Monday, September 30, 2019

Miss Popular

Awakened at 3:55 this morning by beeping from my nemesis the smoke detector.
At least this time it had the decency to go off on a day staff is expected to be on hand, albeit six hours before staff actually began work.
At any rate, further sleep out of the question, I began my day, and thought of last time the smoke detector acted up ─ how the beeping stopped when I pulled out the stepstool in preparation for disconnecting the little sucker. Mike had commented the beeping stopped because “the stool changed the airflow in the area of the smoke detector”.
Worth a try thought I.
So, I once again positioned the stepstool under the beeping smoke detector AND ... would you believe, within 15 minutes the beeping stopped.
That’s some weird stuff.
And speaking of weird, because I’d ordered Apache’s birthday present from No. 45’s store, their database considers me a fan and, since the latest scandal, I’ve become Miss Popular with 45 inviting me to breakfast, asking about me, addressing me on a first name basis.

I’m even hearing from Newt and Jr.

It didn’t stop there, I received a survey asking if I’d vote for him in 2020.
My reply ─ “Freak No”.
Another survey asking to rate his performance ─ options being great, good, okay, other.
Of course, the rating was “Other”, which required an explanation.
My explanation ─ “He’s sick. Get him some help”.
I can easily cut off communication by marking as spam, but I’m having way too much fun getting an insider’s view.
Fun that is until he himself calls me out on Twitter and sic’s his dogs on me.
And speaking of fun, yesterday (Sunday) was another 5K medal for the wall.

This one was too convenient to pass up ─ just down the street, at the University.
Spotted my friend the Archeologist in the crowd.

At the starting point, was a big furry husky.

This in spite of the sign at the gate.

Also seen at the starting line.

Though I pretty much took my time on the course ─ listening to music on the iPod, enjoying the scenery, the timer at the finish line showed a respectable finish time.

After the race, there was music by a live band.
I got a kick out of watching the old guy on keyboard.

So I’m off this morning to the Pain Cave, after a stop by the office to request maintenance on the now no longer beeping smoke detector.
But, before I go, there was further communication from 45 this morning.

I’ve yet to hear from Melanie, Jared or Ivanka.

Wednesday, September 25, 2019

While I Was Away

It appears, while I was up in Los Angeles for the Batman 5K, that we lost yet another Community Manager.
The guy who came to us in April, turned in his resignation.
The position is once again listed as an opening on Corporate’s career site.
Since Corporate acquired the complex and took over in 2012, this is the 7th Community Manager to leave the position via being fired, or resigning, and there was one individual who never made it to the property. He or she dropped out during the orientation stage at Corporate Offices.
The turnover is averaging one a year.
As posted, back in April, this guy is the first male in the position. He came to us after the position had been vacant for 12 months because, for whatever reason, Corporate could either not find a suitable candidate, or no one would apply.
Inasmuch as this guy came to us all the way from Texas, my guess it’s the latter ─ word was out that working for Corporate might not be such a fun thing and no one would apply.
I’d also posted that, after going through the hassle of relocating to California, the guy from Texas might be able to tough out whatever Corporate throws at him, stick around for a while, and that time would tell.
Five months later, he’s outta here. Time just told.
So, there’s that.
Also, while I was away, the cause of Jeep Guy’s death hit the grapevine. And shocker …. according to his mother, “Oh honey, it was suicide. He took some pills”.
Wow, this after Jeep Guy was finally fading from my thoughts.
But life goes on and, yesterday, the seniors had a going away party for a long-time resident relocating to Boise Idaho.
This is the woman who was invited into South Korea, either last year or year before, by Korea's POW/MIA Accountability Agency, to attend a ceremony releasing the remains of her older brother ─ along with the remains of 55 other U.S. service members, who were killed during the Korean War of 1950.
At any rate, along about 10:00, the Baker caught up with me and asked if I’d be available to take photos at the 11:30 event for our facebook page.
That’s actually my time to head for the Pain Cave, but I was able to get Trainer to switch yesterday’s session to today, and attend the event.
Such a nice event that ended up with 61 photos and managed to get a clip of the emotional honoree.

She said she was sorry to leave all her many friends, but happy about where she’s going.
I was impressed with the clever going away gift.

A tote bag with handwritten well wishes.
So, you’re up to date with the complex goings on, except I see Apache has his Halloween decorations up already.

We don’t get little trick or treaters here, so I no longer decorate.
I do, however, switch out my coffee cup.
This was my drinking cup last few weeks.

This is my drinking cup this morning and until time to switch to a Christmas mug.

The news this morning is fascinating, but I’m afraid to hope it means the end is near. I can't let myself get invested in thinking this is it for No. 45, only to be let down. So I'll remain detached  ─ not hope, not wish, not pray for him and his VP to be gone, but just accept what is while enjoying at least 45 is being made to squirm.

Sunday, September 22, 2019

Weekend in L.A.

In Los Angeles this past weekend for Saturday’s 6:00 PM Batman 5K was agony and ecstasy.
The agony first being finding one’s way to the race site in undriveable traffic.
After initially trying to find our way to package pickup, at 2:00, on foot, Twin 2 and I decided on the Uber thing. Entering the package pickup site, looking at all the people and activities already in full blast, I experienced the second agony when I tripped over a concrete thingy I did not see sticking out from another concrete thingy.
I didn’t exactly fall, instead I flew ─ propelled up into the air like a fledgling super hero, then into a dead drop onto concrete, face first. Fortunately, my big boobs hit the concrete first, caused me to bounce before my face could make contact. The bounce rolled me onto my back. I heard Twin 2 screaming, and then I blacked out. Upon coming out of a momentary loss of consciousness, I found two EMTs attending to me.
“Where’d they come from”, I later asked Twin2.
“Mom, you were really lucky. They were sitting at a table right next to where you fell”.
Horribly embarrassed, with hundreds of people witnessing my embarrassment, one voice in the crowd asking, “Did anyone call for an ambulance” and one of the EMTs, in a uniform identifying him as an EMT not a costumed character, replying to the voice, “Ma’am, I AM an EMT”.
It was a spectacle.
I just wanted to get up, get my race package and disappear, but the EMTs wouldn’t let me move.
I repeatedly said, “I’m find, just embarrassed” but they would not let me move until they made a thorough assessment.
The right knee had some scraped skin, hurt just a little, but the right hand was killing me. It later began swelling.
At any rate, once the EMTs had poked, prodded and became assured nothing was broken or cracked, they let me up and I ignored the pain as I went on with my life ─ picked up the race package and, against Twin 2’s prompting to head back to the hotel, get off my feet, took a few photos, totally unsure if I’d be able to return and compete at 6:00.

Batmobile and my Great Grandson Patches

Batman Doll Box

The Usual Suspects
Once word reached Twin 1 about the fall, the EMTs, the strangers rushing to get me water, yada yada yada, and Twin2 not wanting me to compete, Twin 1 told Twin 2 that mom has been looking forward to this 5K for a long time and wants her medal. Get a wheelchair and push her.
I thought that was a great idea.
Twin 2 did not.
I think she was exhausted already ─ from the traffic and quite a lot of walking we'd had to do before we gave up trying to find the site and called for Uber, and was looking for a way out of walking an additional 3.12 miles at 6:00.
Later checking my Fitbit, we’d already put in over 4 miles, so I really couldn’t blame her.
Determined to rejoin all the fun at race site, I iced the knee and hand, then bandaged the knee, put a wrap on the wrist, pronounced no way was I not competing, and back we went, via Uber, to the site and took off 6:00 sharp from in front of City Hall.

I was expecting the bat signal to start us off, but no ─ that was happening late that night at the end of festivities, plus there was a lot to see, to do, and I wanted to experience it all, but Twin 2 was wiped out and granddaughter needed to potty and refused to use the porta ones, so we left soon after crossing the finish line.
Young people can’t hang.
How’d I do?
The hills were difficult, so I didn’t hurry, got ‘er done and though the official results are not yet in, feel my time was around 1 hour 10 minutes.
The ecstasy was an awesome medal and all kinds of fun on the course.

Riddler Group

Poison Ivy

Female Joker

Almost 5,000 of us on the road

Walking through one of the L.A. Tunnels, transformed into The Bat Cave, was EVERYTHING! So fun.

Finish Line Up Ahead

Icing on the cake was, after all was said and done, with Twin 2 getting tired, impatient, cross, she got caught up in the energy and had so much fun that she can't stop talking about how fun it was and is asking me about the Wonder Woman 5K and wants me to join her at the Hot Chocolate 5K in San Diego.
We'll see.

Monday, September 16, 2019

Life Goes On

Some of us seniors are taking Jeep Guy’s passing harder than others. He was very well liked and it was just so surprising how that fall in McDonald’s changed his life ─ and not in a good way.
Not the $$$$$ I foresaw from a lawsuit, but in his demise or, at least, contributing to it because we don’t actually know the cause of death.
The whole thing is just so sad, and scary, as it could so easily happen to any one of us ─ that some little something comes along and changes our life in not a good way.
Jeep Guy wasn’t that old, younger than I, and perhaps could have come back from it had his attitude been better.
But life goes on and, with a waiting list, folks clamoring to get in, new residents will be in his unit before the dust settles.
In fact, as I was heading out Sunday for an appointment with the locktician (sisterlocks braids beautician) there was a truck, two guys and two women, already hauling out some of Jeep Guy’s belongings.
Family I assumed, and smart to get to it before management lay claim to things.
Apache seems mesmerized by the Jeep and has voiced out loud “What happens to the Jeep?”
Apache doesn’t drive himself, because of dexterity issues in his hands ─ the result of an attempted suicide over a woman some years back, but he’s thinking the Baker might want to purchase it.
“I doubt it. Probably go to family”, said I.
Apache’s focus on the Jeep does not make him insensitive, it’s just what he does when a resident passes. He gets involved and tries to find what can be repurposed ─ passed on to other residents.
I guess that makes him somewhat of a scavenger.
I’ll have to remember to tell my girls, in the event of something unexpected happening to me, that Apache is allowed to remove whatever the girls do not want and also to tell him to not even think about the Jeep. LOL.
When I purchased the Jeep, I had granddaughter put on the lifetime parts warranty, as I figured the Jeep would next go to her. But, after what happened to the Saturn I’d passed on to her, never again. The Jeep is now earmarked for one of the grandsons.
On another note, the official race results from Saturday’s 5K are in and it finally happened ..... I came in No. 1 in my age category.
But hold the applause because there’s a caveat.
I came in No. 1 because I was the ONLY participant in the 71-75 age group. In fact, I was the oldest participant in the race .... period.
What a hoot!
Trainer said, in revealing my first place status, I should not add the because, but that’s not me. I’ve no problem with my winning strategy being known asif I can’t out pace them, I can outlive them. LOL.
Heading out for this morning’s training session, the truck, and one of the men I’d seen Sunday morning were back at the gate, looking to be having difficulties getting inI assumed to retrieve the rest of Jeep Guy’s belongings.
I pulled along side and asked, “Are you having trouble getting in?”
“Yes. My wife’s brother passed away and …”
So that was family I'd seen the day before, thought I.
Not hearing the remainder of what he said, knowing it was a member of Jeep Guy's family, I exited my vehicle and used my key card to let them through the gate.
When I returned from this morning’s  training session, they were still hard at clearing out his unit and the Jeep was gone.
By tomorrow it will be like Jeep Guy never was.
So sad.

Saturday, September 14, 2019

One Down, Two to Go

The Run the River for the Ridge 5K is off my to-do list, and it almost didn’t happen when the alarm went off at 5:30 A.M. ─ signaling get up, get dressed, get out, because I’d gone to bed with the knowledge forecast for the race site was 105˚.
But I talked myself into getting up.
Once arriving at the site, it almost didn’t happen again. I came close to turning around and driving back home when I realized I was in the mountains, which meant the course was likely to be elevations to climb.
Which it did turn out to be.
From the title “Run the River for the Ridge”, I’d assumed I’d be walking about a beautiful river.
But you know what is said about “ass u me”.
I resisted the urge to retreat, parked, pick up my bib and headed out at 8:15 ─ all the way looking for a river somewhere, anywhere.

No river, but plenty of ridges and miles and miles of what looked to be desert.

Along with looking for a river, I kept an eye out for horses.

Didn't see any of those either.
It was a pleasant walk, difficult because of the elevations ─ which caused me to slow down and focus not on getting up the ridge, but focus on listening to iPod music and putting one foot ahead of the other, but pleasant nonetheless.

Though I did not try to break any records this walk, I still managed to put in a respectable time of 1:01:40.
And wouldn’t you know, driving away from the site, there were the horses.

Arriving back at the complex, all the cones and ropes blocking us from entering my side of the complex were gone. I was able to park in my nicely repaved, restriped carport.
The crew has completed work, so that’s behind us, but a new drama is unfolding as numbers have been added to the free spots.
Some residents were thinking that meant they’d be assigned a numbered spot ─ preferably where they always park. Like the woman that acts like she owns the Community Room, who’d vented to me, “I’m glad they’re numbering the spots, because I’m tired of people parking in my spot”.
I resisted the urge to tell her she isn’t paying for a spot, so it isn’t hers.
Running into Apache as I was headed out this morning, he indicated Management said the numbers mean nothing, parking in the free spots is still first come first served. Which begs the question ... why number the spots at all.
Oh well.
One 5K down, two to go ─ this Saturday’s Batman 5K and next Saturday’s Life Stream Blood Bank 5K at the University.
That will be it for the remainder of the year, that is unless the Wonder Woman returns to Los Angeles in November.
Last year’s Wonder Woman was the most fun 5K ever, so I’m all over a repeat, depending on where in Los Angeles.
********* Just as I was about to post this update, a few moments ago, Apache knocked on the door to tell me Jeep Guy passed away during the night. 
He’d evidently returned from the nursing home just the day before (Friday) ─ probably because he was being difficult, and the Baker discovered him deceased in his unit this morning.
I’m shocked!
He was an active senior, zipping here and there in his new Jeep, until experiencing that fall in McDonald’s. From a broken pelvic bone to death in less than three months.
I’m stunned and saddened.

Wednesday, September 11, 2019

From Bad to Worse

Just when I thought the chaos and confusion, caused by management’s misdirection on parking instructions during the paving project was over, management made things worse.
Today being my day off from the Pain Cave, thinking it wouldn’t be smart to move the car, run errands until Friday — when the paving project on the North End was over, I stayed indoors, chillin, relaxing, catching up on recorded television projects, working on the needlepoint projects.
I’d assumed the South End, where I park, would take place next week and us residents would get noticed in advance.
But nooooo.
Along about 2:30, a resident in another quad knocked on the door to say I’d better move my car because management had posted No Parking/Tow Away signs on our side, and all the places to park on the other side were mostly already gone.
If she hadn’t gone out of her way to alert me to the situation, I’d have been out of luck.
As it was, I managed to get into one of the two remaining available spots. Not in front of Apache’s unit, because that area had filled up already, but around the corner from him.
Walking back to my unit, I ran into Apache just returning from a doctor’s appointment.
He’d not been home when the signs were posted, otherwise he’d have let me know.
The two of us got into conversation about how poorly management has handled things and we walked around to see how many residents were still in the No Parking Zone. We counted at least 24 residents (24 cars) unaware of the last-minute posting.
There are not enough open garages to accommodate the unlucky ones, and complaints to the office about the first snafu resulted in being told to park down the street in the market parking lot.
Sure. Do that. If you want your car vandalized in the deserted overnight parking lot.
At any rate, I’m hopeful Friday of this week is the end of it all and things will get back to normal because I’ve got things to do in preparation for a 5K this Saturday, a hair appointment Sunday, laundry to do and meals to prepare for a hotel stay to attend the Batman 5K the following Saturday, and a local 5K the Saturday after that.
The next three weeks look exhausting already.

Monday, September 9, 2019

The Plot Thickens

Taking an early morning stroll around the complex this morning, to check out the parking situation, I saw where at least one carport paying resident was protecting his spot with orange cones.

Running into Apache, I asked, “Did anyone get towed?” (Because the No Parking Signs management had posted indicated cars in the no parking area would be towed).
“Two cars” said Apache. “But because they’d given out the wrong information as to where to park, they didn’t tow the cars. They moved them into garages.”
That’s fair, thought I, inasmuch as it was management’s screwup.
Then, along about 6:30 tonight, I was alerted by a knock on the door that at least one of the two residents, whose car was moved to a garage, didn’t know where her car was. She came out, didn’t see it, saw the signs, thought it had been towed.
And of course, it was after hours, no staff in the office to tell her otherwise.
The knock on my door was a helpful resident looking for that woman (described as “Black with long hair” — which is what led to knocking on my door) to tell her she’d learned no cars were towed, but moved to garages.
I’d say management is going to get a beat down over this not calling the resident about moving her car, but no. It might not be management's fault.
Office records show which cars/license plates belongs to which resident.
If management looked up the records and let the owner of the other car know where his/her car is located, they are in the clear because this other car is not on file. The resident had indicated to others, “My son just loaned (sic) me the car”.
So that’s two people, the resident and her son, worried tonight about “Dude, where’s my car?”
That’s been Day 1 of the paving project.
I also ran into the Baker today. Her foot is out of the boot, back into a shoe, but she’s still having to get around by use of her husbands motorized chair.
I asked how her neighbor is doing — the nice old guy that had a bad fall in McDonald’s and broke his pelvic bones … let’s call him Jeep Guy because he drives one just like mine.
The Baker’s reply was to get a disgusted look on her face and say she’d had to stop checking in on him because he’d become so demanding.
She said, before her own surgery, she’d been caring for him but his demanding behavior had gotten to be too much for her. She told him she had her own upcoming surgery to worry about, so Jeep Guy’s mother moved in to care for him.
Baker said Jeep Guy continued to be demanding, to moan and groan and cry so much that his mom couldn’t handle it. Mom sent him back to the nursing home.
At only 87˚ outside, with a nice breeze, the walk to the Pain Cave was pleasant.
The walk back wasn’t too bad, except the return trip is a slight incline. Just enough of an incline to cause my after workout legs to lock up on me, about a half block from the complex.
Not at my best as I reached the complex doors ─ sweating, limping and a little out of breath, whom did I see but Handsome Man. He’d spied me from the Community Room window and walked over to hold the door open for me.
Noticing I was somewhat in distress, Handsome Man asked if I was okay.
“Had to walk to and from the gym because I didn’t want to lose my parking spot”, said I.
“Well you made it”, he laughingly said.
So embarrassing, but at least my makeup was still pristine. Sometimes, by the end of a workout, I’ve lost part of my Maybelline eyebrow. LOL.

Sunday, September 8, 2019

Another Milestone

And I never planned for it.
The thought of retiring never entered my mind. For one, because I never thought I’d live this long. And then, when I kept living and got up in age, I enjoyed working so much that I just figured, and expressed to others, I’d be the old lady who’d just keel over dead at her desk.
This enjoyment of the work I performed was always there, even though I’ve had some of the worse working experiences one can imagine — racism, abuse of authority, functionally insane and just plain stupid bosses.
Even though I always enjoyed the clerical/secretarial work and mostly had great coworkers, those aforementioned experiences use to wear me out, but learning of and applying the spiritual principles of non-reaction, doing good to those who despitefully use you, I grew wise, mentally strong and those experiences became more like tests designed to get me to the next level, rather than challenges or situations to overcome.
I must have gotten passing grades because, even though I never imagined it or financially planned for retirement, the transition has worked out.
I often find myself looking back wondering what the heck I was thinking … that I so enjoyed getting up early in the morning, going to a job, that retiring was never on the agenda.
Irony is, three people I know who’d planned for retirement, talked about getting to that point for years, never got to enjoy it as they passed away so quickly after ─ within a year after having retired. 
I feel very blessed to have taken such a lickin in the workforce, to be now out of it and having fun.
Tomorrow is the big day for the paving project and so far so bad.
The chaos and confusion began late Friday afternoon.
As mentioned in the last post, us residents were given notification of the paving project, which included a map and detailed information as to which quads would have to move their cars from the South End to the North End.
Getting what I thought was a jump on musical parking spots, I moved the jeep to the North.
Along about 5:00 Friday, Apache knocked on the door and said management had posted No Parking Signs all over his area ─ the North End, where we’d been instructed to park.
So, I dunno.
And I don’t know if the paving crew knows either — which side of the property they are to begin working on tomorrow.
We’ll see what we see when they get here but, in the meantime, I’ve put the jeep back in my South End carport.
I’ll probably stick to not moving it until the paving project is complete to avoid having to deal with some desperate someone pulling into my reserved spot.
On another note, if you want to laugh yourself silly, go on Twitter and look up sharpie-gate. The creative ways in which folks are making fun of No. 45’s use of a sharpie to modify the hurricane map will keep you in stitches.
Here’s a taste.

Friday, September 6, 2019

Musical Parking Spots

Earlier in the week, notices were posted to our doors indicating, beginning Monday, through the entire week, an asphalt company will be working on the South End parking lot — sealing, slurry, restriping, and “everyone with vehicles will have to park on the North End Side of the Community”.
Holy Smokes!
That’s a loss of 72 spots, more than enough to create a situation of insufficient parking for all residents come Monday.
It’s going to look like a game of musical chairs at the North End, with literally everyone jockeying for a spot, and there is no street parking.
Parking on the complex is open range — free and unassigned, except for those of us who pay $15 a month for an assigned carport.
Nevertheless, old folks are creatures of habit — generally park in the same spot and begin to feel the free spot is theirs.
Those residents are going to be upset when they see someone parking in their claimed spot.
Also, some desperate folks, unable to find a free spot, are going to park in a reserved carport ─ get yelled at by the resident paying for the spot or get their car towed, which we are allowed to call for a tow upon finding a car in our carport spot.
Next week is going to be insane!
My first thought was to avoid the chaos altogether ─ pack up my instant pot and escape on a little vaca for the week. However, I’ve got three days of pain cave training on the schedule and am not willing to give that up for so unimportant a reason.
Instead, I decided to prepare for the worse by getting a jump on the situation.
After grocery shopping this morningfor everything I feel I’ll need from now to next Friday, I moved the jeep to the North End, parking in front of Apache’s unit, because he’s ever watchful and will keep an eye on it for me. I’m leaving it there from now to the end of next week … not moving it for anything.
Of course, this is going to anger the resident that usually parks in that spot, feels the spot is hers/his, but Apache will handle him/her.
It also means I’ll be walking to/from the Pain Cave.
I don’t mind the extra cardio, and can easily walk the two blocks there, in the heat.
Walking back, after a workout, is going to be a challenge.
At any rate, the fun should start Sunday afternoon, or early Monday before the crew arrives, as residents begin jockeying for spots on the North End.
It's never boring around here.

Thursday, September 5, 2019

Kicking It Old School

So far so good with the smoke detector not going nuts after I put the stepstool back in storage.
It will probably wait until the weekend, when staff is not around, to start messing with me again.
This is a fairly old building, built in 1984 I believe and, since that 2014 $4.5 million “complete renovation” made by the current management company when they bought the property, maintenance has had a devil of a time keeping new things working, replacing new things that ceased working, all because Corporate replaced what was old and worked just fine with cheap new stuff.
We’re not stupid ─ cheap labor and cheap materials translates into more money remaining from the $4.5 million for Corporate bigwig bonuses.
Oh well. This constant running around, sticking their fingers in the dam as it breaks, gives the maintenance guys something to do, but evidently not enough to do because, if my eyes are not deceiving me, Head Maintenance Guy’s wife is expecting again ─ less than two years after giving birth to their daughter.
That’s two boys and a little girl already.
And speaking of old stuff, new stuff, and things not working, my Walkman died earlier this week.
Why, you might ask, in this day, are you kicking it old school with a Walkman.
Well, before the advent of MP3’s, I amassed a collection of study cassette tapes ─ dozens and dozens and dozens of tapes, content mostly of a spiritual nature.
Though newer study material has been purchased in MP3 format, I often go back to the materials on cassette tape. Not to mention that, last year, I came into a dozen or so more cassette tapes that I need a player to listen to.
When Apache’s next-door neighbor was found deceased ... the resident who was discovered deceased in his unit under suspicious circumstances (he had bruises on his chest and his new caregiver was nowhere to be found), the deceased resident’s brother was allowed into the unit to make arrangements for his brother’s belongings.
Before brother could do all he had to do, management disallowed him from reentering and removing his brother’s belongings, saying the unit had been turned over to a new resident and that resident needed the belongings.
Seriously. They did that, said that, got away with it.
At any rate, when brother was first allowed to enter the unit, brother allowed Apache in and gave him permission to take anything he wanted.
I don’t know all of what Apache salvaged, but dozens of cassette tapes were among what he managed to get.
Apache had no idea what was on the tapes. He said, thinking someone around here had a cassette player, he just took them and put them in the Community Room on the counter where we place items offered up for free.
Thank goodness he salvaged those tapes, otherwise they’d have ended up in the trash; and thank goodness I happened to be walking through the Community Room the day he’d put them on the counter, because I immediately recognized, by the labels, the tapes related to the teaching I follow.
Excited, I took them all.
It was so sad to learn, after the fact, there was someone in the complex following the same Contemplative teaching as I.
Deceased guy lived here for 20 years, I’m told. Yet, I never met him, don't recall ever seeing him.
I really would have liked to have known him.
At any rate, I’ve got all these cassette tapes and now need a new Walkman, so I googled the exact same make/model. Easily found it, but .......

Are they kidding?!
As far as I can recollect, I paid something like $29 when I purchased the Walkman back in 2003.
I guess in this, the age of technology, Walkman are considered vintage.
Though the Walkman served me well, and nothing else I see labeled as “walkman” compares to what I had, there’s no point in paying that kind of money for a new one when I can buy a cassette tape converter for the same price I’d paid for the Walkman back in the day ... $29 and begin the process of turning the tapes into MP3.
Even though the Walkman no longer works, I’ll be hanging onto it for the novelty of it, maybe turn it into an art project.
I’ll bet there are young people who’ve never seen one ... or cassette tapes for that matter. LOL.
I wonder what else I’ve around here, taken for granted, that is now considered vintage.
I could be sitting on a gold mine.