Needless to say, it was a stirring decision!
Estimated reading time: 7 minutes
It is Wednesday, and that normally means we are off to the gym, but today, Mary went alone to face the onslaught from the personal training staff. I stayed home to work with Jeff’s kids so the plumbers could get into the house and figure out what was causing the leak in the main bathroom.
Service Champions came out, and it appears to be a “slab leak,” meaning repiping part of the house, an expensive proposition! I stayed on the job until about 11:00 am.
Mary departed the gym on schedule but was her sweet self and went foraging for a jalapeño-cheese bagel and an iced latte for me. She is a sweetie. I got a present along with the bagel: a nice Valentine’s card and a little animal to remind me how cute my butt looks!
Note to self: Take Mary to the eye doctor!!
Yes, I do!!!
Mary was going to wear a hat today to keep her hair in place, so she tried one on. I was afraid the wind would blow the hat off her head; we were having gusts of 30-40 MPH.
All mine!!!!!!
The second the plumbers left, I wandered out to the garden for “just a minute”… which was a bold choice considering we got almost two more inches of rain last night, and my yard had the structural integrity of chocolate pudding. I took about three steps and immediately became one with the mud—shoes, hems, dignity, all of it.
Right before going back inside, I decided the most logical solution was to perform a brief interpretive dance routine to shake off the dirt. Picture a raccoon doing jazz hands in a swamp. It was part tap, part emergency evacuation, and part” please don’t let the neighbors look out the window right now.”
After I came inside (the mud and dirt were gone), we spent the rest of the morning doing that special kind of “cleaning” you only do when the cleaners are coming—basically hiding our mess so professionals can find it later—because they’ll be here while we’re at the doctor’s office.
Just before jumping in the shower, Mary tried on her St. Patrick’s Day dress, and just to be safe, we checked the Elks By-Laws to confirm it was legal and compliant with regulations and wouldn’t get us cited for excessive festivity.
We texted the picture to Bill Capps, and he suggested we bring several small oxygen bottles and associated tubing for the elderly Elks who might be at the dance.
Oh my!!!
Bill Capps called about joining him and Sandee for dinner/dancing Saturday evening at Vittorio’s Italian Restaurant, and I sent Bill a picture of Mary’s new dress for the dance and asked if she could wear it to dinner. We think he was trying to text and answer while breathing hard, having heart palpitations, and sweaty hands. This is what we received.
^$( &&^^%$*# &#*@__)#( ^$% !!!!!
Good groceries, great sounds!
Bill warned me that I had better also get properly dressed and that my green thong, which needed suspenders for support, would not be appropriate. So I forwarded him my planned attire for the St. Patrick’s Day dance and Saturday evening.
At 12:30 pm, we headed to Mary’s doctor’s appointment for an acupuncture treatment to tame her back pain. While she was getting strategically poked, I camped out in the waiting area and tagged along with the Clive Cussler crew—trekking through Tibet and helping the Dalai Lama reclaim his throne, one page at a time.
By mid-afternoon, we’d basically been running on fumes—unless you count a single sad little bagel as “fuel.” So we set our sights on A’s (aka The Arches) for salvation… only to find it closed, like it had personally judged our life choices. With our stomachs filing formal complaints, we pivoted to the American Legion, figuring at least someone there would understand an emergency and have a wonderful turkey sandwich for us to share.
The weatherman predicted wind and was right!
The wind came off the ocean and pushed the clouds out over the desert, as you can see in the distance. The wind was cold, coming from the north, bringing arctic air in our direction. That reminded me I should bring in the brass monkey this evening and leave him in the garage.
The flags were flying high this afternoon!!
The Legion hall was as warm as toast, but we knew the outside temperature was in the low to mid-50s. We were alone for the first hour, then people began to show up because tonight was a members’ meeting. Every time someone entered the building, we could hear the flags flapping in the breeze.
Did You Know? A flag’s flapping sound in a stiff breeze is caused by a fluid-structure instability, where wind creates uneven, oscillating air pressure on opposite sides of the cloth. The wind moves faster over one side, creating lower pressure, which causes the fabric to snap, bend, and vibrate rapidly.
Key Causes of Flag Flapping:
Bernoulli’s Principle (Pressure Difference): High wind speeds create low-pressure areas, while lower wind speeds create high-pressure areas. The pressure difference causes the cloth to move in a “to and fro” motion.
Vortex Shedding: As air flows past the flag, it creates swirling vortices (turbulence) that pull and push the fabric.
Wave Propagation: The energy from the wind travels along the flag, creating a wavelike motion that intensifies into a “snap” at the free edge.
Material Impact: The sound is often exacerbated by fabric whipping or by metal hardware (such as snap hooks) clanging against the flagpole.
The phenomenon is often described as a chaotic interaction between the cloth’s elasticity and the wind’s speed.
We ordered our favorite, a turkey sandwich to split. The chef at the Legion makes these amazing sandwiches. The last time we were here, we asked the chef to come out, and when he did, he looked worried. We applauded him and chatted with him for a while.
We enjoyed a glass of wine and watched a few boats traverse the harbor, looking for open spaces to let out their sails.
Turkey sandwiches work miracles!
From the Legion, we went home, doing two errands along the way. We picked up some cleaning, then went to the alterations store to get the cowboy shirt I need for tomorrow evening at the Cerritos Performing Arts Center.
Finally, we’re home—parked in front of the TV with Mary, doing our pill boxes like the exciting party animals we are. Out of nowhere, she blurts, “I want pizza.”
Pizza? WHAT? We ate lunch four hours ago. FOUR. That’s not hunger, that’s a hobby.
Then she suggests I go check the outside freezers “to see if we have any.” Sure, Mary. Let me step into the arctic wilderness and rummage around like a frozen pioneer.
So I go out there in the lovely weather, dig through the freezer like I’m searching for a lost artifact, and when my hands hit 55 degrees (which I’m pretty sure is medically classified as “no longer mine”), I slam it shut, accept defeat, and go get her pizza order.
Next stop: Bucaneer Pizza—our local joint and, apparently, Mary’s emergency response plan.
I was not hungry, but when the pizza hit the breakfastroom table, it sounded like a pride of lions going after a poor zebra. Pizza ingredients flew all over the kitchen, and the munching sounds began to scare the neighborhood dogs and cats. I slid my chair back from the scene of the crime so as not to accidentally get in the way of the jaws of death.
We returned to the TV room and watched Suits. Mary, who was supposed to be watching along with me, was sound asleep, purring like a kitten!
We had a wonderful booth, and our favorite piano player entertained us this evening!
