Sunday

Yesterday? I'd just as soon forget it. 

It even started off being mediocre: the crossword's theme was Emmy-related and, since I don't watch or follow "regular" TV, I didn't have a clue how to answer most of the--well, clues. It ended badly. 

While I was dressing, David called to commiserate with me about SO-FI Apartments' latest assault. We talked for just a minute, as I was dressing to meet Diane; told him I was going to Santa Paula Theatre and would call him later.

Packed lunch and went out to be picked up by the Access Van, we drove to Diane's and picked her up, then were taken to the Wells Road bus stop.  We waited for only a few minutes before the Santa Paula access van (they call it something else, but I'm not sure what) picked us up. I asked the driver if he knew why Santa Paula wasn't included in the regular van route, but he wasn't sure. Think I'll pursue this.

So-o-o, all was well. There are picnic tables outside the theatre and we ate our lunch there before we went into the lounge. Sat there for a bit, then into the main part, where we saw:        

                                                             

Maybe sometime in the far past, I've seen a worse play, but that's doubtful. They should have paid us to sit through the damn thing, which included a multitude of mini-act changes, five actors going through some kind of catharsis, and absolutely nothing which would engage the audience. At least we had good seats--or maybe that was a bad thing. 

The only interesting part of the ordeal was why I went to the lounge during intermission, hoping to get a glass of Chardonnay. I asked the man, "Peter," behind the bar and was told they no longer sell it; they just had bottles of water. We fell into conversation, I mentioned Fractured Actors and our latest, he said he had been to it and, lo and behold, he remembered me in After All This Time. That was such fun to hear before I went back to join Diane and wait out the second half of the snooze fest.

We were finally liberated and went out to wait for the van. When would it arrive? Diane said it wouldn't come until 5:45 and, since we were early, we walked around the corner and stopped into a little shop. Got back about 5:30 and sat down to wait. At that point, I looked at my van note and saw that the van was scheduled to stop between 5:00 and 5:45. Yes, it had come and gone and we were fifteen or so miles away with no ride home.

To cut this short: What ensued in succession was Diane calling the two van numbers to plead for a second chance (no luck) and the Santa Paula police to see if they'd drive us at least to the pickup point on Wells Road, where we could get buses home. She then called LYFT to find it would cost us thirty-five bucks just to get to Wells Road, not home--and it would be 45 minutes before somebody would come. She reserved that on her phone, but in the meantime, I saw a guy across the street come out of his very attractive house and went over to petition him to take us--just to Wells Road--for twenty bucks. However--this was like one of those complicated scenarios--he didn't speak English. However, he went into his house to get his phone, called his friend, who did, and I conveyed the message that way. At that point, a police officer, a very nice young woman, actually came, but told us regretfully she couldn't drive past city limits, which we should have known. After waiting another fifteen or so, the LYFT guy drove up and, after submitting the 35 bucks, we got to Wells Road.

Luckily for Diane, as we drove up to the stop, the 11 bus was already there, so she was able to leave right away. Not so luckily, because she has neuropathy, but had taken only her cane, not her rolater (she's self-conscious about it), it would be a chore to walk from Telephone Road to her place. That left me waiting for the 10. Luckily, it was still light out, but I sat there for about a half-hour. Happily, Ellen happened to call and I could rant and rave to her. My bus finally came, but then I realized it goes to Saticoy, then turns around to head toward my place. By that time, it was getting chilly, so I thought I'd board and just stay on until it turns around. Unfortunately, I told the driver and he said I couldn't do that, I had to go to my destination. I assume this is to prevent the homeless from getting on, and staying on, a bus to keep warm; after all, why should we treat them like human beings? Okay, so I had to wait there for another fifteen, finally got on, got off at Hill Road, discovered I didn't have my remote, so had to walk to the main entrance to get in, but finally did at 7:30, and the ordeal was over.

I just called Diane (7:00 am) to see if she got home okay and it went to voice mail. Hope she gets back to me.          

Why I can't get rid of this big space below? Dunno.