Laguna Beach. Another perfect day in Paradise, but there are senior moments. The other day I found myself staring at the kitchen cabinet, not wondering why I was there, but why the cabinet wasn’t there. Then later that week, I remembered my wife was remodeling the kitchen and if I knew what was good for me, I’d get moving right along or risk the cabinet’s fate by being replaced by a hipper more granite like version of me, and one with total recall no less. I believe my wife has pulled the younger stud card before, but I can’t recall for sure. I can’t remember what she says, but nobody at any age could forget the crossed arms and eye roll that turns husbands to stone. Take a lesson, Medusa.
I envied Arnold Schwarzenegger in the movie “Total Recall.” It’s a little known fact (beat you to the punch TMZ) that Arnold was a sure thing for the remake, but lost the part when he couldn’t recall the maid and baby scene. Rumor has it Marie pulled the crossed arms and eye roll maneuver and is currently looking for a hipper more granite like version of Arnold. Take another lesson, Medusa.
Having just escaped the cabinet’s fate, I found myself in the garage and wondered why I was there or was something missing here, too. Wives could care less about garages so I didn’t think anything had been tossed for remodeling purposes. Perhaps I should digress a bit, by explaining what a garage is. In Laguna Beach, garages are on the endangered room list because of ravaging contractors who have systematically eliminated garages in favor of studies, bedrooms, dens or extended kitchens with hipper more granite like “no man islands.” However, the city hall rumor mill, also a garage makeover and the only one to code, says that there will soon be a red belt ordinance to halt garage destruction. Car aficionados, who hate on the street parking and the perils of sea salt, kicked off the “Save the Garage” red belt campaign by holding a classic car parade where motorists drove with hazard signals on and synchronized their blinking to the high school drama department’s rendition of “The Little Engine that Could.” To show their support, skateboarders skated on banned streets aiming at the classic cars and appeared impervious to flashing hazard signals by throwing Morton Salt over their shoulders for luck in sticking their landings. Parade watching parents crossed their arms and rolled their eyes, but couldn’t turn the teenagers to stone due to their teary salted eyes expertly aimed at by these death defying, low riding panted skateboarders who screamed release the crackin’ to the sheer delight of their mere mortal school mates.
Fortunately, the parade ended well for one and all because everybody kept their toes on the nose and stuck their landings. And then, I remembered what was wrong about my garage. My Laguna Beach golf cart wasn’t there. Where was it? I can’t be a true Lagunan, without my 40-foot extended golf cart that holds 20 grandchildren, that’s solar powered by 600,000 megawatts, and boasts a much coveted year round purple parking sticker. And then, in Schwarzenegger total recall flash, I knew where my golf cart was. NASA stole it, scratched off the serial number, renamed it Curiosity, and outfitted it with Kodak cameras and gardening shovels and flew it to Mars. But there’s no mistaking it is my golf cart. After a 14-minute delay due to Kodak’s film processing requirements, the first picture clearly shows the front end of my stolen golf cart. How do I know? Look closely and you can see the Laguna Beach parking ticket for not parking between the white lines. Obviously, while I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes, I let NASA know with my stony stare, that they can’t stick the landing like Laguna’s skateboarders or the USA women’s gymnastic team. Oh, and here’s my parking ticket on disc without delay, which beats a Kodak moment and senior moments, too.
Mark is a recent transplant to Laguna from Chicago. He occasionally writes the guest column ”Pet Peeves.” His recently deceased border collie, Pokey, is his muse and ghostwriter.