You know what that means.
Yep, it's gonna be May.
It’s Bingo Friday which meant, in order to beat Hell on Wheels (formerly Wheelchair Lady — Thanks Paranormal John for this moniker) from taking my preferred seating spot, I did my grocery shopping before working out, rather than after, so I could head straight back to the Community Room, hopefully beat her to the seat.
Topic on everyone’s tongue was management’s handling of the paving project.
An update was posted to our doors yesterday afternoon. The project is to take 7 days.
Obviously, a 7 day hotel stay is out of the question for me, but it does appear the complaints have had an impact as now the plan is "Day 1: No vehicle will be allowed in the property".
The other days of the project look to be helter-skelter, with sections open for parking, like last time, except not exactly like last time.
Instead of having to move my car once, as work progressed from one side of the complex to the other last time, this plan looks more like a combination of musical chairs and merry-go-round for five days.
Residents will be required to find parking based on the work to be done — "Repairs: 1. Parking lot will be closed; 2. South end parking lot closed; 3. North end parking lot closed Sealing and Striping: 8. Parking lot closed by buildings J, H, G, F, E, D; 9. Parking lot closed by buildings J, K, L, N, O, Leasing Office; 10. Parking lot closed by buildings A, B, C, D, Leasing Office".
Suffice it to say, us residents are confused.
Heading to bingo I asked one resident, that has two cars, what he was going to do.
"I don’t know. They didn’t tell me my spot to park. I got this sheet that says 1, but I don’t know where that is".
Some of us are way more confused than others.
Then, running into Talker, I asked what her plans are for her car.
"We can’t park here at all on Monday?" she asked sounding incredulous.
When I affirmed we can’t park here, she said, "I’ll get up early and go visiting".
She didn’t seem to get that she can’t go visiting, then return later in the day. That the plan is no vehicles allowed back in until the following day.
Conversations in the Community Room didn't go much better.
The Baker tried to get those confused to understand that Monday is May 1 and they cannot park on the premises. Whereupon, Hell on Wheels got argumentative, said "NO! It's Wednesday. May 1 is Wednesday. No parking on Wednesday" and kept overtalking those who were telling her she was wrong.
I chimed in with "Let’s just play bingo and leave her to subject herself to getting her vehicle towed" — even though I realized she shouldn't be talking because she’s in a wheelchair, supposedly can’t walk, drive, doesn’t even have a car.
It’s all too much for me. I’m sure some of us seniors (probably me) are going to get confused and end up with our cars towed.
I wasn’t able to get a good night’s sleep last evening. Woke up at 1:50 a.m. thinking about a hotel nearby for Sunday night, return Tuesday morning and hassling for parking the next five days.
Sleepless and needing to firm up a plan of my own, I got online but, instead of looking for a hotel, I researched places to store cars.
Found a few private garages in rundown back yards that looked dirty, sketchy and not close enough for me to walk back/forth.
Then I ran across a facility that stores vehicles @ $360.50 by the month.
The Universe was looking out for me because the facility is around the corner from the Pain Cave, a few blocks down, in an area that’s safe enough to walk back/forth to in daylight hours, so long as you keep your wits about you and pepper spray handy.
After bingo, I drove down to check it out and immediately signed up.
The facility is gated, access is by use of a code. The car pod is clean and roomy.
I signed up for a month and was given a key lock for the pod.
Seems like a good safe place and all to store the car for 7 days, but doesn’t mean much considering the wily criminals we have operating these days, but I’ve got inurance and will take my chances.
I locked the car up then and there, hiked back to the complex feeling like Walking Dead's Michonne, ready for battle, with a taser in one pocket, pepper spray in the other, and carrying that walking stick with the weapon tip.
It was in September 2019 when management notified us of asphalt repairs and resurfacing of the parking areas. We were given a map and detailed information as to which quads would have to move their cars as work proceeded.
And so it went that we’d move our cars around the property, out of the way, as section by section the work proceeded and dared not move our car that day for fear of not finding a place to park later.
It was kind of a hassle, but doable.
Management is very concerned with how the outside of the property looks. They don’t give a care about repairs that need to be done inside the units — as one resident recently said to me, "It takes an arm and a leg to get something fixed"; to which I added "And when they do fix something, Bozo (head maintenance guy) makes it worse rather than better".
It's because they're cheap. Have instructions from Corporate to keep maintenance costs down.
So it was that, after the paving project was completed, even Stevie Wonder could have seen the job was shoddy — due to cheap labor, cheap materials no doubt.
Now here we are barely four years later and management, being obsessed with outward appearances, has notified us of yet another round of resurfacing and asphalt repairs.
I'm no expert, but I'm guessing it shouldn't look this bad from wear so soon.
So, anyway, going cheap on the first job is costing them double, but the problem is ... this time we’ve been told "During this period, you will not be able to park your vehicle on the property".
The plan is for them to take a few days in May, repair/resurface the entire parking areas and "We’re sorry for the inconvenience, but please make the necessary arrangements to be prepared since you will not be able to park your vehicle inside the premises".
Thing is … there is no street parking in this area and no parking lots.
There’s talk about leaving cars parked on the corner market parking lot.
As many cars as there are on this complex, I think market management would notice a sudden influx of cars and balk at it. Not to mention, cars would be subject to theft and vandalism at that location.
Market shoppers, even some of the employees, have had their cars broken into during broad light. So, I can’t image how cars left day and night for two/three days would fare.
There's talk about parking on the market lot then sleeping in the car to protect it. Which is still no guarantee of preventing theft, vandalism, and adds possible harm to self into the mix.
Other options I’m hearing folks talking about are leaving their cars on the complex, in the way of the paving project, knowing management will have towed away. They feel it safer to let the car sit in a tow yard two/three days, go through the expense of towing fees to get their car back.
Next Door Neighbor is thinking of turning her car into the dealer for service, leaving it there until she can park on the complex again.
That’s not a bad idea. My jeep is up for service, and I would feel okay about not picking it up right away; but the dealer is a long way away from here. How do I get home after dropping it off for service?
I don’t know how to Uber.
I suppose I could learn how to utilize Uber, but then I abhor having to depend on other people, and Uber would require me to depend on someone other than myself to get me to where I need to go. That would be from the dealer back to the complex after I drop the car off for servicing then, two/three days later, from the complex back to the dealer.
I’m thinking my best option is to move out for a few days — go to a hotel until the paving project is completed.
A hotel along the Hospitality Lane Strip — a city or so over, would not be too expensive. I wouldn't have to worry about where to safely park the car, and that area is close enough that I could drive back/forth to keep my workout schedule. Downside is there's nothing really to do in that area but eat and drink and I can do neither.
So, unless management changes their minds about kicking us to the curb and decide to do sections again, my plan is to book a hotel in Long Beach where I can go sightseeing, walk the beach path, spend time with Twin 1 (if she's in town and not travelling on her feed the homeless thing), stop by granddaughter's place and play with the Great Grandson.
Booking in Long Beach is way more expensive than booking nearby and, of course, it would interfere with my workout schedule, but at least I’d have fun things to do, so that may be my best bet.
After all the complaints that have been lodged, hopefully management will give us a break and go back to working in sections.
I doubt it because, once again, I think this action is cheap related — paying for two/three days of a crew working, rather than the four/five it previously took.
At any rate, I hope the next notice — the one telling us to get out, gives sufficient time for me to pull out my luggage, pack a few hotel meals, get out of dodge.
Then there's the fact Management often prepares for things to happen on date specific around here — like an inspection, THEN for one reason or another it doesn't happen, the date gets changed.
Consequently, worst case scenario, even if I do prepare for a hotel, hit the road night before given morning, return in three/four days, there's a possibility the paving job did not begin that next morning, the dates changed and I've returned in the middle of the project, still can't get back on the lot.
What to do, what to do? How to circument this madness?
It was back in August of 2020 when, driving over the small mountain road with an S-Curve that leads in and out of my area, I saw what I thought were big fluffy white giant flowers growing on the mountain.
The flowers turned out to be sheep, which I later learned were being used as lawnmowers — chew the dry brush and weeds to the ground to prevent another fire on the mountain.
Being a city girl, unfamiliar with farm animals, returning from a blood draw yesterday, I saw animals grazing on the mountain again.
They didn’t look like big fluffly flowers, so I’m fairly certain they’re goats this time.
A guy came along and instead of continuing down the mountain, finding a place to turn around, come back and park over in the vacant debris strewn area, as I did, he stopped in the middle of traffic.
It’s a blind curve. He could have been unalived.
As I’m trying to get back on the road, head down and turn around to get back to the complex, along comes a guy who was lucky enough to be on the side of the road that has the vacant area. He too pulled in to see the unusual sight.
We had a brief conversation with his asking me what, why, how.
After making my way out of the debris strewn area — unsuccessfully trying to avoid items that would damage my tires, once down that side of the mountain, I turned around, headed to the complex and saw that last guy had also exited his car to enjoy the sight ... safely.
When I head out later this morning for today's workout, I hope I don’t find any of the tires have gone flat or sprung a slow leak, but I’d rather have risked a tire than stop in the middle of the road and risk bodily injury like that first guy did.
No golden parachute for this bozo.
And no soft landing into another gig.
In other news ...... Standing in line outside Assistant Manager’s door yesterday afternoon, with a group of residents waiting to turn in requested paperwork to get a new parking permit, I peered into the Game Room to see if the book I’d donated to our Library last month was still on the shelf.
The book (by George Dawson, son of slaves) is now in the hands of someone with a stronger constitution than I. Someone not so easily triggered as I when reading, in the first few pages, how a white girl’s lies caused an innocent Black man to be beaten by a racist mob and unalived by hanging.
I wonder if people who committed those kinds of atrocities, based on racial hatred, ever felt guilt or shame or regret?
Probably not and, since I don't believe in hell, but believe we transition into another life, they've somehow shapeshifted into those living amongst us now who still harbor that kind of hatred. The kind of people who shoot to kill when they see a Black face knocking on their door looking to pick up his siblings at the wrong address, the kind of people who shoot at a Black Fedex driver they feel doesn't belong in their neighborhood, so on and so forth.
Oh, well. I'll file these thoughts under reasons why I don't want to save the planet.
As for why us residents are being issued new parking permits …… a few weeks ago, as I was logging in miles around the complex, I saw a corporate looking guy walking around, with a clipboard, looking at the back of cars and writing stuff down.
I knew something was up, not sure what, but I’d guessed he was checking to make sure all cars parked on the premise had a permit, updated registration sticker and I was equally sure he found quite a few that had neither.
Sure enough, attached to our doors yesterday morning was a notice saying "New parking permits will be issued. All open parking spaces will no longer be assigned. Please come to the Leasing Office to receive your new parking sticker by Monday, May 1. Vehicle registration and insurance are required".
In order to weed out those cars which are not in compliance with having proper insurance and registration, they're issuing new permits AND, if you don't have one, you are SOL and will lose your ride — get towed.
As for doing away with assigned parking spots, fortunately I pay extra for a carport, but those with a free assigned parking spot are fit to be tied that they will have to now scramble for parking.
I don’t see the logic of aggravating the seniors thusly, that is unless the problem is there’s not enough parking spots for the number of residents who have cars OR it could be Corporate just wants to bring in more money by putting residents in the position of where, if they don’t want to scramble, they'll have to pay for a carport or garage.
I’m leaning toward their motive being the latter.
It’s that time again. Spring has sprung and once again it’s a battle with the birds.
Around this time every year, for the eleven years of living here, I’ve successfully discouraged birds from moving into the highly desirable property which is way too close to my living space and access to the patio storage area — the eaves over to the side.
Though I’ve managed to keep birds from squatting in that prime space, they’ve outsmarted me and moved to nesting overhead, somewhere in the decorative roof tiles where I can neither see or reach, but they leave me droppings to clean up every single day to let me know they’re there.
Nothing I can do about that, but the battle continues to prevent nesting in the prime real estate area they all seem to want. All of last week, I caught birds eyeing that spot and chased them away by opening the screen door — the sound of which scared ‘em off. That is until a particularly stubborn couple kept coming back — determined to nest there.
It was a battle that lasted for days, as I’d opened the screen, scared them away, they’d fly off, sometimes for a few seconds, sometimes for hours, but inevitably return.
They’d catch me preoccupied with crafting inside, away at the Pain Cave or market and start bringing in supplies for a nest.
Not too smart, though I, inasmuch as the screen door opening/closing signaled I’m living much too close to where they were determined to nest, but I guess they figured once they became squatters — built the nest, lay eggs, they could lay claim and that would be that.
I thought about it — let them move in, that it might be interesting to see the nesting process, baby birds popping up, learning to fly; but then again there would be all kinds of bird and insect mess piling up on that side of the patio, plus the birds living there would attract those dreaded lizards, not to mention the annoying early morning cooing the parents would make, the chirp chirp chirp that babies would make, so no. You can’t build there I kept telling them, go nest elsewhere while there’s still time to find another location.
Did they listen?
They just kept coming back.
After a particularly vexing day of chasing them off, I had the bright idea that something was needed to seal the opening so they’d be forced to squat elsewhere. But what to put up there and how to reach it.
What I came up with isn’t pretty — and neither is the fact that the video I’m about to show you is cloudy because the patio window needs cleaning, but with the use of the grabber, that stylish looking walking stick I recently purchased and a couple grocery bags, I managed to end the war with the birds. They’ve not returned these last two days, but it wasn’t like they didn’t fuss and fume, with many flyovers inspecting the hindrance, and try to find a workaround before they realized there was no room at this inn and gave up.
So, there’s that.
Also of note is that around 6:00 this afternoon, there was a knock knock knock at the door.
If you guessed it was my little stalker, you guessed correctly.
"Are you back from San Diego?" asked I.
"Just visiting" said she and gave me a hug — which I didn’t mind since I’d had a couple weeks to breath. Not the continuous knock knock knock.
"Your GG really missed you", I said.
"Everyone missed me", she replied.
ROFLMAO! Modest little thing isn’t she.
Feeling cheated that No. 45 didn’t take a mug shot, thereby depriving me of a tee shirt with that image, I purchased the next best thing.
It will go well with that previous purchase.
Rather than the usual auto generated thank you at the time of purchase, the seller sent me a personalized note saying she grew up in Highland, a hop skip jump from here.
I thought that was such a nice gesture that I replied how interesting it is that she used to be a neighbor of sort, that I was sure I’d enjoy the cup once it arrived and I was looking forward to the day I’d be purchasing a cup that says, "I love when I wake up and Trump is in Prison".
Her reply …… "That is a PERFECT idea for a mug--Thank you!!!! I will make that one this week and send a note once I have."
It’s a little too soon for such a cup, and there's no certainty it will happen, but if she makes that cup, I will buy and add to the collection just the same.
I happened to be in the right place in the unit at the right time yesterday and spotted the new resident (guy living in the bad energy unit) heading for the Laundry Room.
I’d previously asked his downstairs neighbor (Red Light) about him, saying that I never see him out and about, doubted he spent much time there, but she said she could hear him walking around overhead all the time.
If you will recall, Red Light heard someone or some thing walking around in the unit after the previous resident moved out — when the unit was vacant. So, her hearing footsteps was not necessarily meaningful.
After seeing him with my own two eyes, I can report that, after almost three months in, he appears to be hale and hearty.
Talker is conflicted. She still plans on relocating to San Diego to be with the little stalker, but she was sitting in the courtyard last week and saw a woman carrying a box, moving in.
Small Word, as the woman turned out to be Talker’s childhood friend. She says they grew up together, the two families at one time lived together.
So now she’s conflicted. Seeing Childhood Friend’s moving in as a sign has her asking God, "Why are you doing this to me?"
She wants to be with the little stalker but, now that Childhood Friend is living here, she wants to be with her as well.
I’ve not a clue as to how this will all pan out, but I’m beginning to see Talker has a co-dependent personality. She always has to have someone in her life — a best friend in the complex with whom she’s always out and about with, her great granddaughter to spend time with, and now Childhood Friend to add to the entourage.
I've always disliked that song "People Who Need People" because the lyrics "Are the luckiest people in the world" trouble my spirit.
Wanting others in one's life and enjoying the company of others is one thing, but not being able to be alone, enjoy one's own company, and the lyric "You were half now you're whole" speaking of co-dependency, the needing others as a distraction from self does not seem lucky at all to me, but sad.
But that's just me, my two cents, and may be why I like Miley Cyrus' song so much that I'm reposting.
We’re going to have to start taking reservations for seating, as our little bingo game has been growing by leaps and bounds.
In fact, after Wheelchair Lady took my preferred seat last time, said “I’M SITTING HERE!” even after others at the table told her “That’s where Shirley sits”, Upstairs Lady (the resident who has problems with her legs and should have gotten that downstairs unit) set up a water bottle and miscellaneous other objects to prevent Wheelchair Lady from taking the seat at the opposite end of our table, a seat she was saving for her friend.
To ensure I myself got my preferred seat this time, I changed my schedule of popping into the market after the morning’s workout, then heading to bingo after unloading groceries and instead headed straight back to the complex, changed clothes, headed to the Community Room and arrived not five minutes before Wheelchair Lady rolled herself in.
Looks like she and I will be playing this cat/mouse game again — who’s gets there first, as she didn’t look none too pleased I’d beaten her to where she now wants to sit.
Next time I think I’ll head straight to the Community Room after working out, put my water bottle and bag in my preferred seating spot, then head upstairs to change clothes. However, I won't be surprised if Wheelchair Lady arrives an hour early to foil my plan to outwit her, LOL.
It’s getting to be survivor of the fastest. Battle of the seats.
Truth be known, no one actually wants to sit with Wheelchair Lady. She’s bossy, spoiled, has shown herself to be competitive — as witnessed by the fact that when she won a game, called Bingo, another wheelchair resident simultaneously won, called Bingo and when both headed to the prize table, Wheelchair lady spun her wheelchair away from the table so fast that it was almost a blur, and sped to get to the prize table first. Even gloated to the other wheelchair lady, "HA! I beat you".
As for being spoiled ... because she’s in a chair, we often cater to her — bring whatever is being served at the break to her so she doesn’t have to struggle getting to.
Observing the speed in which she turned that chair around to get to the prize table first, I’m now beginning to think the struggle is an act.
Upstairs Lady did tell us, a few bingo games ago, Wheelchair Lady can walk, that she’s seen her walk and actually used the word "hate" — said she can’t stand Wheelchair Lady, hates her because she uses her disability to play the princess while she, Upstairs Lady, doesn’t ask or want anyone to do for her when, even though it’s a struggle, she can do for herself … just as she says Wheelchair Lady could if she wanted to and should.
I don’t disbelieve Upstairs Lady when she says Wheelchair Lady can walk, so I’ve been on the lookout for signs of that.
I did notice she was wearing pretty nice sturdy looking walking shoes when she rolled in yesterday, which begs the thought that if you are confined to a wheelchair, can’t walk, why would you be dressed in sturdy walking shoes.
So anyway, along with our bingo game growing by leaps and bounds, so are the seedlings Activity Director showed me how to start a few weeks ago.
After adding Audrey to the Wildflower Mixture lineup, the kitchen windowsill wasn’t working for me and my little buddha figurines, so I moved Audrey and the wildflowers to the bedroom window.
Audrey is not doing as well as the other seedlings. She was looking a little peaked and down to her last mouth.
Upstairs Lady was also in Activity Director’s seedlings class and tells me nothing has yet to sprout for her. So, inasmuch as my two wildflower seedlings seem to want to grow here, I’ve decided to keep them and gave a corner of the patio to them ... and Audrey. A corner that won’t interfere with my Holiday decorating and which gives them a little shelter when the sun is unrelenting.
This being outdoors gives Audrey a fighting chance to survive, capture the bugs she needs that I’m not prepared to capture and feed to her.
I hope she gets those little gnats that seem to like hanging around the screen door, pestering me when I walk outside.
My other plants — the vegetable seedlings, also are growing by leaps and bounds.
Though I started Radish, Hot Pepper, Jelly Bean Hybrid Tomatoes, I don’t know which is which because, wanting to be surprised by what grew, I didn’t put an identifying stick in the pot.
Now that I’ve a vertical planter outside, I’m thinking that, before the day is over, I’ll add another layer and move the veggie seedlings outside as well.
In a way, I'm a little sorry I ever got started with these plants as I don't need another hobby and the watering/replanting is a bit of work, not to mention that plant food might be the next issue I have to consider.
But they're here now, so .......................
After a week of near perfect weather, here we are again with a dark gloomy rainy day.
I lucked up in that today was not a workout day, so I’ve been able to stay indoors, not go anywhere, do anything outside of the unit.
Thus far, it’s been a quiet week here on the complex.
Except for running into the Talker, Painted Rock Lady and Not Dead Nancy when I was out putting in walking miles around the complex on the sunny days, I’ve not interacted with any of the other neighbors.
Painted Rock Lady has been in and out of the hospital last few weeks, looks pale and weak, Not Dead Nancy has snagged herself a new man — probably met him at the casino and, as I’d surmised, Talker is making plans to move to San Diego.
Talker tells me my little stalker is calling her several times a day, can’t do anything without her and is not happy with her parents.
The constant calls are complaining that mom won’t do this, dad didn’t do that. Snitching because she’s not getting what she wants and asking Talker to "come get me".
That gave me some insight as to why it was the little stalker spent so much time here on the complex. It wasn’t that Talker was babysitting, more like it was stalker, displeased with her parents because they didn’t let her have her way as Talker did, asked GG Talker to pick her up.
So anyway, Talker said she explained to stalker that it’s not like she can just drive over, pick her up like before, because San Diego is too far, but that she will be joining her soon.
The plan is … stalker’s parents have moved into a big house, offered Talker the upstairs, and the handicapped brother Talker takes care of a room.
Talker says she really likes it here, but wants to be with her great granddaughter.
I really admire families like that — families that can co-exist together, pool their resources.
I’ve often lamented my not having that kind of family, and not just this generation, but my mother, brothers and sister as well — all of whom transitioned out of this life a long time ago.
We currently have like six individual family members struggling — some homeless, some about to be and none can put egos aside and work together, don’t even like or trust each other — judging by past experiences with and observations of, there are good reasons for the dislike and lack of trust in some instances, not so much in others.
So, anyway, we all are tasked with doing the best we can in navigating our way through this thing called life, so it is what it is.
Tomorrow is a workout day and Bingo Friday, so hopefully the weather will be better as I’ve places to go things to do.
So sayeth the new cashier at the market when I admired the black polish on nails shaped stiletto style, and then said I also see a pair of skeleton adorned motorcycle gloves hooked to her work belt.
A goth girl in the flesh, so I further inquired, "Your name wouldn’t happen to be Wednesday?"
"No, but my dog's name is".
How fun. She and I could be friends, but can you imagine chasing your runaway dog in the neighborhood, calling out "Wednesday, Wednesday, come here girl". LOL.
As to why she and I could be friends ... It’s only April, but I’ve already decided my Halloween costume this year is to be goth girl Wednesday Addams. I’ve already purchased the dress, wig, stripped stockings, and a Thing Hand. Had planned on my usual red fingernail polish, but am now thinking Black nails, lips painted green.
As for why I’m thinking about Halloween so soon …… like Goth cashier said — it’s a lifestyle, my favorite Holiday, and I’m always thinking ahead as to what to wear next for the sure to come costumed events.
Thanks to Saturday’s acupuncture treatment, this morning’s workout was a good one. Nothing hurt when I walked in, nothing hurt when I walked out, and I was once again able to go through the resistance band pulls and curls.
Doesn’t mean the shoulder will ever be 100% healed from the long-ago torn rotator cuff damage (in fact the acupuncturist asked that I bring an x-ray of the shoulder next time), doesn’t mean it won’t once again bother me when the weather turns cold, it just means I’m good for now, or as good as I'm going to get as a 79 year old at this stage of the game.
Granddaughter had me laughing when she said, "I don't think normal aging people pull muscles at a boxing gym. You pretty much only get sports injuries".
So far, that's true. I take my licking, no pain no gain, and keep on ticking.
Hush money to doorman?
A secret love child?
That was some good fresh tea, as I sat glued to the tube watching yesterday’s proceedings — popcorn and coffee in hand for the show.
You can bet that social media and genealogists are on the hunt for the who what when and where of that hot tea.
Didn’t see 45’s comeback — heard pundits speak of it and learned it wasn’t televised on the channels I looked for because he, as expected, did go off the rails with the same old tired act of lies and threats.
So trite, that I can’t believe his base can’t see the ridiculousness of it all, but at least he and they continue to be the gifts that keeps on giving — funny memes and spoofs. Like this one I ran into on TikTok last night.
Today, it was back to a normal weekday — a workout followed by an event ... cookie decorating in the Community Room.
I chose a cookie from a bunny bottom decorating kit, lay it in a bed of shredded coconut dyed green, to give it the effect of sticking out of a field of green grass.
Upstairs Lady — the resident who has problems with her legs and should have gotten that downstairs unit, had me rolling.
She was really stuffing her face — eating cookies and cupcakes plain before she decorated them, ate cookies/cupcakes as she decorated them, so on and so on and never stopped stuffing her face.
We had plenty, so no one cared. It was the reason WHY that tickled everyone.
Her daughter has been trying to get her to lose weight, has her on a diet actually, so she couldn’t take anything with her back to the unit to enjoy at leisure. So, she was using the event as an opportunity to scarf down as much as she could away from the well-meaning eyes of her daughter.
I’ve seen similar at bingo.
Residents say their children take them grocery shopping, won’t let them buy sweets for health reasons so, when they win, they select candy from the prize table, hide it from their children, just like when their children were young and hid forbitten sweets from their well-meaning parents.
Yesterday it was Spring outside with birds chirping, those dreaded lizards crossing my path as I put in walking miles around the complex. I even saw a Road Runner — the second one spotted in recent days.
Today is cold, dark, gloomy, wet outside.
It’s a workout day, so I have no choice but to suit up, head out into it.
Oh well. I guess this is the new normal for us Californians.
The Activity Calendar indicates "Easter Crafts" for tomorrow, but tomorrow is Arraignment Day and I’m going to be glued to the tube, watching No. 45 get finger printed, mug shot, and his supporters having hissy fits.
Heading back to the complex after dropping off those items at the donation center on Saturday, I passed a Target, decided to stop in, pick up a few sundries.
The checkout line was insanely long because there was only one line, one cashier on duty. The line was halfway down the length of the store.
With nothing else to do, I was patient, watched the lone cashier admirably handle the stress, all the while just knowing another line would open as soon as I reached the cashier.
Murphy’s Law … It did.
Finally reaching the cashier, I commented on her handling of being a Lone Ranger. She smiled, seemed friendly enough ..... that is until her eyes went to my tee shirt.
Of course, I’ve been wearing it every time I’m out and about, as a subliminal suggestion being implanted in the universal subconscious mind to lock him up.
Evidently, the cashier is a supporter. Did not get the message, did not appreciate it because her jawline got tight, and her friendly open manner was replaced with angry resting itch face.
"You can’t put someone in jail because you don’t like him!", snapped she between clinched teeth.
Highly amused, I replied "You can if he commits a crime” — (Crimes, plural, in this guy’s case).
Man did THAT comeback ruin her day.
If her big arse could have jumped the counter, she’d have gone all crazy Karen on me, but she held it together with "I’m at work, so don’t get me started!"
"We’ll see how it plays out and I’ll check with you next time I’m in here" said I as I walked away with a smile.
The anger on her face must have been readily apparent to the customer behind me, because I heard that customer say something to the effect, "What was that about?" and I heard the cashier say, "Her tee-shirt" then couldn't make out the rest as she continued to vent.
That was fun, so you can bet I will go out of my way to revisit that specific Target, wear that shirt.
Actually, my heart bleeds a little for the cashier because, being a member of the MAGA (Making Attorneys Get Attorneys) group, it must be torture that she works at a Target in a predominately Hispanic area. People of color coming through her line all day, not many or any who would dare come through wearing one of those red hats.
I haven't seen nor heard from my buddy Apache since, banned from entering, he was last lurking around at the gate a few months ago; but I can imagine, being the ardent supporter he is, that he's somewhere out there foaming at the mouth.
BTW, if 45 does land in jail, will his secret service detail go with him?
Asking for a friend.
This post started with my saying the week ended on a high note because we’ve had more sun than rain, bingo for April is back on, No. 45 has been indicted or, as he whined "indicated", I had an energy burst after yesterday’s workout and cleared the closet of clothing stored in four clear plastic containers — the items I couldn’t let go of when I purged the closet back in March of last year AND, this being end of the week, my Little Stalker was well on her way to San Diego.
At least that’s how this post started off.
Not that the week did not end on a high note. It’s just that there was a moment when it looked like a monkey wrench had been tossed in when, along about 10 a.m. this morning, as I began typing, there was a knock knock knock on the door.
Is this an April Fool’s Joke?, thought I as I opened the door knowing who I’d see standing there.
No joke. It was my Little Stalker.
Her GG Talker yelled up that "She’s leaving and wanted to say goodbye".
Cue sigh of relief as I said "Ohhh, you’re leaving" and gave her a hug when she said yes, waived goodbye at the door, went back downstairs, waived goodbye again, then rode off on her little scooter.
Hopefully, she’s not going to travel all the way to San Diego by scooter.
So that saga having come to an end, I imagine future posts will be a bit hum drum.
Like posting about yesterday’s clutter management project, where I went through every piece of clothing I’d been holding onto since I last attempted clutter management.
I tried each item on and, if it didn’t look right on me — for one reason or another, placed the item in a donation pile.
A handful of pieces, I didn’t know why I’d stored in the first place, and hung them back up into rotation.
There was one leather top I’d been holding onto for more years than I can remember, in hopes I’d one day fit back into it. I got my left arm through easy enough, my right arm as well and thinking that at last I could put back into rotation pulled it down over the girls where it tightened, locked, turned into a straight jacket.
No matter how I tried, I could not get it back up over the girls and, with no give in the leather, I couldn’t squeeze either arm out.
Sadly, I had to get the scissors and cut myself out before I suffocated.
So anyway, now that the pandemic is, if not over at least has slowed somewhat, Salvation Army is once again accepting clothing donations, and will be getting some pretty nice pieces — except for the leather top. Some pieces never worn, still had the tags on.
Of course, emptying four containers of jeans, jackets, sweatshirts, tops, leggings isn’t going to help me achieve the Environmentally Sustainable Wardrobe Debra blogged about because, having been stored away, I didn’t include those items in the count.
Anxious to donate the items before I changed my mind and began taking some back, I drove to the Donation Center after Stalker interrupted my typing.
The place was buzzing with car after car after car dropping off donations.
I heard the guys talking about how much had come in, with one guy saying, "It’s the first of April, people are anxious to make room for more stuff".
"Wrong", said I. "I don’t want more stuff. I want even less than I still have".
"Oh, we know you’re going to go inside and start buying some of the stuff back", said one of the guys.
Just between us, I've never been inside the donation center. Never even thought about buying from, just donating to.
Curious now ... next time I drop off, I may go inside just to satisfy my now curious self.
So anyway, as I got in the car to leave, I saw a woman drop off something that looked really interesting and asked the guys if I could take a picture.
I’ve only seen stuff like that in old movies. However, as one of the guys pointed out, it’s not Vintage but a Crosley because, in addition to the record player on top, it has a cd player on one side and a cassette player in front.
Still a cool item, but not one that I’d have room for. Especially since my end game is to simplify, live with less, not more.
As for No. 45 ... after being let down on last Tuesday’s indictment day that didn't happen, this coming Tuesday’s arraignment day is kind of anti climatic, but I'll take it.
Perhaps it will be like the Murdock situation where, once Karma finally caught up with Murdock, those who previously feared his powerful family were less afraid and began doing their jobs of digging up bodies, investigating the "suspicious deaths" they were well aware of before but let slide because of the then powerful Murdock family.
So maybe this Tuesday's arraignment will open the door for prior bad acts to come in, bury the guy.
I do like what Megan McCain had to say in referencing the insult 45 once hurled at her father that "I like peple who aren't captured". Megan wrote in a tweet, "I like people who aren’t indicted".