Series 5 of the Private Detective Leonid McGill Series was such a good read, I could have finished it in one setting weeks ago but, wanting to savor every word and draw the story out, I forced myself to read just a little at a time.
The title is based upon that old saying, “Sometimes I think that everybody in the world is crazy, except for me and you, and sometimes I wonder about you.”
Oddly enough, today turned into one of those days when it seemed like everyone I came in contact with was indeed a little crazy.
The morning started off with my checking in with the folks headed to the casino to find out why Nurse Ratched was so upset yesterday and giving me the drop-dead look.
No one knew, but said she’d been acting “strange”.
How can they tell since “strange” is her every day.
The new Maintenance Supervisor is still around, so that wasn’t it. However, the other two trees still need decorating AND turns out yesterday was the Assistant Manager’s last day in the office this week, before taking a few days vacation.
So we figured Nurse Ratched was angry because, left alone in the office, there was no one for her to dump the task of decorating the other two trees on, plus she might have to lift a finger and do some of the office work her own darn self.
Adding validity to this being the reason is the fact, before I left the Community Room and headed out for the market, Nurse Ratched approached The Seer and said, “I need help.”
She sure does, thought I. Help of the mental kind.
Nurse Ratched dislikes The Seer immensely -- because The Seer, like Apache, who she also dislikes, challenge her and was one of those who ate that leftover strawberry pie. Yet and still she approaches The Seer saying, “I’m all alone in the office this week. Can you help me get the decorations up?”
The Seer, who unlike me does not hold grudges, agreed to help when she returns from the casino.
After Nurse Ratched left the room, The Seer asked if I’d also help.
The better angel side of me is not on duty today, so I told her “No! After the look she gave me yesterday, I’m done playing her game of being nice when she wants something or when her boss is around. I won't do anything that helps her.”
That response and reaction is not the spiritual way of life I try to lead, and I will have to work on my behavior and attitude later; but for now, it is what it is.
Then, planning to make tamales, I headed to the market for masa, where I parked next to a little white car. The passenger of that car got out and headed towards the market door same time as I. Lo and behold, it was Tent Guy – now with his own wheels and possibly lodging.
I said, “Hey, I know you. You’re James”.
He was decidedly unfriendly. Just looked at me and strutted off; yes, actually strutted, like he was something special, which I thought arrogant and odd for someone who goes to church every Sunday and, up until a month ago, was living on a vacant field in a tent.
But whatever, not everyone is as friendly as I.
Then, once inside the market I couldn’t find corn husks. Approaching the Hispanic bag girl, the conversation went like this:
“Do you carry corn husks for tamales?”
“What are corn husks?”
That's the second time in recent weeks when I've been left incredulous, mouth open. First time being when the barista asked, "What's a percolator?"
What's wrong with today's youth?
Once over the initial shock, I blurted out “YOU don’t know what corn husks are?”
“Do you mean the papers?”
Overhearing the conversation, the checker directed me to Aisle 7.
Met up with the same bag girl when checking out.
"We don't call them corn husks. We call them papers."
Really? Then why is the package labeled "corn husks".
Honestly, I’m beginning to wonder … is it me?
As for the tamales, yes ... I do make my own. A coworker taught me, seven/eight years ago, at a Tamale Party. I’ve since only made them two/three times, around this time of year, because 1) they're a lot of work and 2) the lard is so fattening.
Along with craving sugar, I’ve been craving tamales lately. So, deciding to scratch both itches, I planned for chicken tamales this week, but will be substituting olive oil for lard.
Hope they turn out because The Seer, Apache and one other regular of the Community Room have requested two each. They wanted to buy them but, not sure how they’re going to taste with olive oil, I warned they might not be that great and said I’d just give them a few.
I took the long way back to the complex, around by the hill where walkers and runners challenge themselves on the pathway leading up and around.
Here I placed my second Random Act of Christmas Cheer.
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