The Hearing

This morning’s O.J. Parole Hearing was hard to take.

I came close to losing my religion, not understanding how it is God lets people like him get away with it all, live relatively happy prosperous lives ... even while in prison from what I've read.

I ended up with a major headache because my mind was at conflict with everything he said, comparing what he was saying with what happened to Nicole and Ron.

For instance, when he said he didn’t know a gun had been used in that botched robbery, "I’ve never pulled a weapon on anybody," my mind said, “That’s because you prefer knives!”

When he said he was a good guy, a straight shooter, that he’d never had a fight, wasn't a "conflict" kind of guy, my mind went to those photos of Nicole’s battered face, her calls to the police where you could hear his voice raging in the background. My mind said, “So I guess it’s technically not conflict/a fight when one is badgering, bulling, threatening and beating a defenseless female who can’t fight back.”

He said he's missed birthdays and graduations with his children while behind bars. “Oh boo hoo”, my mind said, “Nicole missed those as well”.

And as for his desire to be “A role model”, my mind said “Role model for what … how to get away with murder (allegedly)?”

In discussing the failed robbery, his daughter said, “He made the wrong decision at the wrong time.”

“No shat Sherlock. How about when he butchered two people (allegedly)”.

And, if as his daughter says, he’s so damn remorseful, why can’t he extend that to the previous episode, stop all the smug gloating in the face of the Goldmans, torturing them by hiding money, failing to pay the civil litigation award.

"I was always a good guy, but could have been a better Christian, and my commitment to change is to be a better Christian."

Bull crap!

So This Happened

Walmart is apologizing for running an ad describing a wig cap’s color by the N word.

Mistakes happen, but I have to wonder: 1) Is no one reviewing the ads before publication? and 2) What could the manufacturer have possibly been thinking?

This incident reminded me of a typo which appeared in the Pasta Bible some years ago in a recipe for tagliatelle with sardines and prosciutto.

Do you see it?

Did you catch that the recipe calls for freshly ground black people instead of black pepper?

Though the Walmart thing doesn’t qualify as a typo -- more like the manufacturer wasn’t thinking said description might not be socially acceptable, Walmart didn't catch it, or maybe it was sabotage by a disgruntled manufacturer employee, and inattention at the Walmart end , but typos happen.

I’m sure I’ve made mistakes/typos in my career as a secretary though, fortunately, none so egregious. However, I do remember one unfortunate coworker sending out several thousand copies of a publication touting our Public Affairs Division -- only she left out the “l” in public, so the department read as having to do with a female body part.

Mistakes happen, Walmart jumped right in on damage control, so I doubt any carnage, other than the manufacturer losing it's deal with Walmart.

So that's that.

Yesterday’s Pizza Tuesday was strange.

Activity Director delivered the pizzas, labeled and had them ready to distribute at 10:45. But then she told the seniors they would have to wait 40 minutes. When asked “why?”, her reply was, “I’m doing things a little differently today” and she seriously made them sit there and wait until 11:30 sharp while she sat at a table simultaneously working on paperwork while eavesdropping on conversations.

It was odd. Almost looked like some kind of weird Pavlov’s Dogs conditioning experiment.

Will be interesting to see what she comes up with next Tuesday.

No word yet on what’s playing this coming Movie Night. I’m sure it’s something not worth the trip downstairs.

Can’t Touch This

Nothing new since the last post. The heat and air quality have been such that, except for quick trips to the market and downstairs to pick up mail, I do my best to stay indoors. The A/C has been running close to 24/7, so I’m expecting the utility bill to double, if not triple.

To save on cost of running their own A/C, a group of residents hang out in the nice cool Community Room from the time it opens at 9:00 a.m., to when doors are locked at 7:00 p.m., breaking for lunch.

It’s almost like a regular 9 to 5 job for them, with potty and lunch breaks and 5:00 to 7:00 overtime.

I’m in the habit now of heading there on Pizza Tuesday, which is tomorrow, because … as I’ve blogged before, it’s just so entertaining to watch.

Inasmuch as some of the residents can’t keep their hands to themselves, I’m thinking of taking a crossword puzzle down to work on tomorrow, instead of my latest needlepoint project.

I don’t know why it is people feel they have to touch the projects, which can be disastrous. One little stain on the aida cloth can undo hours, weeks, months’ worth of work.

Inevitably, someone will be curious, walk over and ask, “What are you working on”, I’ll hold up the project so they can see, then I see a finger slowly creeping towards it to touch, to which I’ll pull it away from the encroaching finger and say in a slightly panicked voice, “Don’t touch it!”.

This latest project is especially challenging with 61 different colors, six pattern pages and, working on it for hours every day, I've made great progress.

Last Tuesday, I’d put the project down, turned to engage in conversation with The Baker and, out of the corner of my eyes, I saw it move. Turning, I saw one of the women who had a greasy pizza box and a greasy bread container in one hand, had actually used her free hand to pick up the project.

I thought I was going to have a heart attack and said, rather loudly, “OMG, Don’t Touch It!”.

As I began examining the project for stains, she said, “Why? My hands are clean”.

I seriously doubt that as 1) Our fingers are naturally oily and 2) She’d just been handling greasy packages. I myself am very careful … constantly washing my hands, mindful of how I hold the project by the hoop, so as not to touch the fabric as I work.

After, examining the area she’d touched, I fortunately didn’t see anything on the project. And hopefully, it’s not something that will show up later, but now I’m afraid to take any further chance of people ruining my work by working on the project in the Community Room.

No Donuts for You

Finished the 38.1 Mile San Francisco Cycling Challenge this morning.

Next up is a Virtual Pace Hashtag Series, the first of which begins August 1 with #Kicking Asphalt 10K.

Followed by #Fit Happens on September 1.

The organization has not yet posted what the remainder of the Hashtag Series will be, but I’m in.

In between is a “Run for 7 / Winter is Coming” Games of Thrones 7 mile race.

Wishing I could treadmill some of the races, rather than cycle, found myself looking around the unit this morning to see if squeezing in a treadmill is possible.

It isn’t.

Still, but for the fact I’m upstairs, where the sound and vibrations will be a problem for the downstairs unit, I’d squeeze one in anyway.

Will have to settle for treadmill as another thing to put on my wish list if forced to relocate end of year: 1) washer/dryer hookup, 2) space for treadmill; which means, though I prefer the safety of upstairs, I may have to consider a downstairs unit.

Tomorrow, Krispy Kreme is celebrating the 80^th Birthday of their original glazed.

The nearest Krispy Kreme is only 13.1 miles away, but it’s a drive that seems longer. Even so, knowing my gut will have a negative reaction, I’m seriously thinking of making the drive to bring back two dozen for the Community Room, and have one, or two, maybe three donuts (because they're soft and feel like eating air) with my coffee.

My rationalization in doing so, even knowing doing so would for sure set off a gut episode is … How sick can I get?

If it’s just a little queasiness, that’s been an everyday thing for years. I can take it.

If it’s up all night and an angry gut for a week, I’d really rather not.

Deciding to see what gut devils these donuts contain, to gauge how bad it would be for me, I researched the ingredients:

“KRISPY KREME ORIGINAL GLAZED DOUGHNUT

Serving size 1 doughnut (52 grams)

Ingredients: Enriched bleached wheat flour - (contains bleached wheat flour, niacin, reduced iron, thiamine, mononitrate, riboflavin, folic acid), dextrose, vegetable shortening (partially hydrogenated soybean and/or cottonseed oil), water, sugar, soy flour, egg yolks, vital wheat gluten, yeast, nonfat milk, yeast nutrients (calcium sulfate, ammonium sulfate), dough conditioners (calcium dioxide, monocalcium and dicalcium phosphate, diammonium phosphate, sodium stearoyl-2-lacrylate, whey, starch, ascorbic acid, sodium bicarbonate, calcium carbonate), salt, mono-and-diglycerides, ethoxylated mono- and diglycerides, lecithin, calcium propionate (to retain freshness), cellulose gum, natural and artificial flavors, fungal alpha amylase, amylase, maltogenic amylase, pantosenase, protease, sodium caseinate, corn maltodextrin, corn syrup solids and BHT (to help protect flavor). Glaze also may contain: Calcium carbonate, agar, locust bean gum, disodium phosphate, and sorbitan monostearate.”

That’s over 50 ingredients! and though I might have survived the wheat and soy, the corn syrup would have been suicide, so no donuts for the folks and I.

Tomorrow is also Movie Night. On the bill is another snooze fest, “Monster in Law”, so I’ll pass.

I don’t get how the residents don’t seem to mind movies they can see any day of the week on TV. Maybe it’s the free popcorn, soda and camaraderie they come for.

Clear and Balanced

The replacement coffee came in yesterday afternoon … by Fed Ex, rather than mail. This time, the box was appropriately sized to where there could be no mistake as to its contents.

To make sure my Karma is clear and the Akashic Records balanced, I promptly authorized Amazon to retract the refund.

The good news is … I won’t have to purchase butter coffee for a long long time.

Pizza Tuesday went very well.

Activity Director solved the issue of folks helping themselves before she arrived by picking up and bringing pizzas with her.

She also solved the problem of food safety (folks opening lids and handling pizzas, dropping pizzas), and those taking more than their share by labeling boxes and stacking by type of pizza, i.e., cheese, pepperoni, meat. She then had residents line up, state which they preferred, personally handed the box over to them – with the caveat to return after everyone had an opportunity to get a pizza and help self to what was left. Bread bags and containers of chicken were likewise distributed.

A good civilized plan. However, the minute Activity Director’s attention was diverted, the old guy on a cane, who’d already been served, snuck back, began opening lids, even though boxes were labeled and what was remaining were all the same -- cheese pizzas. At one point, the old guy reached into a box, picked up a slice, changed his mind, put the slice back, closed the box, put that box back on the table, opted for a different pizza, grabbed a few more items, then hobbled away on his cane.

Those of us observing couldn’t understand why he’d put the one he’d handled back inasmuch as it was exactly the same as the one he walked away with.

At any rate, the pizza he’d handled was taken out of rotation and tossed in the trash.

I don’t know if he returned later for the BBQ, because I headed to my unit when I smelled deliciousness coming from the grill, so I wouldn’t be tempted to eat something I shouldn’t. But, in spite of so many BBQ’s having been scheduled this month, Tuesday afternoon’s BBQ looked to be a hit. The room was full, residents excited and having a good time.

Earlier, I’d presented the completed needlepoint landscape to The Seer.

She loved it. Said it lifted her spirits.

The resident I refer to as The Helpful Lady must have thought I was in the habit of creating needlepoint artwork and giving away, which is not the case. I’ve only done so twice and only because I had fun working a project, but didn’t want to display the completed, and knew someone who’d expressed an interest in owning. At any rate, Helpful Lady walked over and said, “The next one is for me. I’ll pay you.”

“Sorry”, said I. “I’m keeping the one I’m working on now and I have two others waiting in the wings that I plan to keep. I’m booked up for the next three years.”

“Well, after three years, I’m next.”

I think she’s serious.

Treasurer of the Resident’s Activity Committee, my good buddy Apache, indicated a 50’s Party is being bandied around. Asked my thoughts, I said sounded like a fun idea, but had no faith at all that residents would dress appropriately because I was the only one who showed up in costume for Halloween.

“We’ll print on the notice, “No admission unless dressed for 50’s”, said Apache.

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t trust them. They’ll show up to eat and won’t be dressed”.

Of course, if a 50's Party does materialize, I'll give them a chance to redeem themselves, make myself a poodle skirt and show up. I'd just better not be the only one appropriately costumed or I'll be too done.

Size Matters

Having made the appointment for the manicure/pedicure just the day before, I wasn’t able to get any of the nail technicians I’d previously experienced.

They were all booked.

I ended up with two older ladies, and they were rough.

The older nail technicians tend to be no-nonsense heavy handed, while the younger girls are gentle.

In the final analysis, the pedicurist did a great job so, rough as she is, I’d request her in the future.

However, the manicurist did less than an A-1 job. The polish looks okay, but the nail tips don’t feel smooth. There are little rough snagging areas I’m having to smooth out with an emery board.

Plus, she kept trying to talk me into gel polish saying, “It will last longer”.

“I know gel last longer”, said I, “But I can’t get it off at home to change polish. I have to come here, and I don’t like the removal process. It’s too hard on my nails.”

Yet and still, she took every opportunity during the process to bring up gel nails again, to the point where even the pedicurist made eye contact with me, grinned, shook her head and rolled her eyes.

Leaving the salon, it occurred to me I should have complained about the less than A-1 job at the front desk. It might have resulted in a voucher for a free treatment. But complaining is not in my nature. There have been times I've felt so deeply about something that it was worth my time and energy to complain. However, as a rule, I’m more an avoider than complainer. I just won't allow myself to be booked with her again.

My not being a complainer also colored the decision not to bother myself with the mail carrier, the post office, or to post a sign at the mailbox. Instead, the plan was to eat the cost and reorder.

I did, however, let Amazon know the mail carrier screwed up, and Amazon is replacing the coffee at no further cost to me.

It turned out to be a good thing I didn't make a big deal of it because, when I went down to collect yesterday’s mail, there was a lock box key. Inside the lock box was a big box.

“Interesting”, thought I. “I’m not expecting anything big” because I’d already received the big box, which I'd assumed contained the medal hanger I’d ordered.

Planning on not hanging the item until I was certain I’d not have to move end of year, that box had been set aside for later, not opened.

Then it hit me, “If this box is the hanger, then what's inside the unopened box must be the coffee.”

Sure enough.

Color me embarrassed, but I’m chalking it up to mistaken identity caused by size … of the box. Why such a huge box for such a little item?

At any rate, I take back what I said about the mail carrier, dishonest neighbors, and I now have to rectify the situation with Amazon -- tell them I made a terrible mistake and pay for the replacement shipment.

So there’s that.

Today is Pizza Tuesday and, even though I can’t eat pizza, I’ll take my latest needlepoint project down to work on in the Community Room while I watch the show, as Pizza Tuesday continues to be a source of amusement.

This Pizza Tuesday should be especially interesting, as Activity Director has once again scheduled a simultaneous event – a Summer BBQ Potluck.

Doesn’t make sense, especially since there was supposedly a BBQ Potluck on the 2^nd, and management is throwing another on the 28^th.

Me thinks there may be a competition going on between the various groups – Next Door Neighbor’s Residents Activity Committee, the Activity Director and Complex Management.

At any rate, I didn’t want to risk a gut episode by participating in the first one, won’t be risking gut issues by participating in today’s second one, or the third at end of the month.

Deja Vu

I’ve not had a package go missing since that pompous arrogant mailman who said, “I don’t make mistakes” retired. But here I am yet again, with a delivery showing up online as being placed in a locker on the 7^th, but the key obviously being placed in the wrong box because it surely didn’t make it to mine.

I’m debating whether it’s worth the aggravation to make a big deal about it, i.e., go to the post office, report a mistake having been made, talk to the mail person on duty that day and, for sure, there’s no point to expect the person who received the package in error to be honest and turn it over, because it’s likely the same person that was the recipient of the goods not belonging to them last year, goods which they kept and/or used and/or sold, has no intention of being honest this time around.

Hard to believe there are people like that in the world, yet alone in the complex where I live, a neighbor of sort.

Maybe I’ll just post a sign at the mailbox and on the bulletin board that, “Will the person who received a package of Bulletproof Coffee from Amazon in error, please drop off at the door of the appropriate unit, no questions asked.”

I’ll have to think of how to proceed while I’m sitting in the spa chair, as I’m outta here in a bit, heading for a much-needed manicure/pedicure.

At any rate, whether I decide to make a big deal of it or not, whether I decide to post a sign or not, I’m chuckling a bit at the thought that, if the person decides to keep the coffee, brew it for themselves, they’re in for a big surprise as there’s a period for the body to adjust itself to butter coffee. If one has never used it before, one is going to experience an out-of-control system flush – if you know what I mean. Instant Karma of sort.