Target Locked

One of the reasons why I look forward to blogging in an old-new way is because of days like this. Which is just about every day. But this one includes a trip to The Twilight Zone.

Marissa and I are fortunate to live five minutes up the street from the Happiest Place on Earth and five minutes down the street from the second Happiest Place on Earth: Target.

We went to Target late this morning expecting a short trip just for a few essentials. Well, we live in a friendly neighborhood now, and strangers like to make eye-contact and strike up conversations. And that's not even the weird part of the story!

Marissa was pushing our cart out and suddenly she stopped. I turned to face her with the whole "what the fuck" expression, since our car was still halfway across the parking lot ('cause I thought it would be good for us to walk).

"I'm stuck."

"What do you mean you're stuck?" I asked. I went to grab the cart towards me, and nearly ripped off my arm.

The cart was, like, magnetically locked to the ground. I suddenly had a vision of that Nic Cage movie, Face/Off, where the prisoners feet are magnetized to the floor.

But seriously, how could our cart be magnetized to the concrete? Surely a wheel was simply stuck. We were on an aisle with a return cart area with carts actually returned, so I had Marissa go grab another one to transfer our bags and EIGHT gallons of water over to.

We were at the very end corner of a lane. Unfortunately, we were right behind a parked car. And we now had the attention of some customers. Marissa had brought the new cart right up behind our stuck cart and we reloaded and continued on our way...for about five inches.

The cart was stuck. It would not move forward or backward. I'm now in the middle of the parking lane curled up in a fetal position, sucking my thumb.

"Can we lift the cart?" Asked my brilliant daughter.

"YES!" I answered, thankful I did Wii Fit that morning.

We lift the cart (with EIGHT gallons of water) and the FREAKIN' cart is PULLED back down by some UNKNOWN force. Now I want to RUN AWAY from the shopping cart.

I start grabbing bags and GALLONS of water and yelling at Marissa to stay with the cart. She's yelling behind me she doesn't want to be left alone with the cart, but I'm already halfway to my car. I see two parked police cars and I look to see if the officers are sitting in 'em, because, you know, I want to tell them that our groceries are being HELD HOSTAGE BY ALIENS LIVING UNDERGROUND.

The cruisers are empty, so I run to my car and toss everything into the backseat and drive over to Marissa. She is standing there trying to look as nonchalant as one can look while holding onto a shopping cart that is STUCK TO THE GROUND. A customer right across from our cart pulls out just as I pull up. Thankfully, people are cool around here, and doesn't cuss Marissa out for NOT moving the cart out of the way. I pull into the empty spot and we haul ass getting everything from the cart into the car.

A woman happened to walk by us at this point, and I run over to her.

"Have you ever shopped here before?" I shrieked. I don't really want to hear her answer, I just want her to witness the magnetic field. She tries to push and pull the cart -- and it moves -- about five inches.

"Maybe Target has it magnetized to avoid carts from being stolen." She suggests, but even as the words come out of her mouth, she is shaking her head. We're still very much within the Target parking lot.

Marissa and I finally get into the car and we're soaking in sweat. It's not even hot outside, in fact, rain is in the forecast.

"We were doing so good! We were doing so good!" Marissa kept chanting. Yes, we were. We had an awesome conversation with an older guy wearing a Paul McCartney t-shirt and Beatles hat, we had found everything we needed at a good price, and we didn't have to wait in line. Then we stepped into some screwed-up X-Files episode.

As I left the shopping center, I hit the steering wheel with my fist.
"I forgot to take a picture of the carts!"

Marissa looked over at me and said, "We already looked strange enough!"

I'm damn curious if anyone has been able to move those carts.

The Suite Escape

I took over this curved corner of the master suite I share with Marissa as my craft command center.

It is so weird to have floor space again! This master bedroom has incredible wall space, 10 foot ceiling, a cute French windowpane door leading out to the balcony, a hallway with two large closets, a vanity area and bathroom w/Roman tub and shower. And we're nestled amongst pine and maple trees, giving our room a tree house effect!

We're totally settling in 'cos we're totally not moving again unless Disneyland one day offers housing inside the Park. But for now, being five minutes away from Disneyland is good enough for us.

While I was unpacking boxes from two moves ago, I came across my old LiveJournal (a.k.a. The O.C. scripts). I really liked the format and content of the entries. They gave me the boost I needed to get back to blogging. And besides, I'm almost out of Vicodin and I'll need a new addiction -- blogging will be a sweet escape.

Another Moving Experience

The Happy Hooker is putting skipping stitches on hold in order to skip town!

We're bidding bye-bye to the beach and moving to The Happiest Place on Earth (well, almost)! Been wanting to blog while packing, but I feared my laptop would end up in one of the moving boxes! Internet will be turned off any moment and won't be back up in our new place until Sunday. Then I will be able to dish all the details!

Haven't Forgotten

Me & Marissa on the 1st anniversary of September 11th.

www.911truth.org

Going Postal

Marissa and I went to the post office in town this afternoon. Little old post offices in little towns are so cool, even here in Corona del Mar.

We watched as a mom packed humongous boxes of snacks to send to her daughter in college. An old lady approached her and said, beaming: "I'm here sending out mail for my daughter. She's 54 and I still take care of her too!"

Another really old woman came in, a bit eccentric (as many are here in the 'hood. Old money is awesome!). I let her go ahead of me, since I had a large bag of merchandise to ship out. She looked at me totally stunned, and thanked me. It dawned on me that many other people in this town like only the new and shiny stuff -- including human beings.

Once at the counter, I discovered a package was short on postage. So I stepped aside to take care of it without holding up the line. There was a young man who saw me do this, but did not offer to let me go ahead of him when I got back in line. We were the only two customers waiting. I know lack of common courtesy is not just limited to Corona del Mar, but it still irked me.

As Marissa and I went back to our car, we saw a man we've known for eight years, not really a friend, but an acquaintance. He asked what we've been up to, and I told him how we were moving out. He looked at me and said: "I'm sorry to hear that, because that means you have a people problem. That's something you have to deal with in your heart."

I stood there glaring at him, resisting the urge to tell him to fuck off. This guy has constantly tripped out over the last eight years at the number of people in this town who absolutely adore me, Marissa and Mom because of how we treat 'em.

"Yeah, I have a people problem. I have a problem with people in Corona del Mar." I answered.

He continued to try to convince me that I wouldn't be happy anywhere, 'cos I carry the problem in my heart. I finally said "I'm over it" meaning as much about our exchange as how I feel about CdM.

Interesting how such a homophobic could argue with me about what is and isn't in my heart.

Back in the car, Marissa and I talked about how some people are so out-of-touch with reality. What is wrong with saying "This town isn't for us anymore. It's time to move on, see what else is out there. Time for a fresh start. And maybe we'll make another fresh start in another eight years too."

Over the last few years we have seen many, many good people pack up and leave Corona del Mar. Families that have lived here for twenty-fives years or more have become completely fed up with how the town is changing and are moving out! People who can afford to live here comfortably are moving out and into the same type of neighborhood we miss. There's a heck of a lot of us who are looking for something that has a lot more value than what money can buy.

It's not like Corona del Mar is a horrible place to live, or only horrible people live here. But when there is a chance you will be happier and more comfortable amongst other type of people in another type of neighborhood, don't you owe it to yourself and family to act on that?

Especially when your heart is telling you go for it?