BLACK PANTS AND WASH AND SET.

     Yesterday morning, Roberta came to me and, barely containing her excitement, announced: "I have to go to a funeral next week! I need to go get my hair done before  that (wash and set!) and buy black pants!" The poor lady has been cooped up in a small room with a hovering husband for too long; the prospect of going to a funeral was a great treat. 
     Dr, Park put her in the car and gloomily waived goodbye. He hates to separate from the only person whom he can still bully.
     -"Where do you want to go, Roberta?"
     -"Sears!" - she sounded like she wanted to shout "Freedom!" instead.
    We walked into the store and found ourselves in the tools' department. By the time we found the ladies' clothes, Roberta was pale and bent over her walker. The walker made loud screeching sounds on the linoleum floor. I hurriedly found her a chair, rubbed her back for support and went off alone in search of a suitable black pants. The trouble was, the pants were on the other side of the store. Never mind the twinges from my foot. I sat on the couch for a month. Now my legs refused to move and the muscles everywhere were sending panicky messages to my brain: "What? We have to work now? Look how far we have to go! Oh, Oh, we're not ready!" I dragged myself along the shiny linoleum, already starting to sweat and feel lightheaded. The search for black pants became a heroic quest.
     The black color is not usually associated with hope, but I was overjoyed to see it. In Roberta's young days, perhaps, Sears was a happening thing. Not so now. You can see the signs of a downturn in a minimum number of salesclerks on the floor and in the clothes being mislabeled and placed in the wrong places. The same black pants that were not at all suitable for our purpose hung everywhere. I think, Sears bought a huge amount of them. I sorted and checked and pursed my lips in concentration. Finally, toting a bunch of slacks in my arms, I made slow and painful way back to where Roberta sat. We found a fitting room and I installed her in one of them, thinking that while she is trying the clothes on, I can collapse on a chair and rest. 
     - "Where are you going?"
     - "Why, do you need help with trying these on?"
     - '"Of course!"
Of course! Still sweating like a lumberjack, I helped Roberta. 
     - "No pockets?!"
     A mourning bell began to ring in my head. If she doesn't choose one of these pairs, I'll have to repeat my trek to the land of the black pants. And I did.
     As I went through my search again, I left wet spots on the clothes everywhere.
     Roberta was happy with the next pair of pants that I found. Unfortunately, I could see that they were too short. When she sat down, the bottoms of the pant legs pulled half way to her knees! 
     I was on my way again, stars dancing in my eyes, but before I went too far I had an idea. I went to the cash register and requested to see a clerk for assistance. I could tell, it was not Sears' policy to help customers with their search, but I still waited. A person on the other end of the phone offered to look things up on computer, but how do you tell a computer that, if there wasn't exactly this thing that you wanted, it should find you something similar to that? They tried to brash me off, and something snapped in my mind. I imagined one of the b...y Russian women whom I saw in a program recently, telling someone: "Listen, you, shut your mouth!!! Get me the manager, PRONTO!" 
     I got a hold of my fraying nerves and calmly but firmly insisted on seeing the manager. After an eternity, a young lady with pierced nostrils, lips and eyebrows moseyed towards me. Who hired her to be a manager, I wondered.
     I gave her the pants and explained what I wanted. In a few minutes she found the item that I requested and brought it to us. It was just right! 
     Outside the store, the breeze was playing with the tree branches. It cooled my sweaty poor body and gently waived me to the car. Life was good!
     
     

IF I MAY SAY SO MYSELF

     I couldn't think of anything to write today, so I re-read my past posts. Not bad, if I may say so myself! 
     While Sonny worked for the Grandmothers Who Help yesterday, I sat in the car and read my Kindle. You know, a tablet that can be downloaded with books and games and used for many other things, like a computer. On the tenth match of Solitaire (OK, I played that game instead of reading!) the Kindle winked out: no more charge. I could sympathize with it; I was out of energy too. Fortunately, I was parked right next to the tennis court. Some guys were playing with a ball there. It wasn't tennis: they hit ball over the net with their hands and feet, but very accurately and with a lot of elan. I really got into watching them, until I noticed that they were watching me too with a mixture of suspicion and annoyance: "What's that fat lady doing, staring at us for such a long time?!" 
     An event in the Mosswood Park, where Sonny and the Grandmothers worked, fizzled out. People, mostly, left and the the dusk began to settle over the park. I wondered, what was taking Sonny so long to finish the job. He told me an hour and a half ago that they were wrapping it up! Unpleasant thoughts began to crawl into my mind: what if Sonny got hurt or kidnapped? I got out of the car and hobbled over the grass to the place where the Grandmothers' booth stood, but saw Asale's orange van much closer, and Sonny was next to it, still being busy with packing! Grrreat, now I didn't need to go too far on my unsteady feet AND SONNY WAS OK! 
     Both, Sonny and I were wiped out after our day in the park. He - from a lot of heavy lifting and running, and I - from being an idiot with too much free time on my hands.

CAT VIDEO Telepathy exists! (телепатия существует!)

CAT VIDEO Cat, baloon and electrostatics (Кот, шарик и электростатика)

GRANDSONS WHO HELP

     I found Sonny a job for today. My good friend, Asale Kimaada, is a founder of and the power engine behind the organization called Grandmothers Who Help. They bring Black History exhibits to schools and organizations. This country needs to take off it's rose colored glasses and see it's history and people who made it in clear light. I first met her because California courts allow to pay traffic tickets by working as a volunteer. I had a few tickets, and it was fortunate, since it gave me a great chance to be with Asale and help her place the exhibits in various schools. Like she said after we talked for awhile, we both felt immediate connection with each other, but there isn't apparent reason for it yet. I help her, time to time, but not a lot. Today Sonny was the one to help set up the booth for Grandmothers Who Help at the historical Oakland Mosswood Park, for the Pan African Family Reunion. Even Asale didn't know, what that means. She just wants to be at that event to raise funds and make the larger community aware of her organization.
     I still am, mostly, lame from tendinitis and could only drive Sonny to Mosswood Park and wait for him to finish his work. One time I felt so bored in the car that I grabbed the cane and made my way, limping, to Asale's booth. They made it very homey, with a pretty antique rug lying on the grass in the middle of the booth. Black beautiful faces looked at me solemnly from the pictures of the settlers in the West and the first black athletes, businessmen and scientists and heroes. Books were everywhere, the histories of a struggle with oppression and victories over it. Asale had a photo of President Obama on her tee-shirt and a book written by Michelle Obama. Its so strange: I am a committed Republican, but I have more in common with people like Asale and other liberals. No matter how long the rich and the powerful think they can keep their misdeeds hidden from the world, they will one day be revealed. 
     Sonny did  a great job setting up the booth. He unloaded everything from the van, lugged it to the spot and helped to organize and put together the tables and poster boards. It also looked that he liked being needed and appreciated. I am very glad for and proud of him today!

SPOILED CATS

     Sylvie is sitting on the floor by the couch and kneading my dress jacket. Her beautiful green eyes are almost shut closed, the silver tinged paws maintain measured rhythm, she is deep in a self-induced trance. In a couple of minutes she gives up the struggle to stay upright and lies down on the same jacket. Even though soon it will be covered with gray fluff, I have no heart to shoo her off. She worked so hard and slept just 17 hours and a half instead of the 18 that is normal for a cat. She must be terribly tired!

     My cats are very spoiled. Every time one of us goes towards the kitchen, Chickie follows us there, parks himself solidly on our path and meows until we give in and feed him something that he likes. He seems to especially like seaweed. He thinks that it is something alive out of the sea, so he chomps on it wildly. We have to fight to keep our fingers away from his sharp little fangs. Taka just tears the seaweed and lets it float from high above Chickie's head. 
     Like I told you yesterday, Sylvie attacked my foot when I tried to keep her from running out at Goldie. She was visibly contrite all day after that, but today, when I started to say nice things to Goldie, she laid her ears back and gave me a seething look that could only mean: "What is it you are saying?! You are going to pay for it!"

NEED DIVINE!

     Today we went to church. Dr. Park was still pouting, so he stayed at home, thank God! The preacher talked about living audaciously. Yes, I like the idea, but don't tell me to live audaciously and then use me. My problem is, I still can't find much wrong with our church's teachings. I think, it can help people to learn to do the right things and behave with integrity. If only our church has stepped away from the Moon family and started to teach the Divine Principle. What does He/She, my Heavenly Parents, think about it? We need the divine intervention, some way to show our amazing congregation, that everything that they lived and suffered for is not in vain, and that we can keep our ideals without serving just one family and movement.