Last post here. I am going elsewhere. Soon. Perhaps.
We cleaned the vacated Oakland house yesterday. I scrubbed the refrig, and vacuumed the hardwood. We stopped at Farmer Joe’s on the way out of town, and snatched a roasted chicken. No one but no one can roast a chicken like Farmer Joe’s. And so, we are officially out of Oakland. Good-bye Oakland.
Hello Pacifica. I’m not sure what I’m doing with the blog. I like the new blog name, Pacifica Tsunami, suggested by Steve, and I have reserved it. The title lends itself into my chaos theme. Speaking of which, the first day we were here, a huge raccoon was dead on the side of the road by our house with its head crushed. The hubby went out to look at it, and then, I took the little dog out to look at it. It was the size of a bear cub.
This morning I let the little dog out to use the bathroom. She did her business. I collected it a plastic bag and trotted around the corner of the house to fling bag and poo in the waste can. The house is small. The corner of the house is not far, and yet, in those brief seconds, something very wrong went down. I heard the little dog, who is stone deaf and mostly blind now due to cataracts, come unglued. I ran back to her. She was barking so hard her front feet were coming off the ground. Looking at us from the other side of the fence was a raccoon head, and not a small head either. It was about the size of a basketball. The ‘coon was eyeballing my backdoor, which I had left open. Thank God for the little dog. She may be old, but she’s fighter. Not so much a biter anymore, though, because she’s lost most her teeth.
From there, it turned into a stare down. The fence is about 6 feet tall. I have to assume the raccoon was standing on something in my neighbor’s yard. I have to also assume, he’s visited my yard before. We all stood there, staring at each other until the raccoon very slowly backed down behind the fence. The little dog trotted triumphantly into the house. All hail the little dog.
The blog will be down for a week…or so. Our internet service is down at this location as of tomorrow, and we are vacating the premises. We were at the new place yesterday. We ate at the Taco Bell on the beach, and watched the surfers. We went to the Ace Hardware too. It’s massive. Everything is very different than Oakland. It’s still funky, which I like, but in a very different way. I haven’t decided what to do with the blog yet. Crazy 57 Bus is all about Oakland, but it seems harsh to destroy it. (Not that I haven’t done that before) I may just wander off and start a Pacifica blog, but then what would I call it? I’m hoping someone will drop some suggestions in the comments for a name. O’er and out.
A couple of years ago, the city of Oakland came into the burg and cut the heads off most of the parking meters, Cool Hand Luking them. (BTW: All of Cool Hand Luke is on YouTube in 10 minute segments. Watched it ALL last night instead of packing) Then, the city just left the poles sans meter heads. There have been various and sundry campaigns to get rid of these naked poles. Me? I contacted the T.V. news, and though they responded briefly, I guess the story was too boring. The news guys could have made it excited if they had tried, like “70 decapitated and left for dead on city sidewalks,” and then when you get past the teaser you find out it’s only parking meter poles with their heads cut off and left dysfunctional. But no, the news passed on the story all together. And so, the poles stuck up in the air like giant metal birdie fingers to all us residents, as in look what the city can do. Na Na. And you can’t do squat about it. Screw ya.
Until yesterday. A city worker was by the Safeway FINALLY Cool Hand Luking the poles at their base.He’s coming back Wednesday to cut some more. And I have to say, he was none too friendly when I tried to talk to him. I guess I was a bit over enthusiastic about the final removal of the city’s mess. Yup. Mess. Those meter poles with no meter heads just pushed my ADD and anti-litter buttons simultaneously and repeatedly. About the time they will all be gone, so will I.
One of my buds bought me a going-away lunch here. It’s an old style diner in the Laurel District. Delicious BLT, of course. What else do you get at a diner. Bacon. Bacon. Or maybe the tuna melt, which my friend ate.
The packing is going along. We managed to finish packing the garage. Most rooms are mostly packed, but the only thing entirely finished is the garage. Movers are coming Friday. I’m trying to sell some stuff on Craigslist that we don’t want to move. I think we will run out of boxes today. Panic has not set in, but may on Thursday.
I went into Paws & Claws Pet Store the other day and found Tanner in the back, getting a bath. Tanner is one of the (furry) people in the hood. He used to be an arch enemy of the big dog, until one day they saw each other at the dog park and then it was like, “Oh it’s only you. No big deal.”
And so, I’m trying to wander around the burg and say good-bye to my friends, but it isn’t working out. I ended up sobbing in Farmer Joe’s, on one of my buddy’s shoulders in there. Then today, the lead cashier yells at me, “I hear you’re going to Paris.”
I yelled back, “No Pacifica. That wouldn’t work out for Paris now would it as in redneck dislocated in Paris?”
So, today I decided no more good-byes. It’s ridiculous. Okay, maybe not ridiculous, but I’m just moving across the bay. One of my friends said, “But you don’t know anyone there.”
I told her, “I didn’t know anyone when I came here.” And I didn’t. Honestly though, I know in my heart I will never find neighbors and people I love and like this much. I also know in my heart, it’s time for me to go. It’s a hard thing, very hard, and there are certain people I will miss so bad that I’m sure there will be days I wish I hadn’t left, but I plan to get a wet suit and swim in the ocean. I plan to fish on the pier. I plan to go to the Pacifica theater. I plan to worry a lot less. Okay, maybe the last one is a lie.
Not evil, but packing. Ain’t gonna happen though.
I used to think we (me and the Big Guy) weren’t hoarders but today, I revised that image of ourselves. Geez O’Pete. We need to stay up all night every night for the next 13 days, cleaning and packing or we’re not going to be ready to go when the movers get here. And I’m ashamed to say we’ve been bumming stuff on the neighbors. Yeah. Sad. I don’t know if it’s bumming or desperation. We took unused camping gear to one, a backyard table to another, a collection of unused glass vases to yet another, and a waste management bag it foldable dumpster we bought, but don’t have time to use, to another neighbor. The neighbors are going to start locking their doors when they see me wandering their way with potted plants in my arms.