Blocked Calls

By Kiki

My cell phone started barking late yesterday afternoon, so I picked it up to see "Blocked" on the caller I.D. I usually do not answer blocked calls, but for health reasons (old age ailments), I've been spending most of my time in bed, and I could use some amusement to pick me up from my dum-dums; I decided to answer the call. I picked up the horn and responded with a"hello," then a raspy and creaky voice that sounded well polished from too many Bourbon and Cokes and unfiltered Pall Mall's said: "I would like to speak with Frank Baltazar. Is he there?" I said to the creaky voice, "well, that depends on who's calling" The creaky voice creaked. "I think I am speaking with Kiki," I told the creaky voice that he was speaking with Kiki, and I asked, "and who am I speaking with?" The creaky voice then told me his name (real name omitted). I remembered him, but I knew him as "Babe." 

The last time I saw Babe was around the mid-'60s when he did some photo work for me; he is an old acquaintance from Pico who married a girl from Simons. After establishing that I was Kiki and that he was Babe, I had an interesting conversation with many "huh's?" in it because Babe, at 87, and I, at 80, are both hard of hearing due to old age. 

Between "huh's," we reminisce about the pet crow he used to have and the Cushman scooter that, as a teenager, he used to ride and about all the time he spent at my uncle John's house. 

We traded stories about our days in Pico, stories that have changed significantly with time - Babe then told me that he has read most of my stories on my blog (he said he loved my 'Juana the Loca' story)  and wanted to know if I was writing a book. I told him no that I had no plans of doing so. I explained to him that I am not a writer per se and only write as a hobby, "so no book," I again said. - I asked Babe how he came around to get my phone number, and he answered with a classic "I made a few calls"  We ended our half-hour conversation with a "huh?' and plans to get together for lunch soon. Isn't life wonderful?!

80 or 81

By kiki 

Yesterday afternoon while walking out to the mailbox, I found myself walking on unsteady legs. I thought while I reached in and grabbed the mail (bills) 'man, it's a bitch getting old' Looking for a wall to grab onto, but finding none, I instead grabbed the mailbox for support and to steady myself before I started the trek back indoors. Once indoors, I told Connie, who was sitting in her easy chair, "sweetie, I am having a hard time walking; my legs wobble when I walk" With a smile on her sweet face, she said, "well, babe (yes, she called me babe) that's because you are 81 years old" 81! that grabbed my attention real quick, "hold it there woman!" I heatedly protested, "I am 80; I still have a month to go before I hit 81!" "80 or 81, we can all agree that you are old, so what we are arguing here is just how old you are, but instead of arguing, we should think about what to do about it, get you a cane? No, you already have a few of those; how about a walker?" I responded to her with what I thought was a better idea, "how about an electric scooter?" "hell no!" she almost felled out of her chair when I said 'electric scooter' "the way you drive you'll run the dogs and me over. Hence, an electric scooter is out of the question, so go for the walker" Connie is a hard woman to do business with, so I said to her, "Okay, I'll think about the walker. Still, sweetie, I would never run the dogs over" At that, she opened her eyes real wide and asked, "how 'bout me, would you run me over?" And without answering her, I grabbed the wall and wobbled my way to our bedroom. Damn, there goes my custom low riding electric scooter!