Pick a Color and Tiny Hands

I came thisclose yesterday, to removing my feet from the spa chair tub, drying them, walking out.

Arriving at the nail salon at 10:55 for my 11:00 appointment I was greeted by one of the managers by name. How he knew who I was became clear when I saw my pedicurist just starting a manicure on another client.

The guys who manage the salon run it like a sweat shop. They hoover in around and over the women, silently intimidating them, ordering them about in their language. The women keep their heads down, keep quiet, do what they have to do to keep their job.

Having my own self been there done that for many years — head down, kept quiet, did what I had to do to survive in toxic work environments, I recognize the signs — not to mention my pedicurists, though she would not dare speak up, she makes facial expressions to me and rolls her eyes to let me know how she feels about whatever is going on at any given time.

So, putting two and two together, I deduced the manager knew my name because, when he ordered my pedicurist to do a manicure on this other client, she would have said something to the effect that her regular, me, had an appointment, would be walking through the door any moment.

Obviously, he didn’t care.

It took some 45 minutes for my pedicurists to get to me.

At the 30-minute mark, I was seriously considering drying my feet, walking out; but I really needed a pedicure and having invested 30 minutes already in waiting, figuring I didn’t have much longer to wait, that I might as well stick it out.

I did, however, make a bargain with myself to skip the manicure because I can do that myself.

When my pedicurist finally made it over to me, she brought the manicurist with her, so I settled in for what I’d requested and had scheduled for 45 minutes earlier.

Asking my pedicurist what was going on, she whispered something to me I couldn’t make out, because she was talking low, careful not to be heard by the manager or any kiss ass coworker who’d rat her out, but her face and the way she rolled her eyes towards the male managers told it all.

There’s a high turnover with the younger girls. They probably say to heck with these guys and go work at the mall, but the two older ladies (my pedicurist and one other) are kinda stuck, so they are the only constant.

This new thing of young people no longer willing to tolerate toxic working conditions, leaving fast food establishments scrambling or closing their doors altogether, appears to have caught up with the salon. They were very short staffed. That’s why my pedicurist had been told to do a manicure. That’s also why one of the male managers himself was jumping in, working on clients.

I was observing all this while the manicurist had almost finished my hands, was just starting to paint one of my nails when, all of a sudden, the manager I’d seen removing fake nails from a client, suddenly appeared hoovering over and startling my manicurist, quickly whispered something in her ear which caused her to immediately stop painting and jump up so quick that she smeared polish around the nail she had begun painting.

Then POOF, she was gone, later to be seen working on another client.

I guess he ordered her to stop painting me, service this other client who'd just been seated. BTW, this newly seated client was White, as was the client my pedicurist had been ordered to service. I noticed it was just I and one other Black lady that were made to wait. Everyone not Black got seated and serviced immediately— even if the manager himself had to step in.

I was left befuddled for a few minutes by the loss of the manicurist, after which that manager returned, picked up the bottle of polish and looked to begin painting my nails.

"What happened to my manicurist?" asked I.

"Nothing, nothing happened to her", he said in a so what tone.

"Well, obviously something happened to her, because a moment ago, she looked like a woman. Now, she looks like a man, she looka like a man". (I repeated and reverted to speaking like Ms. Swan of MadTV).

My pedicurist cracked up hearing what I’d said, as did the girls working within ear shot.

I hope they don’t get punished for laughing at his expense.

So, anyway, I’m loyal to my pedicurist. As long as she’s working there, I’ll keep coming back.

As for Tiny Hands, some fun memes popped up as a result of Cassidy Hutchinson’s testimony before the Jan 6 committee.

Hot Monday, Ugh!

There just is not enough weekend in the weekend, especially when today meant I had to leave my air-conditioned unit and face the wall of heat outside; but at least this week looks to be a lot less chaotic than last week — fewer must-dos to make me venture out.

Other than the MWF workouts, I’m only locked into a manicure/pedicure on Tuesday and dental cleaning on Thursday.

Since I suspect the dental office receptionist as being the person who’d hacked my credit card, charging $18 at Overstock, $13 at some Motor Club (thank the Lord it was timid small bites), I’ll be looking for signs of guilt — like not being able to look me in the eyes. I’ll also be paying cash. She how she reacts to that.

Activity Director has a Summer Craft class scheduled for Tuesday, which I’ll miss because the time conflicts with my mani/pedi but, if she stays true to form, the craft class was going to be cancelled at the last minute without notice anyway.

With no Bingo this coming Friday, and my heading out of town the Friday after — for the three-day Long Beach Pride Festival, doubt I’ll have any updates on the Karen/Dream Lover saga for a couple weeks.

Speaking of Pride, during the week I was reminded of how I used to take granddaughter to the Pride Festivals and Parades when she called to ask if I had possession of the book with the photo of her at Pride.

I do not. It’s one her mom has, but I’ll look for it while I’m in Long Beach.

Granddaughter was asking because, now that she’s a new mom, she wanted something to commemorate the baby’s First Pride — have a tee made with a photo of her as a baby at Pride alongside a photo of her baby at Pride.

Cute idea and the fact that she wanted something to commemorate the baby’s First Pride manifested itself because, when walking into a store to pick up a package the other day, stopping at the Pride display to see if they had anything that interested me, I lucked up on this.

Dumpster Diving

Heading to yesterday’s workout, I saw the Maintenance guys were back at clearing out Bonita’s unit.

The furniture the guys piled up at the dumpster looked like the old-fashioned well-built stuff. Too difficult to smash up to fit inside the dumpster, they left it out for pick-up but, in the interim, I was expecting the seniors to cart pieces off to their unit.

Returning from the Pain Cave, with about an hour to spare before Bingo, I saw a couple seniors perusing the offerings.

Painted Rock Lady was zealously guarding a center table.

Her next-door neighbor, the guy who pulled Bonita’s memorabilia from the dumpster — let’s call him He-Man … you’ll find out why as you read on, was busy pulling an end table from the dumpster.

Seeing him dumpster diving had me silently hoping he didn’t find any more photos, because it had been a bit of work tracking down someone to take that first batch.

At any rate, asking Painted Rock Lady (PRL) how she planned to get that heavy table to her unit, she said the one I now call He-Man, her next-door neighbor, would figure it out.

Just then, Big Friendly Guy passed by with a dolly. When asked if he could help, it was excuse after excuse after excuse, even though he had a dolly.

Funny how it is that the big strong looking guys around here turn out to be oatmeal, like now with Big Friendly Guy and like a while back when I asked a tall not bad looking strong appearing guy to help me get a microwave up the stairs.

"You know I’ve got a bad back" said he, when how could I know that since I didn’t even know his name.

He did begrudgingly help me after which he immediately diminished in my eyes — looks not so tall now, less better looking and definitely no longer fits the illusion I had of him being strong when I see him in the market or out on the premises.

So, anyway, turns out Big Friendly Guy and his dolly weren’t needed after all as He-Man, little as he is, managed to perform a feat I’d not have believed had I not seen it for myself.

Amazing, isn't it.

Later that afternoon, seeing other residents having talked Big Friendly Guy out of the dolly and using it to move furniture down the walkway, I was surprised this morning to see quite a few pieces remaining, including an ottoman and vacuum cleaner.

As for the residents who feel they've gotten a bargain, they may have gotten more than they'd bargained for.

I don't know about having things belonging to a deceased person in your unit. That's how discarnate beings/ghosts come into your life — when someone takes possession of an item the deceased person was attached to in life and can't let go of even in spirit.

That's why I was so happy to hear from the mom of the Joling boys and so quickly shipped Bonita's memorabilia off.

Of course, had Bonita been hanging around, she would have understood what I was doing with her stuff, would have been encouraging me on and like commenter Abby said, when all was said and done, Bonita would have been "Smiling at you and clapping" and then moved on.

Day the Room Went Still

There was a surprise birthday party for Red Light at today’s Bingo event.

Surprised not only Red Light but me as well because no one told me. Had they done so, I would have contributed to the cake and ice cream or bought Red Light a present.

The Baker provided the cake made of cupcakes but, busy with doctor appointments as a result of her fall, she purchased the cake instead of baking it herself.

The usual suspects attended, plus there were a few additions — Not Dead Nancy joined us, as did the woman who had been hospitalized with Covid and then kept "forgetting" to wear her mask when recovered and was out and about on the property. Let's call her Caftan lady because she always wears a Caftan.

In addition, Talker brought her disabled brother.

Conspicuously absent was the guy Karen has been stalking — let’s call him Dream Lover (DL), because that’s what he is to her.

Word travels fast, everyone knows about Karen stalking DL, so I asked around if his absence had anything to do with her.

No one knew the answer, why he was not there. The two women he generally sits with said they didn't know where he was.

After attendees sang Happy Birthday to Red Light, had cake and ice cream, the games were about to start when through the door comes Karen.

The room went still, all the air went out and I heard myself say out loud, "UT OH!"

My table mate Genie, feeling the energy in the room change, hearing my utterance and seeing the look on my face said "What? ... Who is that?"

"That’s her" whispered I. "She’s probably looking for M_____ (Dream Lover), so it’s a good thing he’s not here today".

My other table mate, our Painted Rock Lady (PRL), said "No. I invited her".

"You what!? ... Why? ... You know she’s not right".

"I was trying to be a good Christian lady".

Bull crap thought I.

PRL is well aware of all the problems with Karen, in fact, it was she who warned Talker in the first place to be careful of Karen, because of things Karen was saying about Talker, trying to turn neighbors against her.

In addition, PRL knew that Talker would be in attendance, that Dream Lover usually attends and this time we had Talker’s brother — the one Karen had bullied at the gate. So, to tell me she invited her because she was trying to be a good Christian Lady is bull crap.

While these conversations were going on, Karen had been standing, looking around as to where to sit and saw the one who invited her — PRL, who had her head down, trying to be invisible.

Oh sure, she invites her and then tries to hide from her.

"If she joins our table, I’m leaving," said I.

Something about the look in my eyes must have warned Karen off, because she sat with Not Dead Nancy and the Seer. After which, PRL, afraid to turn around and look, head still down, whispered "Where is she?".

"Right behind you, facing my way".

Karen seemed to gel well with the ladies at her table and, because of where she was seated, our eyes frequently locked.

Crazy people are not stupid. They know who to mess with, who to avoid and something about the way I looked at her when our eyes met kept her away from me. Even when she later walked around trying to be nice, even had a conversation with Talker who looked shit faced uncomfortable as she held in her disgust with her being present and anger at PRL for inviting her.

I didn’t wear my lucky shirt, so no surprise when I came close several times to winning a game but did not. Then, Game 9 came through for me and I selected a toolbox from the prize table.

There are no tools in the box and I don’t plan to use it for tools, but to house some of my crafting equipment.

So that’s the tea of how Bingo went today — Karen is in, causing Dream Lover to now have to opt out — maybe Talker too.

And get this ….. Sitting straight in front of me, at the other table, I kept trying to get a photo of Karen, as this was the first time I've been close enough to see her face, but my camera kept malfunctioning — the images kept pulsating, fading in going dark, fading out, which I took to be her bad energy causing a disturbance in the force, in the operation of the light rays.

After several tries, even restarting the phone, I finally managed to snap a clear pic in-between the malfunctions.

She’s looking at her phone. I wonder if she’s trying to get a pic of me too, for purposes of performing some kind of voodoo ritual. ROFLMAO!

The Gods Must Have Been Angry

We’ve not had that earthquake as of yet. However, we did get thunder and lightning all afternoon, into the night yesterday ... in a dry sky.

That’s right. There was not a drop of rain. Just streaks of lightning flashing across the sky and rolling thunder.

Ominous it was.

Me thinks the Universe was very angry, and with good reason judging by all that’s going on in the world.

Then, along about 9:17 p.m. the power went out ─ no lights, no A/C, no Wi-Fi; and not just in my unit, not just in the complex, the entire neighborhood was pitched into darkness.

Maybe that squirrel blew out a transformer after all.

Fortunately, I knew exactly where the flashlight was and managed to get to it in the dark. Then, as I could hear neighbors coming out with their flashlights to discuss the situation, I got matches from that same drawer, lit the John Wick candle, crawled into bed and, with no Wi-Fi, finally had free time to start reading Randy Rainbow’s book.

Expecting no power until morning, it was a surprise when I heard the A/C startup around 10:15 and the lights come back on.

At the part of Randy’s life where I was reading about what a tool his dad was — Dad was a hound dog, a poor provider and I don’t know why his wife didn’t just kick him to the curb, but I guess couples stayed together back then, even when they no longer loved or even liked each other. At any rate, engrossed in the story by then, instead of taking advantage of Wi-Fi being restored, I opted to keep reading until I felt sleepy.

The antibiotics I’d picked up yesterday began working immediately so, waking up this morning, I was inclined to cancel the office visit at the medical center, but inasmuch as I’d had so much trouble getting an appointment, I kept it.

Remembering not to drink coffee this morning, my BP was 125/54.

I liked the friendly cute little Black lady doctor I was paired with, I liked her nurse, so I let them talk me into a shingles shot, though I didn’t think I needed it and didn’t want it.

As for the folliculitis the over the phone doc had suggested, she said it wasn't that, looked more like I’d been out and about and something had bitten me.

I don’t see how since I always wear leggings when out and about — except I do wear shorts when going to the mailbox or taking out the trash.

So, it's possible, but even though I’ve been assured Moderna has nothing to do with it, my gut tells me it’s a delayed reaction to the last two boosters.

But whatever, the antibiotics are working and a hydrocortisone cream has been added to the mix, so I’m over it. I will, however, have to return to the medical center for the 2nd shingles shot.

When I got to the car to head to the medical center this morning, Talker was taking something out of the trunk of her car and had an update for me on Karen.

Another complaint has been made to the office about Karen, and it wasn’t from the Talker.

There is a guy who comes to bingo that I thought was new to the complex because I’d never seen him before, but he tells me he’s lived here a year and a half on the opposite side of the complex. He’s tall, got a good build, not a bad looker and doesn’t appear to be infirmed in any way, as so many men around here are, so I was expecting the women to swarm him.

And before you go thinking anything …… no, not me. I’ve neither the time or the patience to deal with anyone.

So, anyway, he approached Talker recently and said, "Your downstairs neighbor is crazy”.

Turns out Karen has been following him around, stalking him, writing love letters to him.

He said he’s been trying to avoid Karen, but she hunts him down. One day, said he, she saw him in the laundry room and, when he ran to get away from her, she ran after him at which time he went to the office with the letters, incidents of stalking and said, "I can’t take this".

I’d pay to see what Karen wrote in those letters.

Management has been talking a good game about doing something about Karen. They better follow through before it turns into a Fatal Attraction boiled bunny thing.

Earthquake Weather

Today is one of those dry heat days, what I remember from childhood as being described as Earthquake Weather. So I won’t be surprised if not tonight, then sometime this week, there’s a bit of shake rattle roll in my area.

So long as the Wi-Fi doesn’t go out, I’m good with it.

It’s been a quiet but chaotic week for me thus far. Too much to do, too much needing to be done.

Because I was busy, had more important things to do yesterday, I was more than a half hour late for Activity Director’s Summer Social Luncheon.

Color me surprised to see no Activity Director and only two residents when I arrived at the Community Room.

"It’s been cancelled" the two women said. "She cancelled it, sent out no notice, posted no notes to the doors (Community Room Doors)".

I’d have been miffed had I made attendance a priority, put aside my other to-dos in order to arrive on time. I’d have been kicking myself for being the fool once again because, if you’ve been reading this blog for any length of time, you know Activity Director has a history of screwing up. However, since I had not looked forward to the event, not gone out of my way to arrive on time, it was merely no harm no foul headed back upstairs, get back to my to-dos.

One thing on my list was to leave a review for the hotel I was booked into for last month’s Retreat and schedule an appointment with my doctor for an issue I’ve dealing with for a while.

I had expected to get a "How was your stay" follow up from the hotel but, since that never happened, it had been on my mind for a while to report my experience.

Instead of Yelp, I clicked on the hotel and added my two cents to their Google reviews — where I found a 4.5 Good rating.

The review I left was fair, factual and hopefully will result in A/C units being checked and brought to working order BEFORE someone checks in ……… "Beginning to feel ill from problems with the A/C unit, checked out early to protect my health. Maintenance did respond and come up with a temporary fix, but the inability to regulate the room temperature turned into a sore throat and checking out early before health declined further".

Then I set about trying to get in to see my doctor, whom I’ve not had an office visit with since February 26, 2020 and only then because an office visit had been required to get a referral to the gut specialist.

Ordinarily, I view it as a good thing that I have so few medical issues requiring an office visit — probably because my first go-to is the holistic route. Except now, holistic isn't working and I need to see her in person.

Evidently, a lot has changed since my last visit. Getting in to see her now has turned into reaching and unreachable star.

She’s booked three months ahead. So far that no more appointments are being scheduled, so I was offered an appointment with the first available doctor ……… in August ……… two months away.

A person could die, not that what I'm dealing with seemed like that. I'd chalked it up to needing an antibiotic but, had it been something I felt needed major care, I'd be in big trouble.

Asking if I could walk in or get a same day appointment, the answer was no, but arrangements could be made for a doctor not my own to call me this morning.

So I get the call this morning, describe what I think is a delayed reaction to the booster shots, but which the doc thinks is something called folliculitis. (I’m counting on commenter Drum Major to tell me how in hell I got whatever that is on my legs).

At any rate, doc prescribes an antibiotic (just what I thought I needed) but says he can’t say for sure it's folliculitis unless I come in.

When I tell him I’d tried that and it was impossible to book any doctor, he seemed surprised, said he didn’t know why there had been a problem.

That’s interesting. The doctors don’t know they’re booked ahead and patients in need of immediate care can’t catch a break.

Long story short, I’ve an office visit appointment scheduled for tomorrow morning, which meant I had to reschedule my manicure/pedicure appointment to next week.

No problem said the spa receptionist when I rescheduled from this Thursday to next Wednesday. But then, I remembered Wednesday is a workout day, so I called the spa back and played the old lady card to get the appointment changed to next Tuesday.

What’s the old lady card you ask?

That’s when I play old and pitiful to get what I want, like the time the cable company wanted to walk me though an issue I didn’t want to be walked through and ended up getting a technician to show up because I said I was an old lady and couldn’t handle stuff like that.

The way I played it with the spa was to immediately call back, get the rescheduled appointment rescheduled again by sayin "I’m sorry. I’m old and get easily confused".

The receptionist ate it up, and everything got squared away for next week.

Heading out to the medical center to pick up the antibiotics after this morning’s workout, I made a U-Turn when I saw a squirrel doing a high-wire act.

On his way out of town before the earthquake, I initially thought, but then saw he was just crossing the street in a safe way, on the wire, rather than risk being squashed by cars.

I was expecting the poor squirrel to fry and the power to go out when I saw him reach what I took to be a transformer, but he made it past that hurtle.

Father’s Day

Happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there … and the single mothers pulling double duty.

I spent the day trying out a new toy — a piece of equipment that on TikTok looked worth giving a try.

What is it you ask?

It’s a sushi maker that supposedly eliminates the need for a bamboo mat and hand rolling.

I, of course, gave it a good hot soapy wash while the rice was cooking. Then set about preparing veggie fillings for the roll — red pepper, carrots, zucchini and — taking a walk on the wild side added a tinsie tiny bit of a no-no gut food … avocado.

Instructions were to "Use the base in the outer frame and place the seaweed paper in the round shaped mold".

"Add half level of cooked sushi rice into the seaweed paper and then use the spatula to press the rice firmly. Use the push bar at the back of the lid to make a groove in the center of the rice."

Took me a second to figure out how much rice was a half level — the instructions meant half the height of the maker. Then it took some doing to get a groove in the center — probably because I added too much rice but, eventually, I got an tunnel in middle of the rice.

"Place ingredients."

"Add more rice until it covers the fillings."

"Press that layer down then fold nori over".

"Put lid on sushi rice and then hold for 5-10 seconds so that sushi rice is tightly pressed and forms the round shape. For a more defined shape you can use rubber bands to hold the lid in place for 2 minutes."

Tired of standing, deciding I didn’t want to hold/press or look for rubber bands, I improvised and went ghetto with a cast iron skillet serving as a hold/press device.

"Remove the lid and then use a sushi knife to slice through the slots."

Don’t have a sushi knife per se, so cuts from a sharp but regular kitchen knife tore up the ends.

"The round shaped sushi is ready for servings", said the instructions BUT didn’t say how to get the rounds out of the mold.

I suppose I could have jiggled them out with my fingertips, but chose to flip the mold over, pop the rounds out with a knife.

Pretty much looks the same as when I handroll — some came out appropriately tight, some came out loose, like those two to the right.

At any rate, those rounds didn’t last long, as I gobbled ‘em up straight away while setting about making more until the prepared ingredients were used up.

Pacing myself as I went along, I only ate the ones that didn’t come out pretty.

Looks like I’ll be eating sushi for the next two/three days for breakfast, lunch AND dinner.

Google tell me that inasmuch as the fillings are all veggies, the rounds will last two/three days in the refrigerator.

All in all, not much difference between using a mat and hand rolling vs. a mold. Taste is great no matter which, rounds still sometimes came out a little iffy with the mole — same as when I hand roll. I suppose, however, if one has no strength in their hands, like my buddy Apache, this device would be helpful.

It also might be good to pack in my luggage for hotel stays where there's no cooking in the rooms, as I can always pack cooked sushi rice, pick up veggies at whatever market is near the hotel.

Deciding to mix it up a little, I threw together ingredients for tempura made with a brown rice flour batter.

Eatin’ gluten-free good in the neighborhood.

Super Sleuth

It was not two hours after I’d posted back to the drawing board, as the Seth letter had failed to bear fruit, that the phone rang and up popped the name "W. Joling" which I knew had to be someone related to Seth.

It was Seth’s mom.

I could not get to the post office fast enough to ship the album and photos off to her in Idaho, stopping along the way to fill up the tank with gas at $6.15 per gallon.

YIKES!

Seth's mom offered to reimburse me for shipping.

I suggested she pay it forward.

Turns out Bonita was her dad’s longtime girlfriend some 20 years ago. Dad was no longer on this side of the veil, she somehow had heard of Bonita’s passing, and was sad to learn Bonita passed from cancer and had died alone.

Seth’s mom recognized some of the people in photos I’d attached to the letter but not all. She also did not recognize the name "Taylor" as in "Our Girl Taylor" printed on the outside of the album.

She thinks the ones she did not recognize may be relatives of Bonita.

Inasmuch as she, like I, is very involved in Creative Memories, appreciates the sentimental value of old family photos, she’s going to look through what I’ve sent, remove what is pertinent to her family and since she's obviously in contact with someone related to Bonita to have heard of her passing, will be able to pass on the other photos.

I can imagine her having fun seeing photos of her boys and her dad that she did not even know existed.

So, my hours of internet sleuthing have paid off.

I AM a Super Sleuth.

One thing this experience has taught me is the importance of labelling albums. Had it not been for Bonita filling out the binder section of her album with the names of the two Joling boys, it would have been near to impossible to track anyone down.

I've been doing Creative Memories since 1993, when mom passed away and the twins saved mom's photos from the trash pile my sister would have surely relegated them to.

I had just learned of Creative Memories and seeing the deplorable condition mom's photos were in took it upon myself to give CM a go.

Witness the transformation.

From this

And this

And this

And this

To this

None of the 18 albums I currently have are labeled, nor are the 4 above in Twin 2's possession, or the 50 or so in Twin 1's possession.

I've got to get busy and create a label to insert in each.

Back to the Drawing Board

The week isn’t over but, thus far, it’s been quiet and uneventful here at the complex.

It did give me a moment’s pause when, returning from yesterday’s workout, I saw two mattresses piled up outside the dumpster.

My initial thought was "Oh no! The Talker gave in to Karen’s noise complaint and got rid of her mattresses".

That notion was quickly dispelled when, as I pulled into my parking spot, Talker pulled in and parked in her spot right next to me.

She began laughing when I asked if the mattresses were hers and said they’d come from Bonita’s unit, that management was still clearing out Bonita’s unit — Bonita being the resident who passed away from cancer whose photos and albums I’ve thus far been unsuccessful in locating a family member to turn over to.

The maintenance guys have their work cut out for them, what with seven vacancies (3 deaths 4 moveouts) to be readied for new tenants while also replacing air filters and smoke detector batteries in all 178 units.

God forbid corporate pay for an outside crew to come in do the work, get the units ready when there are so many looking for affordable housing.

After saying the mattresses were not hers, the Talker went on to say she reported Karen’s latest complaint to Assistant Manager — the complaint about hearing the bed make noise at 3:00 in the morning when, thanks to an earlier complaint, there was no bed, just a mattress.

Assistant Manager said some corporate bigwigs would be here next week and has requested Talker supply her with a writeup on that incident, one on the time the police showed up as a result of Karen calling in a noise complaint AND one on Karen accosting Talker’s disabled brother at the gate.

So, we’ll see what the corporate visit is about and if it results in the end of Karen and/or a few other problem tenants.

As stated above, I’m not having much success in getting anyone to respond to my messages about someone to take possession of Bonita’s album and photos.

On the back of one photo was the name of a young girl (age 6 in 1968, Deadwood, South Dakota).

I managed to track down the person’s place of business, left an email, but no response.

I later called the place of business — a university. The office no longer had her working there so who knows if she’s even still alive.

Then there were these names detailed on the inside of Bonita’s album.

After sending messages to the facebook page of both boys, no response, and being pretty sure I'd tracked down the correct persons, seeing a mailing address for Seth, I sent a letter but have yet to receive a response.

I know Seth or someone received the letter, as it has not been returned to me, so I don’t know what’s up with that.

All in all, it looks like it’s back to the drawing board as to where to go, what to do next. Post to TicTok maybe? Let the super sleuths take over?

Nice While it Lasted

So the ants showed up and ruined the fun.

Looking out the patio window, from my perch on the couch, at a hummingbird hovering over the feeder, wondering why it didn’t dive in and take a sip, I got up and saw ants covering the patio chair, marching up to the feeder.

After sending the ants on to their great reward with insecticide, I retrieved the feeder, relegated it to the never to be used again pile.

How’d they find the sugar water so fast? Climbed all the way up to my second floor patio they did.

Earlier in the day, busy working on that never ending needlepoint project, I remembered today was the day of Activity Director’s bingo session.

I wasn’t going to go down to the Community Room, check to see how many showed up, but curiosity got the best of me.

I didn’t know what to expect — having not seen Activity Director since the March 2020 shutdown, but hearing bad things about her lately.

Today must have been a good day for her, because she was in a jolly mood — all smiles, patient, and shouted a surprised "SHIRLEY!" when she noticed me — like she was glad to see me.

"Still alive", said I in response.

Today was also Pizza Tuesday and this time, there were pizzas on the counter for residents.

Residents were coming and going just for pizza, while twelve of the usual suspects showed up to play bingo.

Nothing looked worth having on the prize table, yet I decided to stay and play.

Missing from the lineup was the Talker, the woman with the jar of buttons, the Seer and two or three other regulars.

I was not wearing my lucky shirt so, out of 9 games, I won not one time, and came thisclose to winning the Blackout game on two cards.

I wasn’t disappointed at not winning anything, because I'd have been hard pressed to select a prize from the table since there wasn’t anything that grabbed my attention.

The Baker came in shortly after Game 1 — looking all banged up from her recent fall, but at least mobile.

Posted with permission

She said she had been preparing to take her dog Fancy out for a walk, her shoe seemed to stay in place, stuck to the floor as she took a step and down she went banging and bruising her side as it hit the edge of the couch, then falling forward, hurting her left hand as she instinctively put it out in front of her to stop the fall, then banging her head into the floor.

Hasn’t slowed her down one bit.

Took a Licking, Kept on Ticking and will probably be baking soon.