The day started off with the urge for a slow stroll around the neighborhood.
Slow it was -- a sightseeing walking pace of 35.40, covering only 1.26 miles in 45 minutes, but it was pretty outside and the no pressure stroll felt good.
Heading downstairs for that walk, I ran into The Seer.
“Where were you the other night?”
She’s talking about the Holiday Party, on Tuesday, the day it rained all day and all night.
“I’d planned on not going because I didn’t think I could take any more of Nurse Ratched putting on a performance, and by the time I changed my mind, it was too late. I’d missed the cutoff, which was Spirit’s way of telling me I wasn’t meant to go.”
“Well, you were missed.”
I doubt that.
“And she did put on a performance.”
The Seer filled me in.
Only twenty braved the weather and attended, that number includes staff. Nurse Ratched’s husband was present and he is “Old and God awful ugly”.
ROFLMAO!
“Please tell me you took a picture”, says I.
“No … I didn’t.”
Darn it.
The food was good, but Nurse Ratched, her assistant, her husband, the Activity Director, the new Maintenance Supervisor did not mingle with the residents. Instead, they ate in the kitchen.
My depressed neighbor showed up.
Good for her. I saw her leaving early this morning, loaded down with Christmas gifts, headed to her friends in Los Angeles I surmised. I’m glad she stuck around on Tuesday and attended an event.
There was a drawing for gifts at the event, and most everyone won a little something.
There was NOT the drawing for $200 some folks in attendance were expecting.
It was announced, at the beginning of the year, that a drawing for $200 would be held at the Annual Christmas Party. The names of all residents having paid their rent on time would be entered, and the resident drawn would receive $200.
At the time, that sounded like corporate desperation to me. Evidently, not everyone was paying their rent on time, and the $200 was motivation. Seeing who won the $200 is also what motivated some to attend the holiday party.
Not the gullible type, I never gave credence to the carrot of $200 in the first place, but figured it would motivate those it was intended to motivate to pony up on time. Those at the party who’d either ponied up or were just interested in seeing who won, were disappointed when that drawing did not happen.
One resident was really upset, Little Linda – not the bully resident who retired from the Navy and is Nurse Ratched’s snitch, that’s Big Linda; but Little Linda, who is also a bully, the dumpster diver and also a snitch. She was so upset that she questioned Nurse Ratched face-to-face about the drawing. It is unknown at this time, what Nurse Ratched’s response or should I say excuse was.
If the residents complain enough to Corporate, the drawing might miraculously happen before the end of the year, but for sure I expect it will be “fixed … rigged” anyway, so I’ve no interest in the outcome.
The Seer reminded me of Apache’s 2:00 tamale soiree. Still not interested in lard filled tamales, but with nothing else to do besides needlepoint, I decided to go down with a cup of fresh brewed coffee to socialize and keep an eye out for any resident wearing my shade of lipstick.
Hope springs eternal, so though I should give up on those missing packages, I’ve not yet been able to do so. I fully expect Spirit will somehow lead me to the culprit who appropriated my items in that I’ll see someone wearing my shade of red or hear of someone offering a 12x12 photo album for sale.
The Seer’s detective son is still staying with her. I joked telling her I should put her son on the case. That brought up that she asked her son to attend the tamale soiree and meet some of the folks. Her son, with his cop eyes, says he doesn’t want to meet any of us. He doesn’t like how the complex has changed since his last visit, doesn’t like the kind of people he sees are now residents, doesn’t like suspicious looking activities he’s seen going on, and is encouraging her to move. So this may be her last year here.
Having clerked for a police department, having been married to a cop, I can understand his concern. But we’re not ALL like what makes him fear for his mother’s safety, and moving is no guarantee of safety in today’s world.
At any rate, the tamale soiree was a small intimate group of about eight of us. I did not see anyone with my special brand of lipstick, but I did see management has installed a television.
The Baker made cranberry and banana bread mini muffins which were to die for, and which were the only thing I ate.
This picture is deceiving inasmuch as the muffins were smaller than they look, and so delicious that I ate four more.
The Baker's take on the Holiday Party was, “It was okay. Not many people showed up.”
She also advised it was not catered by the same group that catered in the past. Nurse Ratched had waited until Saturday -- three days before the event to contact a caterer and consequently, ended up with some little caterer which came from Palm Desert, I think she said.
My take is so few residents had signed up that management was thinking about cancelling but decided, at the last minute, to go ahead with it.
We didn’t have to worry about that strange group of women at today’s tamale soiree because, whereas they were new to the complex, folks were hospitable, reached out and let them know when an event was taking place. Now that everyone has learned what they’re about, no one tells them anything.
Nothing on tap for tomorrow, except driving granddaughter to the Greyhound Bus station to pick up her BFF coming down to visit for the holiday. It being Christmas Day, the streets should be clear and driving a breeze.
So once again, I say Happy Merry and talk to you in a few days.
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