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.