Vegan Festival

Instead of 30 minutes on the indoor bike yesterday, Saturday, I went to the Inland Empire Vegan Festival where I thought I'd see some interesting sights, do a lot of walking.

A lot of walking it was. First because the only parking spot I could find was about a half mile away. There was the walk up to the venue on a pleasantly hot day, the walk back from the venue, and walking around the venue, so cardio done.

The walk to the venue was advantageous in more ways than one as I passed two Pokéstops. Didn't find any new creatures, but loaded a few Pokéballs into my virtual backpack.

Admission was free beginning noon, with a $25 charge for early admission at 11:00.

I arrived around 12:30 and quickly surmised I should have paid the $25 for early admission, because the venue was crowded and became even more so as the day wore on.

There was a lot of weaving my way through other humans, but I did manage to see everything, take a few snapshots.

That Girl Can Sing!

Vegan Tamales

Vegan Burgers

Vegan Eye Candy

There were rows and rows and rows of food trucks. In fact, instead of Vegan Festival they should have called it Vegan Food Trucks, because that’s what it was, with long lines at every truck. Everything looked delish. In addition to food trucks, there was vegan ice cream and vegan pastry stands.

I very nearly bought coconut macaroons, but not wanting to take the chance of eating something with an ingredient my gut didn’t like, I headed over to look at the knickknacks, clothing, jewelry and quickly blew through $75 on an all-natural charcoal activated face mask, tooth powder, charcoal infused tooth and gum oil and a colorful toothbrush.

Plan for today is to go nowhere, do nothing. I’m exhausted. This "use it or loose it" causing me to now be active every day is necessary to regain much of what has already been lost through so much time spent on the couch, not loose anything further, but it’s EXHAUSTING.

The Great Bagel Controversy

Browsing news feeds yesterday morning, I came across an article entitled “New Yorkers horrified by crime of bagels sliced like bread”.

I found the article so interesting that I followed a thread which led to “Twitter lashes out at sociopath bagels sliced like bread”.

The whole controversy I found funny as all get out, but thought the idea of slicing like bread to be clever, wondered why no one, including myself, hadn't thought about doing so before.

Later in the day, I saw that Kathy asked what her readers thought about the controversy and, when I said I thought it was a good idea, going to try it, she replied “Let us know what you think”. So, Kathy, this one's for you.

My food restrictions necessitate I make my own bagels using Almond Flour, and so it was this morning.

Fresh from the oven ...

The “Sociopath” slices from the news article looked like this ....

Saint Louis Style

My sociopath slices  looked like this ....

Sliced like bread, they come out appetizer sized/snack size.

I was good with that because anything made with almond flour is way more filling than that made with bread flour. When I could eat a regular bagel, I could get through two whereas I can barely make it through one made with almond flour. So sliced like bread, I can pick and choose what to eat, what to save for later.

End pieces of bread are the best, so the two end pieces were lathered in almond butter and gobbled up pretty fast while still warm.

Next two outside slices looked like they’d make a good sandwich for a slice of uncured bacon, but I was out of bacon and turned them into a vehicle for a fried egg instead.

That left the two slices in the middle, where the hole was.

Those slices looked flimsy, as though they’d not hold up but, surprisingly, they did.

Like I said, almond flour bagels are filling so, already breakfasted out, I decided to save those slices for lunch. I’ll mash up avocados and turn them into avocado toast.

Remaining bagels went into the fridge for breakfast and lunch next few days.

Sometimes I don’t get through all six bagels before they are no longer appealing, so I’m testing out ways to turn the left-overs into bread pudding.

Last week’s attempt was an epic fail.

And yes, that is a paper plate I’m eating from.

I’m not fancy.

Profiled

So, the day started off okay.

After performing the morning ritual, I hopped on the indoor bike to do the homework the trainer had given me.

On the days I’m not working out with him, except Sunday ─ my one day of rest, I am to do 30 minutes of cardio.

After the bike I hopped online, read blogs, email and saw that my new fitness tracker had arrived and was available for pick up at the big box store.

Killing two birds with one stone, I took some of the cookware the instant pot rendered obsolete down to the car, as I’d be driving pass Goodwill.

That’s two down, a steamer and miscellaneous other cookware to go.

Arriving at the Big Box store, I decided to use the women’s facility before picking up my order AND when I exited the ladies’ room, there was this big burly security guard standing outside the door.

Didn’t think anything of it until, remembering I also needed another set of earbuds, I began walking through the store trying to find them.

When I finally gave up searching on my own and looked up to find someone to assist me, I noticed the security guard was standing in the area, eyes on me.

What the heck!

Upon getting assistance in locating and deciding on which earbuds to purchase, I walked over to the pick-up counter, got my pre-ordered item, was paying for the earbuds, looked up and once again ... there was that security guard standing in the area, eyes on me.

As I completed my purchases, I pulled out my cellphone to take a photo of him but wouldn’t you know ... he was done with making sure I didn't steal anything and had disappeared.

Leaving the store, I left a message for the security guard with the kid who stands at the door checking receipts. “Your security guard followed me to the ladies’ room and through the entire store. Tell him I said he was wasting his time”.

Though these incidents of being profiled are NOW a lot fewer and further between, it’s maddening when they do. Last time was back in August at the craft store.

It's a mean thing to hope for but I always hope that while wasting time watching me someone else is stealing them blind.

At any rate, I’m happy to be able to track my activity once again. I’ve been without a tracker for weeks, since shortly after I’d mentioned the strap broke and I repaired with duct tape.

I’m not all that materialistic, so I was happy with a duct tapped tracker. But then the battery failed. It took time to find the correct battery, but then I couldn’t put the battery in because I needed a tiny Phillip’s screwdriver to get the battery compartment open. That took several more weeks to get, but then the screws were in so tight I couldn’t get the compartment open.

Finally giving up on the old tracker, the batteries and the Phillip’s screwdriver, I spent a few days researching trackers before deciding on a Vivosmart 4, but then I had to wait a week for notice it had arrived and was available for pickup at the Big Box store, only to get there and be profiled.

I’m not naming names as to WHERE this occurred, but ....

It’s an insane world. The Orange Traitor seemingly is off the hook due to Mueller’s report. We're stuck with him and probably for two terms. Jussie Smollett also is off the hook due to who knows why, while my old law-abiding arse is getting profiled for shopping while Black.

It’s Nice to Be Wanted BUT ....

Another invite from Q ─ my millennial friend in the Beach area.

This time it’s for Easter Brunch on Sunday, April 21.

Knowing my food restrictions would be too challenging for me in the face of all the great dishes Q will surely make, I thanked him for the invite and declined.

Wouldn’t you know he’s made my life complicated by not taking no for an answer. “I'm happy to make something you can eat. Did you say you can eat plain vegetables and potatoes? That's really easy to make” says he.

It’s not just the food restrictions but how complicated it is to go anywhere now. First there’s booking myself into a hotel, and the having to take the Instant Pot with me and pre-made meals to heat in the pot. THEN, much as I enjoy keeping up with the goings and doings of my Gen X and Millennial friends on Facebook, we have too little in common ─ other than we use to work together, to make socializing in person interesting for me.

Q’s graciousness has me now struggling for a way to say no.

Thinking to find a good reason to work through the complications of a road trip just to socialize, I began looking around for what I could combine to make the trip worth the effort. Plenty of 5Ks in that area, but none during the time period I’d be in the area ─ evening of Friday the 19th through early morning Monday the 22nd.

Twin 1 would be thrilled if I joined her on Skid Row as she and her group fed the homeless Saturday, but I’m not sure I could handle the surrounding filth and squalor. I’m the person who won’t go to the movies because it’s dark, I don’t know what’s crawling around on the floor, and I feel icky sitting in seats that thousands of others have sat in.

Grandbaby, whom I’ve thankfully not heard from since I helped her get her car out of impound, pay tickets and get insurance, suddenly sent me a message last night saying she loves and misses me and would like me to visit “us” at “their” new apartment when next I’m in the area.

I suspect the timing of hearing from her, all of a sudden, out of the blue, not wanting anything is the Universe urging me to make the trip, attend Q’s event.

If I do, I’m not sure I’ll pop in on Grandbaby. The “us” she speaks of is her boyfriend (white, 5 years older, Mormon background). I met him Thanksgiving, got a good vibe from him and all, so I’m okay if she’s okay BUT their relationship has reached the point where both are posting about being "in love”. I’m old, hardened, awake, so the mushy gushiness makes me want to throw up in my mouth a little.

So, all in all, I don’t know but, until I make a decision, I’m considering what meals I can take that won’t be too much trouble for me through that weekend, what I can have Q cook for me that won’t be too much trouble for him, whether there is anything the GenX, Millennials and I can find to converse about since they all still work, are raising children and I’m retired, free of responsibilities, whether I should brave the drive on the Los Angeles freeways to join Twin 1 in feeding the homeless, drop by Grandbaby’s place and try not to toss my cookies at the mushy gushiness.

So much to think about, including getting back on Monday the 22^nd, in time for my noon workout with the trainer.

Decisions, decisions.

I am so happy, satisfied, content, grateful for the life and schedule I now have, that I get thrown for a loop every time I get an invite to deviate from that life/schedule.

It’s nice to be wanted, but I wish Q had taken no for an answer.

Today was my fourth session with the personal trainer, and I have to say the Pain Cave is money well spent.

After the initial session caused everything to hurt, the trainer assessed where my weaknesses lie and is working me on resistance equipment and that which will build overall stamina and strength in my weak areas ─ knees, upper body.

My most fun activity is when I balance on a huge tire, jump up and down.

My least fun activity is planking. I can’t do one single plank to save my life. I’ve always known and said I have no upper body strength, so no surprise there, but it’s hilarious when he tells me to lay face down, assume the position, then tells me to lift up. I lay there like a beached whale, flat on my belly, grunting away but unable to get off the ground.

The trainer and I have a long way to go with upper body, but his treadmill workouts have me back to 5K competition level already. He calls it “muscle memory” ─ that I’ve recovered so quickly after losing my stamina from all that time as a couch potato.

Happy Saint Patrick’s Day

Even though I’m technically not Irish, I always wear green.

I say technically because, back in the days of slavery, ancestors on my mother’s side were owned by an Irish plantation owner. Upon emancipation, family came away with that owner's Irish last name which was eventually buried through females marrying and taking the last names of their husbands.

No green bagels or green beer for me today, but I did color my nails and dress in a tee with those shamrock decorations.

Tomorrow is my second session with the Personal Trainer. 

I walked away from that first session feeling pretty good, but the aches hit me the day after, and the day after that. Today is the first day nothing hurt and we’re back at it tomorrow ─ Monday and then again Tuesday.

I saw results right away, just days BEFORE that first session, in that ─ after losing 20.5 pounds in 2017, the needle on the scale in the Game Room refused to budge.

No matter what I did, I could not lose, not a pound, not an ounce after that December.

Then, after deciding to sign up for personal training, I jumped on that scale and was down 5 pounds in one week.

I double checked on the scale in the Pain Cave, and it indicated I’d lost 6 pounds by then.

It’s almost like my being stuck since December 2017 was the Universe screwing with me, and when the Universe realized I was serious about the Pain Cave, it got scared straight ─ figured Oh Snap. She’s not messing around. I’d better show some progress can be made without all that effort.

Sorry, Universe. Too late. Besides, weight loss is not my goal ─ I’m training for strength and stamina, but I’ll take it.

It’s Them Not Us

Getting ready to head out for my first day in the Pain Cave, I got a text message from Apache that the new Community Manager had resigned and the job opening was once again posted to Corporate’s website.

That’s five Community Managers who were either fired or quit in my six years of living here.

It’s a revolving door.

Thing is .... this latest Community Manager never even made it to the property.

We’d heard someone had been hired, was going through Corporate orientation, and we’d be seeing her (or him, we don’t know) soon.

Then, while still in the orientation process, the new hire quit.

She or he evidently didn’t like what Corporate was putting down and walked away from the position.

Smart.

At any rate, you’d think Corporate would wise up and make whatever adjustments are necessary to get and keep a good hire.

As for the Pain Cave, I survived the first workout without throwing up or crying. So, it was a difficult session as the trainer assessed where I am in stamina and strength, but nowhere near as bad as I was expecting.

I have a feeling it might one day get as bad as I was expecting, because his plan is to start where we landed in this session and push me to more.

He’s already given me homework for the days when I’m not training with him, leaving just one day away from physical activity ─ Sunday.

Looks like I’m not going to have a lot of time left over to keep up with the folks.

The Pain Cave

Looks like I’ve had an amazing recovery from the time change blues, because I had no problem falling asleep last night and was up and at it early this morning.

After today's Saint Patrick’s Day Potluck, which was well attended, I took care of a bit of business that had been rummaging around in my brain ever since I saw a sign down the street, a few days ago, that so peaked my interest that I’d parked, gone into the business to investigate.

The yoga girl wasn’t available to speak with me, but I later looked on her Instagram and decided, though I can still do SOME yoga, my body is no longer flexible enough to do her kind of yoga. However, while speaking with the guy explaining the yoga schedule, I learned of other fitness options, including personal training.

Getting toned, tightened and strong is something I’d been thinking about, looking into and wanting for a long time.

Back in August, while out of the area hunting Pokémon, I’d spotted another sign and popped in.

Did not get a good feel for the location, the facility, the training methods or the trainers ─ not to mention the drive was out of my way, so I passed and kept intermittently considering other places.

The place down the street just popped up out of nowhere (in business since August they tell me), and "down the street" is just two blocks from the complex. I can walk there and back.

The guy/trainer I was initially speaking with seemed knowledgeable and had a really good feel about him, but I started hyperventilating when the subject of how much it was going to cost came up. Consequently, I'd left saying I'd think about all he'd told me. Plus, I checked Yelp (excellent reviews) and his Instagram (where I saw videos of his successful transformations).

After thinking about it and thinking about it and factoring in the cost, I decided, from prior research, the cost is comparable and getting off the couch, motivated once again, in shape and active, is worth the price.

I went in for yoga, came out with a personal trainer who calls his training room “The Pain Cave”.

He set me up for Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays beginning this Thursday, whereupon I said, “I’m scared”.

His response ─ “Don’t be. I don’t kill anyone right away. I bring them up slow”.

I just hope I don’t cry.

Springing Forward

It doesn’t seem logical that time springing forward one hour would throw me so off center but with that time change, along with all the chaos going on in the world running through my head, the day has been challenging. Starting with my not being able to fall asleep last night.

There I was ─ tossing, turning.

Sleep wouldn't come, so I turned on the lights and put in some reading time.

Unlike Bob Woodward’s book Fear, which was so boring that I’d get sleepy after a page or two, Cliff Sim’s book made not being sleepy worse because it’s so interesting, stimulating, a lot of laugh out loud funny.

It must have been around 1:00/2:00 that I put down the book, picked up the tape player and popped in a meditation tape.

That did the trick because next thing I knew, I was waking up ... but late, very late ─ 9:30 a.m.

Waking up so late didn’t give me the time to putter around that I usually need before I decide to start living. And, but for the fact I HAD to make a Sprout’s and Ralphs market run, because I was out of staples and also needed to pick up something for tomorrow’s Saint Patrick’s Day potluck, I’d have blown off the entire day.

Getting dressed turned into a circus because, after picking out a pair of warm socks, I lost one between the bedroom sock drawer and the couch.

After looking here, there, back/forth from one room to another, I gave up, sat down on the couch to collect my thoughts and ......

There the missing sock was, on my left foot.

I began to reconsider trusting myself outside, but carried on.

The wind was howling so, not wanting to drive 20 miles, I took a chance on that new Sprout’s ─ where the parking lot had been so crazy.

No problem today. There was not a line at that chicken place, no armed guards, and plenty of parking. However, I did see a sign on the door of Sprout’s that I’ve never seen in any market anywhere, any time.

I got in, out and on to my next stop without getting shot, but what the heck is that sign about?

Did someone actually come in and do their grocery shopping while carrying a gun?

At any rate, I hurriedly picked up what few items I couldn’t get at Sprouts, and something easy peasy for tomorrow’s potluck at the next stop.

It’s a good thing that Sweet Tooth had run its course, and I’m now not remotely tempted, because these on my counter overnight would have been dangerous.

At any rate, as I turned to push my purchases away, after going through the checkout line, the casher got my attention with “Ma’am, Ma’am”.

I turned, puzzled and asked, “Did I not give you enough (money)?”

“You didn’t give me any”, said she.

Still puzzled, trying to put it all together, I realized the cash was still in my hand.

“Oh”, said I. “That’s why I’m carrying this in my hand”.

I made it home without further incident, but I can’t wait for this day to end, and will probably stay home until my mind, body, spirit adjusts to this time change.

Senior Moment

Thinking tomorrow was the 12th of March already, I headed to the market for a dish for tomorrow’s Saint Patrick’s Day potluck.

We’d just had the Valentine’s Day (Sweetheart Potluck) event last week ... very late because of budget issues, so I was surprised to see yet another potluck so soon on the Activity Calendar.

Nevertheless, I signed up to bring a dish and was thinking along the lines of Starbucks Coffee or some kind of green Ice Cream.

Tomorrow, and the remainder of the week, is not looking good for us seniors weather-wise here in the Inland Empire ─ cloudy, rain, rain, showers, rain, rain, cloudy.

Consequently, I decided against driving to Starbucks tomorrow to pick up a Starbucks traveler, lug it in along with creamers and cups in the rain, and headed to the market for ice cream this morning.

Then I saw a sale on Slaw.

Corned beef and potatoes are on the menu, so cabbage slaw would be a good accompaniment, thought I, even though it’s Asian slaw. Plus the price was right ─ two for $6.00.

Once back at the complex, it occurred to me that we’d gotten two weeks into the month of March awfully quick, so I looked at the calendar to recheck the date, only to see today is the 4th, not the 11th.

I don’t think the slaw will do well after sitting in my fridge for eight days, so I’m stuck with two packages of Asian Slaw I can’t eat because the vinaigrette and wontons have ingredients dangerous to my health and well-being ─ wheat, corn starch, soy. To top it off, I looked at the receipt and noticed I was charged regular price ─ $3.99 each.

I’d take them back, except, I’m overcharged only $2.00 and the market was not the local corner store, but the one out of the area near Costco, because I drove there for gas ─ too far to go over a $2.00 overcharge.

While watching Chopped on Food Network, I had the bright idea to use the veggies, toss the other stuff. A shirataki noodles stir fry was my first go at repurposing the slaw.

It worked. After adding almond butter, coconut amino and sriracha, I had a meal which was better than take-out.

That’s half a package of slaw down, one and a half to go.

Shortly after I returned from the market, Head Maintenance Guy (HMG) showed up in response to that maintenance request for new blinds for the kitchen.

I was glad it was he that responded, rather than his assistant. However, instead of bringing up new blinds, he decided to “fix” the broken string.

He looped it together somehow, got the blinds back up, but the blinds now look squished and slanted and so precariously put together that I don’t dare touch them for fear of their falling apart again.

HMG himself didn’t express much confidence in his work, saying, “I fixed it but, when it falls apart, I’ll order new ones”.

Why not be proactive and order new ones now?

But you know what? 

If you’ve been reading this blog for any length of time, you know I’m not the type to make a big deal. Instead, I lay low, bide my time, wait for the opportune moment and then BAM!

I’ll live with the tacky looking fix until we next have an inspection. Then I’ll nonchalantly open the blinds to let the sun in, and watch the blinds fall apart in the presence of the inspector.

Bet I get new blinds lickety split then.

Mother of Invention

Another wet weekend here in the Inland Empire.

Once again stuck inside, with energy to burn, I decided to Spring clean.

Even though the weather isn’t indicating Spring, I know it’s Spring because the new Pikachu is wearing a Spring flower in her hair.

Got quite a lot of cleaning done: On Saturday, I decluttered the hall and bedroom closets, cleaned the bedroom blinds, cleaned the kitchen blinds and, just when I raised the blinds to wash the window, a string broke and I was left with this.

Oh great! I have to put in another maintenance request, thought I.

I’m not feeling good about the office sending that Assistant Maintenance Guy (AMG) up with new blinds, and it will probably be he because he's the one who takes care of the small jobs.

I don’t care what anyone says. When my brain tells me I’m making too much of a situation ─ reading into it more than was intended, but my gut tells me otherwise, I listen to my gut.

Better safe than sorry.

My gut is telling me it was weird for AMG to so pointedly ask if there was anything else he could do for me because that’s not how it works around here. One puts in a request and, when the guys get around to it, they only take care of what is on the request.

Once work is completed, resident signs off.

It’s done this way because, believe it or not, management requires residents to pay for “damages caused by the resident in the unit”. And, of course, management works it so most requests are always, not wear and tear but considered “damage caused by resident”.

Consequently, if the resident has anything else they’d like the guys to take care of , while present, then the resident has to go down to the office and put in yet another request.

Last week and this week are going to cost me because, every time I clean something it breaks.

First was the stove.

I cleaned the oven, it failed a week later, and the entire stove had to be replaced.

No charge for that, because it was a timer issue.

However, last week's florescent kitchen bulb replacement cost a mere $2.50, but a cost nevertheless.

Now it’s the kitchen blinds.

The list of Resident Charges indicates I’ll be reimbursing Corporate $27.51 for new ones.

I’m steam cleaning the bathroom today. Hopefully, no baseboards or floor tiles come loose in the process.

To top it off, in the middle of tracking my cleaning frenzy, the strap on Fitbit broke.

Necessity is the mother of invention so, until I can get a replacement strap, there’s good old duct tape.

As for what I’m currently using for privacy in the kitchen …. again, necessity is the mother of invention.

Can you identify what I'm using as temporary curtains, LOL?

Cohen Spoke

“Cheat, con man, racist”.

So, tell us something those of us who haven’t drunk the Kool-Aid didn’t already know.

But the fact Cohen has admitted to having done this that the other, at the behest of you-know-who, has brought up unpleasant memories of when I myself was in the workforce and feared for loss of job if I didn’t do something not quite on the up and up at the behest of the boss.

I was lucky, in that something inside always stood up, said no, and though I knew not to openly refuse because, being Black, it might have given grounds for my dismissal as being insolent, uncooperative, not a team player, I always smiled, appeared to get the message, but then found a way around.

Outwit, outsmart, outplay.

Like the time my job was to review timesheets, correct errors and sign off on their authenticity.

A timesheet was walked over to me by an assistant to a boss. The assistant looked me in the eyes and pointedly said, “Joe said not to change anything on this”.

I looked at the timesheet and observed the sheet indicated this particular boss’s secretary (who I knew for a fact was sleeping with the boss) was shown as in the office working during the time period, when she was actually vacationing in Hawaii.

For some reason, she had vacation time, but didn’t want to use it.

It isn't easy to do the right thing, when your job is on the line but, had the fraud been discovered, it would have fallen back on no one but myself, because of having signed off on the sheet, so I had no choice but to protect myself by correcting in-office to vacation.

The expected backlash from the conspirators never happened. Neither she, nor her boss, nor the assistant ever said a word about my non-compliance and work life went on as usual.

Then there was the time an attorney told me to sign and submit his grossly inflated expense report.

After having seen a secretary get into a whole lot of legal trouble for signing a contract in her boss’s name, at her boss’s behest ─ a contract which was later disputed and the boss said she’d not signed it, never told her secretary to sign for her, I no longer signed anything on behalf of, signified by /s/. So, I took the inflated expense report to someone in authority to sign for the attorney.

That someone in authority looked at the amount and said, “I’M NOT GOING TO SIGN THIS!”, so I left it on the attorney’s desk, with a note saying so and so refused to sign for him.

What could he do to me for not following orders and signing for him when someone in authority also refused?

He was mad to find it still sitting on his desk, when he returned a few days later and, as far as I know, he had his buddy, the General Counsel lead attorney, sign and collude with him.

The attorney did ask for, and got himself transferred to another secretary, but fine by me.

The secretary he got himself transferred to was the secretary of the General Counsel lead attorney who'd colluded with him.

There are so many stories I can relate to Cohen's situation, when I had to duck, dodge, weave, outwit, outsmart, outplay but my favorite is when a Contract Manager was assigned a Vendor Fair Project, which was destined to fail, and tried to set me up to take the fall.

She gave me a list of things she wanted me to do to set the event up relative to time and location.

I did them.

Then she asked me to set up a mailing list, send out rsvp notices.

I did that and, as I expected, no replies.

So far, everything was me out front, my name, my doing; her involvement, other than it being her project, nowhere.

Then she asked me to set up an appointment for her with the Advertising Director.

I did that as well.

The morning of her appointment with Advertising Director, I woke up to spidey sense telling me she was going to tell me to take the appointment for her.

That would have been totally inappropriate for me as just the secretary. Not only would I have not known what to say, what to do, but the mere meeting with a big mucky muck would have made the project mine in everyone’s eyes and set me up as the responsible one, so I called in sick.

Next day, after recovering from my illness, I returned to the office to learn she’d called in sick that day as well. She’d phoned in and left a message for me to take the appointment for her.

Ha!

She was mad as a wet hen, slamming paperwork down, stormed around the office when she realized I’d outsmarted her and, there being no visible evidence of her having performed activities to make the event successful, it was she herself held solely responsible when the project failed.

Looking back on my working years, most of those years were nightmares I seriously doubt any of you can relate to. I had children to feed, clothe, house so I’ve had to find my way through working for crooks, racists, the functionally insane while scared, afraid, worried most of the time and yes, there have been tears, but always learning how to anticipate, read minds, stay ahead, survive and I’ve lived to come out integrity in tact, retire comfortably and blog about it.

Go figure.

Well, it looks like rain is about to start, following by another storm coming to this area, so I’d better get off this computer and run errands while I can.

The hillside is crumbling. We can only use one side of the road driving out of the area in that direction.

There are homes in them thar hills. I may have to invest in binoculars to keep an eye out on how it’s impacting them.