Friday, February 5, 2010

Pancakes & Frozen Yogurt

Something must be in the air.
I've lived in the downtown area of Los Angeles for nine years or there abouts, and until recently have not been molested in any way while walking it's streets. But for the last week and a half I haven't been able to walk three blocks without ladies coming up to me and asking if I need anything!
I tell them no, that I'm just fine, but thanks for asking. How considerate of them to worry about my welfare in such an open and honest display of genuine altruism. They set an example that should be an inspiration for all women who don't even live on the streets. I know it certainly inspired me.
Monday morning I spent an hour and a half out back cleaning up the garden. Raking and sweeping up the leaves and sticks that had fallen to the ground over the last couple of weeks. Robert came out to get his well oiled bike, after I had made several piles of said refuge, noticed that I was by myself, and quite uncharacteristically helped me put the trash into plastic bags without being asked.
Miracles do happen.
I assured him I would give honorable mention on this site, which I've just done. Thanks Robert!
I also planted some regular and sweet peas that had been growing inside on the windowsill just outside the case manager's office. The little shoots looked pooped out siting in that windowsill, lying down and lifeless actually, so I hope they perk up outside in the fresh air and bright sunshine. Or else they'll just crap out all together. We shall see.
Erin later told me she would have come out for Garden Club if I had come to her office at 9:00, which I did not. She said she looked at the back door at 9:40 and saw that it was closed and figured no one had come down. If she had actually gone out back she would have found me working away like crazy.
Maybe I'll let her and Paul help me next week if they're good. We shall see again.
Tuesday morning Erin and I went to the International House of Pancakes to try different types of foreign batter, because I had won the big Case Manger Appointment Contest, which was a very big thrill for me. Erin was very excited as well, so excited that she got to work at 7:30 which is almost unprecedented, her usual arrival time being 8:30.
That's what time we left, her driving us to the downtown IHOP, at Eighth and Figueroa. We parked in the wrong parking at lot at first, one that would not accept IHOP validations (bastards), and had to retrieve her car (some type of land rover affair, that needs an oil change), and move down the street to the proper parking lot, saving us (her) at least a cool four bucks.
We surreptitiously entered the fine restaurant, which was sparsely filled at the time, and ordered fairly quickly, Erin knowing what she wanted before hand, and me knowing I wanted an omelet of some type, just needing to decide what kind.
She requested the decedent Stuffed French Toast Combo, consisting of two eggs (over easy), hash brown potatoes, sausage links (2), with a sinful side of cinnamon raisin French Toast stuffed with sweet cream cheese filling with cool strawberry topping, plus some whipped topping on top of all of that. Nasty! (yes, I was given a bite, along with half a sausage link, and half of her hash browns, which I took home, along with half of my meal)
I, on the other hand, had a wholesome, patriotic if you will, Country Omelet, a simple and delicious blend of ham, cheese, onions, and hash browns (inside the omelet where you couldn't see them), with a little sour cream on the side. We both had coffee, her a little orange juice, me a little ice water (no calories!).
A wonderful meal ($30.00 freaking bucks! And fifteen cents!). We discussed many things. Her upcoming encounter with the municipal justice system (she's going to court on Friday for not dealing with a fix-it ticket, well actually dealing with it, but being misled by the court clerks, and it not being resolved... cleansing herself finally of the stink of crime and subterfuge. I want you to know, dear readers, that I did the chivalrous thing and offered to go with her, abandoning Movie Day in the process, but she refused my assistance. I don't know why (she hates me)).
We talked about the concert she will be attending this Friday night, the band "WarPaint," her current favorite female band (if she's not in Fix-It Ticket Jail, of course), my favorite female singer, Sophie B. Hawkins, and her tendency not to perform many concerts here in L.A., even though she resides in Venice, California, right next door to Santa Monica, where Erin lives (she is very excited about moving to a new larger apartment this week, about 19 blocks from her old apartment, where she will have her very own room (yes, she had been sharing a bedroom with her lovely roommate, Leah (get your head out of the gutter, readers, my God!), who Erin said to say hello to me, and that she missed seeing me at church, and that she wanted to begin reading the Salvation Diary series on this blog (smart girl... lovely too!). Erin will be increasing her roommate percentage by 50, adding two brand new roommates, and living next door to our esteemed yoga teacher, Beth, almost insuring internal strife and conflict within the upcoming months.
We discussed briefly her falling back into the habit of not reading this blog (she hasn't read it since last Tuesday) despite all of the horrible things I've been saying about her (but with love). I encouraged her to write comments on each entry that she may object to, and that you, dear readers, would love to hear from her directly. We shall see yet once again.
We talked about Jennifer Connelly and the Muppets (she's basically anti-Muppet), and the hazards associated with roasting babies in a microwave as opposed to a conventional conviction oven. "Microwaves are bad for you... my mother said so," she told me.
We also discussed the Academy Award nominations that were announced Tuesday morning here in Los Angeles, the films Avatar and The Hurt Locker tieing for most nominations at 9 apiece (I had given Erin a copy of The Hurt Locker for Christmas, but unfortunately her DVD player is not working right now so she is unable to watch it, along with the hundreds of other DVDs I've given her.
She is so lucky to have me as a client, don't you agree?
More about the Academy Awards later.
I could not finish my humongous omelet and took half of it home with me, along with half of Erin's hash browns (I drank a glass of her orange juice too!), then we returned to the Las Americas, her to her office (where upon opening the door, we found Robert sitting by himself in a chair by Paul's desk, looking bored and complacent. "You didn't eat Paul, did you?" I queried. No, he hadn't thank goodness (although he's perfectly capable of it). Paul had just stepped out briefly to get his lunch from his car), and me to my box to do battle with my bank which had ripped me off for $57.00 (a slight misunderstanding), which caused me to miss Yoga Class.
But not Drama Free Support Group!
I had promised to teach Erin how to play Black Jack at Support Group, something my lovely sister has done professionally for something like 30 years (dealing, not teaching). The idea was floated to play Black Jack while eating some nice frozen yogurt at Yogurt Land. Paul and Erin readily agreed, so we all drove down there (Hardy declined the offer to go, as well as one other lady, "Frozen yoga... no thanks!"). I had some chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry yogurt, with pineapple chunks, chocolate chips, and shredded coconut sprinkled on top, Paul and Erin had other kinds.
I explained the game to Erin. Paul hadn't played for a while and needed a refresher as well. Then I dealt for them, Erin picking it up very quickly (how hard is Black Jack?), saying she was enjoying herself, which made me feel good. "So the ace is either a one, or eleven? I like that," she said.
I do to.
I then proceeded to clean them out of all of their invisible money, which was a good thing as I was running low. Thoroughly dispirited they drove me back to the hotel.
Next week... five card stud!

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