This is Palm Springs in the winter. 10 AM and already 90 degrees.
I am sitting under a big ficus tree by the pool at the Renaissance Hotel. I’m on hold with the credit card people because apparently someone has charged $2000 and $4000 to my card this morning. So I call. And I’m on hold.
Initially a chipper computer voice answered and gleefully had me pressing one and was offering me free offers and cell phone discounts and travel stuff… I could get a medical alert system because I am over 50 and free movie tickets and… can we just say “fuck that shit, someone has hacked my card.”
So I finally get an operator who takes my information and then transfers my card to another… well, hold music. The kind of acoustic guitar stuff you would hear on some 80’s home improvement show. And I am thinking… why did she need my member number, last four of my social, my birthdate, and my zip code just to transfer me? Won’t the next person ask for basically the same thing?
So the good news is that my sister, Emmy got her Walmart transfer to Rosemead and will be moving in with my mother. I was talking to her when the credit card stuff came through. So even though I am happy for her and my mom and the timing couldn’t be more perfect because Anita, my mother’s aid is currently in the hospital… I had to cut her off. Fraud and stuff.
So today I went to a small bistro on Palm Canyon. Then I went to the art show across the street and my guess is that the artist from whom I purchased two prints accidentally left off the decimal points on the purchase.
Anyway, I read something beautiful that my brother, Sesshu wrote for Ethan. A thanatopsis… a meditation on death. And a photo of what looks almost like a shrine…
I asked people to post to Ethan’s Facebook page, which a few did. And that helped.
I didn’t have a shot of whiskey, like I planned.
Yesterday wasn’t filled with crying or sadness or depression. But I was very ancy. Not just irritable, but fidgety and anxious. I ended up walking it off. Frequently. 14 miles according to the pedometer ap in my phone.
500 words later, and I am still on hold. I’ve even gone back and re-read and edited. Twice.