No News is Good News

Another week of not much going on in my neck of the woods.

Maybe that’s because I’ve been holed up inside, A/C blasting.

I was very annoyed when the utility company tried to make me feel guilty for not wanting to die of heat stroke inside my unit.

What do they expect?

I do try to keep usage down by not running A/C 24/7, more like 16/7, which means struggling through 88◦ nights. Not that I’m trying to keep up or, in this case, down with the Joneses, but in an effort to keep the bill down. But as soon as I wake up in a sweat at 6:00/7:00, it’s A/C on.

I didn’t make it down to the Community Room this Pizza Tuesday to catch up with complex goings on. Instead, I drove over to the Amazon Locker to pick up a few things I’d ordered. Which included those black trainers Macy’s said were out-of-stock. I located them no problem on the holy grail of shopping sites, same price.

So, with two pairs of trainers and not much walking getting done -- because of the heat, I’m looking at a long time before I have to go to this expense again.

It's not just the heat derailing my walking, but also the recent addition of “friends” to Pokémon GO.

The way it works is “gifts” are now included in what can be gathered at PokeStops. Those gifts (of Poké Balls and other game tools) are to be sent from one friend to another. My two friends are The Archeologist and the son of a former coworker, and with gifts of Poké Balls coming in daily from one or the other, I’ve got more balls than I can handle and there’s no need for me to get out and walk to collect. I do, however, have to send gifts in return, which requires my pulling up to PokeStops, when I’m out and about, for a gift to return the favor.

Also picked up this morning from Amazon’s Locker was this.

I’ve been obsessing ever since I bought the Jeep as to where to go for tire pressure checks, since I didn’t think the tire shop where I bought tires for the Saturn would check tires not purchased from them. The idea of pulling into a gas station and trying to figure out the air machine was not appealing.

I really miss when I’d pull into a gas station and ask them to “fill her up, check the oil and tires”.

I was even thinking it would be enterprising of those in need to instead of standing on the corner begging for dollars, to stand by the gas station equipment and offer to check pressure for a couple bucks.

At any rate, when I was checking in with the folks last week, I saw where the Volunteer Residents Activity Committee was selling raffle tickets for a tire inflator. Never heard of such a tool, but instantly realized that was the solution to my dilemma.

Initially, I thought to purchase blocks of tickets to ensure my winning, but then that little voice of reason told me to research the one being offered.

I checked reviews and found it was the worst one on the market. Known to burn out on the first use.

So, after further research, I went with the above and won’t be purchasing any raffle tickets at all, not even one, because it would be just my luck to win.

It’s a good thing I found out about this tool before the Orange Traitor’s trade war went into effect because look at the packaging.

Life Goes On

End of this month rapidly approaching, with me unable to get myself to the mall to complete that virtual Chocolate 5K for one reason or another, I gave up planning to hoof it and qualified on the indoor bike.

Feeling a bit guilty that 5K (3.12 miles) on the bike wasn’t burning as many calories as an hour-long walk, I upped to 10K (6.24 miles).  So that’s off my bucket list, as of Wednesday and, unless this hot weather leaves town, I won’t be signing up for any virtuals in the near future – no matter how the organizers tempt me with shiny new medals.

With nothing on my bucket list for yesterday, I tore myself away from needlepoint and headed down to 1:00 Bingo.

Walking past Community Manager’s office, it was sad to see she and her things not in it.

Upon learning Community Manager had been let go, Church Lady was in tears. I myself was close to tears, but always in the back of my mind is the belief (and experience) that what often on the surface looks like a bad thing, the Universe ultimately turns into good.

Nevertheless, I’ve come to the conclusion that the field of property management, at any level, isn’t a stable career choice because, since the current corporation took over back in 2013, it’s been a revolving door of staff being whisked away with no notice -- Maintenance Men, Assistant Maintenance Men, Office Assistants, that mean Community Manager Nurse Ratched (whom we were happy to see go) and her boss the Corporate Boss Lady (which shocked us because she held so much power) and now another Community Manager (which is shocking because she was well-liked and did a great job).

It’s looking more and more like Property Management is brutal at-will employment.

I was at-will once, but it wasn’t brutal like one moment you’re here, next moment whoosh you’re gone.  Working as a civil service employee in the law office, I was offered a promotion to private staff of an elected official. It was scary to leave a sure thing for something that would last only as long as the individual held office but, single mother raising two daughters on my own, the salary being offered was too good to pass up.

I took my chances and what turned out to be a fun and exciting job worked out for five years. When the official’s time in office was over, it wasn’t like we (his staff) had minutes to pack our stuff and get out before the new guy took over and brought his own staff in. Instead, we had plenty of lead time, from when the vote was in and he’d lost reelection, to find other employment; and actually, most of us were offered positions with his contacts -- other political types. But five years in a political environment was to me like dog years. I’d had enough of seeing and knowing of and having to keep quiet about maneuverings that troubled my conscious, went back into law, and have held a serious aversion to politics and politicians ever since.

At any rate, now that the initial shock of Community Manager’s dismissal has worn down, life here on the complex is rolling along like always – at least for now. We don’t know what this latest change in management will bring. But for now, Bingo scheduled 1:00 Thursday went on without a hitch.

I was once again a lucky winner, actually the second person to call BINGO! Winning on a game I think they called Crazy L and took home a nice little microwave cooking pot.

Didn’t See This One Coming

Color me saddened and shocked when, checking in with the folks this morning’s Pizza Tuesday, I learned the Community Manager was fired yesterday.

Two women from Corporate, one of whom I’m told is the new Regional Director, were said to have entered her office, spoke briefly with her, allowed her to gather all her things and whoosh she was gone.

She did not deserve that and we’re all very sad, except for Apache. He’s so pleased with himself that he’s dancing around, his feet barely touching the ground because he sees it as another win.

Like I’ve posted before, that’s all that matters to my buddy Apache … that he wins. And though Corporate Lawyers issued a cease and desist on his contacting Corporate, he not only continued but managed to get another resident to join him.

I’d actually seen him and this other resident walking through my quad last week, looking as though they were on patrol.

I opened the patio window and yelled down to them, “Why are you two up to? You’re walking around looking like cops.”

They laughed and said “we’re up to nothing”, but it looked strange and I’ve since learned they were looking for lease violations, taking photos of those violations and forwarding to Corporate in order to get Community Manager in trouble.

Apache and his co-snitch took photos of food being left in varying locations on the property for stray cats/birds/squirrels, which Community Manager had sent out flyers indicating it's a lease violation and attracts unwanted animals to the property. We all know who the food leaver is and I, personally, thought Community Manager should have lease violated that individual instead of sending out flyers, but she didn't and it gave Apache just the ammunition he needed. I don't know what other violations he found, but in my quad he found this.

The photo looks a little grainy because of the dusty screen door, but what you're looking at is a hideously ugly tacky black … I don't know if it's fabric or screen, that the woman directly across the quad from me put up week before last.

I wasn’t sure if she was trying to block me from seeing inside her unit when her blinds are open (as if I would), or blocking her husband from peeping me when my blinds are open (which he probably does) but, either way, I’d told myself at the time that management wasn’t going to allow it. The office has made it clear that they don’t care what you hang on the window for privacy, so long as it is white, because they want uniformity and the place not looking like a ghetto.

Evidently, Community Manager didn’t notice and correct the violation quick enough and, along with other photos Apache had sent to Corporate, he succeeded in getting manager in trouble because, according to him, tired of being bothered with complaints that should have been handled at the level of the Community Manager, Corporate took extreme measures and fired manager.

Not that Apache wanted her fired. He said that after he received the cease and desist, she stopped responding to his telephone calls, emails, and he just wanted her to pay attention and respond.

If Corporate thinks firing Community Manager is going to stop Apache, they’d better think again. If the Karma Train doesn’t turn around and run over him, I fully expect Apache to be even more embolden by this win and continue his quest to get rid of the Pit Bull, which was his initial goal. When Community Manager failed to do that, even took sides with the pit bull owner, saying Apache was harassing the guy, it so angered Apache that he became vengeful and began looking for petty violations to report.

Hopefully the replacement Community Manager isn’t going to be someone who’ll be mean to us, like the predecessor Nurse Ratched was, and I’m hoping our fired Community Manager will land on her feet and go to something better.

What a shame though. Such a nice woman.

Best Laid Plans

Set the alarm last night to get up at 6:00, so I could head for the mall and get that 5K out of the way. Inasmuch as security doesn’t want us INSIDE the mall before 7:30, the plan was to walk around the outside perimeter, before the sun heated up, and finish inside after 7:30, by which time it would be getting close to 90◦ outside.

That plan was in jeopardy when I woke up at 4:00 and couldn’t go back to sleep.

I did eventually fall back to sleep, but it was a fitful sleep that had me waking up at 8:30 -- too late to plan on a mall walk, and too drained from the weird dream.

What was weird about the dream is that it was about the Orange Idiot in Chief.

That’s right. Trump invaded my dreams, so I suppose I should call it what it was … a nightmare.

The nightmare was that he in reality is a Spy … a Russian Agent. That the plan to damage America from the inside out has been a long-range plan, starting way back with his father having been planted here in America as, what the nightmare referred to as “a sleeper”

Wikipedia tells me a “sleeper” is “a spy who is placed in a target country or organization, not to undertake an immediate mission, but rather to act as a potential asset if activated.”

At any rate, the nightmare indicated the father bred his son as a sleeper, and that the Russian meddling in the election was all about activating the son from sleeper status to active so he could do America the most damage as Orange Idiot in Chief. In the nightmare, his marriage to Russian (also an operative) Melania was explained as part of the plot.

I promise you … that’s what I was fitfully dealing with before the sound of the A/C kicking on when it reached 89◦ inside finally woke me up.

So now I’m sitting here re-planning my day to do groceries instead of the 5K, and thinking how that nightmare is as good an explanation as any for what’s going on with the Orange Idiot, whom I will henceforth refer to as "The Orange Asset".

They Had Me at Champagne

Color me relieved when I walked into a room of about 60 or so people celebrating The Baker’s Husbands 80^th Birthday this afternoon, and spotted around 20 neighbors.

In attendance were the usual suspects -- Church Lady, Big Linda, The Seer and her White Shadow, Apache, The Woman Who Wants Braids. Then there were other neighbors, who are close to The Baker and those who live in her quad.

Expecting to be one of two Blacks, I needn’t have worried about feeling out-of-place. All toll there were 6 and a half of us – four were residents, one was some friend of a friend in the family group, myself and the half being The Baker’s biracial great grandson --- who knew?

The Baker’s huge family is right out of a television sitcom. Many generations in attendance and everyone warm, friendly, the hugging close-knit type who, according to The Baker, any one of whom can be called upon when anyone in the family has a need. Those in attendance represented only a quarter of how many there really are.

Initially taking a seat one chair away from The Baker and her Shadow, I picked up bad vibes. Shadow was tense, unresponsive to my greeting. When I greeted The Seer with, “Hey! How are you?” Her reply was “I’m good, but nobody better not say nothing to me”.

I’m sure Shadow being tense, and The Seer spoiling for a fight, had nothing to do with me. More likely it was because Church Lady and Apache were in the room and, for whatever reason, the two (Seer and Shadow) have decided they don’t care for them any longer.

It’s disappointing to seen how dark and ugly The Seer has become since hooking up with Shadow, and I’ve got a sense I’ll be the next to be on her list of people she no longer cares for.

Why?

Because when she said, “I’m good, but nobody better not say nothing to me”, my reply was ... “I’ve not seen you in over two weeks, and you’re in the same place you were when I last saw you”.

Meaning – you were dark, ugly, all attitude, spoiling for a fight then, you are dark, ugly, all attitude, spoiling for a fight now.

During the event, I caught her glaring at me a couple times. She was probably trying to figure out why I’d said what I said and, once she works herself up into asking me what I meant, I’m not going to sugarcoat my response. 

When I have to speak truth, I always first ask people if they REALLY want to know what I think/see/know.

They say yes, but hate me later, so they obviously don’t really want to know, which is how I expect the follow-up conversation with The Seer will go.

Do you REALLY want to know, I’ll ask.

She’ll say Yes.

I’ll tell her how she’s changed and not in a good way.

She’ll rant rage, be offended and that will end our friendship.

I’m okay with it ending.

As for The Baker’s family, I couldn’t keep up with who was who but, if I remember correctly, she has four or five daughters. The girls are in the catering business and catered the event -- lasagna, salad, fruit. I, of course, passed on the lasagna, I can’t digest lettuce and, of the fruit, I settled on a few cherries.

THEN, later in the event, before cake, I heard the “pop” of champagne bottles being opened.

Family passed out champagne to all attendees (except the kids) in preparation for a toast to the birthday boy.

Now I know what foods my gut will not tolerate but, not being a drinker, I didn’t know if it would accept champagne and decided I didn’t care of my gut didn’t like it or not -- I was having a glass of champagne and prepared to suffer the consequences later, if there were consequences.

I got a little woozy from the alcohol, but no other side effects so far.

I even pushed the envelope when two of my neighbors said they can’t drink, and I drank theirs as well.

The room was decorated with photos of the birthday boy when he was a child with his mom, a young man driving in Nascar. Even some of the photos I myself had taken were spotted.

When I asked one of the daughters how they’d come by those photos, she said she’d asked relatives to send in any photos they had, plus she’d researched our Facebook page.

Inasmuch as some of the photos she’d plucked from Facebook were the same photos I’d pulled, I thought the Creative Memories Album might not go over all that well.

I was wrong.

The Baker and Birthday Boy both got emotional when they opened the album. Even took time out of opening gifts to go through every page, commenting, laughing. They loved it.

The family was in awe, calling it “The perfect gift”. 

Their reactions made it worth the time, expense, rush to complete.

So the party over and done with, tomorrow we return to our regularly scheduled program – needlepoint, 5ks, Pokémon Go.

Show and Tell

I took a stab yesterday afternoon at being a videographer.  Howsoever, in putting this vid together, I experienced Trumpitis -- that is saying one thing while supposedly meaning another. So, when you hear I “stole from the internet” what I meant was “appropriated/comandeered from the internet”. And of course, “talk to you later” should have been  “type to you later”.

10 Minutes I Can’t Get Back

The scrapbook project is coming together nicely and is on target for completion by Friday, but the smaller 8x5 album wasn’t cutting it without covers to protect the work, so I sacrificed a new 12x12 album I’d just purchased for which I have plenty of covers on hand.

What that all means is, if I were to factor in cost of supplies, this project is costing me big bucks.

Oh well, it is what it is.

The photos I’m working with only take up 16 pages in the 12x12, which is made to hold 44 or more pages of photos. So, the album is flat/thin, but again, it is what it is and anyway, size shouldn’t matter.

The only other two birthdays I acknowledge around here are that of The Baker herself and The Seer. I’d better check my calendar, so I can prepare in advance and don’t get caught at the last minute and have to do something extravagant – like now.

Yesterday’s basket weaving class Apache led me to believe was going to be authentic “weaving”, turned out to be a new resident – nowhere near being an American Indian, on summer break from her job as a Special Ed teacher, wanting to get rid of decorating supplies, allowing us to select a ready-made basket, and hot glue fake flowers, fake leaves, and other stuff in it at $10 a pop.

Though I was scammed into attending, I was a good sport, paid the $10, and put together an arrangement, which I have no use for and will probably toss out in today’s trash. In fact, when I went to exit the event, I purposely left my arrangement behind on a table. However, before I could make my escape, someone reminded me I’d left it. So, I had to look happy and relieved not to have left it behind and here it is not fitting into my aesthetics.

I threw it together in 10 minutes and was ready to head back to my unit. However, inasmuch as I’d been too busy to interact with the seniors for the last two weeks, I stuck around to take photos for the facebook page and catch up on the goings on.

Apache’s war with management over the pit bull has escalated. He’d been sending out certified letters to management here and at Corporate making demands for action. Corporate turned around and had the lawyers send Apache a cease and desist from “harassing” management, “harassing” corporate, “harassing” the owner of the pit bull. He’s been ordered not to talk to or send any further letters to any of the above.

Apache is a typical Trump supporter – stubborn, pig headed, can’t see the forest for the trees. Saying his contact at the county told him it’s his “right” to contact Corporate with his complaints, he intends not to let up until he gets his way.

Then Apache tells me his bank account has been hacked, resulting in his rent check bouncing.

I suggested, inasmuch as management has all our financial data in their filing cabinets and in their computers, that perhaps this is revenge – management sabotaging him in an effort to get him outta their face.

He thinks not, but again, he can’t see the forest for the trees while I see deep and far.

At any rate, here we are 19 days into the month and Apache is still waiting for the bank to cover his losses so his rent check can go through.

Photos taken, caught up in the goings on, I was back in my unit 58 minutes after the event started.

Though the event wasn’t my kinda thing, others in attendance seemed to enjoy putting together baskets.

This one was a masterpiece. The resident transformed this ...

Into this ....

Into this ...

Greedy Grabby did this one.

This was also hers.

And this one.

And this one.

Of course, her plan was, as usual, to take more than her share -- pay $10 for supplies for one basket, walk out with three more. However, the woman hosting the event, not even knowing this is Greedy Grabby's modus operandi, came over and advised she only paid $10 for one.

Greedy Grabby wasn’t wanting to pay for the others, so she left with only the one paid for.

Can’t Go Empty Handed

Yesterday was a whirlwind of activity. Today, tomorrow and Friday look to be more of the same because I’m scrambling to put together a scrapbook album by this coming Saturday.

Returning from the dentist on Monday, hanging on my door was an invitation to join The Baker and her family in celebration of her husband’s 80th birthday.

I’m flattered she wants to include me in a family event, but I’d like to decline -- as I have in the past when she thought I might be missing my own family and invited me to join hers, in their nearby home, for Thanksgiving. 

I’ll admit to just a drop of sadness that my lot in life is to travel the remainder of this road alone, but it is what it is and, in my situation, the lesser of two evils because being close knit is not preferable when you can't help your family and family doesn't appreciate you because they are asleep in the dream -- completely unillumined. At any rate, no way could I have barged in on The Baker’s family event in the past, but this time I’m given a formal invitation and location of the event is here ... on the complex ... in the Community Room.

The Community Room has often been rented out, at $200 a pop on a Saturday or Sunday, for special events by family members of residents. The families organize the food, entertainment, put up special decorations, come from everywhere to fete their elders, and the room is off limit to us residents during those times.

The last such celebrations were also birthdays. One celebration for a 94-year-old who passed on very shortly after the event, and then for a 96-year-old who also passed on shortly after the event.

That’s not a good sign.

I don’t know if it was too much excitement or whether, after family members came from far and wide, with flowers and accolades, the seniors decided this was the apex, it isn't going to get any better than this, quit while ahead, I'm out, but it’s odd seniors don’t see another year after a party.

Needless to say, I’m a little worried about The Baker’s husband, but I do plan to attend. Don’t see how I can do otherwise without offending either her or her husband, even though I’m not only apprehensive this may result in his final call, but because the event puts me in the awkward position of odd woman out -- partying in a room full of strangers.

Not only will I be a stranger, but I’ll be standing out because the only two Blacks in the room are likely to be myself and The Seer.

I’m sure The Baker's family are the kinds of people who don’t see skin color, but The Seer will have her White Shadow to sit with, I might have The Baker’s great granddaughter – the one who took such a shine to me at the Egg Coloring Party to talk to, but I’ll otherwise be odd woman out, and you really don't know what lonely, bored and out-of-place feels like until you're in a room full of people you don't know and have nothing in common with ... strangers.

A room full of strangers is just not my thing – that is unless it’s a meditation group because meditation binds us as one entity.

At any rate, The Baker instructed not to bring anything, but I can’t walk into her family’s event empty handed. So, after racking my brain as to what is appropriate to give to the guy who wants or needs nothing, it occurred to me, inasmuch as he’s so family-oriented, a photo of his family on a coffee cup would be appropriate.

Problem is, I can’t find anywhere that can put one together on such short notice.

Starbucks use to sell Tumblers one could self-collage with photos, but I’ve not seen one of those in ages. So, with no easy way out, I luckily remembered the half-sized Creative Memories album I’ve been holding onto for more years than I can remember.

It’s the perfect solution, except I don’t have protective covers ... a necessity. I can order them, but they won’t reach me until well after the event.

I then thought about using a regular old stick the photos in the provided protective covers type album.

But that's too bland. I want to do the personalization, so I’ll just tell The Baker covers will be added to the scrapbook at a later date.

In the meantime, since I’ve taken a lot of photos over the years, I’m busting my butt looking for those taken of the birthday boy, his wife, his great grandkids from multiple sources (researching flash drives, sent emails, past print orders on various sites, the community’s facebook page). I’m so engrossed in this project that I passed on checking in with the folks at yesterday’s Pizza Tuesday, because the research took from 8:00 in the morning until 1:00 in the afternoon. I did, however, locate 38 photos I can work with.

Today, I’m off to pick up the 1-hour prints I’ve ordered, with a stop by the scrapbook store for background paper and embellishments. 

I’m scrambling but I will be taking time out at 1:00 today to attend a Basket Weaving class I’d signed up for last week. I’ve always wanted to learn that craft and it’s being taught by a legit American Indian, a relative of Apache.

It’s a Good Thing He’s Dreamy Looking

Waking up at 6:00 to 62˚ weather this morning, I thought it a good time to head to the mall to do the Virtual 5K that was too hot to complete on World Chocolate Day before 62˚ rose to the expected 99˚.

Two things prevented me from doing so. One was the fact Mall Security had given me a flyer, last time I was there, indicating it wasn’t safe for mall walkers before 7:30 and walkers spotted before that time would be asked to leave. Second was the fact I had a dental appointment scheduled for this morning. So, looks like the 5k is going to be pushed forward yet again.

This morning’s dental appointment was the first visit since the emotional goodbye to my long-time hygienist.

I was apprehensive of someone new, because I’d had a bad experience many years ago when another long-time hygienist, in a Huntington Park dental office, retired and the young lady taking her place made it clear, by body language and tone of voice, that she didn’t like working on a Black person.

Her anger at having to do so transmitted into her fingers and she actually hurt me.

Racism embarrasses me. It’s so ugly that I don't like to acknowledge it. I don’t like to point it out when it happens to me, I don't like to talk about or fight against it. I’m a “rather switch than fight” type person, so that’s what I did -- I switched to the current dental office and it’s been smooth sailing ever since.

Of course, having been with the old dental office for decades -- even my children were patients, when I told the dentist’s assistant that I’d not be returning, she questioned my reason.

I lied saying it was too far to travel.

There had obviously been some discussions with the young dental technician expressing her not wanting to work on a Black person, and being told to do so or go elsewhere to work -- which is why she worked angry, because the assistant pointedly asked me, “Is that the REAL reason?”

I lied again and said yes.

At any rate, this morning’s new hygienist turned out very well.

Through chatting between moments when a tool was not in my mouth, I learned she too does 5Ks, some virtual, some in person. And, in fact, when the Diva Run came to Ontario some three/four years ago, she’d participated but didn’t remember seeing the costumed group I was walking with (Justice League – Wonder Woman, Spider Girl, Bat Girl).

She, like the last hygienist, is an older lady (late 50's early 60's maybe) working in an office full of young girls, and she only works three-days a week. Since we hit it off so well, I can only hope she’s not planning to retire any time soon.

I was prepared for x-rays this morning, but that didn’t happen. However, the bill was so high that I questioned if they’d included x-rays by mistake.

They had not.

By the time I got back to the complex, certain there had been a mistake because the bill was over $100 more than I’m accustomed to pay for a cleaning, I called and asked for a detail of charges.

The extra $120 was for an exam, because Doctor McDreamy came in, examined my teeth, said they were pretty, well-cared for and no cavities.

Since all he gave me was good news and because he’s still a drop dead handsome silver fox, after 12 years of watching him age, I guess looking upon his eye-candy self is worth an extra $120.

Risky Business

Yesterday was Friday the 13th and I didn’t freak out and stay indoors in order to assure safety from any mishaps.

Am I superstitious?

Why yes ... yes I am.

I admit to avoid walking under ladders, throwing salt over my left shoulder, and there was once a black cat here on the complex. One day, when it happened to be headed in a direction that would take it across my path, I turned around and began walking backwards so the cat would not be technically crossing my path but my back.

Having planned to leave the complex at 11:00, headed for Macy’s in Rancho to replenish moisture cream and go athletic shoe shopping BEFORE I realized yesterday was Friday the 13th, once I saw the date it took me until 1:00 to work up the courage to overcome superstition and head out.

The drive was brown knuckling all the way and, arriving without incident in the parking lot, I was rewarded with a Summer Pikachu as I stepped out of the car.

Needing a black pair of trainers, because the current pair has been worn to excess, I walked into a sale.

Unfortunately, the black ones were not on sale, not available at another store and, I am told, not in stock to be shipped to me, so I settled for the red white and blue (looks pink here but trust me, it's red) -- on sale at minus $30.

I still need black trainers so I’m just gonna test that out-of-stock theory and see if I can’t find them online.

Later, leaving Macy’s, I caught another Summer Pikachu.

So all in all, not an unlucky day.

There was a Farmer’s Market in progress in the area. However, not wanting to push my luck, I headed straight for home.

On another note, I’d like to thank the UK for giving our Orange Idiot-in-Chief the welcome he so richly deserves.

What’s Happening Now

Nothing to report on today’s Pizza Tuesday. That’s because I didn’t make it down to the Community Room in time to people watch the event.

Why?

Well, that’s because I woke up at 3:00 this morning. I was still lying in bed awake, trying to go back to sleep, when it felt like the bed and building shook just a tad.

Was that an earthquake? thought I.

Not being sure, I looked over at the cellphone to check the time and reminded myself to Google “earthquakes today” when I later got out of bed – it was 4:09.

Not surprising with the weather we’ve had – extensive heat, mixed with flash floods, an earthquake had to be next.

Fortunately, it was rather tiny. If I’d not been awake, I would not have even noticed it.

I eventually fell back asleep, and found myself waking up around 9:30, rather than the usual 6:30.

By the time I’d completed the morning ritual, it was too late to head down to the Community Room, so I decided to run errands instead.

I do know Church Lady was back in the Community Room this morning. I happened to see her headed that way with her young grandson. In fact, I’ve been seeing Church Lady back into her old schedule of heading for the Community Room every morning.

School out for summer, we see a lot of pre-teens and teens staying with grandma until school starts again.

Nothing for them to do here, it’s got to be boring.

We have the pool and I’d mentioned it to Church Lady’s grandson last week, but he said she won’t allow it.

Why?

I’ve no idea.

Handsome Guy is on vacation. Told me last week he was heading for Atlanta, then Alabama, then New York saying he had to get out of here because he’s tired of seeing the same faces day-after-day. He then chided me for not following suit, saying “Lot of folks here are stuck, but there’s no excuse for you, because you have a car.”

True, but “What’s the point when I don’t like to travel” said I. And further, “I don’t understand how other people do enjoy it”.

“It’s something new”, said he “Different faces, different places.”

“Yes, but it's still the same old thing with a new face in a new place. I’d rather read about it or see it on television”.

It ended with Handsome Guy not understanding my desire to stay put, and my not understanding his desire to roam.

May have something to do with the fact he’s bored, talking about moving again.

He’s been talking about moving ever since I’ve known him. In fact, when I first became aware of him in 2016, as he was moving from the west side of the complex to the east side, he was in his third move. That’s moving from one unit to another, to another, to another.

Why?

I don’t know why the first two, but the third was because he was on the bottom floor and had an old lady above him who wasn’t happy with a Black male so close by. She ran him off by making racist remarks and purposely dropping things on the floor to annoy him downstairs.

Since his occupation is that of Security Guard, and he has a concealed carry, and he's friendly, helpful, protective, that resident should have been not only happy to have him as a neighbor, but grateful. However, as I’ve known my entire life, and others are beginning to now see, some folks are so stuck on skin color they can’t see content or character.

Mmm ... Chocolate

Yesterday was World Chocolate Day, commemorating “the introduction of chocolate to Europe in 1550” and, in celebration, Krispy Kreme was transforming its traditional glazed donut into a chocolate version.

Of course, I can’t eat chocolate, let alone a donut, without becoming ill, but I’d pretty much made up my mind to do it anyway. After all, thought I, how sick can I get from one or two or three Krispy Kreme’s and for how long? I was planning on finding out.

But I woke up that morning with sweat dripping down my face and the thermostat registering over 90 inside the unit, because I’d not set the A/C to kick in over 85 because I don’t like the sound of the A/C running during the night and I was trying to tough it out.

It’s a wonder I didn’t die of heatstroke in my sleep.

The plan for yesterday, other than to indulge my chocolate craving, was to walk a virtual 5k in the comfort of the air-conditioned mall, with yet another cool medal to arrive in the mail upon completion.

Fortunately, rules state the virtual can be run at any location, with participants either walking, using the treadmill, or biking, and “Complete your race any time in July, even better if you complete it on July 7th!”.

After waking up, already wiped out from the heat before I even got out of bed, the 7th was not an option. Of course, I could have employed the indoor bike, but that doesn’t burn as many calories as walking, so I’ve put off the 5k until the mood hits next week or so, minus the stop by Krispy Kreme because chocolate glaze was a one day only thing.

You know how they say “everything happens for a reason”? Waking up wiped out not only kept me from a gut episode, but indoors, away from the mall area, and that turned out to be a good thing because, in the middle of this heatwave, warnings began popping up on the television of a flash flood in this area and where I would have been had I driven to the mall.

No way, thought I. The sun was shinning and it was Hyades hot.

But then, sure enough, it suddenly went dark outside, I heard thunder then came the heavy rain.

So ominous, thought I. What’s next ... an earthquake?

I got caught in a flash flood a block from my current residence once, and it was scary. I couldn’t see ahead of me to drive on or pull over, so I stopped in place not knowing what was coming up behind me. Fortunately, it was over as quickly as it appeared and I made it around the corner and into my complex.

Same with yesterday’s flash flood, it was over as quickly as it appeared and the sun went back to burning.

Last night, I set the A/C to kick in at 85 inside, which it did at 7:00 a.m.

That’s still a little warm, but I didn’t wake up in a sweat or wiped out, so I might venture out in search of a Summer Pikachu today. One appeared in the unit yesterday.

So cute.

But I need to catch 300 in order earn a Fan Medal, which gives me access to special gear.

Of course, I won’t hunt in motion. I’ll drive to a known Pokéstop, park, sit in the air-conditioned car, load the app, catch what I can, exit the app, drive to the next stop.