My Week at a Glance

This isn't the post I had in mind.  In fact, my mind's all over the place.   Like so many others, I'm stunned and saddened by events in Paris ... asking questions whose answers don't exist. 

So, in an attempt to step away from the epicenter here's an inconsequential glance at my week.  (Key being, 'inconsequential' ... you've been warned.)

* * *

I discovered, an ordinary weekday can hold extraordinary blessings -- if I quit trying to CONTROL my own universe.   I don't much enjoy shopping-for-shopping's sake ... but the sad state of my closet mandated new dress slacks.   

'Twas a good thing DH elected to stay home ... for not half-way into the city I'd had ENOUGH of travelling 70+ mph and being passed by everything except a kid on a skateboard.   Exiting the 101, I remembered a boulevard whose circuitous route eventually turns to my destination.   
... and arrived feeling refreshed and oddly relaxed.

My fav consignment shop came through for me again!  Discovering the 'perfect' pair of slacks which actually sit at my natural waistline instead of those awful abdominal low-riders  ..... why, I was practically euphoric.  (By the way, whatever happened to those longer tops that fastened at the crotch?)

Then, I had to go and burst my own bubble.
See, I've not owned a pair of jeans since 2008(?), but this year's diet plan made me think I could find something not totally unbecoming. Lawdy, I must have tried on -- and turned down -- 20+ pair!  Not only did I discover 'normal' clothing sizes do not apply to denim, (but) odd sizes are not my friend.   (Oh sure.  If I were to take up exercise again, I might narrow the 11" difference between my waist and my hips.   On the other hand, I could buy a pair of suspenders and fully enjoy that porterhouse.  65 years avoiding unnecessary calisthenics should count for something, shouldn't it?)   

What else?   

Well, Wednesday eve we discovered our 5-mo. old Carrier air conditioner (Yes, I'm naming names, darn it!) wouldn't shut off.  
.... then the next morning all 7 of our smoke detectors began screaming in unison, traumatizing DH and the dogs alike.  Turns out whoever wired the house 11 years ago -- thank you (not!!!), Richmond American Homes -- mislabeled the fuse box.   When DH informed the incredulous 911 operator that no, we did NOT have the heat turned on, that yes, he'd already shut off the key marked "smoke detector" but they were all still screeching, I don't think she believed him. Turns out, one innocuously marked "General" was the culprit.

It was heartwarming to have some pretty incredible friends at my workplace.   Being party to my hand-wringing and lamentations, co-worker Brian informed me he was following me home with an 8-foot ladder and ("it's not negotiable, so shut up already") installed all new detectors.   Blessed, I tell ya!

Reality check?  I like to think I'm a pretty independent, common-sense sort of gal ... then realized if it were me home alone, I had no idea where to find the fuse box; that it would be preferable to load the dogs into my car and drive to the nearest fire station. Or a wine bar.  (Ignorance is not bliss.)

* * *

Well, I was really (really) hoping to attend my first-ever NASCAR race tomorrow, but a family birthday trumped my druthers.   

Still, it's kinda neat watching the Goodyear blimp floating in lazy circles practically over our back yard ... to watch the incredible footage on television and realize that yes, the desert southwest is awfully pretty this time of year.   

If you've a chance to tune in tomorrow I'll be standing a few miles northwest of that near hill and waving. :)  

Prayers for Paris ... hugs from Phoenix,Myra