A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

Another week has come and gone with no outrageous tales of the complex to report. It appears the excessive heat has taken the spit and vinegar out of us. I know it’s taking a toll on me.

But for the fact I’m committed to working out with Trainer three days a week, I’d not leave my unit until summer is over. I’d have groceries delivered and let errands that take me outside fall by the wayside.

I’m doing my best to avoid keeping up with what’s going on in the political scene. My goal is to stay in the moment, remain calm by focusing on the now moment, cast my vote when the time comes and be done with it, rather than obsess and worry on a daily basis until then. However, there are occasions when something political jump up and grab me by surprise before I can look away.

Such was the case when Painted Rock Lady (PRL — the the sweet old lady who brightens the complex up with rocks she hand paints) began spouting cruelties about Joe’s age on Facebook.

A lot of nerves, thought I, inasmuch as she’s no spring chicken herself — pushing herself around on a walker, strapped as she is to breathing equipment.

Surprised me it did to learn PRL is part of the cult, but everyone is entitled to their own opinion so I refrained from reacting to her posts; EXCEPT, her cruel words caused me to view her in a different light.

Suffice it to say, she will not be my plus-one at this year’s Breakfast with Santa as she was last year, and that was that.

UNTIL, PRL yesterday crossed the line by posting a prayer for Old Diaper Ear — beseeching/bothering God with "protecting him from his enemies".

That got some push back ………

One person commented "PROTECT THE DEVIL?!... LOL".

Another commented "Bull 💩".

PRL countered with "Just praying that the Lord keeps him safe. If you don’t agree with my post than you are not a Christian. I will pray for you as well".

Wowza!

Of course that brought up a counter comment to her counter "So what your saying is a Christian goes around raping and molesting minors... incites violence in his country he "loves" so much! Commits fraud and infidelity in his marriage. I could keep going but sorry that's NOT CHRISTIAN... we must be reading from 2 different Bibles!".

Good one, but PRL managed to counter the counter comment to her counter with, "Are you so perfect that you don’t need prayers? What minors has he molested and raped? (I guess PRL forgot about the underage girl(s) allegedly provided to him by Epstein) I will not change your mind and I am not trying to. Just pointing out that it was a prayer. I guess you don’t deserve it either but that would not be very Christian of me. So I will pray for you as well".

I gotta give it to PRL. She's holding her own, but now I'm invested and itching to add my two cents, stand up for the "not a Christian", so I shut her down with something I was certain would piss her off, especially since it was coming from me.

What PRL’s posted

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

I wasn't expecting her to comment on what I'd posted, and she didn't. But no doubt she's "praying" for me LOL, and is now no less interested in being my plus-one this year as I am in having her.

Other than that, in checking the camera when I awake in the morning, finding nothing I need concern myself about but seeing Compton’s brother step outside this morning at 12:16 a.m., 1:42 a.m., 2:13 a.m., 3:26 a.m., 4:22 a.m., walk to the end of the stairway and no further, just get to that point, look to his left, then turn and go back inside, I decided to give brother the blog name of Gandalf, because his standing at the edge reminded me of Lord of the Rings Gandalf, who so famously said "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!".

Lastly, something told me to take the pad hanging from the ear of the voodoo doll, wrap it from his uninjured ear, across his face, to cover his mouth so he can no longer speak.

You can thank me later if Old Diaper Ear suddenly loses his voice.

Oh Brother! Then There Were Two

Last week’s peace calm quiet extended through the weekend. No little knock knock knock at my door, no annoyances from Compton — which may be because I’ve not been outside to see/be seen, and the new window camera has caught him doing nothing suspicious.

Nothing "suspicious", but it is weird that he’s so active in the wee morning hours — going out when there is absolutely nowhere to go, nothing to do anywhere near this area; sometimes he steps out, stands at the edge of the stairwell doing nothing, just looking, surveying the area when there is nothing to see during those early hours.

Weird, but so long as he’s not bothering me, no longer thinking of me in terms of a MILF, I’m good with whatever else.

I was surprised that the camera footage showed it’s not just Compton living with his mom, it’s also his brother.

It was either Red Light or Next Door Neighbor who, a long long time ago, told me both sons were living with mom (Ms. Neighbor on the blog because she once gave me a Christmas Card and instead of simply writing her name added a Ms. in front of her name, which I thought presumptious. Not to mention, if you want to get jiggy with it, since it’s obvious I’m older than she, I should be the one addressed with a Ms. in front of my name). But, as I was saying, it was either Red Light or Next Door Neighbor who’d said both sons were living in that tiny one-bedroom unit with their mom.

At the time, the info went in one ear out the other because I didn’t care and, inasmuch as I'd never seen the other brother, I wasn't sure that rumor was true.

I'm now realizing I have seen the other brother, but the two look so much alike (twins maybe) that I didn’t realize it was two different sons I sometimes saw, thought it was Compton walking around without his ever present cap on; and even seeing them go in/out on the camera, I still didn’t realize it was two separate beings until I saw Compton leave, his brother step outside two/three minutes later and then, yesterday morning, seeing both of them together around 4:30 am.

I’m fairly certain the brother does not work. He rarely even steps outside and doesn’t seem to go any further than the edge of the stairway, watch Compton leave.

It’s understandable families have been forced to squad up in these difficult financial times, help each other, and I am a bit envious I don't have a family that helps each other, but this is a senior community and the estimated 597 Sq. Ft. units we’ve been allotted is barely enough space for just myself, my crafts and exercise equipment, so I can’t imagine what that unit looks like inside with two grown-ass men living with their mom.

Where do they all sleep … hang their clothes … store their body essentials?

It must be a mess down there.

Speaking of mess. I had planned to shampoo the carpet this weekend, ended up not only not shampooing but not vacuuming with plans not to vacuum for however long it took me to find my favorite tapestry needle.

On Saturday, I’d been working on that never ending needlepoint project, begun in June of ’21 with still no end in sight, when my favorite needle vanished from my fingers.

I had it one moment, the next moment it was gone and no amount of checking every nook and cranny of the canvas or crawling around on the carpet located it.

I have other tapestry needles, but that particular needle was my favorite; we’d completed many projects together, so I had no plans to shampoo or even vacuum the carpet until the needle was located, as it would have hated to hear the sound of it being sucked up by the Dyson.

Yesterday morning, when I wasn’t even thinking about looking for the needle, just knowing it would show up eventually, the light drew my attention to something shiny on the carpet.

I looked down, gasped out loud and said "There it is!"

My Precious

How the needle got so far from the canvas is a mystery — maybe stuck to my clothes and fell off when I got up to look for it, but vacuuming is back on and maybe I’ll get around to shampooing this next weekend.

When I logged into Facebook yesterday morning to play Candy Crush, I was first met with a question.

Expecting to find I was committing a fashion sin by wearing the trendy shredded denim shorts, I was ROFLMAO when I read ……

• Maxi pads on the right ear.
• Maxipad Ear covers.
• Red caps accessorized by gauze on one ear, the new swastika armband.
• Maxi pads on the ear tinged with orange foundation.
• Red hats, Ear Pads and cruddy Toupees.
• Red caps and Kotex ear bandages.
• Panty Liners as fashion accessory.
• Maxipads in places they don't belong.
• Maxipad on your ear when a butterfly bandaid would work.
• A mini pad hanging off your ear.
• Ear diapers.
• Performative bandages on completely uninjured ears.
• Ear patch
• Deer tagging own ear.

ROFLMAO! I can’t with these people 🤣

The previous day, before I even saw this question/answer posting, I'd made changes to the voodoo doll to reenforce the bad juju.

What If

Believe it or not, I’ve got nothing.

This past week has been the quietest most serene week I’ve experienced in ages.

That may be because, other than Trainer, I’ve not seen nor spoken to another individual. I also stopped watching the news, because all the political stuff was causing me to become depressed, worried, demoralized.

I’m just gonna trust the Universe, prepare myself emotionally for the worst possible outcome in November, lay low until then, keep my thoughts on it all to myself because I don’t want or need the Secret Service coming after me.

Except, I will say that inasmuch as I am not keeping up with the news, Trainer has all of a sudden taken an interest in the news and tells me the female agents are being bashed because they did not respond appropriately/quick enough.

He tells me the scuttlebutt is the females failed because, instead of the females being required to meet the same standards as the male agents in the hiring process, the standards of the position had been lowered for the females.

I don’t know how true that is, but I told Trainer the females might have hesitated because they really didn’t want to touch his body with theirs, and can you blame them because he’s so icky.

Halfway through six seasons of the Peaky Blinders on Netflix, watching how Tommy Shelby is being used and abused by those involved in the British government’s espionage program, I got all conspiracy theory Tom Clancy like and said to Trainer what if ………… what if you know who was not the target. What if the event was used as a smokescreen to take someone else out because everyone would think he was the target when, in reality, he just got in the way.

Paint Party

I was spared any interactions with Compton yesterday — did not see him hanging out in the car and, insofar as I know, he did not see me.

However, because I’ve the security cam in the window now, I did learn I was incorrect in thinking he does not work.

I got an alert that someone was within camera range around 6:30 yesterday evening, saw it was he heading out, dressed like a security guard.

I’m beginning to see a pattern here, a theme. It seems that every man I’ve lately found annoying has been a security guard; and this one wasn't initially obvious by wearing of the uniform, yet and still pushed my buttons.

I’m assuming Compton works nights.

After his mother became bored with being retired, she got into the same line of work and, inasmuch as she presents very well, she probably got him the job.

In other news, I made it down to the Community Room on Tuesday, to check out what the new Activity Director had to offer by way of Arts and Crafts. Turned out to be pre-printed canvases with ready to print designs.

Painting is a craft I’m not good at, but I gave it a go.

Only 8 residents showed up — 7 of us regulars and a new resident with only two weeks in.

I’m going to call this new resident "Name Dropper" because she was quick to drop the name John Travolta.

Evidentially her granddaughter is an actress. She recounted granddaughter’s filmography — named films and TV shows I wasn’t familiar with, and how, when granddaughter was a child actress, she (Name Dropper) had been on set when granddaughter had a role with Travolta in Phenomenon.

BFD.

Catching up on all the who what whys, I learned Upstairs Lady (resident with the troublesome legs) had taken Di (Apache’s old friend, the resident that had been involved with Meat Man’s son — he in his mid to late 20’s, she her 60’s) had been taken to the medical office across the street when her blood pressure reached 200.

That she (Upstairs Lady) is "Tired of babysitting Di" …… urging her to take the medication she doesn’t want to take because she doesn’t believe in taking meds …… giving her calls and sending texts to make sure she’s okay …… urging her to get out …… keeping her informed of activities because she (Di) won’t read the activity calendar and though no one has seen Di in a while, she isn’t checking on her any further because "I’m tired of babysitting her. I’ve got my own problems".

Not Dead Nancy is reported as back from many months of hospitalization.

When last mentioned on the blog, Not Dead Nancy’s daughters were going into the unit removing things, which concerned Nancy’s neighbors as they did not know if the girls had permission to do so while NDN was hospitalized and questions arose that NDN might not be coming back.

The ones that have actually seen NDN said she’s "lost a ton of weight" but, inasmuch as she wasn’t big or overweight to begin with, that doesn’t sound good.

Conversation inevitably turned to Shadow’s passing and how, as a regular attendee at bingo and other events, not to mention an all-around likeable guy, he is missed and what Bicycle Boy did to Shadow’s shrine.

"The office has a stack of complaints made against him (BB) this thick", said the Baker demonstrating "this" by holding up fingers measuring about three inches apart.

I’m not surprised by the complaints. Nor am I surprised that complaints were undoubtedly made to all the various Complex Managers we’ve had over the years, and not one has acted on them.

When BB and Apache were at each other, management chose BB’s side when there had been no complaints by residents against Apache.

Some at the table had not heard of Head Maintenance Guy’s transferring to a different property.

None at the table were sorry to hear he’d gone or had anything positive to say about HMG’s maintenance skills and abilities.

You, Paranormal John, will appreciate this next update.

Hell on Wheels was in attendance at the paint party, accompanied by her latest Caregivers.

I say latest, because HOW, described as "difficult", has gone through more Caregivers than we've gone through Complex Managers — her Caregivers keep quitting.

It was said that one caregiver reached a point where she couldn’t take it a second longer that day, left HOW alone, hid out in the Community Room, head in her hands, moaning "THAT WOMAN!".

We’ll see how long this new caregiver can take it.

And that, as they say, is The Tea.

Curiouser and Curiouser

Red Light never posted photos from her birthday party. However, that day last week when I went outside to chat with Talker, I learned Talker did go to the party, took Elvis (my buddy Apache’s remaining friend here on the complex) and one other resident with her.

It was just those three in attendance and the party was described as "okay", said in a way that translated to sad/meh.

Probably why Red Light posted nothing on Facebook.

Talker described Red Light’s new community as "boring" …… the complex itself, the way the buildings are arranged …… "boring".

Evidently, the grass is not greener on the other side.

Talker says Red Light’s unit is really spacious/luxurious inside (it should be at $2,300 a month, paid for by the County), but once you step out the door all you see are rows of one-story units across from each other with a walkway between, nothing else; which Talker compared to here, where there’s space to walk around, as "boring".

Doesn’t sound like the kind of community where Red Light can spread her activity director wings, take charge, get anything going, boss others around.

From the number of people she invited, who rsvp’d couldn't make it, I’m getting the distinct impression Red Light is already bored, missing the community she had here. I wonder if she might one-day return, as many have done in the past.

I’ve often had that thought — that should I be so fortunate as to one day be able to afford to live elsewhere, would I end up bored to tears confined in one of those wall enclosed box-like senior complexes built like hotels with long corridors, or a complex like the one described by Talker — confined in luxury, somewhat isolated, not knowing my neighbors.

Though some of the goings on right now are not ideal, I like my unit, I like my patio, I like the complex grounds, I like the options I have for contact with others, never feel lonely or bored.

Monday was cra cra. Started off with seeing Compton once again parked backwards in his parking spot, facing forward towards the walkway when I headed out for that morning’s workout.

From there, the day got weird when, returning prepared to take the long way around to my unit, I pivoted to my direct route when I saw Bicycle Boy (BB) coming through the gate this side of the complex.

BB lives way on the other side, so seeing him come through the gate on this side prompted me to take notice.

He’d been on this side shortly after Shadow passed, and a resident in Shadow’s quad said she watched as BB had angrily destroyed the shrine they’d left for Shadow — took the glass rosary candle, smashed it on the concrete, tossed the flowers.

My guess is Shadow’s not being the type to take crap had been the one person on the complex BB could not terrorize. Shadow had probably put the fear of God in BB so, now that word had gotten to him that Shadow was no longer alive, BB came all the way over here to make sure Shadow was gone, saw the shrine, took out the rage he felt toward Shadow that he didn’t dare express while Shadow was alive — a "Take That ……… I’ll Show You!" thing.

Not wanting to be targeted by BB herself, the resident who saw BB doing the destruction said nothing to him. Just hid away in her unit, watched and next day rebuilt the shrine.

I would have hidden and watched as well; but seeing BB on this side of the complex, I paused at the end of the walkway to see if he was headed in the direction of the rebuilt shrine.

He wasn’t.

Compton must have been sitting in his car watching me watch BB because, when I paused, Compton cranked the engine, started the car to make noise, draw my attention in his direction.

He did not start the car and drive away. He just turned on the engine, then turned it off when I failed to look over, did not react to the sound.

The day got weirder still when I later had to make a run to Walmart to get a memory card for the security camera I was installing in the widow. Compton, still sitting in the car, turned on the headlights when he saw me.

Upon my return, thinking Compton was probably still sitting in the car, I took the long way back to my unit.

Compton wasn’t in the car, he was inside his/his mom’s unit; but I didn’t know that until, halfway up the stairs, I heard him open the door.

I don’t think I made much noise as I started up the stairs to alert him of my presence, yet and still, I heard him open the door.

I didn’t pause to see if he came outside to say something to me; maybe ask why I'd not called/texted. I just kept on stepping. When I reached my door, I heard him close his.

Weird.

I’m not afraid of Compton. I don't read him as dangerous or threatening, more like annoying.

He’s just young and dumb, playing a silly game like the little boy in school who does things to get a particular girl to notice him, except we’re all grown now, one of us more grown and wiser than the other. Compton has no idea who he’s playing games with.

I’m trying to be nice, don’t want to stir things up with his mom or lodge a complaint with management. Besides, except for that note, Compton really hasn’t done anything that’s provable; has done nothing that can’t easily be explained away by him or denied.

So, I’m just going to hold my peace, wait for whatever phase he’s going through to pass, until I record him doing something provable, something that can’t be explained away.

If and when we get to that point, I'll have no choice but to go Anne Marie on his ass.

Death Cleaning

All of Shadow’s possessions, seemingly everything he valued in life, has been smashed to Smithereens, tossed in up over and around the trash bin.

I mean EVERYTHING — shoes, clothes, walker, paintings that were on the wall, kitchen stuff, couch, chair, bed/bedding. You name it …… it’s in the trash. Even his big screen TV.

Something must be wrong with the TV, otherwise management would have kept it for themselves or given to one of their friends; but all this tossing just goes to show …… the things we hold onto so closely in life mean nothing to others once we’re gone.

Though I’ve been pretty good about donating and tossing, so as not to leave too much behind for family to deal with, I still have a lot of stuff and think it’s time to make hard choices about what I’m holding onto.

I didn’t see Shadow’s American flag, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t been bagged and tossed in the pile, rather than given to his son or daughter as a keepsake, or turned over to the VA.

Though his being a sniper and recipient of a Purple Heart has never been verified, Shadow was a Veteran and, as a Vet, his flag should have been handled with respect.

Here’s an old photo I dug up of Shadow when he first arrived at the complex.

For an old guy, he actually wasn't too terrible to look at, except he had really bad teeth from smoking, drinking, lack of care.

This next photo is the Seer standing beside me at an Arts and Craft event, back when she was nice — before Shadow arrived on the complex and lured her over to the dark side.

That's Big Linda at the left end (known on the blog as being one of three bullies when I first moved in …… retired military …… yelled at everyone in and around the complex like a drill sergeant, regulated what we/they could and could not do and who, in turn, got on the wrong side of crazy Bicycle Boy, who has been torturing her for years, not too long ago vandalized her car.

Next, we have the Seer and Shadow together, back when their relationship was fresh and new.

While I’m at it, here’s a pic of my old buddy Apache, when he was all dolled up, looking Rico Suave for an event.

Last I heard, inasmuch as Apache remains banned from the premises and doesn’t want to get any of us in trouble with management by ignoring the ban to visit, he two weeks ago met nearby with a resident who has never made it onto the blog …… let’s just call him Elvis, because he did an impersonation at an event.

The other two of Apache’s long-time friends on the complex (the Baker and Di) have broken off contact with him because "He’s changed …… gotten into bad stuff … hanging out with some bad people".

Speaking of bad people, our Karen character caught a break this past weekend. Talker, Little Stalker and the gang abandoned the complex pool for the beaches of San Diego, leaving Karen with no footsteps overhead.

They’ll be back.

Things are getting weird and creepy for me around here.

Feel so weird, so creepy that I've set up a security camera in the kitchen window. (Thanks for the info Scary Mary, I went with the Kasa).

More on that in my next post.

Baker tells me there's Arts and Crafts with the new Activity Director tomorrow. I'll check in to see what's what, stay if it looks like fun, turn around and head back upstairs if it doesn't.

For Whom the Bell Tolls

Out of the loop as I am, it took me eight days to learn the resident known as Shadow in the blog has passed away.

"Shadow" because, once he hooked up with my former friend The Seer, where she went, there went he.

Shadow was an interesting character. Somewhat of a cad, trickster, a bad boy whom we found likeable yet and still.

Age 60 when he moved in (2018), nothing to look at in my opinion, he nevertheless lured my former friend The Seer into a relationship, impressing her with his resume of where he’s been, what he’s done in life (Sniper in the Army, Purple Heart recipient), and how he now has a comfortable pension.

Two of our guy friends broke the Bro Code and expressed misgivings about Shadow after having caught him lying about his background and accomplishments — said he had not worked where he said he’d previously worked, had not resided where he’d previously said he lived, among other things, and it was blatantly obvious to anyone with eyes that Seer was dropping very far below her level in hooking up with Shadow.

I never believed Shadow's resume. Had checked the Registry of Purple Heart Recipients, found Shadow’s name not listed; but he wasn't my problem, so I never said a word to Seer or anyone else. I just listened to what others had to say, watched as Seer made the choice to become defensive of their relationship, cut friends out, including myself, and became arrogant because she "had a man" and we were simply "jealous".

I was hurt by her change in behavior towards me, saw her relationship as an accident about to happen and, knowing such arrogance was leading to a fall, closed my eyes so as not to see the carnage when it happened.

I’ve got to give it to Shadow though. He played a clever game, a masterful game.

He wined and dined Seer, listened to her advice to stop hanging around with hoodlums, bringing rough looking types onto the complex after he received a lease violation, almost got himself evicted when police were called to escort one of his low life friends from the premises.

He catered to Seer, called her "My Queen", went to church with her and hovered so she never had any distance from him, no time to think, ponder, even consider Shadow might be anything other than the white knight she envisioned him to be, the "real man, all man" she liked to brag he was.

It was a good year before Shadow tired of the game, stopped going to church, stopped wining/dining, began smoking/drinking to excess, hanging out with the other smokers, engaging with low life's outside the gate, spending less and less time with Seer, disrespecting her by telling the guys how quickly she "dropped her panties" for him.

I once actually caught Shadow hiding on the property, trying to avoid the Seer. Felt sorry for her when I saw her walking around trying to find where he was, and the experated way he threw up his hands, waved her away when she found him.

Lonely and trying to make amends by that point, Seer would pop up at events, try once again to engage with us, her former friends.

Some were forgiving, water under the bridge. However, if you haven’t noticed, I am not the forgiving type.

I’m fair. I’ll roll with whatever for a time, had actually given Seer many opportunities to straight up, fly right but when she became what my mother termed as "sometimey" ─ sometimes she’d speak, sometimes she’d turn up her nose and ignore me when I spoke or waved to her, sometimes she’d cut her eyes and give me the mad dog treatment for no reason, I’d had enough.

By the time she began trying to reengage, it was too late. My heart had hardened. She was dead to me. There was no forgiveness, no going back.

Seer moved out in 2022.

She'd begun drinking and, in a drunken stupor fell, hurt herself, was moved in with family and passed away shortly thereafter of heart failure, which those of us in the know attributed to Shadow not treating her right — using her, his coldness, not caring as much as she did. It broke her heart, hastened her death.

She chose, so cad that he was, I respected Shadow's bad boy game. Besides, he was always cool with me.

He was funny too. Whereas Seer burnt bridges, became offended and told me off for referring to her man as her shadow, Shadow himself said he had no problem with the moniker. That "when I was in high school, they called me Tigger because I had a girl on both arms".

I didn’t get it, he wasn’t a looker, but you gotta appreciate a bad boy who is out and proud about it.

That day last week when I took the circuitous route back to my unit — by Shadow's unit, to avoid Compton, I saw a makeshift shrine on the lawn.

The meaning did not register until yesterday, when I noticed maintenance had tossed furniture, clothing, household items into the trash bin.

A sign someone has passed away.

Then, throwing my workout bag into the jeep, heading for that morning's workout, I happened to look over and noticed Shadow's American flag was missing from its spot on Shadow’s patio, gone also were his patio furniture and plants.

Putting two and two together, that items in the trash were from his unit, the shrine was for him, I called around and found Shadow passed Thursday of the previous week, right out front of the property where he was smoking with his usual group of guys.

Word is that, while seated in his chair walker, he suddenly gasped, fell back in the chair with such force that the chair tipped back, his head hit the concrete.

The guys think Shadow made his transition at that time, from what they later learned was a heart attack, before his head took a blow on the concrete, long before the ambulance arrived, tried to resuscitate him.

I’m told the guys were pretty shook. I would be too if it happened right in front of me, but all in all not a bad way to go, quick like that.

I liked him, liked the bad boy character that he was and now envision him hiding from the Seer in the afterlife.

Happy Birthday America

Insofar as I know, there’s not a lot going on around here in terms of celebrating, and it’s going to be too hot for me to step outside, check the pool area to see if I'm wrong.

I do know the pool has been busy this week, not only with little stalker’s family, but I saw a couple other groups — children accompanied by adults I've not seen around before, going to/from the pool.

So much for the new pool rule — "residents only and only two guests per resident".

No matter to me the rule is not being followed, because I don’t live over the pool to be disturbed by the hoop and holler of kids. If I did live over the pool, it still would be no matter to me, as I like the sound of kids enjoying themselves.

On Tuesday, I found an Activity Calendar for this month attached to the door.

I didn’t notice it until 10:30 a.m., glanced at it briefly and saw there was a 4th of July event scheduled for the Community Room THAT MORNING — "Social 4th of July celebration: Come celebrate 4th of July in the Community Room and enjoy a donut! 10:00 am – 11:30 am".

Really? A whole donut? Golly gee wow, management went all out, bared no expense.

With such late notice, I figured few, if any, had seen the Calendar posted to their doors: ergo, few would show up. So, I quickly threw on my summer outfit, headed down to check things out.

I was correct — few were in attendance, actually three ladies, one being the Baker.

The one box of store-bought donuts was festive though. Had red/white/blue sprinkles on them, LOL.

It was there, in the Community Room, I learned why we’d had no Activity Calendar posted to our doors last month ………… we didn’t have an Activity Director last month, she’d quit. We now have a new AD.

I do not have high hopes of the new AD getting things up and moving around here insofar as activities for us seniors, not just because though money is budgeted for activities but not always provided to the AD, but because, according to her, she has no experience, doesn’t know what is generally or usually done as an AD.

The Baker has taken it upon herself to work with this new AD, make suggestions. So, we’ll see how it goes because folks around here really need something to do with their time.

This became apparent to me when Little Stalker knocked knocked knocked on the door yesterday, and I went downstairs to gossip chat with Grandma Talker.

Hearing voices, Next Door Neighbor actually walked out onto her patio to listen. Didn't say anything, just looked/listened.

I don't know who lives in the upstairs unit across the quad directly adjacent to mine, because in all these years, I've never seen that person open their blinds.

However, not only did NDN come out, as Talker and I were chatting, but I saw the blinds AND window open on that unit.

When all one has is to jump up, run to the patio and/or open the window to see who's talking, what's being said, they really need something to do with their time.

The month of June has come/gone and still no sign of the usual rent increase.

It’s too much to hope that means we’ll not get an increase this year, it will come but, inasmuch as 30-days’ notice has to be given, the longer they delay the bad news is to our benefit of an additional month at the current rate.

The lady that moved into Red Light’s unit continues to get special care by the County, which makes me think she might be ill.

Looks can be deceiving, one never knows what another is challenged with, so though she doesn’t look ill, just appears very fragile, something is amiss because first there was her being personally moved in by the County, with what looked to be new furniture provided by the County and now, a day or so ago I saw a woman in a County car bring her a cart full of groceries.

Compton and I continue to avoid each other, but that means there’s no chance of my getting a photo for you to marvel at ………… him???? that scrawny kid???? all he did was bring in a box, it wasn't like he gave you a kidney, what did he think that was worth in return???

So, anyway, I'll be celebrating the 4th with my usual daily activities of needlepoint, catching up on recorded TV shows, and I'll round the day off with a Carrot Dog, maybe two.

I did, over the weekend, give myself a patriotic mani/pedi.

I leave you with Little Edie’s (Grey Gardens) tribute to the day.

I never get tired of Little Edie's dance and the story/history of Grey Gardens.

Okay Monday, I Can Do This

How often have I awakened in the morning to find a message from the VP of these United States?

What is: Like Never.

I’d answered former President Obama’s call to make a donation to Joe’s ActBlue, now Kamala is saying they’re counting on me.

The Power, Mega and Super are all into the millions. So, if the Universe wants me to give more, a lottery win is in order.

Otherwise, what I gave is all I can do, other than hope/pray for the best outcome even though it seems, with this latest stunt by the Supreme Court, we are sooooo screwed.

After the surprise of seeing Kamala in my in-box, came the apprehension of having to head out for this morning’s workout and how Compton would react to my not calling/texting (rejection), should I run into him.

I know from experience that some men, especially young men, have fragile egos — want to lash out, hurt someone, hurt something when women don’t react the way they want/expect women to.

If confronted, I’d planned to not make excuses for not calling/texting but to straight talk in terms someone Compton’s age could understand ………… "I don’t know you like that".

Fortunately, he was nowhere in sight AND his car was parked properly — facing forward in the carport, rather than reversed to where he could sit/watch AND, there was no angry young man vandalism to the jeep — scratches, flattened tire.

Returning to the complex, I decided to bypass the direct route to my unit, which would take me past the unit where Compton resides with his mom — which allows him to see my comings/goings, but to take the path around where Shadow lives, round the corner where Talker lives, then approach my unit from the opposite side of the walkway, taking care to not make too much noise climbing the stairs to alert Compton of my presence.

With his parking correctly, it seems Compton is, hopefully, embarrassed and is now avoiding me. With my changing my route, I’m avoiding him.

I’m good with this passive solution; that we avoid each other, just forget the whole thing ever happened.

However, I’m keeping his note for evidence should passive turn aggressive in the future.

Why did Compton use all caps, like it was an emergency; and why, after all these years, has Compton begun behaving so oddly in, let’s say, the last 12 months or so?

What’s happened in his life to change things?

Maybe nothing’s changed, maybe unbeknownst to me he’s been doing this all along with someone else on the complex.

Trainer says it’s because Compton lives on a senior complex, all he sees and has access to are seniors; that Compton knows I’m single and one of the "Hot Girls".

LOL. I like the idea of being considered a hot girl amongst us seniors, LOL; but I think Compton is just bored and has been smoking too much of that funny stuff.

On another note, commentor JanF said she loves that at 80, I will wear distressed shorts, and "can we see a photo?"

Not all that short when I’m standing JanF, but when I’m sitting the look goes to short shorts risqué.

Double Trouble

Little Stalker and two of her uncles arrived yesterday, so it’s going to once again be a rough few days for our Karen character, because they’re probably here through the 4th of July — walking up/down the stairs taking stalker to the pool, walking overhead in Talker’s unit.

I wasn’t caught off guard this time, knew she was coming when, checking FB to see if Red Light had posted photos of her birthday party yet (she hasn’t), I saw Talker had posted stalker et al were on their way via the Metrolink Train.

I don’t know what time they actually arrived, but little stalker couldn’t wait to hit the pool. I saw her headed that way at 7:30 p.m.

Hopefully, she’ll be more interested in the pool than knock knock knocking on my door.

For some time I’ve been thinking about blogging about having a second stalker, but wasn’t certain that I was imagining something that was not there.

The lady who lives in the downstairs unit beneath Next Door Neighbor has lived here some 8/9 years and during that time, various relatives lived with her, but mainly and consistently living there has been her loser son.

Late 20’s early 30’s, I don’t think he works, but sense he earns money through devious means while the mom retired, got bored, started a night job as security for a delivery service.

There’s been no problems out of the son, he seems nice enough, has sometimes helped Next Door Neighbor bring groceries up the stairs, and we speak when passing.

However, it was some time last year when I began to feel the son was watching me. That it was no coincidence that he would be sitting in his car at the end of the walkway on Monday, Wednesday and Friday about the time I’d leave for the Pain Cave, car backed into the space, so he could face the walkway, probably smoking funny stuff, watching me leave.

I’d always pretend I didn’t see him, try to tell myself I was imagining his sitting there coinciding with my schedule as purely coincidental, even when he had the headlights on in an attempt to draw attention to himself, let me know he was there.

THEN, last week, as I opened the door to head for the Pain Cave, there sat the enormous box the new exercise equipment arrived in.

”I can’t deal with this heavy thing right now”, I said to myself, left it where it was, headed out.

Neighbor’s son (let’s call him Compton, because he sometimes wears a cap with that logo) must have been in their unit watching and, knowing my schedule, waited for my return, because he came out, asked if the box was mine, did I need help getting it inside.

The box was so big that I thought I was going to have to use a box cutter, cut the box up in pieces on the landing, remove the insides piece by piece. So, I absolutely did need help and was grateful for the offer, even though I thought it weird he was watching/waiting for my return.

He lifted the box like it was nothing, placed it in the hallway.

I thanked him for the assist and, on the way out, he turned and asked "What is your name?".

Hmmmmmm?

His mom knows my name, but I told him and that was that except, I felt uneasy that night. So uneasy, that I made certain the burglar bars were in place on the patio window, the front door, and my self-defense tools were readily available next to the bed that night.

When I told Trainer about neighbor’s son — the sitting in the car watching, waiting/watching for my return to ask if I needed help, then bringing the box inside, Trainer immediately said, "I think you made a mistake".

Hmmmmmm?

That’s pretty telling that Trainer felt that way, especially after I’d had that uneasy feeling.

At any rate, I’ve not seen Compton since — not in the car, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been watching from inside his mom’s unit.

Then, this morning, heading out to drop off the trash, check mail, there was a note attached to my door. It was from Compton ……… "HEY COULD YOU GIVE ME A CALL/TEXT!!!!" and his number.

NO, I can’t/won’t.

Whatever he wants a call/text for, thereby have access to my telephone number, I want no parts of it.

If he’s looking for a sugar momma, he already has one ……… his mom.

If he’s looking for anything else ……… Dream On.

Hopefully, my not complying with his request will put an end to his watching — I don't need another stalker, and whatever else it is he had/has in mind.

Three-Day Weekend

No workout this morning. Trainer is coaching his fighting team at an out-of-town competition, asked if I could change my workout to yesterday, Thursday.

Of course I said sure, no problem, even though it meant I had to go beast mode — back-to-back workouts ……… Wednesday and then yesterday Thursday, the benefit being a three-day weekend (Fri, Sat, Sun).

I used this extra day to head out, donate the old crock pot and air fryer to the Salvation Army Store.

I’ve never shopped Salvation Army before, always donated but needed wanted a pair of distressed denim shorts for the Summer.

What got me to wanting was running across a pair that captured my fancy at the mall a few weeks ago, when I wasn't even looking or thinking about shorts.

Madden NYC $65.00

Unwilling to pay the $65 price tag, I thought I’d check inside Salvation Army when I got around to donating those appliances, look for an old pair of jeans that I could rip/shred/cut into a facsimile of those above.

Today was that day.

Inside the Salvation Army Store was very well organized. So well organized that I walked right up on a pair of distressed denim shorts — no need to destroy a pair of jeans, and was in/out in less than 10 minutes with my $3.50 purchase.

The shorts were a little loose in the caboose, so I was going to take them in. Deciding that was too much work, I remembered how, back in the day the old folks would shrink to fit jeans by boiling. So, I boiled the shorts, then put in a hot dryer to solidify a better fit.

$3.50

Not exactly like the Madden shorts, but cute and would cost just as much as the Maddens, if not more, new, in the mall, distressed to look old.

Pretty risqué for an 80-year-old lady you might think.

I always wear leggings, no reason; but I still have nice looking legs, can get away with this.

As for what’s going on in the complex ……… nothing insofar as I know. Except, TinTin has decorated her window with more stuff.

Before

Now

What is she hiding?

There’s got to be a logical explanation for covering the window in aluminum foil, cardboard, some sort of green fabric and a stick to keep the window from being opened from the outside.

I’ve seen TinTin out and about, we say good morning to each other and she doesn’t look cra cra. But you never know.

Red Light had a birthday party at her new place on Wednesday, called to invite me.

I used my gut issues as an excuse for saying thanks but no thanks, that I wouldn’t be able to eat or drink anything.

It's nice of her to want to continue contact, but nope.

Talker went to the party. I know this because Red Light told me Talker was coming.

She didn’t name any of the other attendees, like the Baker and Homegirl.

Red Light is a prolific Facebooker, so I thought I’d see how the party went, who was in attendance, on FB but nooo. Oddly enough, she hasn’t posted a thing.

However, there was something interesting on FB.

The responses were exactly as expected.

A bucket of dog 💩.

A spinal tap.

Another kidney infection.

Being in a killer snake pit while trying to chew through my own jugular.

Cats shitting outside the litterbox. Their messes are usually easier to clean up.

I need the aliens from Independence Day movies to come like yesterday.

A tooth growing out my gooch.

Dementia man.

A poke in the eye with a sharp stick.

A root canal, my first broken bone, liver and onions, a can of olives, the 130 lbs I lost, my last job and my mother back in my life.

Water boarding.

Teeth pulled without numbing.

Hot poker in the eye.

Dull knife cutting my arm off.

Using sandpaper as toilet paper.

I’m dealing with a pretty painful bout of diverticulitis right now. I can’t walk, I’m audibly groaning and writhing in pain. This is still preferable to another Trump presidency.

A stick with branches up my peephole.

Sharpened bamboo chutes being jammed underneath my fingernails ...... and in my eyes and in my ears and up my nose ...... and having my skin peeled off while conscious.

Having my appendix removed with a rusty spoon.

Crawling through broken glass that is on fire above a pool of crocodiles.

An old and imperfect Joe Biden.

There were many more such replies, but you get the drift.