What's YOUR rabbit hole?

I am fascinated with movie trailers. YouTube has many, so just type in "trailers March 2019" and most everything that is a new or expanded trailer will come up. At two minutes, even the worst movie  can be presented. Your only skin in the game is time, and in this case I can watch trailers for hours at a time, given the chance. I get hungry, tired, have an endless "to do" list, and other than that I'm hooked. Unless I put a list in front of me of what I should be doing, it's tough to let go.

What is your obsession/rabbit hole?

Bike Ride Observations, 1999

March 1999

Bike Ride Observations

Blue ten-speed under me coasting to Pacific Beach the wind behind me slow incline ahead, like she said "It's all downhill from here!" The anticipation of the return going back up the hill. Should have worn more than a sweatshirt, my hands are already cold and I'm only a block away from home On the sidewalk, against traffic, so I don't have to cross again for the bike path

Peddle hard to get up the small hill Coasting again, passed newly quenched shrubs and grasses Crisp air from the recent rains A slight smile and then Whizzzzz! A cyclist on my leftIf I'd been six inches off course, "Pow!" She sped away, the empty baby seat waddling under her behind as she stood for a strong push with the legs Couple with the dog with different colored eyes Hello! How are you today? Doing well, thank you. And you? They're back of me now A whole group of people Husband and wife with stroller Black dog on leash Two cyclists speeding forward Luminescent green and black pants Black bike gloves Matching helmet and shirt Off the path and up tree-lined Bellevue Breeze so fresh against my face A car pulls away from the curb leaving a cloud of exhaust in its wake Someone's cooking hamburgers, the smell of fresh meat on a skillet, starting to brown A house has a fire in the fireplace

Black lab panting on the side

La Jolla Hermosa, family scattered on the wide street

"Sorry, sorry" the father says as I drift by

He's pushing a stroller down the middle of the street

A child on a bike with training wheels nearby

Another running along side

Dogs seem to be everywhere walking this way and that

across the street

I pass through, the end of the street lined with apartments

windows so clear one can easily see the vintage '60s lamp

a mirror on the wall, couch pillows peaking over the inside sill

Off my bike, walk onto the sidewalk, passing two couples on bikes

coming around the corner, no one wearing helmets

Mine protrude's over me like a space helmet

Watch for cars, cross the street at the "closed" coffee shack

where drivers can stop for a quick drink and pastry on the way to work

Smell of cigarettes but no smokers nearby

Surprised to smell the smokey bar from across the street

A guy in cap pulling a woman close, glancing out the door

Down Bayard, many stop signs. Cars line the streets

Everyone's home, it's 5 p.m.

Dinner time or other occasions

Mother with four year old being walked/pulled

Barbeque, fresh coals lit

Air so crisp, hands colder than before

Hispanic man following another up the alley, talking together

One speaking over a shoulder, the other laughing

Carefully through the intersection's stop sign, four way, safe

Garnet, where's Trader Joe's? Must be west.

I cross the walk that's green and then across Garnet

Further east than I thought

Pass a couple, each with a hand in the other's back pocket

aware of the rump muscle movements as they walk, smiling, chatting.

Parked cars along the street, wait for me to pass

Stores open, neon signs, exhaust again, a busy street

Cars veer far left to avoid me, thank you.

Turn right and lock my bike (4-3-52)onto a poll behind Trader Joes.

Carry my helmet, wearing my black backpack

Pick up an orange plastic basket, black handle

"Where are the Clif Bars?"

See those monkeys hanging over there? In that aisle.

Thanks, I head that way noticing that many aisles are marked

with air-filled creatures, parrots on the next aisle over

Two peanut butter flavored and two chocolate fudge Wander around trying to find the  jam

A 6'5" woman, blond and big boned (easily) with a four-year old, tiny

a child's voice, "Can I have this?" Come on.

Two jars cranberry, raspberry, orange marmalade, one boysenberry

Wait behind a lady buying wine

"How's it going?" asks the clerk.

Fine, thank you, I reply

$16.34, in cash with a $20, don't need a sack because I have my pack

but put the carrot juice in a sack

My back weighs another 10 pounds than when I started off

Heavy against my lower back

Pass a coffee shop, where everyone out front is the color of coffee with cream

Down the alley to find a cross street with a light on Garnet

Waiting at the corner, aware of being watched.

He has a big helmet, they think.

Up Cass now, more traffic but more to see

Outdoor gym, I bet the metal's cold

oil spots on the street nearby where cars park in the early morning

St Bridgids with 20 and 30 year olds filing in

Must be the folk mass. They look happy, not obliged

But also not wanting to have to do penance for missing

A man with flowers knocking on a door that says in a red sign "Closed"
^—'peering in the window

Laundromat, gust of sweet air from laundered clothes

Three Hispanic women, one with a wide face, short, probably Indian blood

jay walking, talking in Spanish, to the curb with effort stepping up

Green Garden Nursery where I went twice to buy "organic" soil

with cow bones and blood, Yuck.

Cross and cut through the gas station, around the pumps and cross onto Turquoise

pass the French Gourmet Restaurant and Bakery

Pacific Beach Nursery

Lucky's Market (so you're not lucky if you shop at Ralphs?)

Up the alley

pass a couple, she's wearing snow-weather gloves, heavy tan coat, on their walk

A home laundry putting out sweet, warm air

Home like a mini-hacienda, much noise of birds

Bird Rock Elementary playground

Family playing softball

811 and 12 year old boys playing push and pull down to the ground, laughing

Man in helmet and shorts with three golden labs

Black boy sitting by the fence, watching.

Back to La Jolla Hermosa

What variety of homes

I smell a steak cooking,

Roof with heating duct on top of the house, lovely!

Father saying "that a boy" to his boy on bike

Tire swing looks like a rocking horse

Voices of children

Grey car color of grey house

More sounds of birds as the sun sets, out for their meals

Houses so close they could pass things between bathroom windows

Let's see how close we can build our house to theirs

Some shaded under beautiful elms

Quieter now that dinners cooking 5:15

Hermosa ends at the south end of the bike path

Bellevue again, manicured lawns

White car idling with no one at the wheel and no one around

I'll be just a minute, she thinks and forgets about the car

Sports utility vehicles, every other car, black, white, red.

Bike path's pretty empty now, other cyclists headed this way

Mockingbirds calling

Woman with dog who's husband's a surfer

Hi! Haven't seen you in a while.

Hi! I know, she titters

her dog meets another, neither leashed

Jogger on left side, running on the wrong side

Excuse me, excuse me, I'm on your left as I pass by

thank you, but no response.

Over the bridge and see the cement gully around the property,

earth moved and now settling before homes are built

Pass the house the Beachem built

Small hill, I'm tired, my rear hurts, decide to walk

Coast down the other side.

Fire station on the left, slowly go around corner to start back up Nautilus

Walking, helmet off,

Always hoping to see money, such as $100 bills, but only empty Pepsi can

pink tissue, Skittles candy box, sandwich size plastic bag, faded ad

My first nasturtium, bright yellow above a leaf-lined slope, soon to burst with color

Small green pants with tiny yellow bells

Aranda, and trash overflowing at home where Oklahoma in-laws are staying,

helping the neighbors clean

Drop my helmet and run into it (while I'm walking! Jeez) and it

cracks, a big bite on the side, but it will probably stay for now,

although that piece is hanging. Brother, could have been avoided.

Off my bike, home, to the garage, dryer going, empty it, warm for my hands.

Turmoil & Trouble

April 10, 2018

I would be fine if I went to sleep tonight and didn’t wake up. I’ve had a couple of situations this last week that makes me think I may be losing it. 

Tonight I got a note from an eBay customer that my listing of a first edition was incorrect. I tried to make that change, but because there was an open bid on the item, I couldn’t change it. Not being able to change it threw me over the edge. I sat at my desk holding my head, rocking back and forth, unable to make the change, but knowing I needed to. I’ll just wait until tomorrow, I told myself. So I went for a walk around the block and came back in feeling awful. 

This morning I went to US Bank to deposit $220 to my savings account. 100 of that was from Moreen for my birthday. Put my ATM card in the slot, and then the cash, and the bank recorded that I’d only put in $200. That’s not right, so I asked for the cash to be returned. I got $80 back, no receipt, and my ATM card was stuck in the machine. I told one of the bank employees, who went into my account and said that there was no record of my making any deposit. My head was spinning I was so angry and confused. No, I can’t wait in the lobby. I’ll just wait out here. I’m so angry, I told the lady. I stood outside and knocked my head against the ATM machine. Earlier I’d hit it when my money didn’t come out. She came back and said I needed to call the number on the back of my card (which was finally regurgitated) and the bank would do an audit next week and then they would see if it was correct what I was saying. I turned around and walked away from her, my mind in so much turmoil. I wanted to open the bank door and yell “FUCK” as loud as I could. Instead I walked slowly back to my car at the library. On the way back I stopped in the alley by CVS and with my back to the wall, banged my head a dozen times on the wall, enough to cause pain but not to leave a bruise I guess. 

I got in my car and decided I’d go to SD County Credit Union and open new accounts. I left the paperwork in the trunk of the car. I told the clerk at the credit union what had happened and told her I decided instead of getting mad I’d get even, and reiopen accoiunts I had at the credit union, where I was before going to US Bank. 

No one from the bank came outside to apologize to me or say how sorry they were that this had happened. Yes, I could have been some crazy many making up the whole story. But still, I was a regular customer there and there was no effort to appease me, even offer a cup of coffee, or “come sit down and you’ll feel better.”

Two weeks later the bank sent a check for $200.

Finding a home church #2

Premonition or coincidence?

In my search for a church I considered all the options in La Jolla, saw where the churches were located, maybe checked online a little. But one morning I woke up and the first thing I thought of was Mt. Soledad Presbyterian Church at the top of Nautilus. It was so vivid and clear I thought I'd better followup on this and look for God to confirm His will.

That morning I drove the 2 miles and parked near the church to scope it out. There were two almost filled parking lots and I was amazed because it was a Saturday. I went to look a little closer and saw a long table with coffee and cookies. I liked that it was Starbucks coffee. Shows people are thinking beyond 7/11 and other coffee venues. When a fellow came out, I asked him if he church is busy like this every day. No, the church isn't that busy usually. But on Saturday it's the meeting place of the largest coed Alcoholics Anonymous in San Diego.

I thought that was a plus for the church that when the facility isn't being used by the church, it can be reserved for community needs. Two stars so far. I walked around the outside of the building, saw all the people sitting in chairs (not built in pews. Three stars.) From where I was standing I admired the view of the Mt. Soledad Cross, noting that it is the same color as the church. I could hear a choir singing, which isn't my thing, but I found out later that a choir practices there for community events.

There must be at least an acre in front of the church that is unused and full of low-lying weeds. There is sparse landscaping around the church building. I liked that idea of leaving land fallow so the rain can better penetrate the water table. Star number 4. Since then I've been thinking of ways the land could be used and planting trees is the top of my list. (But no one has asked my opinion so mums the word for now.)

I returned home and immediately checked the church web site to see how much I could learn from what has been posted, and I became well informed about the church and its small membership (100).
I found out later there had been a split seven years prior when 2/3 of the congregants left the Presbyterians and started another church.

There's much more, which I will write in subsequent posts. Mt. Soledad Presbyterian Church

Finding a home church

This is my fifth Sunday attending Mt. Soledad Presbyterian Church. I think I may have finally found a church home. Pastor John is most generous and brings examples from his life to his sermons. The music is a mix of new and old hymns, with the words displayed above the platform and the musicians, so everyone can sing along. I've also enjoyed the Pastor's Bible studies the last two sessions, which occur before the 10 am service. I've met some wonderful people, friendly, and eager to please, but nothing feels forced. There's a casualness that is refreshing; I don't feel like I have to be anyone than who I am.

I know that sounds a little odd, but in other churches I've attended there's been an expectation of conformity, almost ritual, and certainly unpleasant. Here I feel comfortable engaging members in conversation about their experiences with the church and their daily lives. But I also want to serve. Last Sunday, a member spilled a little root beer on the floor (appropriately, for Father's Day, the brand "Dad's Root Beer) and I went to retrieve some paper towels, dry and wet, to take care of any stickiness on the floor. This morning one of the attendees at the study was cold, so I took out my flannel shirt from my pack and put it over her arms. I'm eager to help in any other ways I can.

I hesitated turning in the tear-off sheet from the bulletin, providing my address, phone number, and other information because I wasn't sure if I wanted to go to the church. I am about 80 percent sure now, especially after this morning's experience.

Joe Mann, one of our library volunteers, has an odometer, a "FitBit," that tracks how many steps he's taken each day. The popular goal is 10,000 steps, and today I've done, 8,300. Yesterday was 13,000, another time 11,000. I thank Joe for giving me a nudge to do that much walking, as I heard his tales of walking 10k every day. Asking him if it wasn't boring, he said that he greets people, enjoys the scenery, pets a passing dog, pick up trash, any number of things. And that's what I have also done, and found it quite pleasant.

This morning may have been an exception, and I hope one that doesn't repeat itself soon.

I wanted to walk to the church from the house, but it required a walk uphill for about a mile. I tend to lean forward when I'm walking uphill, and once I got to the intersection of Nautilus and La Jolla Scenic Drive, I should have rested. Instead, I looked at the time and had about 5 minutes until the study started, so I continued walking, this time on a slight incline. But my leaning forward was a mistake, as I continued on without realizing how much off balance I was. Luckily, when I fell, it was in grass, wet but soft. My left leg was soaked; I fell into the grass face first. I really wanted to get up and, fortunately, a car stopped and a fellow and his son helped me to stand. They asked if I needed a ride anywhere, but the Presbyterian church was just across the street.

When I arrived at the church I spent at least 10 minutes cleaning myself up. trying to soak up some of the water on my pants, toweling off my arms and face. I was late to the study. When John asked if I was okay, I said yes, but that I had a tumble and fell in the grass in front of the Catholic church. He was surprised I'd walked up the hill, but I didn't sit down for the next 45 minutes because I wanted my clothes to dry (I had jeans, sneakers and a tee-shirt on.) I told him and the three others what had happened, explaining that I was really fine, but more embarrassed than anything. Everyone was very kind, chatting with me on the way out, and Cindy returned my shirt, which I put on to cover the grass stains on my teeshirt.

But it was the sermon later that has changed my life. It was about the last of the 10 commandments, Thou Shalt Not Covet. When John described coveting as wanting something that isn't, by right, yours, the most obvious being coveting a neighbors wife. She's the partner of her husband, and my claim to her would not only be absurd, but abhorrent to me. I can't have her because she's not mine.

My epiphany came when I realized that covetousness, in my instance, coveting the gay lifestyle, has been a life-long affliction. I wanted something that wasn't mine, and I paid the price, as Eve and Adam paid the price of coveting the fruit of the tree of knowledge, which wasn't theirs. Just as their lives fell apart, mine did, too. Because of my desire to have something I shouldn't have, I lost my marriage, my ministry, and all the friends I had made up until then, including 20 years of friendships with the Living Word Fellowship, and the experiences, the fasting and waiting of the Lord, for which I had devoted myself for so many years. All gone as a result of wanting something that wasn't mine to have.

Yes, I have made friends, a few, in the last 20 years, but nothing as deep and meaningful as I experienced with that fellowship.

So now my work is to cut every tie I've created with the gay side of my life, which hasn't been much of anything in practice, but in imagination. Obsessed with pornography sites on the Internet, watching movies of men together, telling Moreen how much I longed for a relationship with a man, as others have experienced (just saying this to her two days ago.) I have to find something to fill the time that I had given to that lifestyle. All the web sites off my computer, cancel any memberships or email newsletters, delete photos, and that was my first step today.

The real struggle is when I lie awake in the middle of the night and, in the past, longed for male companionship...now what do I do? God help me to find something else to desire, but this time a more righteous inclination.

Joining the call for end of police brutality

The National Football League owners agreed last week on their "compromise" regarding player's kneeling in protest to continued police brutality against blacks: Players who don't want to stand for the flag ceremony should wait in the locker room until the game begins.

But what if the NFL agreed with the national cry for justice and encouraged players to kneel if they desire. Take it a step further: spectators should also kneel if they protest treatment of blacks. Think how the national conscience would change when, appropriately because of dozens of daily news stories, the NFL joined in the call for an end to the seemingly unending racism against people of color.

This would certainly be a message that change needs to happen. Starting with dozens, then hundreds. and then thousands of spectators agreeing that equal rights and respect for blacks is our biggest concern. Such a turnaround from what has now occurred: the freedom of speech.

Crosswords Crossed Eyes

New York Times crossword puzzles make my head spin with their overall clues for multiple questions, like "Deli Condiments". What?

So I lower my expectations by attempting the San Diego Union puzzle that uses mostly four-letter words. (Just my level.) I can breeze through clues like "Italian Hello", ciao, or "Smallest in the litter,"
dead (just kidding, but it fits), until the answers are 12 letters long (then I go online for the answer, which opens up many of the other words).

I have yet to finish one Union crossword puzzle. So I have, if I'm not careful, folded pieces of newspaper in my bedroom, living room, and bathroom. Who cares if it's a week old? I still don't know the answer.

I did get a Crossword Puzzle Dictionary for Christmas. Yeah!

I haven't opened it yet.

Too much work.

PS The crossed eyes refer to my younger years with strabisma. For years I couldn't catch a ball because I always saw two balls. Go figure.