It’s 5:07 am, and I am wide awake. I’ve been trying to sleep later these days, cause it’s cold in the morning, but today I woke up with both sides of my nose glued shut and one of those stomach aches. At 3:37 I got up and blew my nose, tried to rearrange the pillows, rearranged my husband to suit my comforts, and attempted to go back to sleep. Forget that, I could almost hear my digital clock ticking. My nose started to whistle. The thoughts started to flood into my mind – and when the “what’s for dinner”question flew through my head, it was over. My stomach started rumbling and growling, and the next thing I knew I was standing in front of the coffee pot, eating a banana.
Thank you God, for bananas, that was really considerate of you. They so hit the spot.
I am trying to clear my mind to write a letter to the editor. Why, why, why – I ask myself that, and Myself comes back real quick – cause nobody else is going to do it!
Myself can get crabby at 5am, that’s been established. I’m almost afraid to talk to people sometimes, I’m afraid I’ll end up with their head in my mouth, for no good reason, aside from, their head was available at the time when I wanted to chew somebody’s head off.
My mom used to say, when she had been to a school board meeting or an irrigation district meeting – “I’m so mad, I could eat a sackful of kittens!” and that was really saying something, my mom was very fond of cats. You knew you better keep the cigarettes coming fast for a good 20 minutes when she got in a mood like that.
I’ll tell you what’s frustrating, is trying to get people to talk about the problems we have here in town. “I have my job.” “I have my kids.” “I’m busy, busy, busy…” I feel like saying, “what do you think I do all day?”
People have very frankly told me they think I’m nuts for going to meetings and dealing with issues that will most certainly come around to bite them on the ass at some later point. Right now, the mood I’m in, I would like to see a bunch of people around town with whole sections of their ass missing.
I try not to read the paper – so, can you imagine, one day you’re driving through a town you’ve lived in for 50 years, and they’re tearing Esplanade a new asshole, putting traffic circles at every intersection? Cause that’s what’s in the paper today, and if you didn’t see it, you would most likely find yourself in such a sitch sometime in the future, I’d say, within the next two or three years. Remember the “Downtown remodel”? That was so fun, I don’t patronize any businesses Downtown anymore, just forgot all about them and found substitutes elsewhere, mostly online. Remember the Hwy 99 widening? I’ll bet you do if you live in my neighborhood. Wasn’t that great to be kept awake all night by those pile drivers and rebar saws?
See, I went to meetings, meetings, meetings to protest such boondoggles, and I stood in that chamber with the cold wind blowing across my ass because none of you idiots bothered to show.
Well, excuse me for lying – Dave Boos was there, and Phil Herrold, two of my neighbors who are considered cranks like me. And there we were, with the cold wind blowing across our asses. Me and Colleen Jarvis got in a fight at the freeway widening meeting – I asked how come they weren’t widening it next to her house – and I never got to make it up with her before she died of brain cancer. If there’s a Heaven, I will hopefully be arguing her ear off again someday. I’m sure God wants to kick her ass already.
So the other day I got out at 8-something-am, me and old Myrtie my 1956 Raleigh Superbe 3-speed street cruiser went boppin’ through the park to a Finance Committee Workshop.
And here’s what I found folks – trouble, right here in River City. And that starts with ‘T’ and that rhymes with ‘C’ and that stands for ‘city mismanagement’, ‘malfeasance’, and just plain ‘mischief’!
The city has paid another consultant to tell us we’re in trouble, I guess you got that. What this consultant said that’s different than the rest is that our city is over managed. We are top heavy with management salaries, and that’s what’s dragging our boat to the bottom.
You heard about the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald. I was a kid then, and I just couldn’t understand how in modern times a ship could go down without a single hand found on a lake. Then I saw pictures of the Edmund Fitzgerald – it was a flat boat full of tons of iron, with a big hatch right in the middle of the deck. It was sailed across a lake that is almost as big as an inland sea, a lake that literally creates it’s own storms because of it’s size and temperature fluctuations. Putting that boat on that lake seems crazy – it’s a wonder they don’t have sinkings more often. All it took was one 35 foot wave, the hatchway caved in, and that plunker sank faster than a rock, dragging down every man aboard.
That’s what I see when I look at the City of Chico – disaster waiting to happen. I write letters and I write letters – I feel like an old sea hag, standing on a rock, screaming my lungs out – “watch out for that wave!” And the captain stands on deck with his back to disaster wondering, “what’s that old hag screaming about?”