fun. In our need to fit in when we’re young we followed the crowd. Dressing with pizazz or creativity has always been the mark of a rebellious nature.

Yet runway shows are most often over-the-top clothing one would never wear in their daily life. Oh sure I’ve seen high school girls more topless than runway models, but that’s their mother’s problem.

So because you reach a certain age does that mean fun with fashion days are over?

Once it was unheard of for women to wear slacks. Now women in their nineties are wearing jeans. And if men’s ties are “in” why can’t we sport that look?

Yet as we age it seems we are less likely to take risks or push the envelope.

It suddenly becomes all about comfort. Speaking for myself I don’t have the patience to be constrained any longer.

Wearing tight jeans, trying to stuff myself into a pair of unforgiving slacks with a tight waist and belt seems ludicrous to me now. I no longer have any desire to lie down on the bed to zip my Calvins. Let’s face it, I might not have the strength to get up afterward.

Elastic waists are a gift that allow us to move about unencumbered by buttons and fabrics that refuse to budge an inch.

The addition of spandex has allowed us to wear pants with a waist and zipper, yet the give is forgiving and the comfort level is high. Although there are differing opinions about who actually created elastic, it was in the mid 1800s in England. So, I guess we should give the Brits a pass on Harry and Meghan since we owe them.

Yet how does one who loves style continue to show individuality in their choices?

Jewelry? Yes, but now some of the so-called fashion experts advise that big colorful necklaces are “out” and small delicate jewelry is in. Good luck finding a thin chain in the folds of your turkey neck.

So many women opt for necklaces instead of surgery and one that comes to mind is Candice Bergan. Her neck was always covered with a statement piece to hide the ravages of time. Now apparently these look heavy and outdated.

During the pandemic our wardrobe suddenly consisted of sweats, sweats, and sweats.

Who needed jeans and a belt to watch Netflix or take a walk around the block?

At first when we reentered the world it was fun to get dressed. I pulled my favorite outfits out of the closet and oops, yep there it was. It seems the pandemic created a bit of a problem. Many of us learned that sitting around on our keesters caused expansion. Our waistlines grew in proportion to all those new recipes we tested and people even stopped wearing pants on Zoom calls. Talk about comfort.

So we switched into comfort mode.

Living in California I soon learned that there is a very slim line between casual and after-six-style.

I’m not sure if it’s the weather or just that old California laid-back lifestyle that dictates fashion.

People here think nothing of wearing jogging suits to a restaurant or the market.  Along with their Chanel bag and Cartier Love bracelet. Apparently, it’s some type of I’m-so-rich-I don’t-care Cali couture.

Dining with the ladies involves jeans and a sweater or shirt. Despite Beverly Hills’ reputation as so chic, residents think nothing of dressing down to lunch even in the poshest of eateries. I was at a semi-formal evening event recently and saw a man wearing jeans and a sports jacket.

So is it an age thing this comfort dressing, or are people just over it?

When I was in Paris many years ago, I was shocked by how Parisian women dressed.

High spike heels on those cobblestone streets, clacking as they walked. My feet ached every time I heard them take a step.

Scarfs loose and flowing behind them and coats with belts pulled in tightly to show off their slim waistlines. Don’t tell me you’re not throwing up those croissants, Bitch.

Now the only time I see women in the U.S. dressed to the nines in on TV shows about realtors. Apparently in real estate to sell a house you have to be a fashionista. They wear designer jewels and clothes with slits cut up to the tush and boobs hanging out of push-up bras. And what was your offer, Sir?

Us ordinary women seem content to don something comfortable to fulfill both a good look and great comfort.

If you’ve ever noticed a woman’s face walking in uncomfortable shoes it’s not a pretty sight.

Now happy feet seem to reign and it’s all about looking nice in relaxed luxury. Designer brands even offer athletic outfits and sneakers logoed up to the hilt.

The Doris Day, Pillow Talk look, that glamorous image women once sought to perfect seems a bit ancient today.  Could you imagine Jackie Kennedy showing us around the White House in jogging shorts?

And although so many women give in to the desire to pull out a favorite piece of jewelry now and then, we all seem to succumb to those spandex-laden jeans, long skirts and comfy tops that allow us to move without pain.

So I suppose although one’s hearing may be failing as we age, listening to our inner fashionista is still possible. Nowadays it seems fun with fashion means being comfortable and happy in both our own skin and apparel.

Design is no longer the dictate of Vogue editors but our own bodies. And my waistline is loudly yelling “Hello! I need more room here. And did you really need that extra piece of pizza?”  

Birds Don’t Sing in Beverly Hills

The first sign of spring for most people in America is Robin Red Breast. Hearing his little tweets and songs make one feel the cold and darkness of winter is past and one can look forward to a warm spring and fun summer.

In my area of Beverly Hills one receives no such hope for the birth of the coming seasons. I’m not quite sure why it’s the case but it’s rare I’ve been hearing birds singing at all. Yes, I know you all think I’m going deaf.

However, that is not the case for while watching the Masters Tournament at Augusta the other day, I was taken by how vibrant the birds’ songs were when everyone quieted down to let the golfers take a shot. Yes, I heard the birds chirping and cheering on their favorite golfers loud and clear.

Even with a preponderance of trees everywhere in Beverly Hills it seems that the bird population chooses to remain closed mouth and simply exist on the down low. Why?

I of course have no scientific reasons to offer for this occurrence, but of course I have some suspicions about why the little winged and usually vocal creatures choose silence in this high-profile town.

First, I’d have to guess it is a result of their inability to sing for long periods of time and ingest the pollution. After a few coughs I’d imagine most would simply give up and stay silent.

Second it might be the fact they haven’t been able to secure an agent and it is for this reason they choose not to use their talents without any compensation. A bird deserves a worm or two for their efforts. And I assure you Beverly Hills is crawling with them. Worms I mean.

Third is the fact that perhaps because so few birds choose to sing, there is no peer pressure to do so. I mean if everyone is doing it than the other birds might feel left out by not joining in. It seems quiet breeds quiet and the lack of tweeting is not such a surprise after all.

Fourth I believe it’s possible the bird population here may be the most depressed in America. I only say this because if the vibe all around them is human beings walking around like zombies touting positive thinking and then hurrying off to their therapist, it could contribute to the negative, insecure vibes the birds are feeling.

Fifth may be that it’s difficult to be heard above the sirens horns honking and yelling obscenities out car windows one witnesses each day. This is not lost on the birds. It’s possible at one point they sought to sing but couldn’t raise their voices above the craziness going on below.

Sixth, maybe like so many others in this state most of the birds have left for Florida because it’s far too expensive to live here. Perhaps all the craziness entailed living in this insane asylum with palm trees has finally caused them to reach their breaking point. Then of course squatters may have inhabited their nests when they returned and they’re all in court trying to get their little homes back. Or could it be they are simply spending the day shopping?

As someone who always loved hearing birds sing, I find it a bit depressing to face the silence.

There was once a book by Rachel Carson called Silent Spring in which she warned of impending environmental issues.

Could we have reached the point that the birds are thus affected?

I don’t think so because my friends in Michigan claim there is a great deal of happy twilling from the birds there right now. And I do miss that.

So I suppose we must return to California. I can only speak for Beverly Hills, but I must say it is a quiet Spring around here.

Beverly Hills birds although we received an abundance of rain this year seem as yet unsatisfied with the bounty nature provided.

Everyone but me it seems held the attitude there was too much rain.

I however disagree wholeheartedly. Coming from Michigan where Spring and summer sported the colors of OZ with vibrant greens and colorful flowers everywhere, it has been a culture shock for me to see the brownish hue of the trees here.

The little bit of water they usually receive is not nearly enough to serve up lush gorgeous hues, but instead brownish dry looking semi green colors.

This year however after all the rain I’m finally seeing true rich, dark leaves brimming with life and vibrancy.

So I’ll side with nature on this issue and too bad for those who were inconvenienced by the rain.

I’ve tried calling to the birds and explaining my desire to hear their songs, but only a few even responded to my pleas.

It just doesn’t seem right to be sitting outdoors and hear nothing but cars and sirens without the melodic tweet of a nearby bird.

If I am disappointed, and perhaps even making too much of the lack of music available from our feathered friends, please forgive me. I imagine you could get an app for your phone of birdsongs. Not the same. Like buying a candle to get your favorite scent and realize they all smell like cheap perfume.

Living in Michigan we were blessed with four seasons. And each one was highly anticipated.

Still after a hard winter, and it seems they were colder and harder when I was a child, we eagerly awaited spring.

The end of cold snowy days and no more dark gloomy overcast mornings. Now one could look forward to sunshine, tulips and of course robins and their friends singing a chorus of beautiful melodies. Their songs announced that yes, once again Spring has come and the beauty of color and light reappears. They were not only the bearer of songs, but proof of rebirth, new hope and life continuing after winter’s darkness.

So now when I do occasionally hear that courageous little song bird here in Beverly Hills, chirping its little heart out to announce, “Hey everyone it’s Spring,” I stop, listen and hold their song inside my heart until I am once again blessed to hear another.