Claudine Jones | Scene4 Magazine

 Claudine Jones


My new non-dual moxie has led to a self invitation to the Marin Flea Market with brother & wife. They call it antiquing although it is technically vintaging. True, there's some pretty old high price jewelry in the display cases amongst the so-so, but let's not break the bank on whims. FleaMarketFind-crI did buy a miniscule bottle with carved filigree. The seller upped the price by five bucks after we located the missing stopper on the ground behind her. Hilarious.

Feels wonderful being in the sunshine even if us two women—me hobbling and her with bad foot still using a knee-scooter—are redefining the term mosey. I admire this woman. She doesn't fuck around and she knows her stuff. Many vendors know her on sight.

Every once in a while I think tomorrow 11am.


I'm sitting here, my face and jaw aching. The anesthetic is wearing off. Distractions aren't helping a whole lot.

Ironically, my hip injury lawyer finally called with an update. After three years, he's now forwarding me the settlement, a tenth of what we asked for, but of course that's to be expected. My son says that's the way the game is played.

By the way. I'm currently number one on the leaderboard in my French language game/tutorial.

I just last week jumped into the next phase of choir tours because I was thinking why not?

Unfortunately when you're in pain is not a good time to be having an overview of anything. I didn't eat before my surgery so now I'm starving and I have a miserable protein shake to look forward to, that is if I can summon the energy to go to the kitchen. The more the anesthetic wears off the harder it is to talk. The harder it is to talk the more it seems like punishment since I do love me some talk.

Should I bully through?

Or should I just sit the microphone down, go in the other room get my pain pill and be done with it. The less I am able to articulate clearly the more mistakes are in the text. OK interesting. This has only been like a minute and a half and the pain has gone up exponentially. Have to get that pill.


Less pain.

Set the robot going in the back room where the computer is, so my word document draft is inaccessible.

I don't remember what I wrote, so on the tablet I can't really pick up where I left off except to say:

We're down to one chicken and we need to call for an appointment if we want to take the last survivor into the shelter to see about placing her with a companion or some kind of rescue thing.

I slept on the couch last night to keep off of my lip surgery side since it would be impossible to turn over in my sleep to face the wall.

It sort of worked.

Having a small mouth doesn't really help; had to find a tiny spoon to eat my soggy granola from yesterday. Maybe I'll make another smoothie this afternoon. My son donated a banana yesterday so I can throw in the other half.

The dreaded symptom checker haunts us all. I'm congested this morning but I have no idea if that's a temporary effect of the surgery—especially since I'm mostly congested on that same side. I'm just going to go ahead and say yes.  Though I have my 4 free covid tests, I'm not going to waste one for just that nostril, everything else being equal.

Meanwhile I'm number one on the Duolingo leaderboard again this morning and unfortunately if I want to sit down, I'll have to wait for the robot to be done to see if some overcaffeinated youngster jumped ahead.

Disconcerting to have my dermatologist/surgeon talkin to me through her mask afterwards. I swear I only got about half of what she was saying but it's okay because she gave me a set of instructions to take home. It's all good. The point is I rely more and more on visual cues from people's faces and they're all covered up.

Yet my eyesight is getting better. I can wear my clear blue-light screen spectacles to drive to choir rehearsal and back, granted it's a very familiar route but my driver's license does say RSTR CORR LENS. They probably wouldn't check as long as I'm wearing something.

A lot of times I've got subtitles going and I realize I don't really need them. It's just a habit.

10 more minutes I'm going to go check the robot.

So what else can we talk about? Oh. I just fell prey to some reverse so-called science. Remember when they said you shouldn't wear a bra because it would compress your breast tissue and it would make you more susceptible to breast cancer? Guess it's not a thing anymore. Haven't worn a bra since, oh, I don't know when, except in performance.

I decided to check out the latest, since my Amazon boycott is a joke. It appears the latest bras are, don't know cuz I don't remember the price of bras, I want to say cheaper.  I mean $17.99 seriously? Playtex no less. And get this: they have a thing now where you don't have to pay if you don't like it. So they only charge you after 7 days if you have not sent it back.

See this is why I need to reinstitute my boycott because that is just not
right. How is that not a monopoly? I mean I got it in two days I didn't pay anything upfront and if I keep the packaging and what not I just throw it back in the mail. How is that not the devil? Anyway I've been wearing it for a couple hours and cross my heart I got to say it feels pretty good.

Whatcha gonna do.

Go check the robot I guess.


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Claudine Jones | Scene4 Magazin

Claudine Jones has had a long, full career as an Actor/Singer/Dancer. She writes a monthly column
and is a Senior Writer and columnist for Scene4.
For more of her commentary and articles, check the Archives.

©2022 Claudine Jones
©2022 Publication Scene4 Magazine




March 2022

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