Monday, August 31, 2015

Ticked Off and Confused

That’s how I was most of the day -- ticked off and confused.

I awoke ticked off because I wanted to but, because I’m on a healthy eating plan to lose weight, could not revert to my old effortless breakfast of frozen fries roasted in the oven, to go along with scrambled eggs. 

I fussed and fumed to myself, but finally settled on one slice uncured bacon (has to be uncured), eggs scrambled in olive oil, a slice of almond meal bread I made with my own hands, and a dab of sugar free jam.

Was a decent meal, but in no way diminished my craving for frozen fries with all its bad for you but tasty additives.

At any rate, I went on to plan the day around the fact, or so I thought it was a fact, my normal television programs would be disrupted due to today being the Labor Day Holiday.

At one point in the morning, I caught the tail end of Cupcake Wars.

Hummm, strange that Cupcake Wars is televised on a holiday.

Then it was off to Starbucks and the market.

Once out and about around 11 a.m., it didn’t look like or feel like a holiday. Especially since the mailman was already here at the complex making a delivery. Also, I noticed a resident (the Muslim lady who told everyone I didn’t like her because she’s Muslim) moving out.

Odd that mail would be delivered on Labor Day, and terrible to have to be moving on the Labor Day Holiday, thought I.

And for the record, I did not dislike her and could have cared less about her being Muslim. Her saying so was her guilty conscious and inability to accept responsibility for her own actions. She was very rude to me and snappish towards me when I first came in contact with her shortly after I moved in, so I crossed her off my list and ignored her. I later learned she was a bit of a bully and I guessed her initial reaction to me was her way of letting me know she was important. 

I don’t know what she expected me to do but, obviously, ignoring her wasn’t it.

I’d pass her when walking. She’d look at me without acknowledging, I’d look at her without acknowledging, but was actually conditioning myself to see her but not see her because, in my mind, she had ceased to exist.

And that was that until the day, months later, while passing her, she began smiling at me in an effort to draw me in. I said to myself, “Too late”, and continued to see but not see because she did not exist, so then she starts telling people I didn’t like her because she’s Muslim.

I still didn’t bite. I just pretended I didn’t know who she was and what they were talking about.

At any rate, she’s moving.


I may have to go to the potluck after all to find out what that’s about, as I knew she was one of those openly in dispute with Nurse Ratched -- whom she’d also accused of not liking her because she’s Muslim. Even had filed a lawsuit claiming discrimination based on her religion.

After Starbucks, needing cash, I could not make up my mind whether or not I should drive the 11 miles to market by the bank in the safest area, or settle on the same chain by the bank only 2 miles away, in the area that can be iffy at times.

I settled on iffy and was subjected to having to listen to the guy in line behind me having a private conversation in public on his ear piece. However, as he passed me on the way out of the market – still talking on that ear piece, I noticed he didn’t have an ear piece or a cell phone.

I should have driven the 11 miles.

On the way back to the complex, still fussing, fuming and feeling sorry for myself because I’d given up so many things (ice cream, cookies, potatoes, soy, pastas, fast foods) and still wasn’t losing weight fast enough, I passed a woman coming down the road in a wheelchair who had no legs. Her chair held an upper torso and nothing else. It was like God was slapping me in the face telling me to shut up, be happy and satisfied because I’ve nothing to complain about.

First it was the guy off his rocker at the market and now the lady in the motorized wheel chair.

I got the message. I have a healthy mind, a healthy body and have nothing to be fussing, fuming and complaining about ... so I stopped.

Once back at the complex, a little after noon, I spotted the maintenance man.

Why is he working on a holiday, when the office is closed? Is he being punished?

An hour or so later, while online, I discovered today is not a holiday at all. Labor Day isn’t until next Monday!

Now it makes sense why the mailman was making his delivery, why it did not look or feel like a holiday, why the maintenance man is on duty.

That was the longest senior moment I've had to date. All morning and half the afternoon.

Once all the ticked off and confused was over, realizing the office was open, I went down to drop off some paperwork they’d requested all residents fill out and ran into that Tall Handsome Fit Eye Candy Guy. He and his visiting young adult son were doing laundry.

I thought to myself, If he’s doing his own laundry, he’s not living with a woman.

Then came the thought, What’s wrong with him that he’s so handsome and single.

Sometimes I think I think too much.

Saturday, August 29, 2015


Just when I thought the good times (a monthly calendar, activities) were over, and had conditioned my mind to it being so, complex management went and surprised me with a new Activities Director who, in turn, further surprised me by reinstating the monthly casino trips, monthly bingo games, monthly birthday celebrations (which we haven’t had one since January) and now a monthly calendar.

A calendar for the month of September was posted to our doors Friday morning, which calendar indicates a Labor Day Potluck, Tuesday, September 1 (“Potluck” was spelled “pot lock” … close enough).

That’s the thing about being retired. One not only loses track of which day of the week one is in, one forgets all about holidays. As far as I knew, there wasn’t another holiday coming up until Halloween.

Inasmuch as I’m no longer family oriented, the only meaning a holiday holds for me is a reason and opportunity to indulge in prohibited foods.

I’ve already “indulged” myself -- at the surprise going away party and the surprise birthday party to the tune of gaining 3 pounds, so I’m not feeling another “pot lock”. Besides, with all the drama going on between Nurse Ratched and Residents, Nurse Ratched and Office Staff, Nurse Ratched and Maintenance, Nurse Ratched and Activity Directors, activities on, activities off, notification, no notification, I’m pretty much done with it all.

Focusing all my attention and focus through the end of the year on meditating, eating healthy, walking, and finishing that never ending needlepoint project.

March through August Progress

On tap for today is a trip to The Galleria at Tyler. I’m not looking forward to the drive or the crowds but Nordstrom is offering a sale on the difficult to find seamless tank tops I wear with my leggings (2 for $48). They actually don’t have my size and preferred color (olive dust) in the store but, before I order online, I want to try the color the store does have in stock for fit, as the image online has it looking a little short at the waist.

Hopefully, I can get in and out of the mall without being tempted by the food court.

Thursday, August 27, 2015

Meet, Ooh La La, Learn, Overhear

I checked into the Community Room this morning, looking for the resident who worked with the former Activities Manager in arranging bus trips to the casino. She’s a walker, so I thought to alert her (and her walking buddy) to the 5K coming up in the area.

While there, I met a new resident (two weeks). She’s a published author -- Christian literature and an entrepreneur -- researching ways to market a white sauce she’s come up with for pasta.

Interesting woman. I suggested she give us a taste at the next potluck.

I also officially met a new resident I recalled seeing at the Pool Party -- tall, extremely handsome, fit Hispanic gentleman. He seemed a bit challenged in the English language and his accent was so thick that I had difficulty understanding what he was saying but who cares because, when he shook my hand, he felt warm and electric.

Finally, some eye candy around here. But I’m no fool. A good looking guy like that … no way is he not married and living here with a wife.

Also while in the Community Room, I learned yet another Activities Director has been hired (third in the four years I’ve lived here), that monthly Bingo is back on (September 14) as are the casino trips (September 8).

Yes for me to bingo; No to the casino – unless I see Tall, Handsome, Fit has signed up and he’s alone <wink>.

Just before heading back to my unit, in walks the senior I’d come across in distress on the 18th.

Me: Hi, how are you?

“Still dizzy and fainting, but I’m okay.”

“Did your son ever show up?”

“No. He was here but said he can’t come all the time. It’s a long drive."

First she said “no” the son did not come. Then she said “he was here”, so she’s dizzy, faint and still having problems with confusion. If you will recall, when I’d driven her back to the complex, she knew which building she lived in, but could not remember which unit. Bless her heart.

The senior went on to announce, “Ladies, next week is my birthday. I’ll be 93.”

There was clapping, congratulations, oohs and aahs at having reached such a milestone.

Then, Younger Sister asked, “What day?”

“October 3rd.”

“Next week is September. You mean September 3rd.”

“Yes, next week, October 3rd.”

“But next week is September.”

“Yes, September 3rd.”

“Oh, you mean September not October?”

“Yes, October 3rd.”

“September 3rd or October 3rd?”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

Younger Sister is just turning 50, and doesn't yet get us old folks have these moments of confusion. So, to end the back, forth, clue Younger Sister in, I said to the senior, "Bless your heart."

Younger Sister caught what I was trying to transmit and ended it with, "Ohhhh … yes … bless your heart.”

Tuesday, August 25, 2015

Community Preparedness

Spent the weekend brown knuckling it as I fought the munchies.

I think it was the fried chicken on Friday that set off the craving for even more fried foods, but I managed to work through it and got back on track for clean eating.

I even set the alarm for 5:00 on both Saturday and Sunday, to beat the heat and walk the fried chicken, potato salad and cupcake off, racking up 4.94 walking miles.

A neighbor clued me in to a park not too far from the complex that I never knew existed. It’s hidden right smack dab in the middle of a housing community but, when I checked it out, the park itself -- quite beautiful with swings and stuff I’d like to try, was completely deserted. It didn’t feel right, being on the path with homes surrounding but no people, so I passed and did my walking around my own neighborhood.

It was probably just too early in the morning to walk the park alone, so I might check it for when families are sure to be out.

Bingo Guy did not make an appearance on Monday. No surprise there, as I’d expected everything the Activities Director had organized and arranged for us was disavowed by management when she quit.

The thought crossed my mind over the weekend, it might be time to consider moving to a more socially inclined senior complex. However, when I was out and about on Monday, I realized having activities on the complex wasn’t THAT important to me – maybe to the residents who are unable to get out and about, but for right now, this place is perfect for me. Everything I need is nearby or a short drive away -- two Starbucks, a Thai Restaurant for when I just gotta have it, Walmart, Costco, Trader Joe’s, Sprouts, Victoria Gardens, Citrus Mall; Plus, it’s close proximity to the location of the 5Ks which interest me -- the Claremont Zombie Run, San Dimas’ Halloween Spooktacular, and Cheetah Runners Bike Trail 5Ks; not to mention my little unit is in a good location on the complex and I have great neighbors. So, I’m good despite the lack of on-site activities.

Looking for a special flour blend online, I learned there was a walk-in location a short drive away, which sold the special blend. Driving to the location on Monday, I found myself in an alternate universe. It was a place that catered to survivalists and, if you thought Costco sold products in massive amounts, you haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen “Storable Foods for Times of Uncertainty” in 10 pound cans, grains in 50 pound bags, freeze dried, dehydrated, survival kits and emergency supplies.

It was terribly interesting to see every day normal looking people -- young, old, families, purchasing tons and tons of food products @ $50 for this $79 for that. Even more interesting, no one shopping there was Black, which novelty may be why I was approached and got myself invited to a September 12th Community Preparedness Fair.

I’m really curious as to WHAT the community is preparing FOR but, unfortunately (or fortunately) I’ve signed up for the Cheetah Runners Appreciation 5K that day.

I know I said I was exhausted from trying to keep up with the young guns and, thus, was over 5Ks a while back. But looks like I’ve still got a little left in me, and it appears I’m cutting down instead of cutting out, because I’ve signed up, so far, for three 5Ks this year.

Friday, August 21, 2015

And Then There Were None

The surprise birthday party for The Seer got off without a hitch.

Intent on sticking to my clean eating regiment, I’d gotten up at 6:30, began boiling two dozen eggs, and had 48 perfectly deviled egg halves prepared by 10:00.

Taking them down to the party close to 11:00, I found Younger Sister had brought deli fried chicken and the resident who’d been hospitalized due to the heat last week, now out of the hospital, had contributed deli potato salad.

I’m weak when I see fried chicken and/or potato salad, so the clean eating program was blown – but just for today. I’ll be up early tomorrow, walking the 3 miles around the golf course, to make up for it. I might have to walk an extra mile for breaking my twelve-week sugar fast with the ice cream and cupcake I indulged in.

I don’t see any temptations coming in the near future, as I don’t see any further activities here on the complex. Especially since I learned at the party that the Activities Director was “gone” … had “quit”.

I was shocked, but should not have been because, back on June 2nd, I’d blogged in my former location on Wordpress, that the light had faded from the Activities Director’s normally happy and excited face.

It was so obvious she’d become depressed and worn down by office interference in her endeavors to do right by us seniors that one of the residents circulated a thank you card for the Activities Director, in hopes it would encourage her to work through the bull and stay. On the card I wrote, “Thank you for all your endeavors and hang in there.”

Didn’t work. She tapped out and thing is … we received no prior notice she was leaving.

NOW it makes sense why management tossed the flyers announcing this coming Monday’s on-site Bingo game. THAT was something the Activities Director had arranged, so now I don’t know if that means Bingo Guy is also out.

I’ll find out on Monday when I go down at the appointed time and he’s not there.

I have a theory as to why we received no prior notice about Activities Director’s resignation/last day.

Inasmuch as us residents banned together to show our appreciation for Assistant Manager’s being so nice to us seniors -- that surprise going away party on July 28, Nurse Ratched kept this resignation – of her last remaining staffer, a secret to thwart another such display of appreciation.

It’s like she’s telling us, “They’ll be no more of THAT!”

If you think I'm being paranoid, you're wrong. It's just the sort of backhanded thing Nurse Ratched would do to let us know who's in control around here.



Just being mean?

Most definitely.

At any rate, the resident who worked with the Activities Director in organizing the casino trips – who, by the way, also did not know about the resignation, is worried those monthly trips are now kaput.

No worries for me because I’d no plans to go back, but on-site bingo and the casino trips were the only two activities this management group allowed to residents, as compared to the multitude of activities we enjoyed under prior management, which prompted one resident at the party to declare, “What do they want … For us to just move in here and die?”

Another resident was heard to reply, “That’s what’s happening. They move in and die.”

Thursday, August 20, 2015

Life Imitating Art aka The Leftover Strawberry Pie Caper

Tomorrow is the surprise birthday party for The Seer. Deciding not to take the easy way out -- and blow my clean eating program in the process with deli fried chicken and potato salad, I’ve decided to get up early tomorrow and go the deviled egg route.

I think Birthday Girl may suspect a party is being planned, because she’d let it be known in the Community Room, yesterday, that Subway would be her preference.

So let’s see … Subway for 20/30 people would total up to $100/$150.

Nice try, but inasmuch as deviled eggs will keep me within budget, I was able to put a few dollars on a Subway gift card which I think will tickle her fancy.

So this morning I went down to the Community Room to let the party organizers know chicken is off the menu, deviled eggs are on.

While there, that senior I’d found in distress came in. She’s still alive, but not well, saying she’d fainted earlier in her unit, that her care giver has yet to make an appearance, but “My son is coming by today to work out some things.”

I’m not sure I believe that her son is coming by today. She may be hallucinating that but, on the off chance he actually does come by to "work out some things", I urged her to be sure to tell him about the fainting spells – so he can make proper arrangements for her (but I didn’t tell her that reason, because seniors fear and resist losing their independence and being placed in a care facility, which is where she should now be).

I also learned this morning that Nurse Ratched’s newly hired Head Maintenance Man (“Big Head” as we already had a Head Maintenance Man, but to let him (“Little Head”) know who’s boss, Nurse Ratched had hired someone over him) quit. I’d posted just the other day, when the guys came in to repair my fan, that Big Head said she was getting on his last nerve.

When she’d embarrassed him yesterday by yelling at him in front of residents and making a snide remark about his facial appearance, he quit on the spot.

But at least this time, upper management is aware it’s Nurse Ratched’s fault they’ve lost yet another staffer. Usually, the departing staffer, wanting to avoid conflict, says “I’m quitting to go back to school … or I’ve got another job.” But this time, Big Head went straight to Miss Bigwig and told her why he was out. Miss Bigwig tried to talk him out of it, but he’d had enough after …what? … two months/three months?

And then there’s The Leftover Strawberry Pie Caper.

Practice around here has been, when we have leftovers from events, to either sneak a plate home (past Nurse Ratched who has been known to try to make herself important with, “I can’t let food be taken out of here”) or put the leftovers in the Community Room refrigerator for residents to partake of at-will.

“Nurse Ratched”, for those of you new to this blog, is the Complex Manager and is referred to as Nurse Ratched because the way complex manager relates to staff and residents is so like the way the fictional character of Nurse Ratched in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest related to others … “steely, unyielding, employing humiliation, and unpleasant treatment to suppress”.

So following the usual practice of storing leftovers in the Community Room refrigerator, when I had almost a whole half gallon container of chocolate ice cream left from the July 28 surprise going away us residents sprung for the Assistant Manager, I didn’t trust ice cream in my unit as I've been off sugar for like 12 weeks now and did not want to be tempted, so I put it in the Community Room refrigerator for whomever and didn’t given it a second thought.

Not so with Nurse Ratched.

The story is … there was leftover strawberry pie from the August 3rd Pool Party. She’d put it in the Community Room refrigerator and a day or so later, six residents were sitting around, saw it in the refrigerator and decided to finish it off.

When Nurse Ratched discovered THE PIE was gone, she went ballistic that someone had eaten what she described as MY PIE.

Instead of security personnel, management has installed video recording devices all over the complex. Nurse Ratched uses those recordings to spy on us residents to catch people smoking so she can issue violation citations, and to try to catch and call out those who’ve displeased or challenged her on the smallest of perceived infractions. However, residents have challenged back that Nurse Ratched never reviews the tapes for important things – like when a new flat screen was stolen from the Community Room … twice or to verify complaints about suspected drug dealing and young suspicious looking people living on the property with residents in violation of lease agreements, et al. When residents complain and she tells them “You have no proof. I can’t do anything unless you can prove it”, residents come back with “Look at the tapes”. Nurse Ratched standard reply is, “We’re not looking at the tapes for that.”

Yet, when Nurse Ratched discovered the leftover strawberry pie had been eaten, she reviewed the tapes to discover who’d committed this dastardly deed, hunted each and every one down and tore them a new one with “That was MY PIE!”

I offered to the group the true reason she went ballistic was that two of the residents involved in the pie eating are the two most vocal and challenging.

Nevertheless, making an issue of “MY PIE” is insane and I don’t think we’ve heard the last on the issue.

Reminds me of that old movie, The Caine Mutiny, in which Humphrey Bogart played the insane Lieutenant Commander Philip Francis Queeg, and began clicking steel balls in his hands as he went to “absurd lengths to hunt down the culprit when strawberries went missing from the officers’ mess”.

I don’t recall if, at the end of the movie, Queeg was determined to be insane and summarily dealt with, but it’s rather creepy that Nurse Ratched’s latest escapade and meltdowns in real life are so much like insane fictional characters.

Life imitating art.

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

A Cautionary Tale

After a mid-morning run to Starbucks, I decided to detour through the Community Room and head for the scale in the Game Room before returning to my unit. I’ve been stuck at 11 pounds down for a while now and, though I’ve lost some inches, I was getting a little antsy about not losing any more weight when I've got so much more to lose.

Before I could make my way to the Game Room, surprised to see so many residents gathered in the Community Room, I stopped to check-in.

Nothing special was happening, just a rehashing of old news. Though the resident who use to own a restaurant whispered in my ear about a surprise gathering 11:00 Friday to celebrate the birthday of the resident I refer to in the blog as The Seer – because she has contacts who keep her apprised of everything about everyone, including management.

Good thing I checked in. The Seer’s birthday is Sunday, so I was planning to surprise her with a birthday cake on Monday to do with as she wished – share with others or take home for self and visiting relatives.

So though the scale did show I’ve dropped another pound, for a total of 12, I’ll probably gain that pound back, and then some, on Friday because I volunteered to bring fried chicken and potato salad – which another resident gave me money to go in on.

While I was there, in the Community Room, I asked around if anyone was present who lived in the “G Building” or knew anyone in that building who could look in on the 92 year old from time-to-time --- the senior I’d encountered in need of assistance on Sunday.

Everyone present knew her, one woman lives two units away, around the corner, but is quite elderly herself and not able to look in on the senior and added, “She’s too mean anyway”.


Conversation went from there with folks talking about how mean that senior has proven herself to be in the past and how that’s why she can’t keep a home aide and why neighbors in her building avoid her.


I should have figured out for myself that there was a reason the senior is alone and friendless. She herself told me, “No one around here will talk to me … My son in Hawaii never calls … My son in Oakland always says he’ll come by to see me, but I never see him.”

Those statements alone from her own mouth should have clued me in because, as a spiritual teacher once told me, “You create our own reality … What you do today – actions, words, deeds, determines your tomorrow."

There's a reason your neighbors could care less, a reason your children neglect you. Still it’s sad to see her in the position she’s in this late in life, and a reminder to check my own inventory.

Tuesday, August 18, 2015

Seniors Down

The heat has been wreaking havoc here at the senior complex last few days. Two elderly residents ended up being taken to the hospital, via ambulance. One passed away, the other is still hospitalized. And just this morning, while driving to the market, I spied one of our very elderly down on the ground.

I’d had a senior moment a few days ago while at the market in that instead of dish wash liquid, I’d picked up antibacterial hand soap by mistake.

Of course, I didn’t know that. All I knew last few days is I wasn’t liking the liquid I’d decided to try because I liked the pretty orange color.

It just wasn’t cutting the grease.

It wasn’t until this morning I noticed the bottle said “hand soap” and “antibacterial” at that, which isn’t good because I personally believe “antibacterials” lead to bacteria becoming resistant. So I headed off to the market this morning to pick up the blue liquid I normally prefer.

At any rate, too hot to walk the quarter mile, I jumped in the car and, as I turned the corner heading to the market parking lot, I spied a woman I recognized to be a resident down on the ground, walker turned over and all.

I pulled over, as did another woman who went to help her up.

I stayed in the car, rolled down the window and said, “I live in the same complex as she. I’ll take her home.”

The helpful woman indicated the downed senior was saying she wanted to go to the market.

“I’m headed to the market. I’ll help her get her groceries and take her home after.”

And so it went.

I learned the resident’s name, that she is 92 years old, has lived in the complex since it was brand new – 20 years ago, lives alone, does not like the new management, that all her friends moved away because they too do not like the new management, has a son living in Hawaii, another son living in Oakland, and was trying to make it to the market because her helper had not shown up for two days.

She was having trouble breathing, felt faint, but insisted on pushing her walker through the aisles -- purchasing fish sticks, milk, ice cream, instead of sitting and letting me get the items for her.

It took like forever, because she kept feeling faint and would have to stop for a while, but I finally got her through the checkout and back to the complex, at which time she says she forgot to get Jimmy Dean Breakfast bowls.

I offered to park her in her unit and return to the market, but she rathered I drive back to the store, which I did. Where I insisted she remain in the car and rest while I picked up the Breakfast Bowls.

She gave me the cash, I picked up the bowls, gave her cash back, receipt and got her back to the complex. She remembered which building she was in, but could not remember which unit.

Luckily, I ran into a resident living in the same building and inquired if he knew which unit the senior was in. He directed us, she recognized the patio furnishings and confirmed it was her unit.

THEN, she couldn’t unlock the security door saying the maintenance man must have been in while she was gone, locked the bottom lock when he left … she had a key to the top lock, but not the bottom.

So off I go to hunt down the maintenance man who says both the bottom and top were locked when he got there, so she must have that key.

At any rate, he got the door unlocked, I got her inside where I had to force her to sit, relax, drink cold water – she kept wanting to show me around her unit. It WAS cute, in an old school sort of way. So cute, I would have liked to have taken photos to post, but not sure how she’d feel about that, I passed. After putting her groceries up, I asked for like the fifteenth time if I should/could call someone … her son in Oakland, her doctor, her helper. It was like, “No, honey. Don’t call anyone”.

I’m worried, but I also don’t like to get “too involved” to the point where I myself will go by and begin checking on her because one thing leads to another and, sorry folks, I cannot put myself in the position of being a neighbor's keeper. I don't want or need that kind of responsibility; plus, it’s been my life experience “No good deed goes unpunished.” Every single time I’ve gotten “too involved”, I’ve been damaged. Like right now I’m thinking, “What if she doesn’t remember I gave her cash back, a receipt, and accuses me of stealing from her”.

S*it happens.

I did tell her to come down to the Community Room next Monday for bingo. Hopefully, she’ll remember and show up, so I can at least confirm she’s still alive.

Monday, August 17, 2015


It being middle of the month and no event calendar in sight, I’m having to depend upon word-of-mouth. So I went down to the Community Room this morning and visually checked to see if anything was going on today.

Nothing, but the ladies did say the Bingo Guy will be making an appearance next Monday.

“How do you know since there’s no calendar?” says I.

“There were flyers on the counter. The Bingo Guy came in and put them there, but management took them away.”



The guy comes all the way down here in triple digit heat to give us advance notice the next on-premise bingo game will be on the 24th, and management gets rid of the flyers?

What’s that about?

Are we being punished?

We just might be because there were so many complaints by residents to various agencies about Nurse Ratched and management’s practices that auditors were called in, investigations were made, Mr. Bigwig was terminated, and I don’t know what else but obviously something because now I hear the property may be flipped.

Thus far, that is just a rumor based on residents observing people taking measurements and photos of the property.

However, seeing as how people were observed taking measurements and photos end of 2011 and next thing we knew the property had changed hands, it’s definitely a sign of yet another flip.

Will the property remain a senior complex should it flip yet again?

That’s the 64 thousand dollar question. However, I’m assuming it will because there’s too much competition for it to be otherwise. The area is flush with regular complexes -- due to our being so close to the University, trying to fill vacancies. So I just don’t see it entering the fray.

At any rate, residents who don’t find out about bingo being scheduled for next week are going to be royally ticked off. On the other hand,  looking at the glass from a half full point-of-view, if residents don’t know about it, few will show up, which improves my odds of winning a prize.

Sunday, August 16, 2015

Catching Up

Going to bed last night with my mind thinking about what I needed to focus on the next morning, I managed to wake up early, energetic and ready to tackle my least favorite duty – laundry, before the heat hit the area.

Yesterday's Temperature
The laundry room is a mere 52 steps from the staircase leading to my unit, and my laundry footprint is generally no more than two or three very light loads – bedding, towels, undergarments, yet and still I dread laundry day and put it off until it HAS to be taken care of.

Today was that HAS TO day.

So heading downstairs at 7:00, thinking I’d have the Laundry Room to myself because 1) It’s Sunday. Everyone would be headed off to church and 2) The Laundry Room hours are 7:00 am to 9:00 pm, I found a rule breaker (the pregnant girl) had beat me to it.

For those of you who don't know the story, yes this is a senior complex – 55 years of age and older; and yes, one of our residents is pregnant.

How does that happen amongst the elderly you ask?

Well, she is considerably younger than 55, but lives here because her partner is an older gentleman. As to whether the couple will be allowed to remain residents after the baby is born … I’m waiting to find out just how management is going to handle THAT.

At any rate, I wasn’t first to the Laundry Room but didn’t have to wait because Preggers was completely done – wash and dry, which tells me she must have broken the rule really early.

Oh well, it’s Sunday. Management is not on the property to catch her and issue a violation – that is unless one of the two units closest to the Laundry Room complains about the noise.

Returning to my unit after starting the wash, I spied Tent Guy.

So yes, he’s still camping out in the vacant lot across the street.

I also ran into the neighbor upstairs, across from me, other side of the quad. She was carrying a basket of laundry, heading to the Laundry Room, so I saved her a trip.

“I’ve got two of the machines. There’s only the one left, plus the big one.”

“Oh no. Well, I’ll try for one of the other two” -- We have three Laundry Rooms on the property.

Lucky for me, I always check the dryer lint screens before transferring wash to dry because, when I returned to the Laundry Room to do so, I found Preggers had not cleared them out after she finished.

Quite the little rule breaker is she.

On tap for the remainder of the day is finishing up those catch-up scrapbook projects. Mother’s Day photos are done, Zombie 5K photos are done, the Complex Pool Party photos are done. That leaves the photos from Monday’s field trip to the casino. Once those are done, I’ll be back to that never ending needlepoint project.

Saturday, August 15, 2015

Looks Likes a Lady

A few years back, before I retired, a supervisor from another department walked up to my desk, looked at me, said “It wasn’t you” and walked away.

THAT freaked me out, so I went to my friend in Security and told her what happened. She checked into it and turns out another employee with the same first name had done something illegal and that supervisor, the person being identified only by first name, was trying to track down which employee it was. After one look at me, the supervisor had decided, based on my appearance, it wasn’t me.

Though one can’t really tell the criminal type based on looks alone, I’m glad I give off the aura honesty, decency and looking like a lady, which is probably why I’ve not been challenged over the last year or so when alarms went off as I walked into and out of businesses.

Even though alarms have been going off -- like I said, for the last year or so, it never occurred to me that it was anything other than a faulty alarm. I’d pause, of course, but someone always waved me through, telling me to ignore the alarm.

It wasn’t until recently that it began to bother me and I began to notice it was just ME that caused alarms to go off as I entered and exited. So it was just today, when I walked into Walmart to pick up prints of photos taken at the last casino field trip, as security waved me through, even though the alarm had gone off, that I stopped to ask, “Why does the alarm always go off when it’s me?”

Security replied, “You must have a sensor somewhere on your body. In your purse perhaps, on makeup?”

I checked and sure enough.

Of course I'd seen that thing on the back of my L’Oreal True Match Compact Powder; however, thinking it to be normal packaging, I never questioned it. I guess it’s a true testament to how patient I am that it took so long for me to get annoyed and question what the alarms were all about.

While leaving Walmart, I ran into something one doesn't see every day in the city.

“Probably save a lot on gas this way,” said I.

“My boyfriend’s truck broke down,” said she in reply.

Ingenious method of alternate transportation.

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

Almost a Celebrity

While at Joann’s Fabrics this morning, a young woman approached saying, “I recognize you. Didn’t you go to last year’s Zombie Run dressed as Michonne?”

“I did indeed. I did two events, which one?”


How interesting?

That Claremont 5K wasn’t with the group I usually hang -- 50 to 100 participants. It was like a cast of thousand.

Good to know my outfit made me memorable among such a large group of participants.

Monday, August 10, 2015

Life Continued

Hello new friends and … to old friends who’ve followed me from, Hey, it’s me again, continuing from where I left off – heading off for my second trip to the San Manuel Indian Bingo & Casino with the other seniors.

Reluctantly so, because that first trip back in May was so overwhelming due to slot machines no longer having slots where you drop in nickels, dimes, quarters, pull down a lever and watch money come out. Instead, everything now is player’s cards, vouchers, push buttons that aren’t much fun and eat up money so fast that one doesn’t get to feel the thrill of play. As well as bingo is now overly complicated with daubers, machines, combinations like Crazy Bowtie, Crazy Shooting Star, Pack Hardway, Small Crazy Kite & 4 Corners, etc.

At any rate, determined to get out of my comfort zone and give the casino a second try, I boarded the bus and we took off with 21 seniors on board.

Photo Bombed

Our Very Handsome Driver
All of us ladies were smitten with him, which prompted me to ask if he’d accept telephone numbers in lieu of tips. He just laughed.

The casino experience itself wasn’t as confusing as that first visit, but I have definitely decided gambling is NOT for me. It’s not my brand of fun. I don’t mind spending money when I’m enjoying the activity and feel like I’m getting my money’s worth. The slots did not give me my money’s worth of play.

Bingo gave me my money’s worth—27 games for $20. In addition to which, I doubled my odds by investing an additional $20 in a computerized version.

Paper and computer versions combined, I played 54 games and won not a one.

The payoff on the games were $100, $150, $300 AND, if more than one person called “bingo” the pot was split. So, after thinking about it … bingo was kinda sorta fun, I got my money’s worth in play, but the payoff isn’t worth hassling myself with a third trip.

The only way I can see myself ever going back to the casino is if it’s a different casino. I hear odds are better, wins are higher elsewhere.