Our Own Little Waiting for Godot

 Do you remember your high school/college lit class?

Well then, you may remember Waiting for Godot in which two people wait for Godot who never comes and the "truth" keeps shifting about when he will come and who has talked to whom or if he really exists etc.  This experience has been our Godot.  Insurance people who have issued Alex a card informing him he is insured but denying he is part of the "system".  Cedars- Sinai clasping him to their hospital bosom and then saying "OOPs sorry Dude-- did we say we'd treat you?....well, no."  It has gone on and on and we hope we have reached a point where entities (like hospitals and insurance) will fully recognize his existence and DEAL WITH IT.

Until his first appointment at Keck USC (who we hope has now recognized his existence) all we can do is feed him good food, lots of meds and try to stave off the boredom for all involved.  The other day, since we are sitting around waiting in a relatively small condo, I suggested to Michael that we take a short road trip. "I don't know if we should leave Alex though.  Do you think the guys will feel we are ditching on them?"  We gently broached the subject and they practically jumped for joy which engendered a number of conflicting emotions in me.  But, what the hell. let's get out of here.

We decided to go to Big Bear Lake for a number of reasons:  1 ) It was only a couple of hours away; 2). It was out of season so fewer people would be there; 3) because it was moff season we could get a really big, comfy place on VRBO for $79 per night which is less than you pay for a car wash in LA (well $15 more to be truthful-- but that's the striped down wash).

It was pretty boring.  But relaxing. Unless you are skiing (no snow), swimming/waterskiing (too cold), hiking (too old) you are consigned to doing things like taking a ride on Miss Liberty, a faux paddle wheeler, to explore the wonders of the seven mile, manmade lake.  The endlessly cheerful Captain regaled us with tales of the Lake.  That was also pretty boring.  Famous people who have had houses there: 1) the guy who voiced Elmer Fudd; 2) Olivia Newton John -- ugliest house on the lake and that is saying something; 3) Ron Howard -- he sold.  And little wonder.  On a seven mile lake there are at least 9 large marinas and several boat launch sites.  This is not a large lake.  Come July, this Lake will make Winnipesaukee look like On Golden Pond.  Our New England friends will get that. So we ate some food, drank some wine and tried to forget that we would have to return to the land of insurance hell.

We stopped to take this photo of Silverwood Lake on our trip...

and saw these wildflowers as well.

Carved statues of bears seemed to be a common theme. Some wood carver must have been very busy making all of these. This was of course the most iconic.

There was very little snow left on the slopes.  Very small snow pack this year -- a harbinger of big fires.

Given the size I am not sure why they call these cabins.

This industrial looking "cabin" was owned by Olivia Newton John.

While the basement of this cabin was a speakeasy during prohibition.

This "cabin" comes complete with its own totem pole.

For those looking for a bargain, the US Forest Service has certain cabins, such as this, for sale at substantially below market rates for a set period of ownership. (They come with many restrictions however. For those interested go to this link: https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-2007-mar-18-re-forest18-story.html).

The North shore of Big Bear Lake also had some "cabins" which were quite large.

Big Bear Lake also has an observatory, but even more impressive were the comfort stations (one of which is shown on the right) for boaters. No need to go to shore to relieve oneself.

We will leave you with this view of the San Bernadino mountains looking west as we headed back to face insurance hell.

And insurance hell it was.  I spent two solid days on the phone with an array of bureaucrats and naysayers that would have induced rage in Mother Theresa (bless her soul).  At the conclusion of this verbal mano a mano, Deirdre lifted her gloves in the air and declared victory in that Alex was finally "in the system" and would be issued a card which would, hopefully, be his passport to liver transplant bliss.  We'll see. 

It is now the beginning of June and, dare I say it, things are looking up a bit.  We had a gap in appointments (well actually this three months has been one long gap in appointments) and after my theoretically successful war on insurance we flew home to Ajijic briefly. We were way overdue to see the myriad medical personnel that our advanced ages require and to visit with as many of our Ajijic pals as we could jam into a few days.  All went well and we returned to LA to begin what we hope is a round of appointments that will actually accomplish something.  We shall keep. you posted.  We hope you enjoy the photos which in large part have absolutely nothing to do with the medical/insurance tempest we have experienced.  After all, it is spring moving to summer, the pandemic is waning, the current President (he really IS President you weirdos) is sane and we all deserve to see some pretty pictures.  Hasta pronto mis amigos. 

Update:  So now it IS summer --time flies when you are having a medical crisis. Alex is now fully "in the system" and being scanned, EKG'd, blood let and infused in all ways.Justin has signed up to be his live donor (if compatible) and that will move along once Alex's tests are done.  So, we'll let you know what happens next when it happens.  The family went to Rosarito Beach (over the border in Mexico) for a long Father's Day weekend and breaking the monotony was a good thing.  Hope your summer is going well.  Take care.  

Chico's Tell All LA Diary

 Chico As Guest Author

We are too bored (and boring) to do a blog at the moment so Chico has stepped in to provide his unique pitbullesque view of Los Angeles.  We will return to our authorship as soon as ANYTHING happens in our quest for the elusive liver.

Life as an International Bon Vivant

I have always yearned to travel internationally.  However, as a lowly Mexican street dog I recognized this was an impossible dream until fate intervened, ruined my young "Master's" liver, and sent me on a marvelous journey to the cultural heart of America-- Los Angeles.  The People Who Think They Own Me (ha!) decided that Alex could not possibly endure his trials without my steadying and reassuring presence so I was scooped up from my pedestrian life in Ajijic and transported to the home of the Stars.

I must say that I have been welcomed warmly.  Angelenos are insane for dogs and the more pathetic and worn they appear, the more they love them.  That is because rescue dogs have become "chic" and I am Chic (with a capital C).  With my marvelously scarred back and rapidly graying muzzle I have become an instant hit.  Plus, dogs are welcome EVERYWHERE in LA -- including some places they shouldn't be-- in my prudish opinion.  The other day I was sitting in the car at Ralph's Grocery while the humans shopped.  There, in front of the store, was a frothy, white, wooly little excuse for a dog sitting on top of a table while its human ate off the very table it was perched on.  Disgusting.  

The ends that Angelenos will go to in order to please their dogs is unbelievable to me.  In Mexico, we are fed chicken bones (REALLY, we can handle them) and SOMETIMES get to sleep in the house.  Well not my humans but others consider this being a good owner.  While driving down Ventura  the other day I counted nine doggie day cares, one doggie cosmetologist, three doggie obedience schools (there must be many ill-mannered creatures here) and my favorite-- the first Doggie Kitchen dedicated to the provision of organic, free range food for dogs.  My humans laugh at these "excesses" but I am waging a stealthy campaign to get them to procure of all these services for me. 

Still trying to get my humans to try the Kitchen For Dogs to procure my food.

While the humans have given you some lovely photos of the environs I shall try to illustrate LA from my perspective.  One would think that LA is an urban, paved and traffic jammed hell hole.  Well, that is true but I have shown my humans another side of the city as I quested for freedom and a good romp. It is quite surprising but Angelenos tolerate a variety of wild life that Mexicans would dispatch immediately if they wandered into town.  A case in point is rattlesnakes.  I was actually confined to a leash at one park because the prevalence of rattlesnakes was so high that unleashed dogs would surely die.  Well, perhaps the stupid ones I thought.  But then, while trying to murder the ground squirrels at Franklin Canyon, I came upon a huge gopher snake and all my ancient, irrepressible instincts took hold and I attacked.  Well, attempted to attack.  The Alpha human hauled me away while I strained with all my might to destroy the reptile and the Alpha human's mate screamed "Phobia #1, Phobia #1"  in horror.  

I could have had gopher snake for dinner if they hadn't stopped me!

And there are the coyotes.  While driving within the same Franklin Canyon park we encountered this coyote in broad daylight sashaying down the middle of the road.  It was flaunting the humans (which I endorse) but I wanted to leap from the car and teach it a little humility. The humans intervened yet again.  I mentioned the California Ground Squirrels.  They are everywhere here as attested to by the infinite number of holes and dirt mounds scattered anywhere there is a patch of earth. It is great fun to stick my nose in the holes, dig around and hopefully, terrorize them.  But even more fun is when the human walking with me breaks through the earth and tumbles into the now gaping burrow.  They really should watch their weight.  There is even a mountain lion in Griffith Park (named P-22) that is regarded as something of a pet by the neighbors.  Incomprehensible.

They let me look, but I couldn't "play" with the ground squirrels.

On the other side of the coin, there is Beverly Hills.  Ahhhh. Beverly Hills.  Where I should have been born and raised.  That or perhaps Pacific Palisades.  No, Beverly Hills for sure, definitely.  I cannot describe the variety of marvelous scents that are captured in their extensive, exquisite park. It is so beautifully manicured I even resist the urge to display my masculinity by dirt kicking after relieving myself.  One must rise to the occasion. It is here amidst the perfectly groomed and coddled Labradoodles that I receive the most sympathy and accolades.  This is not a population used to seeing "dogs in the rough" and they warm immediately to my story of human cruelty and my ultimate rescue and redemption. 

Here I am doing my happy dance.

You may ask: "How does he get the humans to take him to these wonderful places when they are consumed by the young "Master's" illness.  It is simple.  They desperately need levity and I provide it through a dramatic impression of a totally unsophisticated dog who is excited by the thought of a walk.  I, of course, am too sophisticated to normally stoop to such routines but I have seen it done.  Day after day, it reduces the humans to hysteria and then they take me on a new and wondrous adventure.  Such a small price to pay.  To get what I want.  While it is somewhat humiliating I shall include a video of it.  You may want to show it to friends who have a dog that needs more adventure.  

My young "Master" loves to spoil me!

Hasta pronto Chico Rico.