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.