All That Glitters is Not Gold

After granddaughter doctor’s appointment yesterday, and my walk that only netted 1.67 miles before her appointment was over and she was ready to leave, we headed for Souplantation for lunch. It was such a nice pretty day that, instead of the freeway, we decided to take the scenic street route.

However, about a mile from the hospital, heading in the opposite direction, what I thought would be more of the nice clean pretty area I’d just walked around suddenly turned into seedy motels, industrial buildings, trailer parks, run down properties.

In the midst of this downtrodden area was a big beautiful under construction, almost complete, new building.

Suddenly realizing where I was, the exact address, I exclaimed “Oh my gosh! That’s the new complex my neighbor is moving into!”

“It’s nice” said granddaughter “But there’s nothing here.”

Very true. It was miles and miles and miles of driving before we even saw a market. There were liquor stores, donut shops, multiple fast food places that looked like they’d get the lowest possible health score rating, and the area did not look to be a safe place to walk day or night.

Where we’re living now isn’t exactly paradise, but that has more to do with issues with management. The area itself is a nice place to walk, there are elementary schools in the area, a college university, A and B rated food establishments, a market within walking distance, drug stores, nail salons, another market a short drive, and two Starbucks – both short drives, we’re on a bus route … practically everything a senior would need.

I fear neighbor is making a monumental mistake.

She doesn’t even drive, so I can’t imagine how she’s going to get out of the area to that market we saw in the nicer part of town.

Thing is, she’s coming across as so cocky, pleased with the move, pleased with herself about being accepted into the building.

She has no idea how new and pretty is blinding her to practicality.

When she was telling me about the building, first thing I asked was, “Is there a market?”

She never answered the question. Looked like she was so enthralled she didn’t even hear the question.

Hopefully, others in the complex planning that move will not be mesmerized, when checking out the building, and think before they commit, find themselves trapped in the building, having to order pizza delivery for breakfast, lunch, dinner, because there’s no market and it’s not safe to go outside.

Speaking of glitter, Nurse Ratched has implemented her own glitter plan to lure in new tenants. Just like the wicked witch lured Hansel and Gretel in by decorating her house with gingerbread and things that captivate, Nurse Ratched had beautiful new landscaping added to the front of the building.

Looks just like the kind of place you’d like your elderly parent to reside, and it would be … but for the wicked witch.

But even with our wicked witch, it’s far and away better than the new complex.

Thunder Lightning Hail

There was a trickle of rain around 5:00 yesterday, followed by a humongous clap of thunder, then lightning, then ….. hail!

Having not seen hail since I was around 13 years of age, I geeked out -- threw open the patio window, moved the screen aside, proceeded to take photos and videos.

(I don't seem to be able to post videos through this medium, so photos will have to suffice.)

It looked kinda like it was snowing outside, which would have been exciting as well because I've never seen snow. Closest I've been to snow is seeing it on top of cars coming down from the mountain when I'm at Starbucks.

On tap today is acting as granddaughter’s uber driver to a medical appointment. Sun's up, her appointment is in a location where I might be able to log in some miles, rather than sit and wait, so that's the plan.

Into Each Life Some Rain Must Fall

I'm late on the greeting, but better late than never.

After Sunday’s perfect weather -- even though I didn’t take advantage of it, get up, get out, instead I opted to sit on the couch all day, cross-stitching, catching up on recorded television programs. At any rate, after Sunday’s perfect weather, I couldn’t believe waking up yesterday to a dreary rainy Monday morning, but that’s not the kind of rain I mean.

After following up with a vendor about why it’s taking so long to receive an order, only to find out the order was fulfilled and delivered three weeks ago, it occurred to me that I’m having these odd recurring instances -- package deliveries going haywire, items being pilfered from my unit right under my nose.

First, it was a delivery of makeup.

Second, it was the 12x12 photo album.

Third it was items pilfered from my closet, by a woman from Corporate no less, during that inspection.

Fourth is an unmentionable that, last I heard, was on backorder. Now the vendor tells me tracking indicates was delivered on March 4^th.

What is going on?!

No one is breaking into the mail boxes, so the fault must be that of the mail carrier himself.

Performing the same rote activity day in day out, he must be spazzing out, mind drifting, thinking he knows what he’s doing but not paying close enough attention and dropping things in the box next to mine or above mine.

Same dishonest neighbor each time?

That I don’t know, but I’m assuming yes, that the mail carrier is making the same mistake in the same box over and over – even though he tells me he’s infallible, doesn’t make mistakes.

There are no names or unit numbers on the boxes, so I can’t tell who is receiving and keeping my packages.

When a package is oversized, as was that 12x12 photo album, the item goes into these larger boxes.

The key to unlock the larger box then goes into the recipient’s mail box.

So it's a good system, a secure system; BUT, if the mail carrier is dropping the key and/or packages into the box next to mine or above mine and that person is dishonest, as it appears such is the case, then "secure" goes out-the-window and I’m out-of-luck.

There’s no way of knowing which neighbors are in the boxes surrounding mine -- to enable me to speak with those individuals to discover the culprit, and there’s no point going to the office for help.

Since getting packages has turned into such a crap shoot, I’ve been ordering a lot less online -- opting to go without if I can’t find it in stores unless it’s something special -- like that replacement belt buckle is coming from Canada. I’ve also been paying closer attention to usps delivery dates, heading down and waiting for mail so I can check the box before the carrier leaves the premises. (I did not get a usps delivery date on that last item).

Yet and still, the losses keep racking up.

I just don't get it. This has never happened to me before, now it's back-to-back-to-back-to-back.

There are worse things to rain on people’s lives, so I’m grateful it’s just material objects. But it’s beginning to feel like Chinese water torture, drip, drip, drip, drip. 

Maybe I should open up a box at the post office for deliveries.

Egg Coloring Party

Today's Egg Coloring Party was a blast.

The Baker did a good job of organizing the event and setting up the work space so that the mess I expected never materialized.

 

Gold and Diamond egg, made by one of the ladies.

Because there are so many residents with grudges against management and grudges against other residents, there are people who will not set foot into the Community Room, not under any circumstances. Then we have the crotchety bitter old folks who set foot into the Community Room, but only to spread negative energy … look down their noses and scoff at whatever activity is in progress. Big Linda, one of the worst troublemakers on the complex, would come into the Community Room and “hush” people. Sometimes, she’d just sit there and put her fingers in her ears to indicate how displeased she was with others talking.

Fortunately, Big Linda stayed away today, probably because we don't let her bully us; we just ignore her and keep enjoying ourselves with whatever we happen to be doing when she makes her presence known, but we did have two of the other worst offenders in attendance -- sitting over at a corner table, later joined by two other crotchety bitter old women.

They looked resentful that we were having so much fun and spent their time watching and listening to us have fun. Fun is infectious so, after a time, I figured they individually probably would have liked to get off their high horse and join us, but were afraid to step out, be separate, go against the grain.

If this were high school, they’d be the mean girls -- not really wanting to be mean, but trapped in a group mentality.

When I first walked in and we were setting up, one had asked, “What’s going on today?”

“Egg coloring … join us” said I.

One old lady’s response was the same as the woman whose response to a request to take a photo sounded like I’d made an indecent proposal. She gave me a haughty, “I don’t do that!”

Her crotchety friend nodded in agreement and said, “I don’t even like eggs.”

I didn’t care. I was just being polite and inclusive; and her not liking eggs was a blatant lie because she attends all the food events and I’ve seen my deviled eggs on her plate.

But, whatever.

I myself don’t ever want to be the kind of old person who doesn’t enjoy music, laughter, joining in on creative endeavors, encouraging others to have a good time, happy to see others having a good time even if I don’t join in.

I did notice, however, none of the crotchety old ladies had a problem helping themselves to refreshments … cupcakes and hot cross buns. 

I guess the rule of their club is we won’t play with you, but we will take advantage and eat your food.

I’ve been off sugar last few days and, after making myself sick as a dog last weekend, motivation to stay off sugar is strong right now, so the refreshment table didn’t even tempt me.

It was a good thing I colored my eggs in advance because decorating was a lengthy process, not near as easy as I’d envisioned, plus I had to cut my time short because granddaughter called, needing me to act as her uber driver -- pick her up from where she was returning a rental car she and her friends used for a trip to Disneyland and drive her back to her complex.

I had just enough time to finish the turtles and a few minions.

By the time granddaughter was deposited back in her complex, the event was long over; so I finished up in my unit – completing the minions and adding Mike from Monsters, Inc. to the collection.

I don’t have the heart to crack them open and eat, before they go bad. So, I guess they’ll just sit in the refrigerator looking pretty until they do go bad -- unless, on Easter Sunday, I see children with Easter Baskets visiting their grandparents. In which case, I’ll run down and ask if I can put eggs in their baskets.

BTW … only one individual who, in the past, has declined my request to take a photo showed her true self. She’d told me she didn’t know how and got confused, but I saw her snap a photo of her colored eggs. Two of the others with bad hands, sat with us and observed only, because of their hands, so they were truthful. The one that shakes and all her photos come out blurry asked me to take photos with her camera for her, because she really does shake and her photos come out blurry. There was no one available to take a photo of me and, I was so busy decorating eggs and taking photos of others that I forgot to take a selfie of me at the event for my scrapbook.

Messy Business

Tomorrow is the Egg Coloring event organized by The Baker.

The last time I recall dying Easter eggs was when my girls were too small to do it themselves. Once they were able, they’d color ‘em, I’d hide ‘em, and that has to be at least 40 years ago. 
From what little I recall, the process was rather messy.

So messy, that I’ve been expecting Nurse Ratched to forbid the event.

Thus far, she hasn’t and, just in case a mess is made and repercussions follow, I’ve decided to keep myself separate and apart by dyeing my eggs in my unit today, rather than tomorrow in the Community Room. Tomorrow I’ll set aside for decorating the eggs and taking photos.

I’ve been designated “The Picture Lady” around here because I seem to be the only one that can take a photo. 

I don't know what it is with old people not wanting to take photos of other when requested. I once asked a woman to take a photo of me with an old friend I'd just run into. Her reply was a haughty, "I don't do that".  She was a friend of the person I'd just run into and "I don't do that" sounded like I'd asked her to do something terribly inappropriate.

When I've asked some of the residents in the Community Room to snap a photo, they generally decline stating problems with their hands being unable to grasp, hands shaking, they don’t know how to take a photo, get confused when shown. I’m not sure I’m buying all those excuses, especially since they all seem able to hold cell phones, pets, so it will be interesting to see which of those declining because of so-called problems with their hands and confusion, when asked to take a photo, are able to manage holding, dyeing and decorating eggs tomorrow.

Looking online, decorating Easter eggs has come a long way. Some are works of art and I found that, by using all manner of embellishments, one can create characters. I going to try to replicate something fun, like Minions and Ninja Turtles.

Thus far, the dyeing process in my unit has stayed true to still being messy, the coloring isn't coming out as perfect as I'd like but hey, it’s just eggs. After more than a few fails, I was finally able to get a couple eggs Minion ready (blue bottom half, yellow top half) and, replacing the green kit color with that green food color from St. Patrick’s day, I’ve managed a few eggs for turtles.

The turtle eggs are still not as dark a green as I was going for and, if I had to do it all over again, I’d dispense with the Easter coloring kit, the food dye and try Kathy’s idea of paste food color.

As for the failed to dye correctly eggs, it’s a good thing I like eggs because they will turn into breakfast, lunch, dinner.

Fresh Starts

A price was paid on Sunday for Friday and Saturday’s indiscretion – no energy, stomach cramps and nausea as a result of those slurpees. Of course I knew at the time I indulged myself that such deliciousness, so far off the clean eating plan, was likely to have consequences, made the choice to go for it anyway, enjoyed it, paid the consequences, moved beyond it and, today, am more resolved than ever to get my act together and eat clean.

Tomorrow is “free lunch” day in the Community Room, which means a group is coming in to try to sell us something – I think insurance this time.

Even though lunch is supposedly free, which in the long run it isn’t, folks have signed up to bring dishes to supplement what that group brings.

We are so desperate for activities around here that we make a party out of every opportunity … LOL.

I’m sticking to fruit and veggies next few days, so will be picking up a fruit tray from the deli – that is if I go. Right now, I’m undecided as to whether or not I want to sit through all the bla bla bla.

The Baker has planned an egg decorating party this coming Friday. At first I wasn’t interested because I didn’t think it would be anything other than sticking boiled eggs in cups, dying them the same old boring colors I did as a child. However, after thinking about it, I decided that by bringing a couple sharpies, glue and some of my left over craft supplies, we could all get really creative and it would be fun to see the results. So, I’m definitely in.

No matter how I try, I can’t shake loss of my favorite belt. The belt has even been in my dreams and, upon waking this morning, after once again seeing the belt in a dream, I had the thought to check eBay on the off chance the kleptomaniac tried to sell it, rather than keep to wear.

No such belt exists on eBay; however, I did see a few vintage American Flag Buckles for sale. One such buckle was very similar to the one I no longer have. Not exact, but close enough to make me get over the loss and move on, so I snagged it.

It's just the vintage buckle part, not an entire belt, and though the belt also was important -- as it was genuine embossed leather and pricey, I can find another leather belt for the rhinestone buckle.

All together, it's going to cost me a little over twice the price of the original to replace, but at least I can replace it. So hopefully there will be no more regrets (that I was too trusting and did not question her going so deep into the back room ... did not follow ... catch her in the act), no more seeing the belt in my dreams and I can put the episode behind me.

Bring Your Own Cup, Day 2

Instead of coffee this morning, it was Slurpee.

This being the last and final day of the Bring Your Own Cup promotion, I upped my game and filled the larger of the two containers posted yesterday.

Didn’t compare to the guy who filled up ahead of me.

Fun over, it’s back to a sugar detox and clean eating.

On the way to 7 Eleven, I noticed the ominous green cross had been added to the pot shop across the street.

Yesterday, when I checked into the Community Room, there was a lot of talk about the shop and, as I expected, folks are expecting the worse.

There was also talk about the woman Creepy Guy had arrested. The Writer of Christian Literature had befriended the woman when she first moved in, has been in contact with the woman and says not only did she get evicted from here, she lost her job over having been jailed. And, as we’d surmised, it all happened because Creepy Guy had come onto the woman, saying something inappropriate, something nasty. The woman said, “You can’t talk to me like that” and, when Creepy Guy retaliated with something even nastier, she says she “lost it”, pulled out a box cutter and "may have taken a swing at him".

Poor woman, now depending on the kindness of friends and relatives, has lost everything because of that creep.

Priding himself on being a Buddhist, Creepy Guy is like no Buddhist I’ve ever known, is not a good representative of that religion, and has a lot to atone for.

Also yesterday, in the Community Room, I was asked to sign a get-well card for my next door neighbor.

Last I posted about her, she was all involved in what management should be doing, had gotten involved with a canasta group outside the complex, and consequently seemed to have risen above being depressed; but now I’m told she’s ill and keeping a low profile … something about nosebleeds and “deviated septum”.

I knew I’d not seen her for quite some time, but didn’t bother to check because I could hear her door open now and then, which told me she was still alive.

I’m a terrible neighbor that I had to hear from someone on the other side of the complex that my next door neighbor is ill. And once again, I see how an ailment is related to the principle of Cause and Effect. It doesn’t seem all that odd to me that, with the neighbor being kind of a nose-up-in-the-air snob, her illness has something to do with her nose. 

Bring Your Own Cup

Read somewhere yesterday that, today and tomorrow, 7 Eleven is running a Slurpee promotion called “Bring Your Own Cup”, where you bring big containers, load up all the Slurpee you want and pay a flat rate of $1.50.

After checking out the promotion online, and getting a kick out of the kinds of “cups” folks were bringing, I figured why not join the fun. Especially since my Clean Eating Program hasn’t been all that clean lately.

I looked around the cupboard and had the choice of two water bottles.

Not wanting to take advantage -- though it looks like many are ... because it's part of the fun, I settled on the smaller.

Once back at the complex, I checked into the Community Room and learned ten residents stuck around after the potluck and attended the Residents/Management meeting.

Once again, Nurse Ratched’s kleptomaniac boss was supposed to have shown up, but did not. As for what was discussed, all anyone would say was “more lies”.

Glad I took a nap instead.

Though I processed that sense of rage fairly quickly, I'm still processing the loss of my favorite belt in that I'm kicking myself for not at least going to the police department to see if I could have filed some kind of paperwork. Not that I expected anything to be done but just for the record in case I see her wearing the belt, she says it's hers, I say it's mine, as a form of proof.

It was a few weeks ago when I’d posted we must have a nest around here because I’d been seeing wasps on the overhead by my front door. Sure enough, Maintenance Manager stopped by this afternoon, look around and the nest was closer than I thought

Orange Circle Marks the Spot

On my own patio … practically on top of me each and every time I opened the door to the patio storage area.

Maintenance Supervisor quickly snatched it down with his own hands (Was I impressed? Yes. Absolutely), tossed it away and sprayed the area as an extra precaution.

Now knowing the nest was over my head when I opened the patio door, day before yesterday to retrieve craft supplies, I’m very creeped out.

Spring … when bees, lizards, birds, wasps, other species of Nature's creepy crawlies come out to play, not my favorite.

Two Birds One Stone

Yesterday’s after the potluck “nap” lasted five hours. I passed out on the couch and didn’t wake up until 7:00 p.m.

I couldn’t have attended that resident/management meeting if I’d wanted to.

It was off to the dealer this morning for regular service on the car. Consequently, I didn’t get any feedback on whether anyone attended the meeting and, if so, what was discussed? It’s doubtful I’ll get any feedback tomorrow either, as it’s my day to chauffeur granddaughter around. I’m hoping to have nowhere to go, nothing to do on Friday, so I can have a moment to check into the Community Room, before it shuts down for the weekend.

I did learn, at yesterday’s potluck, that the new business across the street, towards the opposite end of the complex, isn’t a bar … it’s a marijuana dispensary … a pot shop!

Sounds unsavory, and it’s sure to send the seniors who enjoy complaining into hyperspace but, the way the owners have fixed up the property, it looks to be more high-end to me than other pot shops I’ve seen around town, and the fact the owners have added a high fence and the property is located out-in-the-open, on a main street, I don’t expect the shop to be noisy or attract problems.

Where I have the car serviced is right behind the Ontario Convention Center. I figured it to be a good place to qualify in the virtual Peter Cottontail 5K. So, instead of sitting on my butt in the dealer’s waiting room, I walked around the convention center a few times, logging in 3.26 miles @ 1:20:46.

By the time the 5K was completed and I returned to the dealer, the car was done, sitting over to the side waiting for me.

It was a pretty area to walk.

Interesting sights.

I ran into the Los Angeles Police Department setting up a Memorial Wall.

I was going to take a photo of my ex’s name to send to his/my girls, but a helpful officer -- one of two setting up the wall, informed that, because the ex died in retirement, he wouldn’t be listed. The wall is only officers whose End of Watch came during active duty.

All in all a good day. The dealer didn’t pad the bill, the 5K is done, and I hope to not be tempted to sign up for another for a long while.

Green Eggs no Ham

As planned, up early this morning, eggs boiled, peeled, dyed even before breakfast.

The eggs gave me no hassle -- only two failed to peel pretty. The others practically peeled themselves.

The two bad eggs turned into breakfast.

I’ve never worked with food color before so, while the eggs were resting in the refrigerator, I read the instructions printed on the box, removed bottle from box, noticed a protective seal under cap, removed said protective seal, and this happened.

A Green Thumb for Real

Fortunately, it wasn’t permanent.

Needless to say, I wore food service gloves remainder of the process.

An avid rule-follower, I always wear gloves when preparing food for others; sometimes even preparing food for myself, as I don’t like touching meat. Even though it’s only ever chicken or turkey, I can’t bear to touch raw meat.

Inasmuch as I can’t count on fellow residents being as food-safety minded or phobic -- depending on how you see my kitchen habits, I only eat what I bring to potlucks, deli items and what The Baker brings.

Later in the morning … We were ready for our close-ups.

Not everyone wore green, but we had a fair-sized group, around 24, and quite a lot of potluck dishes.

The Green Team

Corn Bread, Potato, Cabbage, just a smidgen of Corned Beef, Macaroni Salad

At end of meal, the Activity Director began making announcements.

First announcing this is her last day; she's taken a position elsewhere.

No one was surprised. If anything, the surprise was she’d lasted as long as she had.

Her leaving means an end to the Casino Trips and, unless management finds another victim, activities are also at an end – except those we organize and do ourselves, which we sometimes have done.

Second announcement was last week’s Resident/Management meeting – the one scheduled for 3:00 that we arrived on time for but were told at 3:10 the meet was cancelled, yes that one. She said it’s been rescheduled for 3:30 today.

Looks like management will be the only ones to show up this time, which is what we figure they're counting on. It’s a clever ploy to give management an excuse to get rid of resident/management meetings altogether. 

Because there was no notice of rescheduling -- except to those of us at the potluck, and since we’re all full, need naps and have no intention of attending this afternoon’s session, management will tell Corporate there is a lack of interest on the part of residents and that will be that.

Apache said he “might” stop in, "just to aggravate" Nurse Ratched, but he wasn’t sure.

I asked that, if he does, to give me a call if Nurse Ratched’s boss is wearing a belt with a rhinestone American flag buckle.

“Sure, but why?”

“Because …” and I told him the story of the belt going missing after she’d gone into my back room.

“That’s weird” says he.

“Why?” asked I.

“Because someone else told me something went missing during their inspection”.

Slow Burn

Had an epiphany moment this morning.

I had a sudden realization that I am slow to burn, but once the burn hits, I become angry and have a hard time letting go.

My mantra -- when there is an upsetting incident is … everything happens for a reason, it’s done, there’s nothing you can do about it, let go and let God.

That generally works.

However, since retiring, with time to think, time to reflect, there are things in life I’d shaken off but it’s like they’re attached to elastic -- they were out there, had only gone so far and now spring back.

I’ve been very happily divorced some 48 ½ years. My physically emotionally mentally abusive ex has been dead and gone since ‘98, yet there are more times than I care to admit when I see something on television or read about something or hear about something that brings up a flashback, it all comes crashing in on me, and I’m angry – partly at him for the saying/doing -- wishing he were still alive so I could cuss him out, partly at me for not fighting back, not speaking up.

So it was yesterday when, getting dressed in the morning, I walked into the closet, looked over to where my favorite belt use to be, saw the empty space and became filled with rage.

Part of the rage was directed towards Nurse Ratched’s kleptomaniac boss for taking it … and yes, I’m sure. There’s no traffic coming in/going out of my unit, the belt was at eye level and she is the only person to have been in that back room, which is why part of the rage is directed at myself for being so trusting, for not paying attention, for having not known there was no reason for her to go INTO the back room.

The room is so small, she could see whatever it was she needed to see for her inspection by standing in the doorway. Why did I not realize she’d not only entered the back room, but was actually in the closet?

She can keep the Polishing Unit of the Spa Sonic Skincare System, it’s easily replaced; but the belt is unique and has been my favorite for more years than I can remember.

It’s the loss of that belt that’s burning.

Being an emotional eater, making my own coffee this morning just wouldn’t do, so I headed to Starbucks, with a stop by the donut shop for a sugary apple fritter to calm me down.

Sugar is not the answer, but it’s better than a lot of other substances people use to cope.

It’s Not Easy Buying Green

You wouldn’t believe the hassle it was to get my hands on a 1-ounce bottle of green food color.

When I rechecked the calendar yesterday afternoon, I realized the Saint Patrick’s Day potluck was scheduled for Tuesday the 15^th, not Thursday the 17^th as I’d previously thought; so I headed to the market for eggs and green food color.

Eggs … no problem, except they may be too fresh.

Green food color … problem.

The market did not sell, nor did the next market I ran to, nor the next; so I turned to the internet and asked “where can I buy food color”.

“Nowhere”, replied the internet. I’d have to order online, it would be shipped and received well after it was needed.

My favorite online retailer could guarantee delivery of a 16-ounce bottle costing $12.00, but shipping and handling would run the tab up to $39, and I’d get it a week late, rather than the two/three-weeks late elsewhere.

HOWEVER, if I signed up for Prime at $99 a year, I’d get free two day shipping.

Total cost for $12 item, plus Prime — $111, and still arriving three to four days later than needed.

BUT, I could add $4.50 for one-day shipping.

Total cost of $12 item, plus Prime plus one-day shipping — $115.50, still arriving too late for my need, but by only one day.

Green guacamole, even though it didn’t seem to fit the theme, was beginning to sound better and better.

In bed at 10:30 last night, I couldn’t sleep for thinking thinking thinking – what else can I bring?

Then something said … wait a minute. While running here, there, I vaguely recall seeing food color on store shelves … don’t give up, keep looking.

So I jumped out of bed, logged onto the puter, looked at places I’m usually running through.

Sears — online only
Joanns — online only
Michael’s — online only
Hobby Lobby — online only

I began the search earlier in the day with Walmart and Target, but decided to recheck.

Walmart — still online only
Target — available at five locations in the Inland Empire

So why didn't you, Mr. Internet, say so hours ago when I first asked?

My preference of Redlands was sold out. So I added Target Fontana, 16 miles away, available for pick up today, to cart.

Cost of transaction — $3.14.

Food color in hand, all’s well that ends well; but such a weird boatload of hassle.

I’ll test a few eggs tomorrow, just to be sure they won’t give me grief, then I’ll be up early Tuesday -- boiling, peeling, tinting, deviling eggs.

If the eggs do give me grief, I’ll be deli guacamole or deli potato salad for the folks.

There Goes the Neighborhood

I was a walking fool this morning.

After logging in the qualifying 3.20 miles, in 1:13:39,  to earn a medal for the Virtual Run Like a Ninja 5k -- only, instead of running like a ninja I walked it like a snail, it was so nice outside that I kept walking until I hit the 4.0 mile mark.

Next up is the Peter Cottontail 5K week after next so, between then and now, it will just be short stints around the complex towards that goal of 100 miles by year's end.

A few days ago, I noticed a lot of activity in a building across the street, next to the field where Tent Guy use to live, that’s been vacant since I first moved here. The building looked to have been a church at one time, so I assumed it would be a church again.

Not!

I captured a photo, on this morning's walk, of what appears to be a bar.

Across from a senior complex?

I don't think so.

Very little bothers me but, with nothing much to do except complain, it seems everything bothers most of the residents.

In fact, we use to have a bar adjacent to my end of the complex, next to the donut shop.

Since I’d not been on that side of the street, or anywhere near the donut shop (until recently when my sugar addiction has sometimes been out of control -- they have great apple fritters), and since the sign on the establishment said “Cleopatra’s”, I always thought it was a dress shop. Then I began hearing neighbors complain about how noisy the bar across the street was at night.

My response was always, "What bar?" until Casino Lady pointed it out and said she’d called the police numerous times about the noise and young guys fighting in the parking lot.

Others complained of hearing the noise and seeing police activity, as a result of noise complaints by residents.

I never heard a thing.

Even my next door neighbor complained of the noise and hearing shots fired one night.

I didn't even hear that, even though turns out it was someone being shot and killed with a rifle, which residents said was a loud BOOM! Police and ambulance were  observed, it happened during a time I would have been awake, watching television, still I never heard a thing.

Of course, the bar having already been on notice because of the complaints, was forced to close its doors permanently after that incident, and neighbors were once again happy with having peace and quiet at night.

A bar opening now, on the other end of the complex, isn’t going to go well.

So tick tick tick on how long before they complain until it too is forced to close.