Say Hello to My Little Friend

Except for one or two or three little hiccups, the week has been peaceful around here at the senior complex.

One hiccup being hearing sky rockets, cherry bombs, roman candles, and I don’t know what else, going off all day … every single day.

Because we’re in the hot zone, fireworks are illegal, but that’s not stopping whoever.

Attached to the July Calendar was a note ... "If you are aware of someone selling or using illegal fireworks, please call the police department."

A lot of good that’ll do. Besides, though it sounds like the fireworks are going off here, right under our feet, we can’t pinpoint where coming from.

Hopefully, we can get through the 4th without a blaze.

Another hiccup was the resident who decided to begin laundry at 11 p.m. Wednesday night, just as I was falling asleep.

Sounds coming from the laundry room had me tossing/turning. I did, however, fall asleep ... eventually, only to be periodically awakened by the sound of water gushing into the washer, items rolling around in the dryer, until 3:00 am! That's a lot of laundry.

It's only after hours, when we can hear the doors of washers/dryers being opened closed and the other sounds, because sounds are amplified by the quiet at night.

Last hiccup was the resident who decided to do laundry at 4:00 this morning.

Try as I might, I could not fall back asleep, so I got up and started my day early ... very tempted to get dressed, put on makeup, go downstairs, snap of photo of the culprit and turn him/her into the office. Makeup because, of course, I wasn't going to be seen not totally put together.

It may eventually come to my taking the initiative, because I’ve had about enough of the rule breakers. I think, however, others in this building have already complained because, also attached to the July Calendar, was a notice reiterating that “Laundry hours are from 7 am to 10 pm ... Respect Your Neighbors”.

Either the rule breakers can’t read or, I know it's hard to believe, but there are people in this world that just don’t care about disturbing or inconveniencing others.

So, other than those hiccups, it’s been smooth sailing.

Still no sign of The Seer or Shadow, but I spotted the other Nancy, the one who’s not dead, pushing her walker away from the area where Shadow lives.

Not dead Nancy being on a walker is new. Younger and healthy looking, she all of a sudden came up with balance problems. But that’s what happens when residents sit all day, never walk any further than from their unit to the Community Room.

It’s also happened with one of the guys who regularly attends events. A big friendly guy, also healthy looking, no activity other than walking to the Community Room, driving to the Casino. I see he’s now using a cane.

As I watch neighbors deteriorate, I'm so happy to have gotten off the couch shortly after moving here in 2012, observing neighbors deteriorating even then, seeing signs of my own body deteriorating, saying to myself, "I'm not going out that way",  forcing myself off the couch, started walking, graduated into doing 5Ks. Happier still to have been led to Trainer, who’s helping me build on strength, stamina and balance.

The July calendar only shows one event — a 4th of July Potluck but, inasmuch as the 4th is a staff holiday, Activity Director is hosting the event on Tuesday the 2nd.

There’s no such thing as a holiday in the Pain Cave. Trainer’s client list is such that he appears to never take a day off, so I expect I’ll be working out on Thursday the 4th per usual.

No big deal, since I can’t eat hotdogs and potato salad anyway.

So though I haven’t been spending any time with the seniors, don’t know when I’ll be able to, I was passing the Community Room after Thursday’s workout, and saw my little friend was here to play Bingo with her great grandma.

Other than stopping in to give my little friend a hug, that’s the closest I’ve been to socializing with the seniors since Apache’s party.

The Baker's Great Granddaughter and My favorite young person

Her great grandma took the photo. Great grandpa designed the frame.

Burnt Bridges

I’ve been busy with working out, cooking against my will (trying out recipes that won’t upset my gut), and needlepoint. My schedule is free of reading material, as I've nothing new to read since finishing up Vicky Ward’s book.

Finished It

Such a sad pathetic family No 45 has.

They have money, power, some not all have looks, but all are so warped, damaged by greed that I feel pity, rather than disgust.

At any rate, my favorite author Walter Mosley had two new books come out while I was reading Kushner Inc. and these other three ....

Finished 'Em

But, what with my other activities, I’ve not the time for catching up with Mosley’s books right now.

Except for Friday when, after that trip to the desolate looking senior center, I returned home and jumped directly on the indoor bike and did six miles, I let Trainer and myself down remainder of the weekend.

The fitbit, on days not with him, generally register some activity, at least 55 – 60%, but I didn’t do any moving on Saturday. Just sat on the couch thinking/meditating, staring out the patio window into space, occasionally seeing residents go here/there/up/down the pathway.

Sunday was more of the same ─ thinking, meditating, staring into space, glimpses of seniors, except I did put the fitbit on and managed to register 32% puttering around in the unit.

During my sabbatical from activity, I heard sirens approaching and seem to stop out front.

That happens so often with the old people suffering falls, heat exhaustion, death, that I no longer head outside to see who/what. It’s sad to say, but I’ve become desensitized. I never left my perch on the couch.

Then, on Sunday, seeing residents walk down the pathway obviously, from how dressed, heading off to church, it occurred to me .... I haven’t seen The Seer or Shadow on the pathway. In fact, I’ve not seen either of then since Apache’s birthday when they gave him the unwrapped gift of a watch.

Not seeing either of them is a pretty big deal because, regular as clockwork, Shadow was on the pathway, coffee cup in hand, heading to The Seer’s unit for breakfast. Along about noon, you’d see the two of them heading for his unit and/or off somewhere for lunch/an excursion. On Sundays, it was off to church for the two of them.

So thick were they that I’d prophesized a wedding in their future.

And seeing their comings/goings on the path, it’s not that I’m spying on them. More like they put themselves in my line of vision when I’m staring off into space, looking at nothing.

At any rate, I’ll have to catch up with Apache, ask what’s happened to them, do they even still live here, thought I.

During this morning’s training session, Trainer said, “There was some trouble at your building on Saturday”.

Don’t know if he was driving by and spotted police and fire rescue, or saw from his studio, but I admitted hearing the commotion but that I was too desensitized to go outside and check on who/what, but guessed it was probably a death.

It was.

Immediately after working out, I’d popped into the market and who did I see but my buddy Apache.

He tells me the death was a woman who lived on the opposite side of the complex. Long time readers might recall her as the Woman Who Runs into Things ─ she backed into the decorative median in front of the complex, ran over the flowers, backed into and bent the tree, then almost hit the back end of a car she was following through the gate.

Her car has all kinds of dents and dings from other things she’s obviously hit, all of which is how she’s been tagged with the name Nancy The One Who Runs into Things (NWRiT), in order to distinguish her from the other Nancy we have 0n the property.

NWRiT was found deceased fairly quickly by a neighbor who’d heard noise in her unit, described as bumps and banging around.

Accustomed to Nancy running into things, inside and outside, the neighbor didn’t check right away but said, a little while later, something told her to. The door to Nancy’s unit is always unlocked, so the neighbor went in, found her sprawled out in the front room, called authorities.

NWRiT was lucky to have been checked on and handled so quickly.

When I asked Apache if The Seer and Shadow still live here, the answer was yes, but Shadow is no longer attending church with Seer, no longer even driving The Seer to church. Neither ever comes to Bingo now, and Shadow no longer comes to the game room to shoot pool with the guys.

I haven't even seen him outside smoking", as is his habit, said I.

"He's in his unit drinking", said Apache.

It appears both are keeping a low profile.

Awkward!

Whatever happened between the two, I imagine The Seer is embarrassed because she got on her high horse at landing a man, angry and defensive because she'd settled on a man who made her look desperate to be in a relationship, and burned so many bridges.

And this explains why, on Sunday, I saw the other Nancy on that walkway.

What’s she up to; she’s never down this way was my immediate thought, as I saw her pushing her walker on the path.

Dollars to donuts, it’s because Shadow lives down that way.

She’d pressed up on him when he first moved in, but had come on so strong that she scared him away and into the arms of The Seer. I wouldn’t put it past him to be more amenable now, making it even more awkward for The Seer.

Looks like the beginning of an interesting soap opera.

Right Time Wrong Place

I could have sworn the online version of that Jazzercise Lo class indicated sessions were on Wednesdays. However, when I showed up at the senior center to spy on the class, to see if I was up to the challenge, I looked through the window and saw tap dancing in session.

Checking with the receptionist, I learned jazzercise is on Tuesdays.

Tuesdays are already booked with Trainer so, checking into the multitude of other classes offered, I saw the only other thing available during the days I’m looking to fill, at a time not too early or too late for my taste, was Thai Chi.

I have no interest in Thai Chi ─ too slow. I’d fall asleep standing up, so I took a look at the listings being offered by the senior center closer in, the center some of the residents frequent.

In fact, this is the center that group of ladies led by Greedy Grabby attended. That is, until they were caught taking coffee from the storage area and got themselves banned.

At any rate, I saw Zumba Gold was being offered on Fridays, at a reasonable hour, so off I went to give it a go this morning.

Even though the drive was short, it led me into a somewhat dark, gloomy, desolate looking part of town.

That was the first sign to turn back.

The second sign was when the GPS said I had arrived, but the signage indicated State Hospital ... not just A hospital but A forensic hospital, a hospital known to be for the criminally insane.

Again, a point where the universe was indicating make a U-turn, head back but, seeing a tiny little building with letters that said "senior center", I pulled into the parking lot.

From the vantage point of the parking lot, I could see the tiny little senior center was in the corner of an area alongside a building labeled Department of Corrections and a huge facility, which is the state hospital.

What were they thinking ... the folks that put the center in that location?

It was depressing to see. Everything looked old, scary, like the kind of buildings one sees in AMC’s The Walking Dead.

Not only did I still not turn around, I parked, got out of the car, took photos.

I began thinking that if someone from the Department of Corrections or the State Hospital saw me taking photos, I might be shot for their thinking I was planning to escape someone AND, after taking photos and not getting shot, I entered the building marked senior center.

It was crowded inside, and even more depressing than the outside.

Crowded only because the room where the old folks congregated was so tiny.

The place was night and day insofar as the senior center I’d gone to on Wednesday.

That first center had tons of rooms, different activities in each, a gift shop, computer room, even a coffee shop/cafeteria, grass, flowers, trees, a picnic area outside, and the people coming and going appeared to be well-kept looking seniors.

Everything in this second center went along with the old, scary, Walking Dead theme. It was tiny inside, only the one community room with rows of bench like tables, old people in wooden chairs crammed at each table, no room to move, no room to breathe. There was only one exercise room ─ no window to peek inside, just an old wooden door that looked straight outta the Walking Dead and should have been labeled “Don't Enter, Dead Inside”. The people in this center were ancient looking, and the place had that old house smell of mold and mildew.

In speaking with the woman leading the Zumba class, due to begin 15 minutes after I arrived, even though she indicated she was trained, even looking forward to attending an upcoming Zumba convention in Florida, I just couldn’t picture her as the instructor because her physic was the opposite of what one would imagine.

Did I turn around then?

No. I signed up for the class.

However, before the now 10-minute wait was up, what I was seeing became so depressing, the smell so overpowering, that I got a headache, went outside for fresh air, decided I couldn’t handle the place, the area, those seniors, got in the car and finally headed home.

Wasn’t the place for me.

I’m not that kinda old.

Covert Reconnaissance

Needing an activity, other than indoor biking or walking, for the days not with Trainer, I’ve been looking around and learned last week that the senior center is offering Jazzercise Lo.

I always wanted to try jazzercise, but that was years ago. Focusing on raising my twins and other life priorities got in the way and I never had the time to do the things I wanted to do.

Now that I’ve got the time, even though I’m stronger and more energetic due to pain cave training, I’m not sure my stamina is up to jazzercise. So tomorrow I’m taking a drive over to the center to spy on the class now in session.

If it looks like something I can handle, I’ll sign up for the July session.

Walking into the pain cave this morning, I was a little apprehensive that I’d be facing a disappointed and accusatory Trainer — disappointed at wasting $5.00 on those scratch off tickets and accusatory that I was the author of that. On top of which, I’d ruined the circus for him.

Thank goodness the news was good. He hit on all five scratch offs, turning $5.00 into $21.

I jokingly said, “Okay, let’s see … ten percent of twenty-one is?"

He laughed and said he told his wife, “This is what we’re going to do. We’re $16 ahead, so we’ll take that and buy more tickets. When we win on those, we’ll turn that over into more tickets.”

“Don’t get too carried away”, said I.

“I can quit whenever I want”, says he.

LOL.

And it’s not just him bitten by the gambling bug, it’s his wife as well.

She asked him, “Who sold you the tickets?” And when he said it was the liquor store owner’s wife, his wife said, “Only buy tickets when she’s on the counter”.

I’m assuming Trainer's wife feels the store owner’s wife is their lucky charm.

We’ll see how it goes.

As for ruining the circus, when Trainer on Monday excitedly said he had plans to go to the circus for the first time in his life, my reaction was to say it would break his heart.

“Why?” asked he.

It was a lengthy back and forth conversation, as I was working with equipment, the gist of which is that it will make him sad because he’ll see the pain in the eyes of the animals, meant to be free and roaming, being in cages, treated as toys, entertainment, slaves. And to his saying the animals are accustomed to it, don’t know any different, I’d said there is something inside that, no matter what the world and others try to make you become, you know it’s not right, it’s not who you are or what you are to be doing, and that is why the animals sometime go crazy and attack.

It was a deep conversation at the end of which Trainer said he saw my point and that I’d ruined the circus for him.

Sorry, not sorry, but I'm glad winning on those scratch offs made him forget my ruining his excitement about the circus.

Bad Teacher

Because there is a liquor store next door to the pain cave, questionable looking individuals sometimes hang around in the shopping center area. Trainer always tells me, “Be careful” when I exit.

No worries.

I always am.

Since that guy accosted me at the mailbox inside my gated community, and a guy followed me around in the market, it’s embedded in my brain to always be on guard because no place is safe.

At any rate, Trainer told me of an incident where a woman came in once yelling help because, as she exited the liquor store, a couple teenagers grabbed her purse and ran. Trainer chased the kids but, when they made it out of the shopping center and onto an asphalt road littered with glass and debris, he had to cease chasing because he had no shoes on.

There are no shoes allowed on the floor of the front room of the studio, which is where yoga and boxing bag workouts occur.

It’s all bare feet or socks only, which necessitates my entering the studio wearing workout socks and Birkenstock sandals.  Just by the door is an area for shoes. I kick off the sandals, walk across the front area in socks, enter the pain cave area in the rear, where I slip on my athletic shoe.

Leaving the pain cave, it’s off with the workout shoes, walking back across the front room in socks, slipping the sandals back on and out the door.

It’s a cultural thing based on feng shui and though it sounds like a lot of trouble, one becomes accustomed to the process. Besides, even if it is a lot of trouble, one has to respect the culture.

So, anyway, since last week’s 2nd Chance Lotto Win which, by the way, I fortunately don’t really need the money and am giving it to Twin 2, I decided to take the lottery more seriously ─ play once a moth rather than the occasional play when the pot is huge because I have other family members in need.

That liquor store next door sells lottery tickets so, when Trainer said be careful as I was leaving this morning, I said I was headed next door to get a lottery ticket.

That fascinated him, as he’d never played, and he began asking me all kinds of questions as to how it works.

“Would you like to go with me to see how it works”, I finally said.

He did indeed.

Once inside the liquor store, I showed him where the tickets were located, explained how the Super and Power indicate pick five numbers and a mega.

“What’s a mega”, asked he.

“I don’t know. It’s just another number you have to hit. But you can dispense with all this and just ask the woman at the counter for a quick pick”.

Once at the counter, Trainer began asking questions about all the scratch offs he spotted, at which point, the woman at the counter took over, explaining to Trainer how the tickets work and that people have come in and purchased $20 scratch offs, won nothing, while others purchase $1.00 tickets, win more often but don’t really win more than a few dollars or a free ticket. However, said she, a customer recently won $2,000 on a $5.00 Monopoly scratch off.

I hope I haven’t done a bad thing in teaching Trainer how to gamble ─ awakened an addiction in Trainer because he got a little too excited when he spotted the scratch offs and over the top excited in purchasing five of the one-dollar ones. 

I thought a better investment would have been one $5.00 scratch off, but he was insistent on five ones.

Hopefully, he’ll have beginner’s luck and wins something, anything, otherwise he’s gonna give me flack when I show up tomorrow.

However, on the off chance he does get lucky, I got him to commit to a ten percent finder’s fee for me.

LOL.

On another note, if anyone is interested in that bag I got for free at the Estee Lauder counter, as seen in Britney’s closet, despite the bag being labeled, “Promotional … Not for Sale”, there are not one, not two, but dozens of listings on eBay ─ some in the range of $9.00/$10.00 for the bag alone.

Upwards of $35 for the bag with the sample products.

What’s in Britney's Closet

Browsing the news, I spied an article about singer Britney Spears of Hit Me Baby One More Time fame.

The article said her fans were worried about her because, while displaying her reorganized closet on Instagram, she seemed to be speaking too fast and moving in a frenzied manner.

Curious, I followed the thread to the video.

Wasn’t impressed with the closet reorganization.

Though Britney raved about how everything was organized by color, the walk-in closet shelves looked cluttered to me. And I failed to focus on whether or not she was speaking too fast or moving in a frenzied manner, because I was distracted by a flowered bag I saw prominently displayed up front and to the side of Britney.

Hopefully, this bag isn’t something Britney got snookered into paying a couple hundred dollars for at some trendy Rodeo Boulevard boutique, because I have the same bag and got it for free.

Running low on perfume, I made a trip to the mall’s Estee Lauder counter two weeks ago. Lucky me, it was giveaway with a purchase day. I was given the bag, filled with sample cosmetics.

I liked the samples, but thought the bag ugly. All those flowers seemed old lady-ish and just not me — even though I am an old lady, so the plan was to donate the bag to the residents’ volunteer activity committee as a prize for the bingo table. Before that could happen, however, that day I'd decided to walk the two blocks, I was looking around the unit for something to lug my walking shoes, water bottle, towel, iPod, etc., to the pain cave, and realized the bag was just the right size.

A gift that turned out to be right on time. One I’ve received compliments on and have grown to like.

Who knew?

Forecast for Today

Miserable heat and I can’t comfort myself with ice cream or a nice cold soda, nor chilled melons. Not because I’m on a diet, but because these are some of the foods my digestive organs cannot process.

All I can do is drink ice cold water, take lots and lots of showers and sweat it out. I’d also better revisit my Go Bag, because this is our fire season.

Monthly Calendar indicates the seniors are having a Father’s Day Potluck at noon ─ sandwiches, chips, drinks provided by Activity Director. Seniors are to “bring your favorite dish”.

I’d try to rush back from working out in the Pain Cave to take photos for the residents’ facebook page, but it would probably be a waste of effort because there’s usually only two fathers in attendance.

So, no. I’ll show up for the next big event which, looking at the calendar, isn’t anytime soon.

Yesterday’s workout was moved to late afternoon, because Trainer was stuck in court still working on getting custody of his daughter.

I haven’t asked how it’s going because I don’t feel I should. Besides, I’ve got enough family members to tempt me to worry about their dramas. Don’t need to add anyone else to the list.

However, when he brings the matter up, I listen.

When it appears he’s using me as a sounding board and wants my 2 cents, I give it to him.

Last he spoke on this issue, he was going for full custody but, at last Thursday’s session, when he said we’d have to move yesterday’s time to later in the day, he said, “I’m trying to be fair to her mother. I don’t want to take my daughter completely away from her”.

“Whether you go for full custody or not, your daughter will still see her mom”, said I. “Besides, why be fair to someone who won’t protect your daughter?”

He nodded and had sort of a faraway look in his eyes, as though he’d was considering that statement.

Trainer is in the precarious position of having been told by daughter of what stepfather’s been doing in that home, for some time I might add, with mom refusing to believe, even going so far as to call her own daughter a liar ─ all of which has prompted Trainer seeking custody. The problem is daughter won’t let Trainer bring this up in the proceedings because daughter said she doesn’t want her mother to get in trouble, and Trainer doesn’t want to alienate daughter by going against daughter’s wishes.

This is a phenomena I can’t wrap my head around, even though I learned a few short years ago that a niece had experienced the same thing. Her mom did not protect or believe. Yet today, that niece is loyal and protective of her mom. Can’t do enough for her mom, treats her mom better than my girls treat me and will turn against anyone who criticizes her mom. Even closer to home is Twin 1. Though she’s on a giving and responsible road now, there were years and years and years when she was not (self centered, self involved, irresponsible, verbally abusive). During those years, it was up to myself and Twin 2 to see that her children didn’t become collateral damage.

Now that she's become a somewhat awakened individual, making amends, serving her community, being there for her now adult children, her kids are fiercely loyal to and protective of their mom to the point where they have at times been disrespectful to Twin 2 and myself because they felt their mom’s feelings were being hurt.

So, I understand Trainer’s reluctance to put his daughter’s mom on blast because, even though he’s trying to get daughter out of that situation, daughter will most surely turn on him if she feels his actions will harm her mom.

I understand it, have experienced it, but just don’t get it.

Winning

Trainer’s studio is less than two blocks from the complex, still I drive.

No reason.

On Thursday I felt it time to begin getting those extra steps in and walked.

Big mistake, because Trainer said it was time to “push you a little”.

He upped the pounds on the slam balls and threw in a new weight bearing leg exercise.

It was a little tough, but I handled it and walked out feeling good.

However, just a few steps outside the studio, reality began to set in. My lower limbs began to revolt ─  the sides of my legs, from hips to ankles, began to ache and my knees nearly buckled.

Walking back to the complex was a struggle, but I made it and probably will drive from hereon out.

At any rate, an Epsom salt soak worked wonders. I settled in, opened the laptop to check mail and an odd subject line caught my attention.

I hovered over the address to make sure the sender wasn’t one of those fake messages, saw it was legit, opened the email, clicked on the link, followed instructions.

Lo and behold an image popped up congratulating me on winning a nice chunk of change on a lottery 2nd chance drawing.

The most I’ve ever won in a lottery is $100. This win is the equivalent of two year’s rent, if I plan to continue living here until they throw me out ─ one year’s rent if the Universe has other plans and sends me to live in a community which is not income restricted.

Not wanting to throw my being so blessed in the face of neighbors who are struggling, I’m keeping my mouth shut. To tell even my buddy Apache would be to put my good fortune on blast, so mums the word around here.

I didn't waste time in locating a lottery office and was there the next day ─ Friday, submitting claim paperwork.

Winning is a new and fun experience for me.

Global Running Day

It’s that time again ─ first Wednesday of June, designated as Global Running Day.

Running not in my DNA and no walking activities scheduled for today in my area, I pledged on the organization’s website to do 6 Miles on the indoor bike. So that’s my contribution to celebrating the sport of running, while also complying with homework assigned by Trainer.

I’m looking forward to World Sauntering Day ─ Wednesday the 19th ─ a day set aside to remind people to slow down and enjoy life as opposed to rushing through it.

I’ll be letting the dog eat my activity homework that day, and I don’t even have a dog.

That unsuccessful search for a run/walk activity for today wasn't entirely fruitless, as I did run across and register for two up comings:

The Sunrise Stampede is within my driving radius, but Batman will require travel and an overnight stay.

No matter, I’m all over that one ─ even if it is an evening run and through the somewhat icky streets of Downtown Los Angeles.

Los Angeles has been getting a very bad rap in the news lately, because of the homeless population.

Cause and Effect.

If Los Angeles would put a halt to the burgeoning prices being charged renters for apartments, the working poor wouldn’t be forced to live in their cars and on the street.

Did you see the news article about rats invading City Hall?

The folks brought in to eradicate the rats, unsuccessfully thus far, say the invasion is a result of the mess left on the streets by the homeless encampments surrounding City Hall.

Karma.

Impose rent restrictions so folks can afford housing.

Crash Bing Bam Boom!

That’s the noise I heard outside my door shortly after returning from this morning’s workout.

I opened the door to check not because I was being nosey, but because I was concerned next door neighbor had finally fallen down the stairs. And I say finally because it’s been a long-standing fear of mine that her habit of, instead of parking her grocery cart at the bottom of the stairs, taking her packages out, walking them up the stairs into her unit, she takes the shortcut of walking backwards, dragging the loaded cart thumpity bump bump up the stairs.

I’ve described the process in previous posts as an accident waiting to happen.

Thankfully, it wasn’t she falling backwards or down the stairs but she, preparing to head out, dropping the empty cart down the stairs.

Even though my door faces hers, we don’t see each other very often, so she stopped to ask what I’ve been doing with myself. I asked how she was and then I thought to ask her thoughts on the lease increasing $49 a month.

“That doesn’t include us Section 8’s. They know better than to mess with the government”.

Color me surprised. Not because there are Section 8 residents in the complex ─ I knew that. Corporate gets a huge tax break for reserving a certain number of units for folks referred to them by the County under Section 8. 

No ... color me surprised because I had no idea SHE is a Section 8 tenant. Especially after all the hoopla, when she moved in January of 2015, about the high place she came from, what she’s accustomed to, and how depressing and demoralized she was here because we’re just simple folks, having simple activities, rather than the glitz and glamour she enjoyed as first, a military officer’s wife, travelling the world, having servants and, after leaving her husband, a career as a State Commissioner of Education.

To use her words back then, it was all “I can’t live like this”.

It took years for her to get over being depressed, demoralized, and settle in. She seems happy enough now, but she still doesn’t pop into the Community Room or involve herself in any of our activities. That is except for that one time she came out of her funk and made an attempt to assimilate. 

Long-time readers will recall she saw an opportunity to regain her former glory of being large and in charge by volunteering to take over duties as President of the Volunteer Activity Committee. But because she treated everyone else on the Committee as servants, ordered them around, she quickly riled folks and got herself impeached.

At any rate, the fact that she went through all that looking down her nose at us, while being a government-assisted resident, was a surprise.

The fact she’s now not hiding that fact is a sign of growth, but not only am I not nosey, I’m also not a busy body, so I’ll not be mentioning it to anyone else. That’s neighbor’s business.

While we’re on the subject of rent increases ... Trainer lives about 4 miles away. His rent went up $100 a month, and he doesn’t have a Starbucks on the corner.