2 Lies/1 Truth Part 2

Thanks to those who played. No one guessed correctly — No. 3.

JanF and Country Cottage got it partially right, I have not done the Fox Trot. I think that dance was before my time. However, oddly enough, I’ve also not done any Swing dancing, which was during my time. Probably have not because it’s a dance that requires a partner, as does Fox Trot.

Looking at the list, it appears my preference has been dances that allow distance from a partner.

It appears I’ve always wanted to be a loner, detached from others, even while dancing. LOL.

Yesterday was a wild ride—from previously receiving Excessive Heat warnings, it went to Severe Thunderstorm warnings.

I never saw signs of rain, thunder, lightning but, just in case signs were to appear later in the day, I headed out early morning to pick up the microwave testing kit.

The microwave tested as “minor radiation”, which would not account for continuing to run when off and door is opened. It may be, as dkzody commented “microwave may have a problem with the sensor in the door”.

I can live with a ghost in the sensor, and “minor radiation” doesn’t alarm me because, for years and years and years, I held off purchasing a microwave, believing that some level of radiation was always being emitted.

I’d be really upset with myself if I did run out, purchase new, tested it and got the same reading “minor radiation”. So I won’t be looking to replace until testing at a later date moves minor up to extremely dangerous status.

On the way out to pick up the testing card yesterday morning, I spied a new rock.

It called out "Take Me", so I did.

Then there were three

Inasmuch as this rock speaks as a racing theme, Jan should have made “Go The Distance” instead, but “Go The Mile” is close enough.

The day before yesterday, I saw The Talker (resident who parks next to me) and her little granddaughter heading down the walkway. One of the rocks must have spoken to the little girl, because she reached over and took one as a souvenir.

I’m guessing a happy face.

And btw, two weeks ago, I noticed my car has been nicked — there’s a black mark that wasn’t there the day before, when I washed it.

I knew right away, it was a situation of Talker's granddaughter, jumping out of the driver's side back seat of her grandma's black car, swinging the door wide.

You know how kids do.

I can't imagine Talker is not aware, but I’m not going to bring it up because it’s just a mark, not a dent. I’ve tried and can’t rub it out but looks like it can easily be buffed out with the proper tool, so no worries.

2 Lies/1 Truth ala Anne Marie

Happy Pride Day to my LGBTQ readers.

Hope you had an enjoyable month, an enjoyable day.

I came close to being too exhausted to blog today, show off the tee that finally arrived — too late for this year, nice and early for next year’s Pride Month.

Actually, I like the old tee better — the one I made for myself, posted a few days ago. So who knows which I’ll be sporting next year.

As for why I was so exhausted today. Well, for one, I had yet another Senior Moment yesterday — forgot to take my BP pill.

I caught up today and, as of a few hours ago, the reading was 111/51, so I survived, but woke up dragging a bit. And, while catching up, there was the excessive heat to deal with, working out this morning in the Pain Cave in spite of the excessive heat, shopping for groceries right after working out, lugging groceries from the car to my unit in the heat, then checking the mail box and dropping off the rent check in this excessive heat.

By the time all was said and done, I sat down on the couch to rest for a second and ended up falling asleep, sitting up, for two/three hours.

Earlier in the day, while heading out to the Pain Cave, I noticed Jan had added to the now very decorative pathway.

Twist, Bunny Hop, Line Dancing, Mash Potato, Fox Trot, Swing

So cute, she’s got a dance theme going. 

Channeling Anne Marie in Philly’s segment where she announced 2 Truths/1 Lie, facts about her and readers were to guess which one was a lie, let’s play … but with 2 Lies/1 Truth.

(1) I’ve done every dance.

(2) I’ve done all but one dance.

(3) I’ve done all but two dances.

Which one is the truth?

Heading back from the mail box, and dropping off next month’s rent check — and by the way, today was the first day the office was open to walking in, dropping off the check in the rent box, instead of mailing, I ran into Church Lady.

She was sitting on the bench outside the Laundry Room, which area of the Laundry Room is another location where Jan has set up a painted rock garden.

Stopping for a sec to ask Church Lady how she was enjoying the rocks, she said the messages uplifted her. That she’s taken quite a few to put on her window sill to ward off evil spirits, and even has one in her shoe for good luck.

Long time readers might recall Church Lady, once before, long ago, mentioned demons and evil spirits inhabiting her unit.

I didn’t laugh then, I didn’t laugh now — who knows and, if the painted rocks make her feel protected, then well fine and good. Though I do wonder how she manages to walk with a rock in her shoe.

I’m also beginning to see why the old guy who lives upstairs across the quad, who was Church Lady’s "friend" for a hot minute, dumped her so quickly. Her talking like that probably scared him, not to mention her being so prissy, so uptight. It’s also probably why her family won’t have anything to do with her and why she can’t keep a friend.

Evidently even the church no longer wants Church Lady because she tells me she’s just found a new church. That the church she was previously involved with — one nearby where quite a few of the residents are members, including The Seer and Shadow, had asked her to leave in a hurtful way.

There was a gift exchange and her gift was a towel that was personalized with the words "Stay Home".

In all fairness, "Stay Home" might have been pandemic related, but Church Lady didn't think so because everyone began treating her differently, along about the time The Seer began dating Shadow, bringing him to church.

She said something to the effect that how could the pastor allow it.

"Allow what?" asked I.

"Allow a man and a woman in who weren’t married to each other”.

Oh My Holy God, thought I. If she'd voiced this to the pastor, and others in the church, there's no wonder as to why they began treating her differently.

This time I did laugh, and said something to the effect that, “It's not hurting anyone”.

I don’t know who Church Lady thinks I am that I can be as uptight as she, but she quickly let that thread of conversation go when she realized I didn’t think anything wrong about a man and a woman being in an unmarried relationship.

Still in my workout clothes, while having this conversation, Lord knows what Church Lady would have had to say had she seen me in the old #ally top I’d been wearing the whole of Pride Month.

I have a feeling, she’d have pretended not to see, not to know I was an ally and later would have prayed for my soul in private.

LOL.

My Cup Runneth Over

In the midst of housework, I happened to glance out the window and caught Jan planting more rocks in my area.

I've been keeping an eye out that the rocks she placed in the area two days ago didn't go missing and, so far, it's all good but, if Jan wants to make my view even more colorful, have at it.

Opening up the patio window, I yelled down, “My cup runneth over”, then headed downstairs to see what was being added, take pics and to pass on to Jan a tin of Danish Butter Cookies gifted me, but which I cannot eat because of the ingredients — mainly the flour.

The cookies didn’t make sense being included in the swag bag for the upcoming Virtual Scavenger Hunt I signed up for. Especially since I’ve not yet received the tee shirt, nor the 10 clues to solve that will lead me to 10 destinations, but oh well.

Now that the Community Room has reopened, I had been thinking of taking the tin down there, leaving for whoever happened up on them.

Glad now that I hadn’t gotten around to it, because Jan’s eyes lit up when she saw them.

I know that look, LOL.

Before I developed gut issues, those Danish Butter Cookies were a favorite of mine, along with Girl Scout cookies.

Checking out the new additions to the painted rock garden, these two stood out.

Jan said “cha cha dance” comes from her having experience doing both dances. I forgot what she said about “run”, but I told her it was speaking to me, that I was taking it, because I do 5Ks.

Jan was okay with my doing so.

Then there were two

Management is going to have a conniption when they see all the color along my walkway, as will whoever it was who made the first batch of rocks disappear (creepy girl downstairs).

Jan said she’s branching out, going to start leaving painted rocks out all over the city.

Nice.

After two days of a ghost residing in the microwave, causing it to run in the off position when the door was closed, the microwave performed unpossessed this morning.

Hopefully, once I receive the testing kit, the microwave will test as cured, because it’s so heavy that it will take some doing to get it downstairs to trash it.

Ghost in The Machine

This morning’s coffee came with a side of spookiness.

I nuked my coffee, turned off the microwave, opened the door to retrieve the nicely warmed coffee, and then there was this.

After several tries, with the microwave stopping when I closed the door, running when I opened it, I ended up risking getting nuked, by quickly reaching in, snatching the hot cup out.

Hope this doesn't mean I have to lug a new microwave up the stairs.

Today was a return to a bit of the normalcy I enjoyed before the pandemic.

That’s right, the spa reopened about a month ago, but I held out a bit — waiting to see how things were going to go. 

Having not been pampered for over a year, the bottom of my feet were killing me, so the wait was over  — I scheduled an appointment.

You can’t imagine how good it felt to once again be able to get an exfoliating scrub, lotion foot massage and hot towel wrap.

Happy Feet

Returning to the complex, I saw Jan — out walking her two little dogs, walked over, introduced myself, told her how much I was enjoying her painted rocks.

What a sweet lady she turned out to be.

When I pointed to my area, said my unit was the one with the red Adirondack chair, she said that, during the Christmas season, she would come out at night just to see my patio display.

That's good to know, because setting up the display is so much work — and I was doing it just because I liked looking at the lights, I wasn't sure I'd put myself through it again this year. But since she, and possibly others, are enjoying my Christmas display, I guess it'll be an outdoor tree and lighted gift boxes again this year.

Jan shared that when she and her husband split up, she moved here, expecting her Christmas decorations to move here with her. They did not, and she's been asking for them ever since so she too can put up a display.

She says her ex tells her, "You've no place to put them", to which she said she replies, "I'll find a place".

Oooookay. LOL.

After I turned the topic back to the painted rocks, she said that she was going to have to put the rocks on “hold” because Complex Manager (CM) is on her arse again. Telling her the landscapers were complaining about them being in the way.

I told her I thought CM was lying, because I’d seen the landscapers at work just recently. That they now (since putting in all the drought tolerant stuff) only mow the grass, do nothing in the mulch.

She laughed because she said she knew CM was probably lying. 

She had a few choice other things to say about CM and how she’s been emailing him about getting activities started again, with no response.

In particular, she has a friend that wants to give Line Dancing lessons in the Community Room. This friend would give the first lesson for free, charge $1.00 for future lessons, but she can’t get CM to respond to her emails about it.

She even approached CM one day asking, “Did you read my email?”

”Which one?” he replied.

That in itself, to me, was his reply — an I’m Ignoring Your Emails reply.

Line Dancing used to be my thing.

When I lived in Long Beach, there would be festivals where the streets were blocked off, there'd be country music, line dancing lessons, the whole nine yards.

I pretty much learned all the dances — through attending various street festivals and country/western dance clubs. Even took vacation from the office one year, to attend a Line Dancing festival on Catalina Island.

In Long Beach, it was totally safe for me, a Black woman, to walk into any country/western bar alone to dance.

My line dancing days ended when a job relocation sent me to San Diego.

Believe it or not, at that time, San Diego was KKK country — may still be.

It wasn't safe to go out at night, let alone walk into a country/western bar, so that was the end of line dancing for me.

There's not a doubt in my mind, CM won't approve it here AND, even if he did, not enough residents would sign up. 

Oh well.

I then told Jan that someone had taken all the painted rocks from my area.

She said she'd noticed and has no idea who's doing it

BTW, I verified this is happening only on my walkway, by checking other areas yesterday and, sure enough, other areas still have their rocks.

A little while after I’d ended my conversation with Jan, returned to my unit, there was a knock on the door.

It was Jan, telling me to “Look out your patio window”.

Bless her heart. Not only did Jan give me multiple pops of color, but it took an enormous effort for her to climb stairs, let me know they were there.

Will be interesting to see if I still have this view in the morning but, just in case I don’t — someone (the creepy girl downstairs) spirits them away, I went down and took pics to give you a closer better look in a future post.

Today ends with me missing Judge Judy because, having yet another Senior Moment, I thought today was Saturday and, just in case you're wondering, last I checked, (6:39 pm) the microwave was off all the way. No idea how long it took for the ghost to leave the machine.

Then There Were None

Opening up the blinds to sunshine in the morning, looking down from the patio, there’s been that pop of color for me to look at.

“Take Pride” Painted Rock

Returning to the complex yesterday, from that mix-up that sent me to three different malls, I found Jan had graced my walkway with three additional pops of color.

Hallelujah

Dream Big

Make it Happen

Once upstairs in my unit, I tried to take a photo of the new view, looking down from the patio, but the sun was shining straight into the phone lens. I decided that when I awoke this morning, I’d take a pic for you.

Last night’s sleep was interrupted at 2:12 a.m., by someone doing laundry.

The complex is so peaceful and quiet late night, early morning, that one can hear a pin drop. Thus, it was, I could hear the washer door being slammed shut, and then the sound of water gushing into the washer.

Who are these residents who wait until well after posted Laundry Room hours to do laundry?

No one knows.

At any rate, unable to fall back asleep, I logged onto the laptop, replied to a comment, then watched a few TicTok videos, until I felt sleepy again — along about 4 a.m., waking up, raring to go, at 6 a.m.

Remembering to take that photo, I grabbed the phone, opened up the patio door, looked down and ……. nothing.

Not a pop of color in sight.

ALL the painted rocks were gone.

What the hey!

It wasn’t maintenance skulking around late night removing just the rocks along my walkway, and the fact that ALL were gone makes me think it wasn’t someone wanting a souvenir but, rather, someone like Negative Nelly who takes offense, doesn’t like ‘em, wanted them gone.

Can’t be Negative Nelly herself — the woman I’m itching to rebuke. She lives way on the other side of the complex. Gets no nearer to my walkway, than the mail center around the corner.

My guess is the creepy girl downstairs — Illusive Unfriendly, who shouldn’t even be living here because she’s not 55, not even in her 50’s yet.

Hopefully, Jan will see the area devoid of color and fill ‘er up again.

I’m seriously thinking of purchasing a motion activated camera. One that doesn't have to be installed, attached to a wall or anything, but something easy to set up that I can place in the patio chair, capture Illusive Unfriendly or, if I’m wrong, whoever it is in the act.

A motion-activated camera in the chair would also help me capture photos of the humming birds lulled daily to my patio by the red chair. Finding no sugar water, they sometimes fly right up to the patio window and look straight at me, like where's the nectar, you mean old lady. 

I’ve grabbed for the phone to take a video, but they’re too quick, curse me out and leave before I can hit record but, yesterday, I was fast and managed to at least get a pic.

I thought about putting up a sugar water feature for the little guys, but read that the nectar in direct heat goes bad rather quickly and my patio takes a direct hit from the sun, no shade.

A motion activated camera would serve dual duty — capture the person removing those pops of color AND produce nice shots of the humming birds.

Any ideas on an outdoor cam, preferably battery operated, that can be placed in the chair?

One and Done … Not

Daughter-in-Law — Twin 2’s wife, called to let me know how much she was enjoying having cool air again.

Thank the Lord, because I was holding my breath that the plumber boys did right by them.

Very right, she tells me. The workers were there all day and replaced the entire unit.

Turns out one of the young workers knew Daughter-in-Law — was a friend of a relative of hers, which didn’t hurt in their getting top notch service.

So that’s done.

This being Pride Month, I’ve been sporting my colors in support of the LGBTQ community.

Straight But Not Narrow #ally

When Twin 2 stopped by to pick up the check for the plumber, she noticed my top and said something that made me feel really good about my parenting skills. 

She smiled at the words on the tee and said, “You’ve always been an ally”.

That’s true because, as I’ve indicated in prior posts, my position in life has always been to live and let live, not be so tightly wrapped.

Twin 2 came out to me, via text, a few years ago, saying something to the effect that I’d probably figured out (because I somehow always knew things without being told) that her female roommate was not just a roommate, but that they were in a relationship.

I don’t know how I missed that one, because I generally did sense and know what secrets the girls were keeping from me.

Though this secret escaped me, wasn’t a big deal in my mind, so my reply had been, “No. Never entered my mind, but okay” and that was that.

Daughter-in-Law’s deeply religious family had a difficult time accepting, some members of that side of the family still do, though they like Twin 2. They've were, and some still are, curious as to how Twin 2’s family — her mom (me) in particular reacted to her coming out, feel about her lifestyle and the relationship.

Twin 2 tells me her response, to these deeply religious individuals, is that no one in our family thinks anything about it because we have some of everything (meaning devils, angels, cops, criminals) and “We were raised to love everyone”.

That “We were raised to love everyone” made me so proud of ME, the seeds I’ve sown which have taken root.

It’s just too bad the boys (mainly Middle Grandson) have soil I cannot seed — that Roadside Soil … hard, can’t get under the ground.

Today was planned to be a one and done for me.

I had three different Macy’s orders, and planned to pick them all up this morning.

Driving to my favorite mall in Rancho Cucamonga, I picked up one order, but was told I’d somehow sent the other two to two different malls.

Holy Crap!

I must have been in the midst of a Senior Moment when I ordered the second item, and again in a Senior Moment, when I’d ordered the third.

So, this morning’s one and done one-hour errand, turned into a four-hour tour.

All three malls had a See’s Candy Shop.

I passed up on the first, I passed up on the second but, by the time I arrived at the third mall, plum tuckered out, I relented and brought myself a late lunch.

Walnut & Pecan Bud, Dark & Light Caramels

My gut will hate me later — because I’m not supposed to be eating candy, but right now, I feel satisfied and relaxed, after a long day on the road.

Lotsa Rocks

No new and interesting painted rocks to show you, because it’s been too hot to go out looking in other areas of the complex.

I do know there is one less rock out there, because “You Rock” kept calling my name, I finally answered the call, nabbed it before anyone else could and added it to my collection.

Rocks have always called to me. 

I’ve been known to see a rock on the ground that looks interesting, pick it up, take it home — like one I picked up from the ground outside my now deceased Shaman’s home. I like to think that the rock, being so close to where he resided, holds some of his essence.

Then there are rocks I’ve seen, liked, purchased from Aromatherapy shops, when travelling to attend various Meditations Retreats. Not to mention rocks coworkers and friends picked up for me as a souvenir from their own travels — like a rock from the Sedona Vortex, a rock from the Mediterranean Sea, et al.

I even have a rock from One World Trade Center (OWTC) — the site where Twin Towers went down.

Twin 1 managed to sweet talked one of the OWTC construction workers into slipping a piece of the new building to her, as a souvenir for me, when she and a friend were vacationing in New York.

I hope the construction worker didn’t get fired, because he told her a lot of people asked for a souvenir, but to acquiesce would jeopardize his job.

Twin 1 talked him into it anyway, saying it was for her mom and was the only thing her mom had ever asked her for.

The construction worker tried to be discrete in slipping to her, but others saw and were asking her “What did he give you?”.

These many years, since the Towers fell, construction on OWTC began and was completed, I think about that construction worker every time I handle the rock and feel guilty, hoping this one rock didn’t cost him his job.

Twin 2 sent me a photo of her A/C being repaired this morning.

You won’t believe how much the plumber is charging. Let’s just say the price is obscene, highway robbery.

I just hope the guys know what they’re doing, do it right, and are not one of those take the money and run companies.

I’ve always been a renter, never an owner, and this is one of the reasons why — I've never wanted to be responsible for repairs, putting myself in the position of being at the mercy of others to be trustworthy and reputable — landscapers, painters, plumbers, carpenters, all manner of home repair/maintenance services.

Though I have had problems getting owners/managers of leased apartments — including here at the senior complex, to respond in a timely manner to things that need taking care of, in the final analysis it is THEIR responsibility not MINE and they do eventually have to get it done, at no cost to me.

Not to mention ownership would make me feel trapped.

I don't move often and, when I do, it's always been for a valid reason, like moving to get the twins in a different school district, moving to get closer to a transportation line (when I had no car), being forced to move because of job merger and relocation, moving here to distance myself from family.

I'm a nester, I like to settle in one place, but with the option of moving on — when there's sufficient reason to go, without the hassle of having to do anything other than hiring movers.

Father's Day

Twin 2 dropped by yesterday. Not because it was Father’s Day Weekend — for which I qualify inasmuch as my role in her life was that of Mother AND Father.

She stopped by to pick up a check for the plumber (her A/C unit died).

And before you readers chastise me for being a sucker — giving money to family yet again, there was no way I could live with myself if I’d have turned my back on Twin 2, her ill retired spouse, their dog (my Great-grandson Patches). Let them suffer no A/C in this heat, or having to take out a bank loan, when it wouldn't kill me to give her what she needed. So yes, I’m still at it, but only because it was absolutely necessary and Twin 2 was not “using” me, like Middle Grandson.

When I told Twin 2 about Middle Grandson’s asking for money, just three months after he conned me into getting him out of debt, Twin 2 was shocked. She didn’t know about his calling the first time and offered to have a talk with the boys, telling them to layoff, not ask so often.

”So often” ??????

How about not at all.

At any rate, I told her it wasn’t necessary to have that talk with the boy, because I was just going to say no in future — which may serve as a signal to her as well that the Bank of Me is now closed.

In all fairness, it was only Middle Grandson trying to “use” me, but all are affected by his actions. None of the boys can now call me (I don’t know how they got my number in the first place), because I put a block on their numbers.

Going to be awkward, if and when we have a Thanksgiving Get-Together this year … and we will have a get together because Granddaughter’s new Hubby want me to meet his side of the family.

That get-together should offer up some interesting blog fodder, LOL.

Twin 2 herself seems to have gotten over the disappointment of my response to her texting me one night, “Mom, are you proud of me ... Like the way I’ve lived my life?”

It wasn’t that I responded poorly. It’s just that, she wanted me to respond like this mom ……

Carol Brady Mom

Instead, I responded like this mom ……

Madea Mom

Twin 2 and I are both chalking that regressing into a 12-year old seeking approval, as having been in quarantine too long and menopause.

So now things with family seem to have been settled — Twin 2 has her money, the Grandsons are blocked, I’m looking forward to a long period of being left the hell alone.

I’ll leave you with this hilarious story I read about Father’s Day gifts.

Dear Diary:

For Father’s Day this year, family purchased a week of personal training at the local health club for me. Although I am still in great shape since playing on my college football team 25 years ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try. I called the club and made my reservation with a personal trainer named Belinda, who identified herself as a 26 year old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swimwear.

My family seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started! The club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.

MONDAY:

Started my day at 6:00am

Tough to get out of bed, but it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Belinda waiting for me. She was something of a Greek goddess - with blonde hair, dancing eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!!!!!

She took my pulse after 5 minutes on the treadmill. She was alarmed that my pulse was so fast, but I attributed it to standing next to her in her Lycra aerobics outfit. I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which she conducted her aerobics class after my workout today.

Very inspiring, Belinda was encouraging as I did my sit-ups, although my gut was already aching from holding it in the whole time she was around.

This is going to be a FANTASTIC week!!

TUESDAY:

I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the door. Belinda made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air, and then she put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile. Belinda's rewarding smile made it all worthwhile.

I feel GREAT!! It's a whole new life for me.

WEDNESDAY:

The only way I can brush my teeth is by lying on the toothbrush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. I believe I have a hernia in both pectorals. Driving was OK as long as I didn't try to steer or stop. I parked on top of a GEO in the club parking lot. Belinda was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered the other club members.

Her voice is a little too perky for early in the morning and when she scolds, she gets this nasally whines that is VERY annoying.

My chest hurts when I got on the treadmill, so Belinda put me on the stair monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators?

Belinda told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. She said some other sh** too.

THURSDAY:

Belinda was waiting for me with her vampire-like teeth exposed as her thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl. I couldn't help being a half an hour late; it took me that long to tie my shoes.

Belinda took me to workout with dumbbells. When she was not looking, I ran and hid in the men's room. She sent Lars to find me, then, as punishment, put me on the rowing machine -- which I sank.

FRIDAY:

I hate that bit** Belinda more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic little cheerleading bit**. If there were a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat her with it. Belinda wanted me to work on my triceps. I don't have any triceps! And if you don't want dents in the floor, don't hand me the*&%#(#&** barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich.

The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher. Why couldn't it have been someone softer, like the drama coach or the choir director?

SATURDAY:

Belinda left a message on my answering machine in her grating, shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing her made me want to smash the machine with my planner. However, I lacked the strength to even use the TV remote and ended up catching eleven straight hours of the Weather Channel.

SUNDAY:

I'm having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can go and thank GOD that this week is over. I will also pray that next year, my family will choose a gift for me that is fun -- like a root canal or a vasectomy.

Movie Night, Part 2

From my perch on the couch, I yesterday saw this big boy being walked down the pathway.

I hope the woman, obviously a new resident, follows the rules and scoops her pooch’s poop, because I'd hate to see his droppings nestled in amongst the painted rocks.

Long-time readers, familiar with management screwups here at the senior complex, probably won’t be much surprised to learn Movie Night never happened, though I observed at least one resident ready and waiting — having plopped down on a bench, overlooking the area, around 7:30 p.m.

After 15 minutes of seeing nothing happening, she left.

Actually, there were two residents ready and waiting.

Behind that tree, in the upstairs unit, is the patio of a resident whose placement gives her a birds eye view of the location the movie was to be shown.

A friendly woman, she has never made the blog, but caused one of the disagreements I had with Handsome Man because of his opining how others should live.

It was that day he came onto me with his, “I’m looking for a good woman” line. Since I wasn’t interested in being that woman, I deflected by pointing out other single women he might consider.

One was Next Door Neighbor, who’d invited him to dinner once or twice (he accepted) and who had indicated to me she was very much interested in him.

Handsome Man doesn’t know I know about the dinners but, when I offered her up, he’d shook his head, actually shuttered — as though shaking off a bad memory, and gave me a unequivocal NO!

I then pointed out the woman with the patio behind the tree was single, to which Handsome Man went off on a tirade about her having a relationship with an old army vet I see out walking his dog most days.

He said the man was married, his wife is an invalid and yada yada yada here he was visiting the upstairs unit, having dinner with that woman.

My position in life is that we are all doing the best we can with the cards we’ve been dealt. Consequently, nothing is right, nothing is wrong, but more it is what it is and so long as you’re not a complete arsehole, hurting and abusing and using others, in a harmful way, it’s not my place to judge.

Coming from that position of essentially live and let live, I foolishly responded to handsome man’s tirade by saying, “Well, if his wife is an invalid …” and before I could complete my sentence, Handsome Man’s voice went up several octaves. He began waiving his hands and went on a tirade starting with, “YOU CAN’T TELL ME THAT WHAT HE’S DOING IS …. yada yada yada”. So, I just shut up, let him have his say, then pretty much told Handsome Man that I wasn’t the kind of “good woman” he was looking for.

As for the woman on the upstairs patio, I don’t know, and neither does Handsome Man. For all we know, they could just be good friends, or it might be there is a relationship, the wife might know and may have given approval because why should the husband suffer needs the wife cannot fulfill.

Which, my saying “may have given approval” reminds me of years ago, when I was on a trip to Las Vegas. While others went to the casino, I was lounging at the pool, in a bathing suit, sunbathing and reading a book.

An old couple joined me at the pool, and we all got into general chitchat.

After a time, the couple left and I went back to my book

Then, the husband returned … alone.

He offered me money to have sex with him, saying his wife had given him approval —that the wife thought I was nice and looked clean.

That was not the first time I’d been propositioned, nor would it be the last (last time was just last week, when I was pumping gas at the corner station, but that's a tale for another time). Propositioned because why? ...  because a Black woman out walking for exercise or walking to work, in the mind of some guys, is selling it, a Black woman waiting for a bus at the bus stop is selling it, a Black woman sunbathing at the pool is selling it, a Black woman pumping gas is selling it.

I was calm and polite in declining the old guy's offer saying something to the effect, “I work. I have a job”, so he’d know I wasn’t a prostitute, did not need his money.

He upped the dollar amount and became so persistent that I got disgusted and ended up having to leave the pool to get away from him.

So, like I said, Handsome Man has no idea what’s going on between the old vet, his invalid wife, woman on the upstairs patio and therefore is not in a position to judge.

Along about 8:00 p.m., having seen the bench resident long gone, I walked outside to see for myself if Movie Night was happening.

Nothing.

Walking over to the woman on her patio, she said she’d seen no preparations.

Concluding, the event was another of management’s screwups, I headed back to my unit and caught Aquaman on tv.

Update: Running into Head Maintenance Guy this morning, I asked, “What happened to movie night?”

”No one RSVP’d”, said he.

I didn’t know, or see on the Monthly Calendar, that we had to RSVP. Probably no one realized that either, but it’s doubtful enough would have signed up to get it going anyway.

Movie Night

This post-pandemic Father’s Day is looking to be HUGE in this area.

Making the mistake of popping into the market, after this morning’s workout, for a few non-perishables, I found the place crowded. Hot dogs, watermelon and Happy Father’s Day balloons were flying out the door.

I’m thinking backyard cookouts.

I was only picking up perishables, because I don’t dare bring perishables into my unit, possibly incur any more loss that I’m likely to incur with what I already have in the freezer, because we’re living under the threat of rolling blackouts by the utility company. Which, I can’t believe that, in this heat, the utility company is seriously thinking of putting us through such a thing.

Some of us might not live through an extended period of not having A/C, but what do they care.

I myself don’t have to worry about honoring anyone on Father’s Day. The grandsons have a really good dad, someone I admire and respect, so I’m sure they boys will do right by their dad. But my mom and dad separated when I was six months old. Mom moved to California, while my father stayed where he was, out-of-state, with the woman who broke up the marriage.

Mom of course eventually remarried, had children by him — my brothers and sister but, try though I have, I can’t remember anything ever being done on Father’s Day for my stepdad. Not by mom, not by his own children, and definitely not by me because we did not get along.

He resented me because I was not his own, my brothers and sister resented him because he resented me. LOL.

The first, last and only time I ever lay eyes on my dad was in 1977, when he died and mom tricked me into attending his out-of-state funeral.

His oldest daughter — my what ... half-sister? stepsister?, daughter by his then wife, the woman that broke up his relationship with my mother, picked me up at the airport, took me by the funeral home, so I could get a look at my dad in his casket.

Interesting, at long last, to see what he looked like, but felt nothing.

At any rate, I do wish those being feted this weekend a Happy Father’s Day.

Tonight is Movie Night here at the complex. More approximately … Movie Late Afternoon, because the film Get Out is to be set up for viewing at dusk, on the grassy knoll at the edge of my walkway.

I’m interested in seeing how management plans to pull this first-time event off … what apparatus is to be used, i.e., a big tv/a screen?

Then there’s the issue of how many residents, if any, will participate.

I’ve been asking around and it’s not looking promising.

Next Door Neighbor said she’s not going, because she’s seen the movie. Get Out has been on television numerous times.

That’s true, and those who have seen it, on television, will feel it not worth the effort, as she does, to traipse out of their units to see a movie they’ve already seen — the new Wonder Woman or Cruella would have gotten me out of my unit.

While picking up mail today, I ran into Church Lady. She said she’s not going because word on the complex is it’s a horror movie.

That’s true as well, but I told her it was more comic horror than blood and guts horror.

No matter, she’s not going because she was also told there were “bad words” in the movie.

Jesus F Christ!!, thought I.

Some of these old people (Church Lady is just a few months younger than I) are wound up way too tight.

Also, while picking up mail, I ran into Diane — the woman whose quality of life was changed by a car accident that left her with a brain injury and seizures, the resident that put her puppy to sleep because she could not afford the vet bill.

I guess Diane is another one who doesn’t read the Monthly Calendar, because she said she didn’t know about it.

Figuring “dust” to be about 7 o’clock, she doubted she’d come down for the movie.

Another woman walked up on the conversation I was having with Diane — a woman who has never made the blog and whom I don’t care for much because I’ve got good instincts and because she had too much to say when we had Resident/Management meetings, without saying anything worth being heard.

She interrupted our conversation to say how much she disliked the painted rocks.

That interested me, so I asked “Why?”

“We’re not supposed to be doing stuff like this”.

“Jan has permission. They’re not bothering anything, and there’s plenty of other rocks around here”, said I.

“But she’s saying how she feels about people”, said she.

“Do you mean the positive messages she’s writing?”

“Yes. That’s saying how she feels about people”.

I guess she means saying awful things about people like this …

And this ...

The woman said something about the painted rocks "cluttering up the place" and a few other things that were so off the wall that I blurted out what I'd been thinking for years, “You’re awful” and said to Diane, “I can’t deal with this level of negativity” then walked away.

Back in my unit, I began thinking what I should have done was this thing I do to piss off people who are being ridiculous, or behaving in a manner that indicates they're in need of  a curandero.

I raise my hand in a halt manner and say, “I rebuke you demon. I rebuke you in the name of Jesus Christ. Out out, evil spirit. Release that body and let it go”.

It’s so fun to see the reactions.

Generally, it stops people mid-stream. It shocks them, because they don't know if I’ve just put a voodoo curse on them or what.

One woman, when I used it on her misbehaving daughter, whom she was allowing to misbehave, stood straight up, said, “That was rude!”, grabbed her daughter and left the room.

Must have worked some kind of magic, because she later returned, little girl in tow and made the little one apologize to me for her behavior.

I felt the mom should have apologized as well and kinda just brushed the two of them off.

I’m sure to run into this long-time resident again, whom I’m naming Negative Nelly, and if she wants to continue our conversation about the rocks and/or my having said to her face that she was awful, I’m going to rebuke her and hopefully catch it on film.