One Day at a Time

Getting up and out in time to catch the 9 o’clock Tahirobics class is proving to be even more challenging than anticipated.

Up generally around 6:30 in the morning, I’m accustomed to putzing around, not seizing the day until 10:30/11:00, but I’ve been pushing myself to give up putzing, stick to the program, get out in time to work out.

I was on a roll in getting into the new routine, until last Tuesday when, pushing myself, head in the right space, I arrived at the nutrition center only to find the power was out due to "no payment".

A forgetful moment or not the money to pay the bill, who knows/not important, but I couldn’t get back into the right head space the remainder of that week. I never made it back to class, which meant I did no form of exercise the remainder of that week and over the weekend — five whole days.

By the time this past Monday rolled around, my body was begging for exercise so I was eager to get up/out, arrived in time for class.

Power was back on and may have been back on the afternoon of the day it went out, problem solved, but I didn’t ask.

Class was good. My fitness tracker logged 3,171 steps, 759 calories burned, and I had every intention of working out this morning — a Tuesday and Thursday workout schedule.

Didn’t happen.

I putzed around.

At this point, it’s very much looking like I’ll be taking it one day at a time and that somewhere along the line, realizing I'm having fun and seeing fitness results, a reboot of my schedule — seizing the day earlier rather than later may kick in …… for at least two days a week.

For now, no promises to myself, but maybe tomorrow.

In other news, there’s been some weird stuff going on around here. Starting with, a resident reporting seeing a guy walking around peering into parked cars.

I learned a long time ago, after several thefts from vehicle in other locations, never to leave anything out in the open in the car, to tempt criminal behavior, so this sighting was no surprise to me.

The cops were called, but never showed up.

Another resident reported seeing a guy in the back area of the complex, hiding behind one of the garages.

Was he waiting to grab some unsuspecting female resident out for a walk?

One good thing about this complex is that there are eyes everywhere. Much like I am privy to a lot of what goes on just by catching a glimpse through the patio window while sitting on the couch, so are there other residents always seeing. Not a lot is missed around here.

But wait …… there’s more.

One of the more vulnerable seniors reported, while out on a walk, a strange woman approached, tried to hit her.

It’s getting more and more unsafe on the property.

On Saturday, a few residents reported seeing a strange guy dancing at the end of the walkway. Later, Lu spotted a strange guy (don’t know if it’s the same guy) crawling on all fours, up the stairs like an animal sneaking up on its prey, towards the drug dealer’s unit.

Lu called the cops and this time they showed up in groves, along with an ambulance and a fire truck.

That’s a lot of resources for a guy who was probably simply high on something. He was laughing and talking with his rescuers, so whatever his situation was didn’t translate to needing all those resources to us onlookers.

While out and about on Wednesday, I spotted something interesting as I approached the corner of a building.

No mistaking what was parked around that corner.

I always get a kick out of seeing one of those na$i cars in the neighborhood and, surprisingly, the few I’ve seen show no signs of having been damaged.

There was no one in Starbucks that looked to be the driver of that infamous vehicle, so I assumed it belonged to someone in the dental office next door.

Had I the time, I'd have stuck around to see if the driver matched the vehicle.

Happy No Kings 2.0

If you look closely, you’ll see that’s not Little Edie but the reface version with myself playing the role of Edie.

The High Table

Yesterday’s 4th of July BBQ was a huge success but, before I go into details, let me just explain that in the world of John Wick, the term "High Table" is indicative of the organization in charge, those who set the rules and, as you read on, you’ll understand why this post is thus titled.

Also, there’s breaking news to report …… the Love Birds (Dream Lover and Lu) are back on.

I noticed on Tuesday, when updating the header from June to July on the residents’ FB page, that Lu had commented on one of the photos of Dream Lover, "My handsome man".

Gag me.

Dream Lover was once again the Grill Master at the BBQ — hamburgers/hotdogs and, when Lu arrived, he addressed her as "Hey, gorgeous" and they had a make out session …… kissed.

Gag me with a spoon.

Explanation and Breaking new out of the way ……… I arrived early, so I could capture photos of the decorations and stuff before the crowd arrived.

My little friend Knock Knock (renamed because I received a violation for the previous nomenclature as "violating guidelines") was there, helping the organizers set up.

She pretty much has been living here with us old folks until school restarts and, now at 8-years-old, has grown out of whatever obsession she previously had with me, is no longer constantly knocking on my door, but still runs up and gives me a hug when our paths cross.

Last BBQ (Memorial Day) it was the Baker’s family members who contributed time, money, energy into that event. This time it was the Talker’s family members, and they even prepared Swag bags for us attendees.

Later in the event, when swag bags were distributed, I found they contained various candies, a Popper, little Bubble maker thingie, a patriotic necklace and cute little hat.

Once residents poured in, the Community Room became packed with "preferred residents" …… those who have come to bingo, come to craft sessions, and a few newbies the organizers felt safe to invite.

You could have knocked me over with a feather, when I saw Painted Rock Lady come through the door.

I was amazed to see her because, after that last fall, when her dog pushed her out of the bed, fractured her hip for the second time, she was hospitalized and going into a rehabilitation situation had been suggested.

"Rehabilitation" generally means we’ll never see the person alive again.

Painted Rock Lady said no, that if she was to recover, she wanted to do so at home and, though she looks haggard and exhausted, she survived and was well enough to make it to the Community Room on her own with her portable breathing machine and walker, even talking about working on painting rocks again.

So, anyway, the menu consisted of hamburgers, hot dogs, all the fixings, plus potato salad, macaroni salad, baked beans, mac and cheese, cupcakes for dessert.

My "reserved" spot, at the far end of the table, was a perfect spot for eyeing the entire room, being able to stand quickly/move quickly to capture photos, but the table clearly indicated the elite ……… reserved name signs, different tablecloth than the other tables.

No matter, as I was just there to take photos for the residents’ FB page, did not intend to stay long enough to be considered a part of a click, so I had fun playing naughty with my reserved name sign — holding it up to various parts of my body, declaring them "reserved".

As I was saying, the spot was perfect …… that is until Upstairs Lady — the woman who has problems with her legs (which Twin 1, who used to work in the medical profession, tells me is Lymphedema) showed up.

Upstairs Lady made it to the table on her walker, began approaching the end of the table where I was seated, pausing along the way to pick up certain reserved name signs.

Once she made it to the end of the table to where I was seated, she declared, "I’m sitting here", then began removing reserved name signs on either side of me, replacing with the ones she’d picked up along the way, saying so and so is sitting here, so and so is sitting there.

She arranged things to where Dream Lover and Lu would be seated on one side of that end table spot, and Crafty Lady (the new resident that’s running craft sessions) would be seated on the other side, thereby arranging the seating to where she’d be surrounded by her besties …… and she did all this while I was still seated in my designated spot.

So aggressive.

To top it off, midstream of what she was saying/doing, Upstairs Lady pointed to a chair towards the middle of the table saying, "You can sit there".

Ordinarily, I would have calmly said something to Upstairs Lady like I once had to say to a coworker who thought she was the boss of me, that "We are not still living on the plantation". Then I would have removed the name signs from Upstairs Lady’s hand, replaced them where they’d been, essentially telling Upstairs Lady in no uncertain terms to go F herself.

But for some strange reason I didn’t.

Like I walked out of bingo, never to return because others were getting on my last nerves with their inability to follow rules, I might have even picked up my reserved name sign and walked out of the event, taking no photos, which would have gotten Upstairs Lady in deep do do with the Baker and Talker.

But I didn’t.

Don’t ask me why I didn’t put Upstairs Lady in her place or cause her to suffer consequences of her actions. I just didn’t.

Instead, it was like I went into an altered state where time stood still.

I was not conscious of thinking anything as Upstairs Lady hoovered over me, rudely designating who was to sit where, except that as her voice began to fade further and further away from my awareness, I found myself picking up my reserved name sign, moving to the end of the next table over, which gave me the same vantage point to take photos and didn’t feel like I was involved in a click.

After that, there was no thoughts of Upstairs Lady. Even though she was seated at the end table right next to where I was seated. I didn’t hear her voice, she did not appear in my peripheral vision, she was just no longer a part of my reality. It was like Upstairs Lady disappeared from the face of the earth.

I was later joined at the table by one of the Talker’s sisters, who asked if I minded if other relatives joined us.

"Of course not", said I, and the table filled with residents and various family members of Talker.

When Talker saw I was not seated in the designated spot, she came over, pointed to where I was to have sat said, "I reserved a spot for you over there".

"She (pointing at Upstairs Lady) wanted to sit there", said I.

Talker looked confused when she looked over, saw Upstairs Lady sitting there, but suggested I move to one of the middle spots at that table.

I was fine where I was, so I declined.

At one point, Trash Tosser (the resident who threw her trash in front of Dream Lover’s door) walked in, sat down in an empty chair middle of the organizer’s table.

She didn’t know she was not to sit at that table, I guess didn't notice the reserved name signs. She just saw people she knew, an empty chair, sat down.

I watched, waited to see how long it would before she would be asked to move, but before that happened, she got up, moved to the last open spot at my table, next to Talker’s sister, and said something about that table, the organizers’ table, not feeling right, that our table felt to be more fun.

Interesting is it not that she felt the elitist stuffiness at that table, and was open about saying so.

I commended her on being so insightful, and said that table reminded me of the High Table in John Wick’s saga.

From there, Trash Tosser, Talker’s sister and I had fun talking about "The High Table" …… watching as unsuspecting residents made the mistake of sitting there, waited to see how long they’d remain before being asked to move or, feeling frozen out of conversations, got the message and moved on their own.

Trash Tosser has an interesting backstory. Shared that, before coming here, she was homeless. Said she has a downstairs unit because she has a physical condition that occasionally causes seizures and something about the program that got her placed here has so many rules/strings that she doesn't plan to live here long, that her goal is to one day be "free", whatever that means.

I’m guessing one of the rules is not to dump trash in front of your neighbor’s door, and no, I didn’t dare bring that up, ask why she did it, LOL.

Like I said, Upstairs Lady had ceased to exist after I got away from the High Table but, evidently, she’d not forgotten me. Maybe it was the confused look Upstairs Lady saw on Talker's face or the accusatory way I'd said "She wanted to sit there", that caused Upstairs Lady to begin to think she may have crossed a line, might be in trouble.

I wasn’t aware of Upstairs Lady looking over at me from time to time, but maybe she did after that because, at one point, she brought herself back into my awareness by interrupting my conversation with my table mates, called to me.

When I looked over to see what she wanted, she again said, "You can move" and pointed to one of the middle spots at the High Table.

I resented the intrusion, gave her a sharp "NO!", just like that — like why are you bothering me, why are you bringing yourself back into my awareness, trying to make yourself relevant, and turned back to my conversation like she wasn’t there.

If Upstairs Lady was beginning to feel guilty, or thinking she was in hot water, the way I said "NO!" was designed to not lessen that guilt or let her off the hook.

I’m hoping that she doesn’t later see me around and bring it up again, try to apologize or use her physical disability as an excuse for having wanted to sit there because, though it really didn’t matter whether I sat there or not, her self-entitlement and aggression is unforgivable.

She could have simply politely asked if I minded moving because she’d feel more comfortable in that spot, surrounded by her besties, so I’m not going to ease any guilt or worry she might be entertaining.

I’m actually not pissed off, not mad, but it’s good for her to think I might be, because Upstairs Lady needs to think about how she handled the situation, and sometimes the way to cause others to look at themselves, is to do nothing, say nothing, shut them out of one’s mind, let ‘em sweat, imagine the worst.

Towards the end of the event when things were winding down, some had finished eating and left already, I was thinking about heading back upstairs, start work on the whopping 170 photos I’d taken, the organizers were all seated at the High Table, finally having time to enjoy their own meal. Talker walked over, asked her sister to move to the High Table, next to her.

Sister got up to do that, leaned over and said to me, "I’ve been upgraded, but don’t worry, I won’t forget where I came from".

I was rolling in laughter, told her to remember John Wick, watch her back over there.

All in all, a fun time which, with interesting fodder for the blog, is why I ended up staying longer than I'd expected.

Best Laid Plans

I pushed myself to get up and out in time to participate in today’s early morning Tahirobics class, only to walk into darkness.

The power was off.

Odd, thought I, inasmuch as other businesses in the strip mall seemed to have lights on ……… people were going in/out of the donut shop per usual, and workers in medical garb were arriving at the medical clinic next door, walking in with things appearing to be operating as usual.

Tahirobics Instructor was on the phone, talking in Spanish, taking notes, while the owner of the nutrition store was nervously hoovering over her.

I stuck around for about 15 minutes thinking whatever the problem, it would be worked out, but then one of the ladies in the class, who’d been listening to the phone conversation, leaned over, whispered to me "no payment".

How embarrassing to have to shut down because someone forgot to, or failed to due to lack of funds, pay the power bill.

The nutrition center might be in trouble, which means Tahirobics might be in jeopardy.

Just great! thought I.

Through one of the students translating for me, the instructor and lady who runs the nutrition center apologized profusely that there would be no class because the power was off, and "This never happened before".

I believe it, though I don’t think they knew I knew why the power was off.

It ended with my saying no need to apologize, I’d come to Thursday’s class.

There is no class on Wednesday.

I’ll know on Thursday if the power situation has been resolved, that Tahirobics is going to last for a while …… or, if indeed the nutrition center is having financial difficulties, at least until next month’s power bill comes due.

Talker called this afternoon to make sure I would be attending tomorrow’s 4th of July BBQ in the Community Room.

It’s a good thing she called, as I’d forgotten the organizers had to move it up from Friday the 4th, to Wednesday the 2nd, due to the office being closed Friday.

Talker said the organizers were in the process of setting up the room, and that a spot had been reserved for me, with a "reserved" sign.

What’s that about?

I don’t eat, so the plan was, like always, go down solely to check out the event, take a few photos, head back to my unit, so hopefully this "reserved" spot doesn’t lock me into anything.

We shall see.

Stay tuned.

"Don't let the grass grow under your feet"

I took that idiom to heart and, after breaking up with Trainer on Wednesday, I took a 1-hour Tahirobics class this morning.

I know what you’re thinking and, yes, I never heard of Tahirobics either.

When, on Thursday, I walked over to the nutrition center across the street, checked to see if Zumba was still an option, I found the class was now Tahirobics, four days a week with a different teacher than the one that taught Zumba.

Described to me as "aerobics/cardio", I decided to check it out.

Class turned out to be a combination of aerobics, Zumba, Pilates, chair exercises, and man was it difficult.

I used body parts that cross-training/weight training didn’t touch and, during the entire hour, trying to perform movements, I was instructed to "suck in your stomach".

I recognize this sucking in the stomach as the Uddiyana Bandha …… an exercise to strengthen the core muscles because, back in the day, when I was doing Yoga, it was a popular exercise except, we were stationary while doing it, kneeling on the floor.

Can you imagine how difficult it was to Uddiyana Bandha while involved in fast paced exercises, but I did my best and am now walking around trying to remember to get into the practice of sucking in my stomach to correct years of letting it all hang out.

The class was small, which I liked, and it made sense the class was small because of the level of difficulty. It might also be that 9am is not ideal.

Either way, Tahirobics is not for the faint of heart.

The teacher speaks little English, I speak little Spanish but I muddled through by watching what the teacher and others were doing, quickly learned that "arriba" meant up, "abajo" meant down, "al lato" meant to the side, "al otro lado" to the other side, and had no problem modifying some of the movements so as to not hurt myself.

Along with hitting all the body parts that haven't been hit in a while, there is the option of adding arm and ankle weights for strength, but that's not something I can do right now, while sweating, struggling to breath and sucking in my stomach during fast-paced exercises.

Maybe later down the road.

Classes are 9 to 10 am, so I wasn’t thrilled at pushing myself to get up and out that early, but seeing how good for my body the class appears to be (my Fitbit logged in 4,284 steps, which is tantamount to a 5K), I’m going to adjust to seizing my days earlier at 9:00, rather than later at 11:00.

Classes are held Lunes, Martes, Jueves, Viernes which translates to Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Friday and there is no way on God’s green earth that I can repeat what I did this morning 4 times a week.

When the teacher said I could pay by the month or by the class, I didn’t even bother to ask what the monthly rate was. By-the-class is only $10 (she's selling herself short), so that's what I’ll be doing — Tuesday and Friday (a bargain at $20 a week), until I build up, get adjusted to seizing the day at 9 a.m, and can handle 4 days a week.

Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner

I didn’t work out this morning, won’t be working out Friday, I broke up with Trainer.

It was a shock when I walked into the Pain Cave on Monday, found Trainer had once again moved the warm-up station, which consists of the treadmill and strength equipment.

Long time readers will recall Trainer has a habit of doing so.

In the 5 years he’s been my personal trainer, Trainer has moved the warm-up station something like 9 or 10 times from one area of the Cave to another — different areas in the main room, then from one area to another in the back room, then back to the front room, back to the back room, so on and so forth.

Reason being, "You are the only client using the treadmill", Trainer said …… a treadmill he finds in the way of his boxing clients.

The others personal training clients do sets/reps by doing jumping jacks and squats instead of the treadmill, and though some of the boxers have also used the treadmill to run, it didn't seem to matter to Trainer that I wasn't actually the only one using.

I understood Trainer’s logic ─ I’m old, have to do things the gentle way, so though I didn’t always like where I was moved to and felt somewhat like the red-haired stepchild that doesn’t quite fit in, I adjusted.

Last year or so, I was quite content with a corner in the back room — I had privacy, Alexa was set to provide music I enjoy working out to, so all was well.

However, I should have known something was afoot when Trainer began saying things like, "You don’t need all this area".

"You are the one that put me here", said I, and that was that. Until, I came in one day and found three quarters of the back room had been fitted with pads for the fighters, which meant not only was there now no space for the floor ladder equipment and the ropes, but when there was an overflow of fighters in the front room, I’d sometimes be watching fighters spar in the same room I was being trained in.

Over the years, Trainer’s fighting side of the business has exploded. He’s made a name for himself in the world of Muay Thai boxing as this big shot trainer, with fighters who are winning high profile events. Consequently, people are coming from all over to train with him, so I adjusted and sometimes enjoyed watching the boys tussle.

But then, on Monday, I walked in and found Trainer had moved me from the back room to the front room where the bulk of his fighters are now training.

Watching two in-training while working out was one thing; watching 10 to 12 boxing, sweating, grunting is a different animal.

My workout station was relegated to a tight, cramped corner in the back of the room, by a sink and the bathroom. I had no privacy, had not the music I enjoy working out to, did not see any of the strength equipment I usually work out with and, if he’d set aside to pull out later, there was not the room for me to perform side and overhead lifts. Not to mention the odor in the room alone emanating from those hot sweaty bodies, was enough to gag.

So, there I was, the red-haired stepchild, back of the bus like Rosa Parks, squeezed into a feng shui chi less corner, feeling claustrophobic, uncomfortable, surrounded by fighters — most of whom I know, refer respectfully to me as "Miss Shirley", and Trainer devoting his time between training me and coaching them.

Mama wasn’t happy.

I did hint at my unhappiness by saying to Trainer that with all the fame and glory he's getting, he shouldn't forget those of us who were with him in the beginning; that "You have no loyalty".

He didn’t catch the hint, took it as a joke.

When I left the Pain Cave on Monday, there wasn’t that feeling of euphoria I usually get from working out. Instead, I felt a heaviness.

Yesterday, when I went down to the Community Room for crafts, I found the room full of residents. No crafts that day, instead there were waiting for some kind of luncheon to begin.

I just said a quick hello to everyone, was preparing to head back to my unit when the little Spanish lady that I’d gone to Zumba class with, stopped me. asked if I was still working out at the Pain Cave.

"I’m thinking about quitting", came out of nowhere.

I hadn’t realized I was thinking about quitting, but having heard myself say it out loud, I couldn’t stop thinking about it, tossed and turned all last night, dreading about going in to train, face that tight cramped warm-up station and other conditions this morning.

Waking up this morning, I was set on not going in today, realized that this was actually the end of the road for Trainer and I.

Trainer outlasted my other relationships but, in the end, he made the same mistake others have made ……… Got too relaxed, took me for granted.

I'm not good at breaking up. When not happy in a relationship — dentist, hairdresser, boyfriend, etc., I change my number, drop out of sight, ghost 'em, but Trainer and I had grown especially close, so I sent him a proper breakup message.

He offered to change my workout time to when no one else is in the Cave, which is what it was like before his business blew up, but I declined saying, "There's now no place for me to be moved to. It’s still the same tight cramped corner that I’m not comfortable with", so he was gracious, texted back ……

Which made me cry.

First time a breakup hurt my heart, so now I’m walking around weepy, but already considering what to do to stay fit — maybe online workout classes, so I don’t have to leave the unit or sign up for the Zumba class being offered across the street.

While I'm considering my next move, Trainer is probably having the treadmill carted out, LOL.

Trainer’s wife is going to be mad at him. She’s warned him before about moving me from pillar to post so often, and now it’s cost him the loss of an easy $240 a month, for a half hours' worth of work.

In other news ……

Not the fancy Ott lamp I prefer, but delivery was fast, on-point, and Verilux is doing the job.