Taking One for the Blog Team

A notice correcting the error in the first notice was posted by end of day yesterday. The Crime Free Meeting was scheduled for 10:00 AM this morning.

Chilly and windy outside, I nevertheless bundled up, took one for the blog team by heading down with the mantra to "stay quiet, just listen, don’t lose your cool".

On the way, I ran into the guy Apache tried to pick a fight with — over a woman, and ended up getting himself banned from the property.

Apache happened to be in the area the day he saw a female resident he’d gotten physically close to standing outside talking to the guy — let’s call him "P", lost his shiz, tried to fight P, called the woman a "Lying bitz", got talked down by Painted Rock Lady, who witnessed the scene, walked away mad and was told he was banned from the property everafter.

At any rate P has always been a complete gentleman, was just talking to the woman, as he does to all residents — male and female, but Apache’s jealousy just got the best of him.

As P and I walked to the Community Room, he said he himself was instrumental in having the cops come in and talk to us. That he’d been attending the every other Tuesday "Coffee with a cop" sessions at the clubhouse of the Golf Course and lobbied for them to come in and talk to us.

Today's session was relatively painless, except I couldn’t believe management actually brought donuts to a cop event.

You called it Paranormal John, but no one made jokes about it. Folks just enjoyed the donuts.

At any rate, I didn’t learn much from the session that the Grapevine hadn’t already alerted me to

The session started off with one of the two cops stressing the importance of knowing who our neighbors are, having each other’s phone number, looking out for each other.

He also emphasized to be leery of who we invite over. That something the cops deal with all the time is when people invited to spend time/stay over and ultimately become tenants. Then when wanted out, the cops can do nothing except suggest the eviction process as they are now residents, not trespassers.

Also, that sometimes the people you invite, like young people — nieces and nephews, invite their sometimes-questionable friends over, and problems are created for you and your neighbors.

Good point.

There was talk about the guys walking around all hours of the night knocking on doors.

I knew about the guys walking around, had not heard about knocking on doors.

For why?

For what?

P himself said he’d gotten such a middle of the night knock and, like a fool, opened the door where he saw a man who looked just as surprised to see P as P was to see him.

Seeing a tall bearded seemingly fit resident, instead of a little old lady, the guy ran off.

Several others reported having middle of the night knocks.

Then, of course, there was talk of catalytic converters being stolen from cars parked in the back lot area.

Not much was offered as a solution to anything, as there are no solutions.

Ring cameras were suggested. "Ring cameras are one of the best tools for law enforcement" said the other less talkative cop. They’d recently been able to solve a murder as the entire episode and identity of the culprit had been caught on Ring, said he.

More reporting of incidents was also suggested, as not much had been reported, except to management and those are not management issues. They are police issues.

That was a surprising revelation. I and others have been complaining for years that management doesn’t do anything, is negligent in its duty and responsibility to keep us residents safe when actually they have no such duty or responsibility.

In addition to Ring cameras, we were advised to take advantage of the Online Reporting System.

Good to know we don’t need to call the police emergency number or trek all the way down to the police department to fill out a report.

Someone mentioned seeing cop cars occasionally looping through the complex at night.

Those are "Extra Patrol" we were told. Officers on patrol sometimes come in and hang out as a deterrent.

One or two of the nonsensicals that so trigger me by their lack of importance and stupidity were brought up by residents — cars zooming up and down the street, homeless walking up/down the street, and P spoke up way too much, had too much to say, too often interrupting cop speak seemingly to thump his chest, expressing his friggin knowledge about anything/everything, but I stayed true to my mantra — I was quiet, just listened, stayed calm.

"It’s not a crime to be homeless" said the lead cop. "It can happen to any of us".

He also pointed out we are on the "main corridor, traffic is gonna be traffic".

Exactly!

After that, the cop said San Bernardino is a "high crime area" (not very comforting) but that, for the most part, our complex is very safe in comparison to other complexes surrounding us, and nothing anywhere is 100%.

I know and that’s the thing … there are worse places to be. Even the luxury buildings have issues with management and intruders.

When asked what exactly our Crime Free Housing Certification affords us …. "If there are fights, drinking, you are evicted within 72 hours".

Uuuuuuh, not exactly. I just mentioned a few posts ago about the battling OG’s.

Not only were they never evicted for their many battles, but they had no problem getting back in as residents.

Maybe it's because they were so well liked. On the other hand, maybe it’s because they have that "Privilege" thing a particular group is afforded.

By this time, we were 45 minutes into the session, a break was called — to discuss issues between ourselves and/or meet one on one with one of the cops. I’d heard enough and headed back to my unit, but not before Talker walked over and said her granddaughter asks about me "ALL THE TIME".

"Why … she’s turned into a stalker … what does she say?" asked I.

"How’s Shirley" she said and added "I can’t figure it out. What did you do?"

I wish I knew so I could undo it.

What’s Wrong with This Picture?

I’ve frequently blogged about how incompetent complex management is.

Just in case you doubted management is as incompetent as I've inferred, take a look at the notice posted to my door today, to the other 177 doors, and tell me what’s wrong with it.

It’s so obvious, how could they miss the most important information.

Once the calls come into the office for clarification, what management will do is reprint and repost.

Maybe this meeting is as a result of the information going around on the Grapevine about the man Buttons awoke to find in her unit and the two guys roaming the complex at night, going through the dumpsters.

Whatever the reason for the meeting, I won’t be wasting my time attending because I know these seniors. It’s going to be a bitchfest with some residents yacking on and on and on about things that don’t matter and/or committing other misdemeanors that get on my nerves, cause me to react.

Trust me. It’s happened before when there’s been a community meeting, and I don't need to be knocked off center at this time when so much really bad stuff is in the atmosphere.

I'll just find out, through the Grapevine, what was discussed.

In other complex news, heading out for this morning’s workout, I saw a carpet cleaning service working on the vacant upstairs corner unit. So readying for a new tenant has begun.

Will be interesting to see who the new tenant will be and how they fare inasmuch as things have not gone well for those who’ve moved into that bad energy unit.

Due to this morning’s Winter Storm Warning, I can’t imagine I’ll have to worry about some little someone running around outside, eventually making it up the stairs to knock on my door, so the lights are on and I’ve no need to hide this afternoon.

No Escape

Yesterday was Bingo Friday.

Something told me there was a likelihood Talker would be babysitting my little Indian Giver Stalker and thus she’d bring granddaughter with her to bingo. That thought made me not want to attend.

Instead of skipping bingo altogether, I came up with a plan.

The plan was to first walk by the room with the rent check in hand, quickly scan the room and, if I saw my little stalker, I’d drop off the rent check then keep going — exit the side door, go run errands out of the area instead.

I did that — first walking by the door, glancing through while trying not to be obvious, didn’t see Talker or granddaughter so, after dropping the check into the rent slot, I returned and walked into the Community Room.

All of a sudden I hear "SHIRLEY!!!".

I GASPED.

Then I see Talker’s granddaughter running towards me.

I utter out loud, "OH NOOOOOOOO!!!!".

I should have taken my time scanning to ensure the coast was clear.

Talker’s granddaughter wraps her arms around my midriff and hugs me.

I do not hug her back.

One hand holding a snack, the other hand holding my coffee tumbler, I stand frozen with a helpless look on my face until she lets go.

Others in the room look at the spectacle with an amused look on their face.

One resident, whose eyes met mine, read my look and shrugged her shoulders in an unspoken "Oh well. What can you do".

Talker had her regular "It's meant to be" look on her face, and later told me, "She'd been waiting for you".

Great! Just Great!

I was so rattled that I had a hard time holding onto the bingo chips. My hands were shaking.

In an effort to discourage my little stalker from further engagement, I avoided making eye contact and, by Game 3, was able to settle in and play without my hands shaking.

I didn’t win anything and, after the last game, I quickly fled the room, headed back to my unit, so as to not give her an opportunity to engage.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent hiding ... hiding from a six-year-old with the lights out and the television on low so I could pretend not to be in the unit should she decide to knock knock to hug me later on her way home.

She didn’t, but I was ready to not answer the door.

At any rate, it looks like there is no escape as there will be times Talker will be bringing granddaughter with her to bingo.

I may have to tolerate the hugs until she grows out of it or senses my disconnect.

The resident who goes all postal when a child is in the room on bingo days was present, so I was surprised she — whom I refer to as R in the blog, didn’t say something like the time she stood up and said, "There’s a child here, so I’m leaving".

I guess she knows who she can get away with bullying around here and is afraid to pull that on Talker.

Not that she is afraid of Talker, but of Talker’s new best friend on the complex who seems a pistol and would rip R a new one had she said anything about Talker’s granddaughter being in the room.

So, since I didn’t get to run errands yesterday, I’ll have to head out today, but looks to be a good day for a drive and maybe some mall walking.

I had no intentions of watching the video being circulated about the cop murder of Tyre Nichols but, of course, some images of the beating showed up on Good Morning America this morning.

What little I saw brought tears to my eyes.

It's insane. Reminiscent of the brutalization of Rodney King.

How can so-called human beings, whether wearing a blue uniform or not, do that to other human beings then go on with their lives as if it was just another day at the office?

The news also indicated the cops had bonded out and two planned to plead not guilty.

You must be joking.

There is no way to justify those actions.

What Were They Thnking????

I guess they didn’t realize and don’t understand that, but for that blue uniform protecting them, they themselves would be the ones getting beat down and murdered for driving while Black, walking while Black, sitting while Black, existing while Black.

Seems they’re now in the process of learning how life is when they don’t have the blue uniform protecting them from what POC have and are experiencing at the hands of so-called law enforcement.

Back in 2017, a Black police officer named Luther Hall was assigned to work undercover in plain clothes at a protest. There he was taken to the ground and beat senseless by four colleagues who, not recognizing him, only saw him as fair game/the usual victim — a person of color.

After all was said and done, including the coverup and lack of justice by the courts, what Luther had to say was "My outlook on law enforcement is definitely changed".

This group of cops will get to experience/live that side and come to the same realization when they land in federal prison, because I don’t think the courts will be as lenient with these officers — no longer seen as Blue but Black, as the court was with the officers that nearly killed Luther Hall.

Inasmuch as this group of five was operating as a "team" under the moniker of Scorpion, my spidey sense is telling me that further investigation will uncover they’ve been working as a "gang" perpetuating other crimes and getting away with them all along.

The OG’s Are Back

Received an email two weeks ago that registration is now open for the challenging 5K that turned into a cluster you know what last year — the race where my back went out on a Mile 2 incline, muscles in my legs stiffened, leaving me struggling to get to the finish line.

Inasmuch as the race isn’t until October, it’s way early to open registration in January, which means to me the organizers caught so much flack for screwing everything up last year that they’re worried few will be interested in participating this year.

I don’t think so. One screwup after forty years of this very popular race isn’t going to result in a boycott.

Nevertheless, the organizers were so worried that they sent us participants a survey a while ago, asking for our thoughts on how things had gone.

I said it was snafu after snafu after snafu and gave the race an overall failing grade.

In the section that asked for an explanation I outlined start location was wrong, had to be moved; new guy on the microphone failed to call which race was up, necessitating most of us going rogue and just taking off whenever; the RFID reader failed to record the time we crossed the mat going out, which meant there was no record of how long it took for us to cross the finish line, and a lack of results in the computers; the measurements on the length of the Mile 3 stretch seemed questionable and, to top it off, the Photographer failed to capture Official Race Photos at the finish line.

The final question on the survey was "Would you do this race again?".

Call me crazy, but I said yes; explanation being that even though it was a mess, I enjoyed the challenge the course afforded.

I’m thinking most respondents said the same.

So anyway, I’ve been trying to get back to training on concrete and asphalt ever since I got the notice of open registration, but have been hampered by rain, wind, lack of motivation.

With the heavy winds gone yesterday, and my energy level up, I finally was ready to jump start my training routine — starting with fast walking a few loops around the complex until I can find a location, with inclines, where I feel safe enough to be out walking on my own and can try out the Walking Poles which I think will eliminate stress on my back during inclines.

On the very first loop around the complex, a guy that looked familiar began smiling, waving, walking towards me.

Holy Crap Batman! It was the husband of the couple I’d in the past referred to in the blog as the OG’s.

They’re back living in the complex — happy and relieved for it as he tells me they’ve been through hell since they moved out.

As a reminder, the OG’s are the battling couple — him now 66, his wife now 74, married for now 37+ years, that moved out just before the Pandemic hit and we went into Quarantine here at the complex, which was probably a good thing because, with them already beating up on each other, had they been stuck inside with only each other during quarantine, two would have gone in, but only one would have come out alive.

In October of 2019, the husband had gotten himself arrested for "bashing his wife’s head into a wall and blackening her eyes".

According to the wife, it wasn’t his first time.

"Why did you stay with him?", asked I.

"I always forgave him", said she.

At any rate, they didn’t move out or get evicted after the bashing/blackening episode. Instead, they stuck around, continued to battle, decided on their own that enough battling was enough, moved away — but not as a couple. The wife moved in with their daughter, while the husband moved in with the son — or so they told us was the plan.

I didn’t see that arrangement of living with daughter and son lasting long, didn’t think they’d even stay separated.

It didn’t and they didn’t.

He now tells me they’d moved in with the daughter together — as a couple, but things got rough when daughter lost her job, rent went up to $1600 a month, and the amount could not be met even with paying their share.

He said they bounced around for a while — found a room somewhere, which didn’t work out. Moved into a cheap motel, where he said they weren’t safe — "people tried to fight me". He didn’t say, but I gather from there they ended up homeless, living in their car. So here they are, back to where it’s safe and they have friends.

He says he feels really lucky to be able to get back in, and he should feel that way because, though others have returned, a few have tried to return and been denied reentry.

As for the OG’s, I liked both of them. Glad to see them back because the wife was the life of every party, but husband tells me her health has taken a decline.

"No wonder", said I. "The stress and uncertainty of what you two have had to deal with", but that his wife will begin to feel better now that things are more stable.

The OG couple are now living on the opposite side of the complex — pretty much close to where they were before.

Evidently, someone I don’t know passed away and the OG’s got that unit.

I don’t know of any other vacant units except the upstairs corner unit in my quad — the unit that’s needs a sage ritual to rid it of bad energy because everyone who's moved in there has had their life fall apart. There’s been no work done on that unit, nothing done to get it ready for a new tenant, otherwise the OG's might have landed there.

Add that to what they’ve already experienced and it would not have gone well had they been placed in that unit.

Hopefully, the turmoil of the last two years has taken the fight outta them, and life will be copacetic between them henceforth, but I doubt it.

High Wind Warning

Because of a roar that sounded like a freight train coming down the walkway all night, the building shaking and windows rattling, I didn’t need the weather service to issue a high wind warning for today.

Life goes on, today is a workout day, so I bundled up and headed out.

Just getting to the car was a battle as wind gusts pushed me back, tried to knock me off my feet.

Driving out of the complex, I saw cars travelling in the opposite direction blocked by huge tree limbs lying across the road. People were getting out of their cars, working in tandem to clear the roadway, pile the limbs over to the side so traffic could proceed unimpeded.

My side of the road was clear. Had it not been, there was no way I could have walked to the Pain Cave in that heavy wind.

Arriving at the Pain Cave, Trainer asked how I felt today.

He was asking because I’d experienced that energy drain all of last week, which necessitated his making adjustments to my workouts.

This morning, I was able to tell him today I felt great, that the energy drain was gone and that I think the source had been my little stalker — Talker’s granddaughter, because the minute I mentally disconnected from her, decided I'd no longer open the door to her, accept any hugs or gifts, I felt free, as though a weight had lifted.

Trainer ridiculed the notion that a six-year-old could cause an energy drain in an adult.

I actually don’t know how old Talker’s granddaughter is. I just know she’s in kindergarten, which means she probably is about six years of age, but even a newborn can drain the energy out of both his parents, so don't tell me a child can't drain the life out of an adult.

At any rate, I met Trainer’s ridicule that a six-year-old had that kind of power by pointing out that a six-year-old recently shot his teacher.

Age is not a limitation.

Did I Get Played?

The Lunar New Year didn’t get off to a great start, what with the mass shooting a few cities over in Monterey Park, and plans to begin restarting my walking routine this morning also did not get off to a good start.

I’d awakened at 2:00 a.m. with stuff on my mind, didn’t get back to sleep until around 5:00, and slept until 9:30 with no desire to head out.

At any rate, one thing that popped into my head at 2:00 a.m. was a delayed "Did I get played?" reaction to an article on MSN I’d read two days ago.

The context of the article was … "Have you ever been in a strip mall parking lot, maybe outside a food store, and seen something like this guy passionately playing the violin for money. Perhaps they had a sign that tugged at your heartstrings; but they weren’t just playing any violin, it was an electric violin, amplified through a speaker. Well, there’s a chance that person was a faker, pretending to play the instrument and that sweet sound was just a recording. ICE recently arrested a 22-year-old from Italy who made $80 grand doing that over the last year …………… these scams have taken place all over the country. Police have put out warnings saying you need to be careful giving money to these scammers because they may not be musicians but they are certainly artists."

It wasn’t until early this morning when my mind went back to April, when I’d posted about the musical street performer I’d run into when exiting Sprouts Farmer’s Market, made a $20 cash donation to his box, because I’d enjoyed his playing and appreciated his hustle — using his talent to provide "For food, for living" as written on his donation box.

Did I fall for a scam? Did I get played?

It’s so difficult these days to know who to trust. Who is legit. What’s a scam.

I’d previously blogged about leaving Walmart and spying a woman asking for help with rent and food. She had a child with her, and I’d wanted to give to her but the flow of traffic had prevented my stopping. THEN, at my next stop I spied a man, with a child, holding up a sign with the exact same wording and handwriting as on the sign as the one I’d seen at Walmart.

Several of you commented at the time that they are all cons.

There is a group of three who work the area of the Pain Cave and the parking lot of businesses across the street — a woman and two males. I’ve seen them around for years and, more than a few times, have recently tried to capture a photo of the few times I’d spied all three together, to blog about their activities after having learned how much money they make.

I’d mentioned previously that Trainer is somewhat the same kind of sucker I am — melts and falls for it sometimes. He once gave the woman in the group a jacket from his car when he saw her out in the cold, gave her a hot soup cup to warm up and has gotten to know the two guys, who recently told him they make about $60 A DAY!!! in donations.

It's easy to see how people will feel sorry for the woman, walking around barefoot, barely clothed, give her cash — not knowing she’s pimping for the guys.

I’ve never gotten close enough — by choice, to see what’s on the signs the guys hold up, but sometimes one of the guy dresses in a uniform to pull heartstrings that he’s a homeless vet.

He may be; but $60 a day is a lot of money to con folks out of.

So, though I don’t know if I got played by the musician or not, I do know I won’t, in the future, be dropping cash into the box of street musicians.

Speaking of being played … Just as I was finishing this post, I heard the footsteps coming up the stairs followed by a knock knock at the door.

Oh No! thought I. Which, by the way, is telling in itself because dread is not a good reaction to have to a visitor.

I assumed Talker’s granddaughter just wanted to give me a hug, which she did. But then she stepped inside, began looking around and asked, "Where’s Sunny?"

OMG Bob!, you were right. She wanted Sunny back.

No problem returning Sunny but, just like that, my patience of accepting her knocking, giving me hugs, gifting me, and my tolerating it all because I did not want to hurt her feelings came to an end.

"You’re an Indian Giver" said I. "Do you know what an Indian Giver is?"

She did not, so I explained it to her.

"Okay" said she, as she calmly bounced on outta here with Sunny, LOL.

Grandma Talker looked helpless and embarrassed as she said, "She was just supposed to come up and say goodbye".

Talker thinks that, because granddaughter took to me so quickly that there is a deeper spiritual thing going on.

I can accept that and also believe that people are brought into our lives and we into there’s for a reason.

I also believe that though the Universe gives us these assignments with each other, we don’t have to accept each and every assignment. We can say no.

I've been patient, I've been kind because I didn’t want to hurt granddaughter's little feelings and also because, not to be cruel, but it has crossed my mind a few times that she’s so sweet and guileless because that’s the way she now is from that two-story fall that showed no "physical" damage, but my patience has come to an end. I'm opting out of this assignment.

I still don’t want to hurt her feelings, but I won't be accepting any more gifts from her and will be going so far as to not answer the door next time she knocks.

Talker will know I’m inside, but maybe think I'm too occupied to come to the door.

She'll eventually get the message, when I fail to answer often enough, and will stop granddaughter from coming upstairs for any reason.

Meet Sunny

Another sunny weekend is upon me and, while still feeling drained of energy, I did manage to rouse myself to be somewhat productive today — starting with doing laundry.

Got more than I bargained for when I headed down to remove laundry from the dryer because who did I see returning from the market but Talker and her granddaughter.

Granddaughter ran over to where I was standing, gave me a hug, then said, "Wait right here".

She then ran back to grandma Talker, began rummaging through the grocery bags, pulled something out and came back to present me with a new bear, which she named Sunny.

Meet Sunny

Here we go again.

I walked over to grandma Talker, said, "Now she wants to give me another bear".

"She just bought it, but what can I do?" said Talker.

"You can stop buying her bears", said I.

"I told her when she bought it that she had enough bears, but she said she was buying it to give away, even used her own money. So, I can’t tell her what to do with her things".

WHAT?! Talker’s granddaughter used her own money to buy me a bear???

And just like that …. my cold cold heart melted a little.

I went "Awwwwww" and said to Talker’s granddaughter, "You are really a sweet child. You know that about yourself don’t you?"

She said "Yes" and started running about checking out our painted rocks, LOL.

So, anyway, this being a smaller bear and with Talker’s granddaughter having just bought it at the market, with the intent to give it away, she can’t be attached to it, so I’ll keep it — but have no plans to take it on any adventures.

Laundry out of the way, tomorrow’s goal is to push myself away from crafting and the television, head to the college to log in walking miles.

Can’t say that will really happen, but it’s the goal for tomorrow.

Lazy, Sleepy, Snacky

No. These are not names of Dwarfs àla Snow White. These are adjectives describing how I made it through the week.

It’s been unusually quiet here at the complex this week. Even though the rain has let up and the sun is mostly shinning, I’ve not seen any of the residents out and about walking through the quad.

I myself have been trying to force myself to log in some walking miles, but Lazy has a stranglehold on my motivation.

Not much progress was made on scrapbooking and needle work this week, because Sleepy kept forcing me to nap the days away.

Then there’s Snacky, who wouldn’t be satisfied with breakfast, lunch, dinner and had me snacking in between on popcorn, blueberry almond snack bars, corn chips/salsa and pretty much whatever was around that my gut could tolerate.

Snacky had me seriously craving See’s Candy, but Lazy prevented me from getting in the car, driving to See’s to satisfy the craving.

I’m guessing the lack of seeing the usual suspects out and about means I’m not the only one around here hybernating.

I did hear Activity Director had bingo on Tuesday and that it went "Okay. We had fun", but who were the "we" that had fun?

It can’t have been more than three/four residents in attendance because it smacks of desperation that I’ve been asked to include AD’s bingo days in the flyer I do for Red Light and the Baker which advertises our every other Friday game that’s been steadily growing to capacity.

AD’s game days are advertised on the Monthly Calendar posted to our doors by management, but I don’t mind adding AD's event to my flyer — even though I’ll never go back again, because the Baker asked me to.

There’s been nothing sent out by management alerting residents to the intruder entering Button’s unit, which is no surprise. Management won't get proactive until something really bad happens, and maybe not even then because really bad things have happened in the past and the only way I found out was through the Grapevine.

The Grapevine is now doing its best to alert residents to be careful and also to be aware two intruders have been observed lurking around the complex at night, mostly going through the trash bins.

Looking for paperwork I’m assuming, as that’s one way identity theft is enabled — paperwork with names, addresses, telephone and other sensitive data is just tossed in the trash.

Several people in the past, both male and female, have been chased away from dumpster diving for paperwork; which is why I shred anything and everything with my name and unit number on it before tossing, and have done so for years, long before living here.

The Grapevine is also speculating that one of the intruders seen lurking around at night, is the one who entered Button’s unit. Must have been walking around, checking doors and found hers unlocked.

Button thinks the maintenance guys didn’t close/lock the door properly.

In the midst of having our Annual Inspection, the maintenance guys have been going unit to unit addressing maintenance issues.

I had a list, LOL.

So anyway, they’d inspected Button’s unit the afternoon before, so she’s speculating they left her door unlocked and that’s how the intruder had gained entrance 2:00 a.m. the next morning.

It may have been but, in all fairness, it was up to Button to make certain her door was locked that night. The guys just close the door and walk away after they've been in our units when we are present, have let them in, they didn't use a key to enter.

As for my list, Head Maintenance Guy is one of those males that … whatever he touches he makes worse.

I had a boyfriend like that once. He got on my nerves with his thinking he knew what the hell he was doing when no one asked him, like the time he was fiddling around with my music player, sparks flew and the player died.

Then there was the time he protested the way I cooked pasta, said it wasn't soft enough, that I needed to soak the pasta in water before cooking it.

Seriously.

I tried to explain to him what he felt was my cooking pasta not soft enough was al dente and that if you soaked uncooked pasta in water it would dissolve.

But nooooo. I was just a stupid woman who needed mansplaining, so I did what he requested — soaked the pasta in water for a few hours, and you already know what he found when he checked the pasta consistency and readiness for cooking.

I don't recall his apologizing when proven wrong, or replacing my record player, but he didn't last long and didn't go quietly.

Because I was done, would not even talk to him on the phone, a neighbor caught him playing Spiderman, trying to reach over a railing, climb up the side of the building to access a window to my unit late one night.

Even busted through the front door one evening, whereupon another neighbor called the cops and they escorted him away, trying to make me feel sorry for him because they said he was crying.

That was the night I called his mother, told her of his refusal to go away.

His mom told me I should have shot him coming through the door and, if he returned, shoot him through the door then drag him inside to show self-defense, LOL.

I guess she told him how she'd suggested I handle the situation, because I never was bothered by him again.

So, anyway, Head Maintenance Guy reminds me of that old boyfriend — inept and totally clueless to his ineptness.

Why Head Maintenance Guy is still employed here is a mystery as he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, except he’s good at putting bandages on maintenance issues, which in Corporate’s eyes is saving money.

So my list of four issues, has been boiled down to two temporary bandage fixes that, at this affordable rent, I can live with.

Dry Day

Sun’s up, the weather girls are dressed better this morning and Shangela (of Drag Race and Dancing with the Stars) made an appearance on Good Morning America to promote her Fully Lit Tour.

Rain not expected in the foreseeable future, all apparently seeming well on my little acre of the universe, off I went this morning, out of the area to the craft store to replenish the needlepoint floss stack — first time I’ve been able to get out and about for weeks.

I didn’t watch Dancing with the Stars, because I find the judges annoying — they talk too much and too long, but as soon as I saw Shangela was a contestant, I fully expected her to outdance everyone and win.

Surprisingly, she didn’t. However, labeled a "Fan Favorite" she’s been able to parlay the positive reception she received from the public into this tour.

One leg of the tour is next week, in Los Angeles.

Los Angeles is dangerous now. Yet and still, I’d chance L.A. to participate in a 5K, but not for a show, so it’s a no for me.

I did, however, check out her merchandise page and found a workout tee that will be great for when the summer triple digit heat hits us.

Can you believe it’s sold out ALREADY!

I’ll check back for if and when it’s back in stock.

Ugly Clothes Day

It’s raining, it’s pouring the old man is snoring the weather girls are dressing poorly.

I rarely sleep in later than 7 a.m,. because I enjoy turning on the TV and hearing George, Robin and Michael say, "Good Morning America".

Tuning in just as Eyewitness News was ending, with the weather girl showing rain rain and more rain, I was taken by how ugly her dress was.

It appeared to be made of the same kind of fabric as those old Elvis Presley paintings — velvet.

Some people used to like those velvet paintings because of the way The King and his surroundings appeared to change colors, depending on the angle you viewed the painting from.

That effect looked great on a painting, not so much on the Eyewitness News weather girl this morning, as the result was to highlight her headlights.

Then here comes GMA’s weather girl wearing a top I’d love to have for next Halloween, as it would go well with my skeleton leggings, but was all wrong for this morning’s broadcast.

I wonder if I was the only viewer to have noticed these fashion atrocities and/or to have made snarky comments.

The weekend once again sped by at the speed of light, even though I went nowhere did nothing. While it was rain rain and more rain outside, it was needlepoint needlepoint needlepoint while catching up on recorded TV programs inside.

One program I started catching up on was Worse Cooks in America. More like getting back into it, as I’d stopped watching seasons ago — for no reason other than I just lost interest.

The only reason I was taping this season is because I saw Darnell Ferguson was to mentor a team.

My first introduction to Chef Darnell was on Grocery Games, where his physique, compared to other chef types, and backstory was so inspiring that I began taking interest.

Having spent time in jail, being homeless, living in his car, he now runs several restaurants, has had many appearances on Food Network in other competitions … winning, occasionally losing and now is known as Celebrity Chef/Super Chef.

I was interested to see how he’d be co-hosting a show with Chef Anne.

Turns out he's invigorated the show, as does the contestants coming from Tik Tok, making this, in my opinion, the best season ever.

I think I’m two episodes behind, but the episode I saw last night had me giggling, when I probably should not have been, because a contestant being mentored by Chef Anne became so overwhelmed in getting the right knife cuts on mushrooms for a veggie burger that he had a meltdown.

You know what they say about "If you can't stand the heat".

At any rate, this season is so full of LOL moments that I’ll ride to the finish with Chef Darnell and, if he’s brought back, ride again.

Then there was the new season of Miss Scarlet and the Duke, which sent me to bed thinking oh oh!

William sent out feelers as to Eliza one day wanting to settle down, have a family of her own and was dashed when Eliza, thinking he was teasing her, said something to the effect having a family wasn’t what she wanted out of life.

Enter Arabella who owns a restaurant, who is more the settle down with a family type, can obviously cook when Eliza cannot, seems to be looking at William who, in turn, seems to be looking back at her. Oh oh!

My luck with the weather held up again this morning in that the downpour paused just before I had to head for the Pain Cave, giving me time enough to make a run by the market after and make it back to the unit before rain rain and more rain began again.

Thank goodness someone finally won the Mega pot. I didn't have to pop into the liquor store for tickets and I'm done with lotto fever until the next time.

Friday the 13th

So, the day started off with me walking to the Pain Cave this morning. Not that there was anything wrong with the car, thank the Lord, but because there was chaos in front of the building, extending into the entry/exit areas.

What with the cones, equipment, street crew, traffic and this being Friday the 13th, I saw an accident waiting to happen, didn’t want the accident to involve me, so decided to walk rather than drive.

Getting to the Pain Cave safe/sound, returning safe/sound, I changed out of my workout clothes, headed down to the Community Room for bingo.

On the way to bingo, I saw even more chaos in front of the building.

First was a fire truck blocking the gate.

Then came an ambulance that got confused by the orange cones, had to stop traffic coming in the opposite direction with their horns/sirens so they could cross traffic and find a way in.

While the ambulance was struggling to get in, respond to whatever emergency was in progress, I was feeling sorry for the resident needing assistance, that because of all the chaos, help was being delayed.

After the ambulance worked it out, then came FedEx.

The firetruck had, by that time, left, so FedEx had an easier time of getting in and finding space to park the truck.

The ambulance did eventually take a resident away and, as none of us in the Community Room recognized the resident, we assumed it was one of the shut-ins that, for one reason or another, has never been out and about to be seen.

Seeing Jenne at bingo, wearing a top that would go with my leggings, and a bottom that would go with my top made me think of those fashion paper dolls. The kind that we could switch up the clothes.

This afternoon’s bingo was the first time I’ve seen Red Light since she called to tell me Activity Director was hosting bingo — when I went down and ended up walking out because of how disorganized AD was and how insulting the prizes were.

Telling Red Light that I was done with AD, I’d given her a chance and she’d failed, Red Light began making excuses for AD, said AD would eventually get better, that she’d call me when that time came.

Saying eventually doesn’t work for me, I asked her to not bother calling me, cause I was done.

I also learned why Red Light didn’t show up for bingo that time, didn’t bring down our equipment so AD could get started — which I pointed out AD should not have been dependent on Red Light, a resident, for equipment or anything else because AD is getting paid to do a job.

She agreed, said it’s pretty much what the last AD did — depend on residents. 

So, anyway, she'd not shown up because she had been sick that day, was just helping AD out by calling us residents to get us down to bingo.

Bingo today was fun — it usually is when we do our own thing, leave inept management out of the picture. I didn’t win anything but didn't mind because, though we had lots of prizes to choose from, I didn’t see anything I wanted or needed.

One resident who never fails to come to bingo is an 85-year-old who has lived here since the building went up and is an inspiration to all of us.

Let’s call her Buttons, because she’s the resident that uses those cute buttons on her bingo cards.

Buttons lives alone and is a crafter — knits, crochets, writes poetry.

She walks with a cane, but never lets it stop her or slow her down. She’s very involved here, there, everywhere, on a daily basis.

When not attending one of our events, she’s taking the public bus to the catholic church or a shuttle to the Senior Center to take classes in whatever, participate in activities that go on in those places.

At any rate, she reported to us that at 2:00 AM this morning, she was awakened by a touch, something or someone shaking her foot.

It was a man standing at the foot of her bed.

She says she sat up and the man ran out. Did not harm her, did not take anything, just somehow got into her downstairs unit, touched her to let her know he was there and fled when she sat up.

She didn’t scream her arse off, as I would have.

Didn’t call the police — which I probably wouldn’t have either because … what can they do if and when they arrive.

She also did not tell management. She just told us, whereupon some of the ladies went to the office and immediately told management.

I have to give it to Buttons, she was so matter of fact in telling of the encounter. Cool as a cucumber.

I guess at 85, she’s seen and experienced everything, and nothing is a big deal.

I wonder if management will bother to send out a bulletin reminding the seniors to make sure their doors and windows are locked up tight at night OR if it’s no big deal to them either.