Nice Try but No Cigar

When Activity Director was a no-show at management’s Thankful Celebration and a woman who introduced herself as her supervisor walked around, greeted us, I had speculated out loud to my tablemates that Activity Director was being replaced.

"Oh no" said someone at my table. "She’s just substituting for her".

Most of the residents I’ve come in contact with around here are surface or below surface level in their vision, can’t see beyond what appears before them. Naive would be a good word to describe them and they often surprise me with their lack of understanding even the basics at a deeper level.

Makes it difficult to get close to anyone of them, because I have to dumb myself down, be careful what I say, how I say it. Consequently, I mostly play stupid, just listen, let them talk.

So it wasn’t much of a surprise that no one saw what I saw … that Activity Director was likely being replaced.

But then, Negative Nelly popped up and wisely stated "That’s how it starts".

That right there made me like her, as I could see she was different than the others. She was more than just a surface individual, so I said, "She’s right. That is how it starts" and left it at that because no one else was buying it.

Sure enough, I was included in a mass message from Activity Director yesterday, which message stated "My supervisors have switched me to a different property effective immediately".

I wonder if that’s because of the complaints about Activity Director’s poor attitude and years of perpetual screwups.

Text of the message went on to say "I wish they would have told me where I would have had time to say bye ... Oh and the baby is a boy!"

Overlooking the poor sentence structure, that’s interesting that she was given no notice. As for the baby .... what baby? Was she pregnant or did she just have a baby? I didn’t know she gotten married, or is this a baby daddy kinda thing?

At any rate, because one could never count on her showing up when a Craft Day was on calendar, I stopped going. Now that she's out, I may go back.

As for the baby boy, I’ll get details this afternoon on what that's about, as it’s another day, another party.

Talker called a little while ago to invite me to a birthday party being held for her in the Community Room at 3:00.

Do I want to attend?

No disrespect to Talker, but NO. I’m partied out.

Will I attend?

With Talker herself going to the trouble of phoning and inviting me, I feel I must.

At least I can get details on what now former Activity Director means about a baby boy.

I had a strange encounter at Sprouts this past Monday.

As I exited the car, was walking across the parking lot towards the store’s entrance, out the corner of my eye I spotted a man over to my right seeming also to be heading towards the entrance and checking me out.

It just registered briefly that I was being looked at in a seemingly admiring way, then I thought no more about it until rounding the corner of an isle in Sprouts and literally pushing my cart into him.

He didn’t have a cart, had no items in his hand, and it didn’t take long for me to realize he’d been tracking me.

After having spotted me in the aisle, he must have been checking me out further AND, when he saw me preparing to come out of the isle, positioned himself at the corner, where I couldn’t miss him ─ almost ran into him.

Smooth operator that he was, as I moved to go around him "Good morning" he said, then calmly lifted his arm, looked at his watch and continued "Or should I say good afternoon?"

Nice try buddy, but no cigar because focused on trying to remember what else I needed, as I was shopping without a list, I off handedly replied "Yes. Thank you" as I continued around and past him.

WHAT!?

That was a silly reply to "good morning", but my mind was otherwise occupied.

I don’t know where he went after that dragging his deflated tail behind him or what he did but I later felt bad that he’d gone through so much trouble, and I didn’t even smile and say “Good evening” back.

Thinking about it later, I pondered how difficult it must be for a man to approach, make the acquaintance of, introduce himself to a woman in the wild that he’d like to get to know without coming across as some kind of weirdo stalker.

And We’re Back

After a week of freedom, it is now back to the regular grind of things I must do, places I must go. Not to mention this Friday is Bingo where I have to get to mingle with the seniors, catch up on what’s been happening around here.

It may be coincidence, but twice over the weekend, I saw Assistant Manager walk through my walkway on the way to her car.

Inasmuch as she usually takes the walkway behind my building, which walkway is smack dab at the bottom of the stairs by her unit and she is now walking all the way around to go through my walkway, I’m thinking it may not be coincidence, that instead she’s somehow gotten wind of the ghost tenants living in the unit beneath Next Door Neighbor and is trying to see what she can see.

Timing was on the side of the ghost tenants, because it was a short time after Assistant Manager's sweep of the area that I saw the boy child taking trash to the dumpster.

That’s really pushing the envelope to send the kid out in daylight. They’d be better served to wait until cover of darkness when he’s less likely to be seen ─ not just by her, but by anyone.

I’m surprised their van hasn’t been towed because not only is it parked backwards ─ which is against management's parking rule, but it has no visitor sticker on the dash, which sticker is only good for visiting three days.

As for the regular tenant of that unit, I haven’t seen her since the ghosts moved in and her car hasn’t moved since either.

Is she in the hospital? … On an extended vacation? … or are they squatters who have done away with her, taken over her unit?

My inquiring mind wants to know but is opting to keep quiet and observe in order to claim plausible deniability if and when the inevitable manure hits the fan.

I returned from Long Beach with quite a few photos to send out for development, add to the Creative Memory Scrapbook. One such photo in the bunch was of me at Twin 1’s new place, planting my butt in her father’s Infamous Chair. Something I do every time I see the chair to taunt him, make him roll over with rage in his grave.

Speaking of being back, on last night's episode of Best of Holiday Baking Championship Gingerbread Showdown, I caught a glimpse of someone who pretty much universally got on everyone's nerves last year when she hosted a competition.

She's darkened her hair to make herself look more mature, but it's definitely Molly Yeh, back again as a host or judge. I don't yet know which because I set the show to tape for later viewing and went to bed.

However, before I turned off the television, I saw something that way outdid having previously blogged about seeing a competitor with hair hanging over her cookies' icing blow her DNA all over the icing in an effort to dry it faster. Last night's competitor actually sneezed over his gingerbread showpiece.

Didn't turn his head away to the side.

Didn't put his elbow up to block the sneeze from spreading.

Just threw his head back and then forward to sneeze directly over the gingerbread showpiece he was building.

Thankfully, I didn't see the judges eat the showpiece.

Hopefully, no one ate it later.

First Things First

Honey(s) I’m home.

Roll Call — how’s everyone doing … did you enjoy feast day (Linda in Kansas already commented how she feels about it, LOL) … how much weight did you gain?

As you can see, first thing I did upon arriving back at the complex, even before I finished bringing up luggage from the car, was to deck the halls.

I made the right choice in travelling two days before Thanksgiving, because the drive was smooth sailing all the way.

Heading back early this morning, despite hearing the news say the day after Thanksgiving was a terrible day to be on the road, the freeway was clipping along, no hiccups.

I guess everyone was doing the Black Friday thing at the malls.

Time flew while in Long Beach.

I had planned to do a little sightseeing — walk over to the beach, stick my toes in the sand, take closeup photos of the Queen Mary, but never got around to any of it.

Instead, I spent time playing with the baby — now six months old and quite heavy (as you can see, I’m barely able to hang onto him, with one hand holding the baby Yoda stuffed buddy I brought him).

Difficult even to hold onto even with two hands.

When free time to stick my toes in the sand/see the Queen came about, the opportunity for a mani/pedi popped up, so I opted for that instead.

So, the whole time I was in Long Beach, the closest I got to the Queen was seeing her first thing in the morning, last thing at night through the window of the hotel room.

Word last year was that the Queen — closed due to deteriorating conditions, was to be sunk unless an estimated $700 million for repairs could be found. Now it seems $5 million in repairs are under way and she's purportedly slated for a "partial" reopening by end of the year.

I dunno — from $700 million down to $5 million sounds suspicious. Not to mention, this thing about a "partial" reopening.

Sounds like the plot of a horror movie to me — rushed repairs, cheap material to cut costs. Unsuspecting tourist on the repaired side, while the unrepaired side springs a leak. Terror on board as the ship begins to sink, taking the visitors, and the ships' ghosts, down to the briny deep.

Along with spending quality time with the great grandson, I also managed late night in the hotel room to finally at last after six months finish reading Randy Rainbow’s book.

Wasn’t a particularly good book, not a page turner; but not a bad read either. Interesting enough that I slowly worked myself through, finished it and got started on The Marble Faun of Grey Gardens.

No idea what the seniors were up to during my absence, but the fact the complex is still standing is a good sign it was the same ole same ole.

Outta Here

I’ll be away from the laptop until after the holiday.

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving, Turkey Day, Stolen Land Day, Thanksmas ─ if you’re one of those who has the tree up already, jumped straight through to Christmas.

BTW, yesterday’s dream did not take into account the cost-of-living increases. Instead of the $45 and change in the dream, it was $98 and change for incidentals at the pharmacy in real life.

Awoke with a Clatter

I was sleeping peacefully last night when all of a sudden I became wide awake real quick upon hearing what sounded like something hitting a window in the front room.

Sitting up in bed, not hearing anything further, I thought it might have been the Santa Ana winds, plaguing us for a week now, blowing something up against a window but then, thinking the wise thing would be to investigate, I grabbed a weapon from the nightstand, took a look around.

Nothing amiss.

No broken window.

Saw no one lurking outside.

Getting back in bed, realizing it was 3:10 a.m., I thought Great! I’m awake now, won’t be able to fall back asleep. It’s going to be a crappy day.

Grabbing the laptop, I jumped online, read a few blogs, browsed the web until, along about 5 a.m., I felt sleepy again, shut the laptop, lay back down on the pillow.

My next memory of last night was a dream ……

Purchasing items from a pharmacy, the bill coming to a little over $45 and change, I saw myself reaching into the fanny pack, removing and giving to the cashier a $50 bill.

Looking back on that dream, it was the perfect opportunity to try the TikTok Lucid Dream challenge, where one is to attempt to interact with others in the dream — ask a question, preferably "What date is this?" or "What time is it?", but I didn’t remember to do that because it's incredibly difficult to remember to do so when dreaming. Plus, I was thrown off by the drama that ensued.

After paying the $45 and change, having a nice chit chat with the cashier as she bagged my items, I suddenly realized she’d not given me my change.

Asking her for the change, she said "I’ve heard that one before".

Huh, thought I.

"I’ve heard that one before" she repeated.

Not realizing I was being insulted, called a liar, I checked the fanny pack, saw there were no bills added after I removed the $50.

Looking back up at her, I don’t recall what I said, but she said something about it would only have been a few dollars, so I was thinking she was right. Why worry about a few dollars and was prepared to write it off, walk away.

But then, I saw a smirk on her face that caused me to realize that when she said, "I’ve heard that one before", she actually thought I was trying to scam her and she felt she’d beaten me at my scammer’s game.

It was then I stood firm, told her "Count the drawer".

I’d knew that if the receipts were totaled up and compared with what was in her drawer, she’d find she had more money than she should because she’d forgotten to give me my change.

She disappeared for a few minutes, returned with her manager who was grumbling about having to count the drawer ..... her Black manager. She herself, the clerk, was White.

I said something about wanting my name cleared, that I shop here often and don’t want to have to feel I was being looked at suspiciously over something I did not do.

"Count the drawer" said I to Black Manager.

There were two ladies in line over to my left observing. Both backed me up on that theory — that it was not the amount of money but the principle.

Black Manager didn’t care for their input and, at one point, he leaned over the counter and began cursing one of the ladies to high high heaven.

She cursed right back at him whereupon, I took out my cellphone, and said to Black Manger, "This is so going live!" and I began recording while wiggling my arse and singing over and over to him a refrain that went … "You gone lose your job, you gone lose your job today. You gone lose your job, you gone lose your job today, hey hey".

As I was dancing/singing, there was a commotion over to my left as the woman cursing back at Black Manager was either being held back or removed by someone I didn’t see.

Then, the alarm on the cellphone went off and woke me up.

It was 7:00 a.m. and the dream went unfinished/unresolved.

It was an exhausting night.

I'm feeling so tired now that I can barely lift my feet off the ground, and this is a Pain Cave workout morning.

Oddly enough, the plan for today is, after working out, to head to the pharmacy across the street, pick up a few items to take with me as I head out to the beach area tomorrow.

Wouldn’t it be spooky if the bill comes to $45 and change.

White Elephant

Yesterday’s bingo turned into another food fest for the seniors.

Instead of five games, a snack break, five more games, it was ten games straight through followed by turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, pies, cakes.

I’m assuming either Red Light or The Baker cooked the turkey and stuffing, pies were store bought and it’s possible The Baker made the cakes.

I didn’t stick around to find out who cooked what because 1) I couldn’t eat anything anyway and 2) these back-to-back-to-back-to-back parties are a bit exhausting — too much of a good thing as I said a few posts ago. So, as soon as they started serving, I snuck out.

I didn’t win any games, but the glass oil pourer I’ve been eyeing on the prize table for a month and a half hasn’t been picked by anyone yet. It’s still there waiting for me to win it.

As far as I know, the next bingo (Dec 2) is regular bingo BUT the one on the 16th is yet another party — a Christmas Party, no bingo.

Not only that, but Red Light wants to include a White Elephant Gift Exchange, with gifts priced around $10 or more, and she stressed "brand new, not something from your unit".

I recall the few times I was involved in a White Elephant Gift exchange that it was a lot of fun.

I’m assuming we all know that a White Elephant Gift Exchange is where every participant brings a single wrapped gift, which gift is anonymously placed in a pile. The first participant chooses a random gift to unwrap from the pile, hoping it’s something they like. If they don't like it, too bad, they're stuck with it. Except, the next player has the option to choose a wrapped gift from the pile or take the gift that was just unwrapped and so on and so forth as players choose from the pile or steal an unwrapped gift another player has chosen.

At any rate, my thinking is $10 is a lot of money for all but a handful of those of us who will participate.

Seriously.

I don’t think anyone is going hungry, thanks to the food pantries in the area — or at least I hope no one is going hungry, but one resident recently shared with me that her income is only around $600 a month.

Of course, the county pays her rent, but with utilities, groceries, incidentals et al on $600 a month, wasting $10+ on a white elephant gift might not be in the budget.

So, anyway, I’ll arrive with a white elephant gift, something that jumps out and speaks to me when I’m out and about; but hopefully, it’s not just The Baker and I.

In fact, I'll wait until the last minute to purchase a gift, check with Red Light to see if white elephant is still a go or not.

My initial thought is one of the Gingerbread Decorating Kits I’m seeing everywhere I go. That seems like something a senior would like but not waste money buying for herself. They can build it, then eat it later.

Remember back when I was lamenting the loss of my Wonder Woman tumbler? Returning from that Pride Parade visit in Long Beach I could not find it, thought I'd left it in the hotel room.

Cleaning out the trunk of the car this morning, in preparation to store all of what I'll need for a week's hotel visit in Long Beach, starting Tuesday, what did I find but the tumbler.

Who knew!

Déjà Vu

Met a new character for the blog at today’s management sponsored Thankful Celebration — let’s call her Negative Nelly because she had something to say about everything and mostly negative comments which I found witty and mostly true.

In spite of my seeing her out and about only recently, she’s not new to the complex — been here 2 years said she and only began coming out recently.

Finding her interesting and funny, I invited her to join us for bingo.

Apple Pie and Hot Apple Cider turned out to be hot and fresh individual KFC boxed meals — chicken, slaw, mac and cheese, a biscuit and gravy, along with individual boxed pies and sodas instead of apple cider.

None of the residents were complaining. It was a good spread.

As for why management is all of a sudden being so good to us, I haven’t a clue, but the new Complex Manager (No. 10) gave a speech welcoming us to the event that alluded to the reason being reconciliation.

She said something about things having gotten off to a rocky start, that she had to make some changes, fix things that should have been fixed long ago, yada yada yada, but that she wants what’s best for us.

So, evidently, a lot has been going on that I’m not aware of.

Seems I’m the only clueless senior around here because a topic came up that somewhat surprised me but should not have because, not three days ago, I had one of those premonitions.

I may or may not have mentioned somewhere in the blog that I recently began seeing a sketchy looking guy going in/out of the unit wherein resides the neighbor living downstairs below Next-Door Neighbor’s unit.

Based on his appearance, I was on guard about him until I realized there appeared to be a wife and two kids with him — a little boy and little girl, which made him safe in my eyes.

I figured they were living here surreptitiously (ghost tenants) out of need and didn’t have a problem with it.

People are struggling, and they wouldn't be the first and only ghost tenants we have residing here, but my philosophy is live and let live. So as long as what others do does not impact me, I don't care.

The family has been keeping such a low profile — kids inside most of the time, except I've seen the little boy take out the trash, I figured no one would notice ........ except parking their van in the same visitor spot, and leaving the van parked backwards when one of the rules is to pull in, not park backwards, is not smart. I figured that alone was going to draw attention sooner or later.

So, anyway, not three days ago I had a scenario type premonition where, all of a sudden, for no reason, I imaged management asking me who in my building had small children living with them.

I saw myself lie, say I haven’t seen any small children.

In the scenario, I then thought about warning that neighbor that management was on to them, but then knowing how stupid and ignorant people can be, thought better of warning her, because too often in real life, when something is revealed to me either as a premonition or otherwise and I alert the individual involved, my trying to help has been misconstrued as being involved, wishing something bad on them or, in this case, might be seen as having been the one to have turned them in because, like I said, people are stupid, ignorant.

So anyway, it was Déjà Vu today, when Painted Rock Lady, sitting at my table, turned to me and out of the blue said, "Shirley, who in your building has small children living with them?"

It wasn’t management asking, as the premonition had suggested, it was a neighbor and not just PRL because when I played like Sgt Schultz, from Hogan’s Heroes, said "I know nothing", Negative Nelly weighed in and said something about everyone knows.

It's just a matter of time before someone snitches to management but, inasmuch as that premonition warned me I’d be blamed should I try to help that neighbor by letting her know people are on to her and the family living with her, I’ll be staying out of it and let the chips fall where they may.

Before the event was over, No. 10 had us go around, say what we are thankful for.

I hate that and would have escaped, gone back to my unit, if I could have before things reached that point, but couldn't without bringing attention to myself.

The only other time that happened was when I'd been relocated to San Diego as the result of the law firm going through a merger.

I was lucky to have kept my Los Angeles salary, when others relocated to the San Diego branch were downgraded to San Diego salaries, which was half what we had been making. I was also lucky to have a decent enough boss and coworkers, but I was still bitter because the San Diego branch was filled with racists and I didn't like where I was living.

So, when a group of friends I'd developed were at lunch and Suzie wanted us to go around the table, say what we were thankful for, I said, "The Universe took me away from a job I enjoyed, an apartment I loved, and I'm just soooo thankful. Thank you so so much".

I was, of course, being facetious, venting, but they did ask.

So, others at today's event went all mushy gushy with being thankful for family, friends. Some were thankful for having a nice place to live, friendly neighbors. Some kiss asses were thankful for management, and one was thankful for the donor that gave her son-in-law a new heart last week. All the while, all I could think of was being thankful for cheap rent.

Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how one looks at it, that's not what came out of my mouth when it was my turn, I said, "I'm thankful that I don't look my age".

Fact, safe to say, no mushy gushy involved.

I Got Nothing

After blogging consecutively for 30 days due to the song challenge, it’s been radio silence from me.

A lot of old memories — some good, some traumatic, rose to the surface as a result of meeting those daily song challenges, which made for some good blog fodder but, when all was said and done, drained me.

So, I’ve got nothing. Just checking in to let everyone know I’m still alive.

Still alive also is the grandson who was in ICU fighting for his life after being seriously injured when a car struck his motorcycle.

He's fortunate to still have all his limbs, his brain functions and, after weeks in ICU, has been cleared to move to rehab.

It was touch and go there for a while, and though I foresaw the worse, had emotionally prepared myself for the worse, I’m relieved for his mom (Twin 1) that the worse did not happen because she could not have handled it, but I don’t mind saying I am damn mad.

Mad because my philosophy on motorcycles is not IF you have an accident, but WHEN — and usually through no fault of your own, other than the bad judgment of purchasing a motorcycle in the first place, but because of those driving cars.

Having seen first hand and read about what happens to families left with the consequences of damage done to a member after a car vs motorcycle incident, it just makes me angry that, because grandson chose a motorcycle, not only his life has changed, but the life of his family members as he is not alone in dealing with the aftermat. His mom, sister, brothers, aunt are now also stuck with the consequences of what needs to be done for him now and in the future.

So, there’s that.

It felt good to wake up yesterday morning to not repeat "OH NO!", as I did last Friday when I realized it was a bingo Friday, because yesterday was a no bingo Friday.

Consequently, after yesterday’s workout, I was able to run errands, take care of business.

My next interaction with anyone around here won't be until Tuesday’s Thankful Celebration, hosted by management — pie and hot apple cider.

Of course, I won’t be eating or drinking, just observing, waiting to see/hear what management is up to.

Last time I was at Sprouts, I did see a gluten free pumpkin pie I was tempted to try.

Looking before I leaped and made myself sick, I researched whether pumpkin is good for people with gut issues and find that at 1/3 of a cup, pumpkin is considered safe. At 1/2 a cup the types of carbs in pumpkin may cause those sensitive to those specific carbs to experience digestive problems.

I dunno if it’s worth the risk as I’m not desperate for sweets, especially since I discovered Delicata Squash.

I cut off the ends, scoop out the seeds, slice them in rings, toss in olive oil, sprinkle with cinnamon and stevia, roast and that’s my pie with a cup of coffee.

I’ll leave you with a funny meme I saw on facebook.

Now What?

Believe it or not, Measure EE — that would allow the San Bernardino County Board of Supervisors to start the process of seceding from California, looks to have passed by a narrow margine.

The plan is to turn this county into a new state with the possible name of, not "Shirleyville" but "Empire".

Now what?

Your guess is as good as mine as to where we go from here, but I'm sensing a lot of chaos coming down the line.

Stay tuned.

No. 45 reportedly is "livid and screaming at everyone" over the big up your nose he got with his bully boy Oz losing to Fetterman.

Inasmuch as that errant quilting needle was inserted up the nose of 45’s voodoo doll, can I once again take credit for this one?

Yesterday was my lucky day …………… and NO, I did not win the lottery. Instead, a break in the rain allowed me to head back to the craft store, get my hot hands on this ....

Someone up there likes me, because it was the last one on the shelf. Possibly the last in the store, as I walked around to see if I could spot another and did not.

And what a difference shopping on Tuesday — even on a wet Tuesday with other shoppers in the store, than what I experienced on Saturday when the lines went all the way to the back of the store.

In line at 11:06, I was in the car headed home by 11:15.

So that’s done.

Also, today is the first day in weeks I don’t have to pop into the liquor store, after working out, to buy lottery tickets because someone finally won the Powerball Game — one winner at Joe’s Service Center in Altadena, $2.04 billion.

Rained In

Plan for today was to head back to the craft store, nab that coffee cup before they sell out — if they haven’t already, but it’s raining too hard to go anywhere.

The sky opening up, pouring out all this rain, is like an omen as to how I feel today’s election is going to end …… many of us in tears for years to come.

It rains so seldom here and, when it does, it’s not unusual to see it rain in the morning, see the sun come out in the afternoon, everything dry up to where one would never know it rained at all, so that can happen. However, barring a break in the rain, I won’t be able to make it to the craft store until Thursday.

Thinking I can probably just buy the cup online, I see I can … but not from that craft store because online is sold out already.

Evidentially, I ran up on this year’s hot ticket item.

Must be a lot of women out and proud about living the single lifestyle.

There was one other online option, but obviously the seller is aware the cup is a hot item, because he’s raised the price by an additional $15 over the craft store price.

That’s a nope for me.

Thinking back … when I abandoned my cart, I should have hidden the cup to be retrieved when I came back.

So, unless things change, Thursday will be my next try at that cup.

Speaking of lasts, today is the last day of Mildred’s 30 Songs in 30 Days Challenge, today’s challenge being "A song that reminds you of yourself".

Unlike my girl Lizzo, I was not born with confidence in myself — the "shine" she describes as causing those that come into her atmosphere to also shine.

I've slowly grown into my shine, have confidence in spades now, and this is how I currently see myself.

Not looking for a new challenge, I was nevertheless intrigued by TikTok’s Lucid Dream challenge.

The way it works is that when one is asleep, having a dream that feels vivid and real, but you know you’re dreaming, you are to attempt to interact with others in the dream — ask a question, preferably "What date is this?" or "What time is it?".

Some young people have reported success in asking the questions, with various reactions from those in the dream. However, I’m taking Judge Judy’s position on the veracity of young people these days — that "If their mouth is moving, they’re lying".

There is, however, one middle-aged guy who seemed credible when he said, upon asking his dream brother what time it was, he heard a head full of whispers that expressed concern he had become conscious and was starting to ask questions.

I found it terribly interesting and, inasmuch as most of my dreams are lucid, I’ve actually been working on trying to remember to ask the question for over a week, with little results. Except one time, when I realized I'd made it into the dream only to simultaneously become aware that I was inappropriately dressed.

Seated at a conference table with others, I was initially simply dreaming the dream, observing in a sleep state. Then I guess, it began to work that I became aware of dreaming and suddenly I myself was no longer observing but seated at the table.

At this point, I simultaneously became aware I was inappropriately dressed, had forgotten to put a blouse on, was seated in a bra; And not just ANY bra, but a brown bra that I actually own. Whereupon the woman seated on my right gave me a wrap to put around my shoulders, at which point I woke myself up from the dream altogether.

I think the bra thing was to block me/distract me. Consequently, succeeding in this challenge may take some time.

BTW, taking commenter Drum Major’s suggestion, that errant quilting needle now resides up the nose of No. 45’s voodoo doll … both the needle and thread that came with it.

I’d Like to Speak to the Manager

Preparing to get out of bed this morning, my hand landed on something sharp. It didn’t stick me, just felt sharp.

Having recently replaced my denim quilt with a new denim quilt, because the old one had become somewhat faded by sun seeping through the bedroom window, knowing the new quilt had a polyester fill, I’d assumed that maybe one of the decorative accent pillows that came with the quilt had been filled with feathers and the end of one of the feathers had poked me.

If you’re familiar with those feather filled decorative accent pillow types, it’s not unusual to feel the tip of a feather poking though fabric. Because my practice is to pull those feathers out by the tip and discard, I tried to pull out and discard whatever was poking me.

It wasn’t budging.

Turning on the light to get a look at what I had ahold of, I could see the tip of whatever was not poking out from a pillow but from the quilt itself.

Getting a firm grip, I pulled and I pulled and I pulled and, as I was pulling, a long white strand of something I didn’t identify at first began to appear.

What the hell is this? thought I to myself thinking it was some kind of cord and I was destroying the structure of the quilt.

Taking focus off the long white strand, putting focus on what I’d grasped and pulled on, I realized it was a needle, which made the long white strand some kind of thread.

I remember once reading about disgruntled auto workers leaving sandwiches, etc., in the engine of cars being put together on the assembly line, but I can't imagine leaving sewing equipment in the quilt was deliberate but rather a seamstress losing track, so I got the scissors and salvaged the needle because it’s a good strong quilting needle I might can use in the future.

But WOW! — A quilt, two matching pillowcases, two decorative accent pillows AND a quilting needle — what a deal!

In other news, would somebody win the Powerball already!

Now up to $1.9 billion, I’ll be buying more tickets this morning, but the lottery officials need to come up with a solution to the obscene amount of money in the pot and come up with a solution soon.

Mildred’s challenge today (Day 29) is "A song you remember from childhood".

Other than the song from the Mickey Mouse Club, I honestly don’t recall a single song from childhood. There was no music in the home.

Don’t ask me why, because I don’t know other than mom was one of those overly religious (i.e., hypocrite) types.

My earliest memory of music was when, in my teens, my Aunt Faye — who was much more hip and fun than mom, gifted me with a Johnny Mathis album.

So, to meet the challenge — and maybe because the name of the song will bring me luck when I pop into the liquor store for more lottery tickets, I submit Chances Are by Johnny Mathis.

Falling Back

The television, cellphone and fitness tracker all fell back. The clock on the microwave and in the car did not.

The microwave is an easy fix, but I can’t be bothered with and, when time changed previously, I couldn’t be bothered with getting the clock on the car’s dashboard to sync. So, I haven’t been able to tell time by the dash display since daylight savings time shortly after I bought the car in 2019.

Not to mention the car’s clock displays military time.

I can read military time, know that 13:00 is 1 o’clock, but who wants to take the time to do math.

So, I’m just gonna let the car’s dash be as it is.

I’m thinking twice about registering for the turkey trot on the 19th.

It’s a 10K, 5K, Roller Disco Mile, Kids Fun Run and Costume Contest, which sounds like tons of fun, except parking looks to be a problem — making it seem more trouble than it’s worth.

I didn’t have to worry about parking previously because Twin 2 did the race with me and she has a blue handicap parking sticker, which allowed her to park in the event’s parking area.

As for why she has a handicap sticker is because of arthritic knees.

For years and years and years I warned her that, as she got older, she would regret wearing the high stiletto heels she clicked around in because she liked how they made her legs look.

Sure enough, when she began having trouble with her knees, sought medical attention, the doctor told her it was the shoes. Whereupon she tells me, "Guess what ma? The doctor said I need to stop wearing high heel shoes".

It was like the first time she’d heard anyone say ditch the shoes, even though I’d warned her for years.

So anyway, her knees and feet are so troublesome now that her 5K days with me are over.

I was considering registering anyway, showing up AND if I couldn’t find parking, turn around and come back but, like I said — it’s beginning to sound like more trouble than it’s worth, so I’m out.

I will be watching the date to see if the Indian's curse of rain catches up with the event, even though they changed the date.

I’m rounding the home stretch on Mildred’s 30 Songs in 30 Days Challenge. Today’s (Day 28) is "A song by an artist whose voice you love".

I’m doubling down on the voice I could listen to all day all night that was the lead singer of the Doobie Brothers — Michael McDonald.

I have the cd’s of his solo albums, which I’ve not been able to listen to as I drive for years, because cd players are no longer built into cars.

In meeting today’s challenge, I’m posting a song I remember from Michael McDonald Sings Motown that sends shivers up my spine with how deep and soulful the range of his voice is.

Plethora of Gnomes

Today was the wrong day to go to the craft store.

Running 40% and 60% off sales on Christmas items, the store was packed.

I think I’ll start back to wearing a face mask when out and about because, though I only saw three people wearing masks, two of the three coughed towards me which made me think what I could have been exposed to had they not been wearing masks, that I’d better do so just in case someone coughs my way who is NOT wearing one.

That’s how Twin 2 caught covid — some old biddy coughed directly in her face (on purpose I surmised) while Twin 2 was wearing a face shield but no mask.

I only had a few items to pick up today, but the store was so beautifully decorated, had so many cute things to see, that I roamed around looking and taking photos.

They had several checkout lanes, all looking to be a mile long and not moving because folks had so much in their carts.

After half an hour with no progress moving forward to the cashier, listening to Mariah Carey sing All I Want for Christmas is You, I abandoned my cart.

I’ll go back on Wednesday, when things have calmed down, because that coffee cup is calling me — even though I need another coffee cup like I need a hole in my head.

Mildred's Challenge today (Day 27) is "A song that breaks your heart".

There are two songs that never fail to turn, even those of us who have the hardest of hearts and/or no heart at all, into a crying sniveling mess.

One of which was Day 10’s John Michael Montgomery’s The Little Girl, covering the topics of drugs, alcohol, domestic violence and child neglect.

The other is The Christmas Shoes by a Christian group called New Song about a little boy counting out pennies at the counter to buy his mom a pair of shoes for Christmas. When the clerk tells him "Son, there's not enough here", the boy turns to the next person in line, asks if the shopper can help him buy the shoes because his mother had been sick for a while, there wasn’t much time, and he wanted her to look beautiful if she met Jesus that night.

This that I’m posting is not New Hope’s version, but a cover by an unknown singer because I like this singer’s voice better.

I’m meeting today’s challenge, but I caution that if you don’t want to be reduced into a crying sniveling puddle, best to pass on listening.