He’s Heeeeeere

It was a downpour yesterday afternoon when the new resident of that bad energy unit moved in.

The new tenant is not at all the "big guy" Head Maintenance Guy described. Instead, he’s average height, average weight, but does appear healthy — walks quickly, no visible physical challenges.

I’d say his moving in during a rainstorm is a bad omen as to how things are going to go in that unit, except it was exactly like the day when I moved in eleven years ago.

It was impossible for my movers to work in those conditions, so they struck a deal to set up a bed for me in the bedroom, come back the next day when the weather was expected to cooperate, and I’d not get charged for an extra day.

So, that night, after going to the drugstore on the corner to buy towels so I could bathe in the morning, toothpaste, toothbrush and a sleepshirt; and after a friend I had in the area took me to dinner that night, I was snug as a bug in bed and it was all good.

Fortunately, I’d transported the makeup kit in the car with me. So, no problem making myself presentable that next morning.

As for the downpour that day back in 2012, I’d not seen it as a bad omen. Instead, I saw it as a new beginning, a washing away of all the bad stuff I’d experienced the year before moving in.

New guy persisted with his move yesterday, horrible weather be damned.

He and his helpers brought in boxes that looked wet by the time they reached the stairs and items wrapped in black plastic bags.

The truck was parked for over three hours at the end of the drive.

At least now, when Red Light hears footsteps overhead, she can convince herself it’s the new tenant and not something spooky — even if she hears footsteps when he’s not at home.

In other news, that blackity black black tee I’m looking forward to purchasing for next year was so popular that the seller restocked in my size. So, even though Black History Month is over tomorrow, I’ll have the tee. 

In addition, I also ordered one that simply says, "I’m Black All the Time" that I can wear all-year long and tease trainer with.

When I didn’t get off the bike and make it to the slam ball bench fast enough in Monday’s session, Trainer said, "Not fast enough" and reiterated the rule is 5 seconds to transition from one to the other.

I snapped back with "It’s still Black History Month. I don’t have to follow rules". To which he replied, "Okay, but come Wednesday your arse is mine".

My walking in wearing the "Black All the Time" top will make for a great comeback when I need one. 

March 12th is our 4-Year Anniversary. Trainer has lasted longer than any man in my life.

Alas Poor Olaf

The above is all that was left of Olaf (named after the snowman in Frozen) when I woke up yesterday.

Saturday’s snow was replaced by the return of rain later that afternoon, washed away all our lovely snow, and what was once my little snowman Olaf was just ribbon and a sliver of ice on Sunday.

I don’t know what happened to his little carrot nose. Maybe the rain washed it away.

There was a break in the rain early yesterday, so I was able to make it to the mall, pick up my orders.

Because our mail carriers can’t be trusted to put the key to the package lockbox in the correct mail slot, when items ordered offer the option to "mail to or pick up" and it's possible to get to the location, I've been opting for pick up.

With orders I can't possibly get to the location, I pay extra for a delivery service to leave at my door, bypass the postal service completely, and sometimes that goes awry as well.

Pick up can be kind of a pain, but mail delivery has gotten so bad, since our regular mail lady went missing on us (new route or quit ???), that some residents have not only complained to the main post office — to no avail, but complained directly to the mail carriers, also to no avail.

Some have requested the post office "hold" packages for them to pick up at the main post office, so the carrier can’t get his/her hands on the packages, screw delivery up.

So, anyway, I took advantage of the brief respite from the rain, drove to the mall.

Those store designers are some smart cookies. The pickup counter was positioned way in the back of the store.

I had to walk pass clothes, shoes, jewelry.

My daily uniform is tees and leggings, Birkenstocks and Asics athletic shoes, so the store designers' manipulation didn't get me.

That is until I spotted jewelry — 50% off.

I ended up with two new pair of earrings before reaching the pickup counter where ... what did I see right next to the line but this display.

Genius placement, but how did they know I have a new great grandbaby?

Which one do you think I bought?

I’ll have to find a reason to travel to Long Beach, give the baby his shirt before he’s walking, talking, heading to college — grown too big for the tee.

Heading out of the mall, seeing the See’s Candy store sign, of course I popped in.

Walking out of See's, bag of candy in hand, I looked up and saw a shop that looked interesting.

"May I help you", asks the lady in the shop when she sees me looking at medieval pocketknives.

"No thanks. I'm just browsing".

"Are you interested in knives?"

"Not really, but the knives did make me think about the dogs that just attacked and killed a man out walking".

"You might be interested in this if you're thinking about protecting yourself from bad dogs" and she showed me a stylish looking walking stick.

Priced at $55, I wasn't interested. Not even when she said she could do $30 on it, but then she pulled off the tip and exposed a sharp tool for protection from bad boys and bad dogs.

Tip On

Tip Off

This stick won't get me up the Devil's Canyon Road incline. For that I will need the trekking poles. However, this stick will make me feel safer so that I can go back to the walks I used to take around the neighborhood until knife guy scared me off that route.

I don't think I'll be facing any bad boys or bad dogs on Devil's Canyon Road, but I've got pepper spray and a taser just in case.

So many weapons ... in the unit, in the car, in my fanny pack, in my jacket pocket, even in my hand while walking to the mailbox or car but, if you're paying attention, listening to or reading the news, bad things are happening everywhere to those who are going about their daily business unprepared, seemingly unaware that the world is no longer a safe place.

The elderly and mothers getting in/out of their cars, distracted with small children in tow, seem to be the current targets.

We were just in the news two weeks ago for a stabbing unaliving at the gas station on the corner, followed by a carjacking by the perp and a hot two-day pursuit.

I stayed inside, so no photos for you, but Trainer said the gas station had been corded off with that tape they use and, from inside my unit, it sounded like every cop car in the world was racing up/down the street.

So, one has to be on his/her toes, take nothing and no one for granted. Be aware of surroundings, walk cautiously and, in my case, carry a big stick, pepper spray and a taser.

This has been a public service announcement.

On the way out of the mall, I paused too long in front of Bath & Body Works, got lured in and walked out with a Strawberry Daiquiri scented candle.

The cashier said it’s the kind of scent that I could relax with a glass of wine, the lights down low and before she could finish, I added "With my Magic Mike DVD playing".

She cracked up.

So now, after a weekend of rain, snow, rain, shopping, though it's dry outside for the moment, on we go to another week of expected rain and the end to Black History month.

I didn't have a special shirt for Black History Month, as I do for Pride and St. Patrick's Day, but I’ve picked out the shirt I want for next year.

I’d buy it now, but they’ve sold out in my size. So, I’ll just have to keep an eye out for next year.

Bucket List

Not the adventurous type, there's not a lot I want to experience in this life that I've not already done so.

I'm content to just take adventures as they occur.

Consequently, I've never had a bucket list per se, but have thought I'd like to see and experience snow before I die.

I guess the end is near because I opened the blinds this morning — looking to see if there’d been a break in the rain so I could head to the mall and found this …………….

I won't bore you further with my excitement at experiencing snow for the first time, or overload your computer capabilities, any more than I already have, with all the other videos I've taken of this momentous occasion.

After carefully walking around the complex so as to not slip and fall, visiting the Baker, waking up Red Light so she could see the snow, with slush seeping through the bottom of my boots, socks beginning to feel wet, I headed back upstairs to dump the snow off my umbrella and make a teeny tiny snowman on the patio.

Believe it or not, I tried to set the phone to video tape me making a snow angel on the patio, but it didn't work.

The end result didn't look much like a snow angel anyway, LOL.

OR did it?

Bad Medicine and Ghost Stories

Knowing the heavy rain would keep some from attending this afternoon’s bingo, I bundled up, braved the weather and went down to the Community Room.

The Baker was present.

Having not seen her around for a while, I’d been worried and assumed her absence on the walkways had something to do with her ailing husband.

It did.

Because of the sorry state of health care these days — long waits to get an appointment with one’s doctor, being rushed through and given inadequate service when one does get to see the doctor, a problem her husband had with a growth near his eye has worsened. An operation is in his future but there’s a snag because the Baker is dissatisfied with the Dermatologist.

She had an issue with the dermatologist's staff asking, "Does your husband have a power of attorney" and, when she replied "yes" they then insisted, and not in a polite way she said, that they would have to see a copy of that power of attorney.

Why?

Who knows.

Luckily, she had the paperwork on her, produced it and office staff then came up with "You can’t be in the room when your husband sees the doctor".

Well the Baker was having none of that.

As she is her husband’s everything, she said "No", that her husband cannot advocate for himself; consequently, she goes where he goes and was not about to let him out of her sight.

Things got ugly with office staff after that, so the Baker wheeled her husband outta there.

When she said the name of the dermatologist’s office, I said "I know that place. It has terrible Yelp reviews".

It was the office my doctor tried to send me to last year when I had an allergic reaction to something — the place that never followed up on scheduling me as my doctor had ordered, and no one ever answered the phone when I called to find out what was going on.

After reading their Yelp reviews, I was glad they didn’t follow up — reviews along the lines of "Horrible Service!! ... Calls are outsourced to a call center … Office staff is rude and inefficient! … Go to a different Doctor!! … I would not recommend this office … My experience with this dermatology doctor is very bad. If I had to give negative or zero, I would definitely give him zero" yada yada yada.

No surprise the Baker had the experience she did with this office. She dodged a bullet by walking out before they did something bad to her husband.

So there’s that.

Even with a little more than half of the regulars not braving the weather to show up at bingo today — which improved my chances of winning, I came close multiple times, but never won a single game.

No matter because though I’ve come to enjoy bingo and like to win, it’s the tea spilling from the grapevine that I enjoy even more.

Nothing earth shattering was spilled, but I did hear Red Light discussing the upstairs unit across the quad, the bad energy unit that is above hers.

The new tenant has not yet moved in, but I heard Red Light say that ever since the last tenant moved out, she’s been hearing footsteps, someone walking around inside the unit. "I know the sounds are not coming from the unit behind me. It’s directly overhead" said she.

"Ghosts" said I — surprised that I’d let that out because I generally keep my knowings to myself, don’t trust people to accept or understand there are many things beyond our basic limited senses.

Red Light laughed and said, "Ghosts is what (I didn’t catch the name) said when I mentioned it to her".

"No, seriously" said I and filled her in on how I’d come to the conclusion there is bad energy in that unit because everyone who has ever lived there had their lives fall apart.

Red Light knows me well enough to listen intently when I went through what I’ve observed. After which she said, "That kind of stuff scares me … I can’t even watch scary movies … but some people believe in it."

"I believe in it because I know what I and others in my family have experienced. I once moved because of it, but I won’t talk about those experiences right now".

I won’t talk about those experiences ever. I didn’t mean to be having this current conversation, the words just came out, so I have to believe for a reason.

At any rate, when the new tenant moves in, I bet Red Light will be watching him just as closely as I will, to see how things go for him.

I also bet that Red Light will think twice, and probably be a little spooked out, when next she hears footsteps overhead.

Another Winter Storm

With a weather forecast of heavy rain — which started today, through next Wednesday, it’s not looking good for plans to tackle Devil’s Canyon Road this weekend.

I do have makeup refills to pick up at the mall this weekend, before the orders gets cancelled. So, hopefully there’s a lull long enough to let me venture out.

The good news is, I made a fortuitous mistake and placed the order with a store in a mall other than my preferred location. The mall I mistakenly placed the orders with is one I can reach by street travel, no traversing the freeway in a storm required and I’ll be able to put in some walking miles as this mall is covered, while my preferred mall is not.

The fact this fortunate mistake was made kind of takes me out of the "Trouble Trouble Boil and Bubble" worrying frame of mind and into thinking that "All Things Work Together for Good" — that what looks bad on the surface, a mistake, may be a step in the right direction.

At any rate, curious as to how Devil’s Canyon Road got it’s name, I did a little research and learned a man by the name of Daniel Sexton, who arrived here in 1841, was working for a Colonel Isaac Williams on Williams’ Chino Ranch.

Now Williams had been an Indian Fighter. He fought as a Captain under General Andrew Jackson "Old Hickory", along with Davy Crockett and Sam Houston in the Creek War, involving the Muscogee, the Choctaw (my people), Cherokee Nations, and Lower Creeks faction of the Muscogee — whoever they were.

The "hostilities" ended in 1814 with the signing of the treaty of Ford Jackson when Andrew Jackson "forced" the Creeks to "surrender" more than 21 million acres in what is now southern Georgia and central Alabama.

Stolen land, which has nothing to do with how Devil’s Canyon Road got its name, but was so interesting that I thought I’d add it in.

Back to Daniel Sexton working for Colonel Williams ...... one day Williams told Sexton he was tired of eating meat, and craved vegetables. He sent Sexton and two of "his Indians" (slaves???) to survey a road so that they might get up to timber lands, and there cut trees for fencing, so that he (Williams) could keep cattle out of a vegetable garden.

Sexton had not gone far when one of the Indians was bitten by a rattlesnake and died.

Sexton and the remaining Indian continued up the canyon, found a feasible route for the proposed road and, as they returned, the second Indian was also fatally bitten by another snake.

The Indian yelled "El Diablo" as he died, and so the Canyon received the name Devil’s Canyon and the path, from the college to the top, Devil’s Canyon Road.

At least that’s Sexton’s story as to why he started off with two Indians, then there were none.

I personally don’t believe him.

My spidey sense is telling me Sexton did something dastardly to the Indians and the yelling of "El Diablo" was that Indian's dying words towards Sexton — calling him the devil for having murdered the first Indian and now him, the second.

So other than exposing Sexton as an 18th Century serial killer, I’ve been a bit of a bookworm.

After sitting on the Faun of Grey Gardens for months, I started reading it early last week — around the 10th. Such an engrossing read that I couldn’t put it down. Finished reading a few days later … on the 17th.

Due to her many cruelties to Jerry, I ended up not liking Little Edie very much.

Yet another example of how it so often is that "No good deed goes unpunished". I never could or would have extended to Little Edie the patience and kindness Jerry did.

I also couldn’t believe Jerry gave a shoutout to his parents in the Acknowledgment — parents who did nothing for him besides giving birth and a terrible childhood.

At any rate, investigating online, I see the house still stands — though looking at photos of the renovation, it looks nothing like the house formerly inhabited by the Beales.

Little Edie passed away in 2002, while Jerry is pretty much all that’s left of that interesting saga.

Looking at Jerry’s Instagram page, I see that he just had (on February 6th) an event with the book’s co-author Tony Maietta. So, with his stoneware business, continuing book sales and related events, it all came together in good for Jerry.

Judging by the book title, this life of George Dawson — the grandson of slaves, turns out well. But the start of the book is so triggering that I don’t think I’ll get far enough to get to the good part.

First few pages begin with an incident much like the unaliving of Emmet Till — a crowd of angry Whites dragging an innocent Black man through the streets to the hanging tree because of a lie.

A young White girl, pregnant by her White boyfriend, lies and says the teenage Black farmhand is the father of the child.

Why?

Who knows. Especially since, when the child is born, everyone will see it’s a White baby, no color in it.

Which is exactly what happened. A White baby was born and there was not a care the girl had lied and caused the torture and death of an innocent young Black man.

The book, thus far, is too disturbing. So, I think I’ll get rid of it — drop it off at the Library.

It’s banned it some states, so I’ll drop it in the slot and let the Library do as they will with it, if it's banned here as well.

I’m not without reading material because Walter Mosley's latest book, which I preordered months ago, arrived in yesterday’s mail.

Most all of Mosley’s book are page turners, this one will be especially so as it's a continuation of Mosley's earlier novel — Down the River Unto the Sea, and solves the mystery of who it was that framed former NYPD Investigator Joe King Oliver for rape of a White woman, sending Oliver to Rikers prison.

Art imitating life, but this one isn't triggering because Joe King survived Rikers, became a Private Detective and is now about to take names, kick some arse.

Trouble Trouble Boil and Bubble

It’s a tough job, so thank you for doing it
and ousting that idiot No. 45

I actually didn’t realize today was a holiday until, heading for the mail center after this morning’s workout, I saw a group of residents sitting on the bench by the Laundry Room.

They usually only sit there when waiting for the mail carrier to finish sorting, so I asked, "Is the mail carrier not yet finished?"

"No mail today, it’s a holiday".

That explains why I’d seen Head Maintenance Guy, whom I thought was slacking off, heading out and off with his two boys and daughter, thought I.

Though I’ve seen quite a few residents out and about today and during the week, enjoying the weather, I’ve not seen the Baker — which makes me think something might be seriously wrong with her ailing husband.

If I don’t see her at this coming’s Bingo Friday, I’ll know it’s bad.

Trouble trouble boil and bubble.

Thankfully, I’ve not seen hide nor hair of my little rug rat stalker.

I did, however, have an interesting interaction with a child about little stalker’s age at the market on Friday.

I’d parked the car, began walking across the parking lot, spied a man putting groceries into the trunk of the car with two little boys that looked like twins standing in the cart.

One of the little boys was staring at me, but I didn’t think anything of it until, as I got closer to pass by, the kid yelled out "HI GRANDMA!"

Not sure I’d heard correctly, I paused when I got to where they were and asked, "Did you just call me Grandma?"

"YESSS!" was his overly enthusiastic response, causing me to think he’d had too much sugar.

"Do I remind you of your grandma?"

"YESSS!"

"Do I look like your grandma?"

"YESSS!"

"Do you like your grandma?"

"YESSS!"

"Well then it’s cool".

His dad was cracking up during the interaction, and dad wished me a good day as I continued on into the market.

Then, while the cashier was scanning my groceries, I saw a baby staring at me from his carrier in the isle across.

Seeing him staring, I smiled and gave him a little wave which made him smile.

His little sister, seeing him staring, took his head and turned it towards her.

The baby wasn’t having it. He turned back and kept smiling at me.

Finally, his mom and grandma began looking to see what he was smiling at, whereupon I finished paying for my groceries and said to the baby, "Stop flirting with me".

Mom and Grandma began laughing and also wished me a good rest of the day as we all began to walk out.

I left the market feeling like the frigging Pied Piper of children in the Inland Empire area.

What is it that my little rug rat stalker, the kid that called me grandma and the baby see?

Are they all souls from past lives recognizing my soul in its current skin suit?

The week was a heavy one for me due to worrying about a family member who is thisclose to being jobless then ultimately homeless.

I’ve occasionally helped this family member out financially, but it’s reached a point where I can no longer do so without hurting myself and thus will have to accept it’s not going to end well for her.

Trouble trouble boil and bubble.

I’ve seen this family member travelling down the road she’s on for many years and can see why — though she’s a nice person, caring, thoughtful, in the end she causes so many to not like her, not want to even be around her but I have never been able to tell her what I see because she gets defensive, shuts down, goes into denial mode.

Not just with me, but with anyone who tries to get through to her.

It was the Chinese Philosopher Lao Tzu who said, "A tree that cannot bend will crack in the wind". When thinking of this relative, of what I've seen for as long as I can remember, the root cause of her issues is that she's a person who is rigid, controlling, cannot bend and those that don’t bend will break.

I think she’s at that point now and I can’t keep carrying the burden of worrying or bailing her out of financial difficulties. I’m going to have to say no next time and let whatever befalls her befall her.

Her latest situation, and her history of causing people to not like her, got me to thinking of my own history with people.

I've always had decent relationships with neighbors, coworkers, ex boyfriends — some of whom might have been mad at me because of this, that, the other, but can't think of anyone who wouldn't smile and give me an unwanted hug should our paths cross.

I’ve had people in and out of the workforce who hated me because of the color of my skin, but even these racist types couldn't help but like me once they got to know me, even while continuing to try to destroy me.

What I've never had is anyone to hate me for the person I am, people to not want to work with me, even be around me.

So, the fact this is a frequent reality for this family member, one would think she would by now have done some self-reflection and adjusted accordingly, but nooooo, she just gets angrier, more stubborn, more self-destructive.

Oh well. Knowing I was going to have to let this one go, and that it’s going to be bad — trouble trouble boil and bubble, sent me out for a nice long walk to clear my head on Saturday.

I walked the college campus, then tackled an incline, known as Devil Canyon Road — an incline that far exceeds the elevation of anything I’ll be facing at the 5K I’m looking forward to in October.

It was tough going, even with the trekking poles. I almost turned back just feet from the top but persevered.

At any rate, training on this incline a couple times a month — weather permitting, and I'll be able to ace the October 5k, no problem, no injuries.

BTW, the crazy glued trekking poles held up, but I carried an extra tube of glue just in case.

Let There Be Light

And on the 6th Day, Head Maintenance Guy finally showed up to fix the burnt out bulb in the bathroom.

Turns out it’s dome lighting, no bulb involved, but it only took him seconds to take off the old dome, attach a new one. Such an easy fix that the work order should have been fulfilled on Day 1.

The office has told us that maintenance requests are taken in the order received but, to me, it seems common sense to take care of the quickies, get them off the list.

What really aggravates me is that, while I was waiting to get lighting in the bathroom, I saw Head Maintenance Guy cleaning the vacant upstairs unit across the quad — the unit with the history of bringing bad luck to its occupants, while Assistant Maintenance Guy was cleaning a unit overlooking the pool that recently became vacant.

Consequently, part of the reason I had to wait six days for a two/three second repair job was because, instead of bringing in a cleaning crew, the maintenance guys are now being tasked with housekeeping duties.

I wonder if this penny pinching measure is being imposed on No. 10 (our pregnant new complex manager) by Corporate, that she then tells the guys to clean the units OR if it’s completely No. 10’s money saving idea.

Whichever way this has come about, I can’t imagine the guys are too happy about housekeeping duties, but there’s not much they can do about it if they want to keep their jobs.

Inasmuch as HMG’s skills are severely limited — generally everything he touches is made worse or his fixes don’t last long, i.e, the leaky faucet he repaired three weeks ago is once again leaking, I can’t imagine his housekeeping abilities to be up to par.

So, the new tenant of that unit has not only bad energy in the place to deal with, but a half-assed cleaning job.

HMG is pretty closed mouthed about what goes on around here, but I did get out of him that the bad energy unit has been leased. The new tenant should be arriving any day, and it’s a male, "Been living in San Bernardino for 40 years" HMG added.

Finally, some testosterone coming into the quad — besides the nice old guy next door to that unit.

Asking if it was another disabled individual, HMG said "No. He’s a big healthy looking guy".

Hopefully he stays that way after moving in.

Recap

Someone on the complex really loves Valentine’s Day.

The skepticism I displayed in a prior post that Activity Director’s Valentine Party would actually be a party was valid, as the party turned out to be a class on how to control your blood pressure …… take your medication faithfully, engage your health care team, monitor regularly at home, yada yada yada.

During the class, I made eye contact with Dream Lover’s ex-girlfriend. She rolled her eyes to show me how bored she was.

Red Light looked like she was in pain.

Two others rested their chin in their hands and looked like their minds were a million miles away.

AD did hand out little gift bags to those in attendance, so I guess it was worth sitting through not a party.

apple sauce, chocolate chip cookies,
candy bar, green tea

Nice haul. She finally came up with something the seniors can appreciate, but a class on managing blood pressure is a long way from a "party", and dare I say a blatant lie to trick residents into attending.

I had a thought last week, while watching the Drag Race episode that featured a group called The Old Gays, who’ve I’ve been following on TikTok ever since they did a parody of the Wednesday Addams Dance.

I don’t know where the Old Gays are based, but it looks to be senior housing with a fun staff, which made me think ……… That’s the kind of Activity Director we need here.

So, anyway, once back in my unit, I began fast forwarding through Sunday’s Super Bowl to see the commercials and get to Rihanna’s halftime performance.

Except for Ben Affleck’s Dunkin Donut and one or two others, the commercials were a disappointment.

I’m a fan of Rihanna’s, was so looking forward to her halftime show, had been hearing good things about it, so what a surprise when I found it even more boring than AD’s party class.

Has the world gone mad with all this talk about how great and exhilarating Rihanna’s performance was?

It put me to sleep. Seriously. I kept nodding off.

Like I said, I’m a fan, but that was the worst most boringest half time performance I’ve ever seen.

Love is Once Again in the Air

Thankfully, I’m vaxxed and boosted — safe from cupid’s arrows.

Miley Cyrus, formerly Hannah Montana, is singing my anthem.

Nah, No Way

Have you seen those warnings to "If you find a napkin in your car door handle, it is best to be safe and just call the authorities to check it out"?

What that warning is about might mean you are the target of a nefarious plan, that crooks are putting chemicals on tissues, napkins, paper towels, affixing to car door handles to get victims sick, when touched to remove, so they can incapacitate and rob them.

Clever little bastards are coming up with more and more ways to victimize others.

So this is what I saw when, after leaving the Pain Cave on Friday, I stuck out my hand to open the passenger side door to drop in the water bottle and gym bag.

Nah, no way was my initial thought, but I didn’t touch it. I just took a photo, then went to the driver side door instead.

And no ... I didn’t even consider calling the cops. For one, if I didn’t call the cops about a guy walking down the street with a machete, I wasn’t going to call ‘em about a possible chemical laced paper towel, especially when it might have been a situation of the high wind blowing a harmless paper towel there.

Besides, I was in a hurry to get back to the complex, claim my seat at bingo before the room got too crowded.

Later that day, I went down to the car with my grabber tool, removed the tissue and tossed it in the trash.

The tissue was pretty well jammed into the handle, took some effort with the grabber to pull it lose.

So, no way was it placed there by the wind.

At any rate, if this happens again, I’ll know something nefarious is definitely up.

In other news, around 5:30 yesterday evening, hearing my name being called, I peered out the patio window and saw Red Light. She yelled up that she wanted me to meet her at the bottom of the stairs, that she had something for me.

She can’t climb stairs, so I trot down to see what’s up.

"Happy early Valentine’s Day!" says she and hands me a container.

In the container are seven very large strawberries, hand dipped in Ghirardelli chocolate by herself.

Oooooh goodie, thought I sarcastically as I plastered a fake joyous look on my face and thanked her profusely.

I am not a good liar and I absolutely hate having to fake emotions in order to not hurt someone’s feelings, but she seemed so proud and so happy to be able to do this for me.

Bless her heart, she actually said, "I finally found something I can make for you that you can eat".

This because she and Baker are aways asking what they can make special for me to eat snack time at bingo, and I always have said not to worry about me, I’ll bring my own snack.

So, when Red Light saw me eat that chocolate dipped strawberry at bingo she thought ... finally something she could make special for me.

I’m in for it now.

She’ll probably be bringing special strawberries for me all the time now, which I’ll have to put on a fake smile, lie my appreciation and pretend to have eaten.

Just thinking about it is giving me a headache, but maybe this will be a one-time Valentine Day thing.

I’ll find out on Friday the 24th, as that’s the date of our next bingo game.

Still A Mystery

During the week, one of the tv stations did an update on the guy that left a human jawbone at the PD.

Bottom line … it’s still a mystery, a closed case mystery for now.

Yesterday was Bingo Friday. The Black Witch graced us with her presence.

If you will recall, the "Black Witch" is the long-time resident who joined us in October, bullied Red Light, then tried to bully me.

I can’t abide a bully, so we got into it with me threatening to make a voodoo doll and putting a curse on her.

She either decided not to risk the voodoo curse, or maybe it was because I stood up to her and she’s not accustomed to that, but either way she made a point of staying out of my way yesterday. Instead of sitting with her best friend in the complex, who was seated at the table next to mine, she chose to sit at the opposite end of the room.

Honky dory fine by me because I was prepared to take up where we’d left off had she’d started any of her nonsense.

My little stalker also was in attendance. Walked in with Grandma Talker and though looking dead at me managed to control herself.

Evidently, Talker has given granddaughter instructions to give me some breathing space, look but don't touch.

Little stalker now needs to have that same talk with grandma because, making the rounds, Talker stopped at my table, chatted me up and snuck in a hug before heading off.

Occasionally, as games were being played and in between, I saw little stalker turn around in her chair to look at me, see what I was doing.

What I was doing was pretending not to see her looking, avoiding eye contact so as to not encourage her to run over.

At one point during the break, while grandma was otherwise occupied and grandma’s best friend in the complex, seated with them, wasn't paying attention, I heard little stalker say, "I’ve got to show Shirley" and she ran over to show me the goodies she’d scored at the desert table.

I made the appropriate oohs, awes, and she skipped away happy.

Food served at the break were cookies, cupcakes, strawberries dipped in chocolate.

I’ve been off strawberries ever since seeing that TikTok video, but it looked so delish that I took a chance, and my gut was doing okay with it ….. until someone said the strawberries had been purchased at Walmart and Red Light had dipped them in Ghirardelli chocolate herself whereupon my gut began to rebel.

I knew it was more a mental reaction than a gut episode because the thought of eating food purchased at Walmart creeps me out — for no reason other than it just does, and I’d vowed never to eat anything coming out of Red Light’s unit after that time I saw how dark and depressing her kitchen was. Once I processed what I’d just been told, realized my gut was reacting not to the strawberries but the information, I told myself it was psychosomatic, not real, and my gut immediately settled down.

Once again, I won not a single game, just like last time and the time before, but it occurred to me the reason why is that our bingo has become so popular that the room is now packed. If you don’t arrive early, chances are you’ll be scrambling for a seat, which is great the event is going so well.

Flip side is that with so many in attendance, odds of winning goes down. I’m frequently one number away on multiple cards when someone else yells BINGO!

Activity Director’s Tuesday bingo games are not going as well. Red Light and Baker are still trying to help AD out by encourage residents to attend.

The ladies tell me AD is supposedly hosting a Valentine’s Day Party next Tuesday.

I’m not trusting it to be a party, but not wanting to miss a good one if so, I said I’d casually walk by, peek in the door and, if it looked to be the dud I expect, I’ll just keep moving.