Friday, March 11, 2016

Knee and the Center

I finally got on the stick and called for an appointment to get my knee x-rayed, plus a bone density scan at Rolling Oaks. I was glad to get it for this Monday, as my knee is really bothering me.
Wrote out a proposal for my acting course to Hans Hormann, director of the Ventura Adult Center. I included a description, a copy of the blurb that Stockton sent out, plus my truncated theatrical resume. Rather than send it, I decided to take it there and partake of the three dollar lunch at the same time.
It turned out that Hans won't be in until Monday, but I left it with the woman on the desk to give him. My friend, Marie, came up and we sat together, along with five others. The food itself was--as it always is--anything but gourmet. This time it was pollack, not a very flavorful fish to begin with and surely frozen since the year one. This was accompanied with brown rice and succotash, so it was bland and beige all the way. There was salad, of course, plus iced tea. Dessert was in the form of a half peach (canned, naturally) with vanilla yogurt. In other words, the meal was nourishing and that's about it.
But so what? If the food is often forgettable there, many of the patrons aren't. I'm lucky in that I get endless enjoyment in meeting people who may be very different from me. Yesterday, I met Dennis, probably in his middle seventies, who is a native of Finland and a neat guy. He had a catering business in Ventura and Santa Barbara, but for some reason (I'm not clear on this), he lost it and now bartends for other caterers. Aside from all that, it was fun to hear him tell about life in Finland--seven months of winter, very cold, and--as night follows day, a high suicide rate. Some others at the table were Penny and Tom, who talked baptist religion earnestly; Carol, who used to teach dancing, but now, I'm afraid, might be dancing with early dementia; and Sergio, a real estate agent born in Italy, who still sounds like the Godfather.
Ate, said goodbye, and zipped down to "regular" downtown. Stopped at the dog and cat charity thrift store just to look around. Saw some pretty paper mache Easter eggs that open; bought two and will put something in them for Ellen and Greg. When I pulled into my parking spot, I ran into my tax preparer, Michelle, who said she had filed my returns. Asked her to come in and I'd give her her check--she did and I did.
Got my mail and saw an envelope from the Ventura Police Department. Oh, damn--don't tell me I got another ticket! No, it was a notice telling me they changed my address. Why I got a copy of this, I didn't know, so I went to the police station and was told it was just to inform me or whatever. I barely listened, as I don't care what they do as long as it doesn't entail a fine.
Barely got home from there when El called to see if she could come over and return something she had borrowed and would I want to go to dinner. Natch, and I suggested Panera Bread, where I had been in Jersey, but not here. It was okay, but really is a lunch place and not very exciting. I had a quinoa salad, El soup and sandwich, and we agreed we probably wouldn't frequent it often, if at all.

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