Happy No Kings 2.0

If you look closely, you’ll see that’s not Little Edie but the reface version with myself playing the role of Edie.

The High Table

Yesterday’s 4th of July BBQ was a huge success but, before I go into details, let me just explain that in the world of John Wick, the term "High Table" is indicative of the organization in charge, those who set the rules and, as you read on, you’ll understand why this post is thus titled.

Also, there’s breaking news to report …… the Love Birds (Dream Lover and Lu) are back on.

I noticed on Tuesday, when updating the header from June to July on the residents’ FB page, that Lu had commented on one of the photos of Dream Lover, "My handsome man".

Gag me.

Dream Lover was once again the Grill Master at the BBQ — hamburgers/hotdogs and, when Lu arrived, he addressed her as "Hey, gorgeous" and they had a make out session …… kissed.

Gag me with a spoon.

Explanation and Breaking new out of the way ……… I arrived early, so I could capture photos of the decorations and stuff before the crowd arrived.

My little friend Knock Knock (renamed because I received a violation for the previous nomenclature as "violating guidelines") was there, helping the organizers set up.

She pretty much has been living here with us old folks until school restarts and, now at 8-years-old, has grown out of whatever obsession she previously had with me, is no longer constantly knocking on my door, but still runs up and gives me a hug when our paths cross.

Last BBQ (Memorial Day) it was the Baker’s family members who contributed time, money, energy into that event. This time it was the Talker’s family members, and they even prepared Swag bags for us attendees.

Later in the event, when swag bags were distributed, I found they contained various candies, a Popper, little Bubble maker thingie, a patriotic necklace and cute little hat.

Once residents poured in, the Community Room became packed with "preferred residents" …… those who have come to bingo, come to craft sessions, and a few newbies the organizers felt safe to invite.

You could have knocked me over with a feather, when I saw Painted Rock Lady come through the door.

I was amazed to see her because, after that last fall, when her dog pushed her out of the bed, fractured her hip for the second time, she was hospitalized and going into a rehabilitation situation had been suggested.

"Rehabilitation" generally means we’ll never see the person alive again.

Painted Rock Lady said no, that if she was to recover, she wanted to do so at home and, though she looks haggard and exhausted, she survived and was well enough to make it to the Community Room on her own with her portable breathing machine and walker, even talking about working on painting rocks again.

So, anyway, the menu consisted of hamburgers, hot dogs, all the fixings, plus potato salad, macaroni salad, baked beans, mac and cheese, cupcakes for dessert.

My "reserved" spot, at the far end of the table, was a perfect spot for eyeing the entire room, being able to stand quickly/move quickly to capture photos, but the table clearly indicated the elite ……… reserved name signs, different tablecloth than the other tables.

No matter, as I was just there to take photos for the residents’ FB page, did not intend to stay long enough to be considered a part of a click, so I had fun playing naughty with my reserved name sign — holding it up to various parts of my body, declaring them "reserved".

As I was saying, the spot was perfect …… that is until Upstairs Lady — the woman who has problems with her legs (which Twin 1, who used to work in the medical profession, tells me is Lymphedema) showed up.

Upstairs Lady made it to the table on her walker, began approaching the end of the table where I was seated, pausing along the way to pick up certain reserved name signs.

Once she made it to the end of the table to where I was seated, she declared, "I’m sitting here", then began removing reserved name signs on either side of me, replacing with the ones she’d picked up along the way, saying so and so is sitting here, so and so is sitting there.

She arranged things to where Dream Lover and Lu would be seated on one side of that end table spot, and Crafty Lady (the new resident that’s running craft sessions) would be seated on the other side, thereby arranging the seating to where she’d be surrounded by her besties …… and she did all this while I was still seated in my designated spot.

So aggressive.

To top it off, midstream of what she was saying/doing, Upstairs Lady pointed to a chair towards the middle of the table saying, "You can sit there".

Ordinarily, I would have calmly said something to Upstairs Lady like I once had to say to a coworker who thought she was the boss of me, that "We are not still living on the plantation". Then I would have removed the name signs from Upstairs Lady’s hand, replaced them where they’d been, essentially telling Upstairs Lady in no uncertain terms to go F herself.

But for some strange reason I didn’t.

Like I walked out of bingo, never to return because others were getting on my last nerves with their inability to follow rules, I might have even picked up my reserved name sign and walked out of the event, taking no photos, which would have gotten Upstairs Lady in deep do do with the Baker and Talker.

But I didn’t.

Don’t ask me why I didn’t put Upstairs Lady in her place or cause her to suffer consequences of her actions. I just didn’t.

Instead, it was like I went into an altered state where time stood still.

I was not conscious of thinking anything as Upstairs Lady hoovered over me, rudely designating who was to sit where, except that as her voice began to fade further and further away from my awareness, I found myself picking up my reserved name sign, moving to the end of the next table over, which gave me the same vantage point to take photos and didn’t feel like I was involved in a click.

After that, there was no thoughts of Upstairs Lady. Even though she was seated at the end table right next to where I was seated. I didn’t hear her voice, she did not appear in my peripheral vision, she was just no longer a part of my reality. It was like Upstairs Lady disappeared from the face of the earth.

I was later joined at the table by one of the Talker’s sisters, who asked if I minded if other relatives joined us.

"Of course not", said I, and the table filled with residents and various family members of Talker.

When Talker saw I was not seated in the designated spot, she came over, pointed to where I was to have sat said, "I reserved a spot for you over there".

"She (pointing at Upstairs Lady) wanted to sit there", said I.

Talker looked confused when she looked over, saw Upstairs Lady sitting there, but suggested I move to one of the middle spots at that table.

I was fine where I was, so I declined.

At one point, Trash Tosser (the resident who threw her trash in front of Dream Lover’s door) walked in, sat down in an empty chair middle of the organizer’s table.

She didn’t know she was not to sit at that table, I guess didn't notice the reserved name signs. She just saw people she knew, an empty chair, sat down.

I watched, waited to see how long it would before she would be asked to move, but before that happened, she got up, moved to the last open spot at my table, next to Talker’s sister, and said something about that table, the organizers’ table, not feeling right, that our table felt to be more fun.

Interesting is it not that she felt the elitist stuffiness at that table, and was open about saying so.

I commended her on being so insightful, and said that table reminded me of the High Table in John Wick’s saga.

From there, Trash Tosser, Talker’s sister and I had fun talking about "The High Table" …… watching as unsuspecting residents made the mistake of sitting there, waited to see how long they’d remain before being asked to move or, feeling frozen out of conversations, got the message and moved on their own.

Trash Tosser has an interesting backstory. Shared that, before coming here, she was homeless. Said she has a downstairs unit because she has a physical condition that occasionally causes seizures and something about the program that got her placed here has so many rules/strings that she doesn't plan to live here long, that her goal is to one day be "free", whatever that means.

I’m guessing one of the rules is not to dump trash in front of your neighbor’s door, and no, I didn’t dare bring that up, ask why she did it, LOL.

Like I said, Upstairs Lady had ceased to exist after I got away from the High Table but, evidently, she’d not forgotten me. Maybe it was the confused look Upstairs Lady saw on Talker's face or the accusatory way I'd said "She wanted to sit there", that caused Upstairs Lady to begin to think she may have crossed a line, might be in trouble.

I wasn’t aware of Upstairs Lady looking over at me from time to time, but maybe she did after that because, at one point, she brought herself back into my awareness by interrupting my conversation with my table mates, called to me.

When I looked over to see what she wanted, she again said, "You can move" and pointed to one of the middle spots at the High Table.

I resented the intrusion, gave her a sharp "NO!", just like that — like why are you bothering me, why are you bringing yourself back into my awareness, trying to make yourself relevant, and turned back to my conversation like she wasn’t there.

If Upstairs Lady was beginning to feel guilty, or thinking she was in hot water, the way I said "NO!" was designed to not lessen that guilt or let her off the hook.

I’m hoping that she doesn’t later see me around and bring it up again, try to apologize or use her physical disability as an excuse for having wanted to sit there because, though it really didn’t matter whether I sat there or not, her self-entitlement and aggression is unforgivable.

She could have simply politely asked if I minded moving because she’d feel more comfortable in that spot, surrounded by her besties, so I’m not going to ease any guilt or worry she might be entertaining.

I’m actually not pissed off, not mad, but it’s good for her to think I might be, because Upstairs Lady needs to think about how she handled the situation, and sometimes the way to cause others to look at themselves, is to do nothing, say nothing, shut them out of one’s mind, let ‘em sweat, imagine the worst.

Towards the end of the event when things were winding down, some had finished eating and left already, I was thinking about heading back upstairs, start work on the whopping 170 photos I’d taken, the organizers were all seated at the High Table, finally having time to enjoy their own meal. Talker walked over, asked her sister to move to the High Table, next to her.

Sister got up to do that, leaned over and said to me, "I’ve been upgraded, but don’t worry, I won’t forget where I came from".

I was rolling in laughter, told her to remember John Wick, watch her back over there.

All in all, a fun time which, with interesting fodder for the blog, is why I ended up staying longer than I'd expected.

Best Laid Plans

I pushed myself to get up and out in time to participate in today’s early morning Tahirobics class, only to walk into darkness.

The power was off.

Odd, thought I, inasmuch as other businesses in the strip mall seemed to have lights on ……… people were going in/out of the donut shop per usual, and workers in medical garb were arriving at the medical clinic next door, walking in with things appearing to be operating as usual.

Tahirobics Instructor was on the phone, talking in Spanish, taking notes, while the owner of the nutrition store was nervously hoovering over her.

I stuck around for about 15 minutes thinking whatever the problem, it would be worked out, but then one of the ladies in the class, who’d been listening to the phone conversation, leaned over, whispered to me "no payment".

How embarrassing to have to shut down because someone forgot to, or failed to due to lack of funds, pay the power bill.

The nutrition center might be in trouble, which means Tahirobics might be in jeopardy.

Just great! thought I.

Through one of the students translating for me, the instructor and lady who runs the nutrition center apologized profusely that there would be no class because the power was off, and "This never happened before".

I believe it, though I don’t think they knew I knew why the power was off.

It ended with my saying no need to apologize, I’d come to Thursday’s class.

There is no class on Wednesday.

I’ll know on Thursday if the power situation has been resolved, that Tahirobics is going to last for a while …… or, if indeed the nutrition center is having financial difficulties, at least until next month’s power bill comes due.

Talker called this afternoon to make sure I would be attending tomorrow’s 4th of July BBQ in the Community Room.

It’s a good thing she called, as I’d forgotten the organizers had to move it up from Friday the 4th, to Wednesday the 2nd, due to the office being closed Friday.

Talker said the organizers were in the process of setting up the room, and that a spot had been reserved for me, with a "reserved" sign.

What’s that about?

I don’t eat, so the plan was, like always, go down solely to check out the event, take a few photos, head back to my unit, so hopefully this "reserved" spot doesn’t lock me into anything.

We shall see.

Stay tuned.

"Don't let the grass grow under your feet"

I took that idiom to heart and, after breaking up with Trainer on Wednesday, I took a 1-hour Tahirobics class this morning.

I know what you’re thinking and, yes, I never heard of Tahirobics either.

When, on Thursday, I walked over to the nutrition center across the street, checked to see if Zumba was still an option, I found the class was now Tahirobics, four days a week with a different teacher than the one that taught Zumba.

Described to me as "aerobics/cardio", I decided to check it out.

Class turned out to be a combination of aerobics, Zumba, Pilates, chair exercises, and man was it difficult.

I used body parts that cross-training/weight training didn’t touch and, during the entire hour, trying to perform movements, I was instructed to "suck in your stomach".

I recognize this sucking in the stomach as the Uddiyana Bandha …… an exercise to strengthen the core muscles because, back in the day, when I was doing Yoga, it was a popular exercise except, we were stationary while doing it, kneeling on the floor.

Can you imagine how difficult it was to Uddiyana Bandha while involved in fast paced exercises, but I did my best and am now walking around trying to remember to get into the practice of sucking in my stomach to correct years of letting it all hang out.

The class was small, which I liked, and it made sense the class was small because of the level of difficulty. It might also be that 9am is not ideal.

Either way, Tahirobics is not for the faint of heart.

The teacher speaks little English, I speak little Spanish but I muddled through by watching what the teacher and others were doing, quickly learned that "arriba" meant up, "abajo" meant down, "al lato" meant to the side, "al otro lado" to the other side, and had no problem modifying some of the movements so as to not hurt myself.

Along with hitting all the body parts that haven't been hit in a while, there is the option of adding arm and ankle weights for strength, but that's not something I can do right now, while sweating, struggling to breath and sucking in my stomach during fast-paced exercises.

Maybe later down the road.

Classes are 9 to 10 am, so I wasn’t thrilled at pushing myself to get up and out that early, but seeing how good for my body the class appears to be (my Fitbit logged in 4,284 steps, which is tantamount to a 5K), I’m going to adjust to seizing my days earlier at 9:00, rather than later at 11:00.

Classes are held Lunes, Martes, Jueves, Viernes which translates to Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Friday and there is no way on God’s green earth that I can repeat what I did this morning 4 times a week.

When the teacher said I could pay by the month or by the class, I didn’t even bother to ask what the monthly rate was. By-the-class is only $10 (she's selling herself short), so that's what I’ll be doing — Tuesday and Friday (a bargain at $20 a week), until I build up, get adjusted to seizing the day at 9 a.m, and can handle 4 days a week.

Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner

I didn’t work out this morning, won’t be working out Friday, I broke up with Trainer.

It was a shock when I walked into the Pain Cave on Monday, found Trainer had once again moved the warm-up station, which consists of the treadmill and strength equipment.

Long time readers will recall Trainer has a habit of doing so.

In the 5 years he’s been my personal trainer, Trainer has moved the warm-up station something like 9 or 10 times from one area of the Cave to another — different areas in the main room, then from one area to another in the back room, then back to the front room, back to the back room, so on and so forth.

Reason being, "You are the only client using the treadmill", Trainer said …… a treadmill he finds in the way of his boxing clients.

The others personal training clients do sets/reps by doing jumping jacks and squats instead of the treadmill, and though some of the boxers have also used the treadmill to run, it didn't seem to matter to Trainer that I wasn't actually the only one using.

I understood Trainer’s logic ─ I’m old, have to do things the gentle way, so though I didn’t always like where I was moved to and felt somewhat like the red-haired stepchild that doesn’t quite fit in, I adjusted.

Last year or so, I was quite content with a corner in the back room — I had privacy, Alexa was set to provide music I enjoy working out to, so all was well.

However, I should have known something was afoot when Trainer began saying things like, "You don’t need all this area".

"You are the one that put me here", said I, and that was that. Until, I came in one day and found three quarters of the back room had been fitted with pads for the fighters, which meant not only was there now no space for the floor ladder equipment and the ropes, but when there was an overflow of fighters in the front room, I’d sometimes be watching fighters spar in the same room I was being trained in.

Over the years, Trainer’s fighting side of the business has exploded. He’s made a name for himself in the world of Muay Thai boxing as this big shot trainer, with fighters who are winning high profile events. Consequently, people are coming from all over to train with him, so I adjusted and sometimes enjoyed watching the boys tussle.

But then, on Monday, I walked in and found Trainer had moved me from the back room to the front room where the bulk of his fighters are now training.

Watching two in-training while working out was one thing; watching 10 to 12 boxing, sweating, grunting is a different animal.

My workout station was relegated to a tight, cramped corner in the back of the room, by a sink and the bathroom. I had no privacy, had not the music I enjoy working out to, did not see any of the strength equipment I usually work out with and, if he’d set aside to pull out later, there was not the room for me to perform side and overhead lifts. Not to mention the odor in the room alone emanating from those hot sweaty bodies, was enough to gag.

So, there I was, the red-haired stepchild, back of the bus like Rosa Parks, squeezed into a feng shui chi less corner, feeling claustrophobic, uncomfortable, surrounded by fighters — most of whom I know, refer respectfully to me as "Miss Shirley", and Trainer devoting his time between training me and coaching them.

Mama wasn’t happy.

I did hint at my unhappiness by saying to Trainer that with all the fame and glory he's getting, he shouldn't forget those of us who were with him in the beginning; that "You have no loyalty".

He didn’t catch the hint, took it as a joke.

When I left the Pain Cave on Monday, there wasn’t that feeling of euphoria I usually get from working out. Instead, I felt a heaviness.

Yesterday, when I went down to the Community Room for crafts, I found the room full of residents. No crafts that day, instead there were waiting for some kind of luncheon to begin.

I just said a quick hello to everyone, was preparing to head back to my unit when the little Spanish lady that I’d gone to Zumba class with, stopped me. asked if I was still working out at the Pain Cave.

"I’m thinking about quitting", came out of nowhere.

I hadn’t realized I was thinking about quitting, but having heard myself say it out loud, I couldn’t stop thinking about it, tossed and turned all last night, dreading about going in to train, face that tight cramped warm-up station and other conditions this morning.

Waking up this morning, I was set on not going in today, realized that this was actually the end of the road for Trainer and I.

Trainer outlasted my other relationships but, in the end, he made the same mistake others have made ……… Got too relaxed, took me for granted.

I'm not good at breaking up. When not happy in a relationship — dentist, hairdresser, boyfriend, etc., I change my number, drop out of sight, ghost 'em, but Trainer and I had grown especially close, so I sent him a proper breakup message.

He offered to change my workout time to when no one else is in the Cave, which is what it was like before his business blew up, but I declined saying, "There's now no place for me to be moved to. It’s still the same tight cramped corner that I’m not comfortable with", so he was gracious, texted back ……

Which made me cry.

First time a breakup hurt my heart, so now I’m walking around weepy, but already considering what to do to stay fit — maybe online workout classes, so I don’t have to leave the unit or sign up for the Zumba class being offered across the street.

While I'm considering my next move, Trainer is probably having the treadmill carted out, LOL.

Trainer’s wife is going to be mad at him. She’s warned him before about moving me from pillar to post so often, and now it’s cost him the loss of an easy $240 a month, for a half hours' worth of work.

In other news ……

Not the fancy Ott lamp I prefer, but delivery was fast, on-point, and Verilux is doing the job.

Case of the Missing Box, Part 3

Case closed.

The good news is that no one in this complex is pathetic enough to not have let me know the box was misdelivered to their unit.

There have been neighbors pathetic enough to have kept smaller packages — makeup, tops, Creative Memory supplies, blood pressure medication and, if gifted with a whole big box, might have kept it, but not in this instance.

Manager and the Maintenance guys took a look at the photo, checked out a few gated areas, determined something that had initially crossed my mind before I noticed we did have gated doors and Ernie said he'd seen the unit I was looking for …… that the box might not have been delivered to this property.

They caught something I’d missed …… that the color of the building in the photo didn’t match the colors of this property, ergo not only did the delivery driver not deliver to my door, he didn't even deliver to this complex.

That’s a humungous delivery mistake. Delivery driver must be dyslexic.

The bad news is that I’ll never ever know where that box landed, the who so I can give that person the evil eye but, as the recipient still had the option of being decent — notifying FedEx of the mix-up, I don’t necessarily have to know who the person is for Karma to kick in.

They will lose ten times over.

On the other hand, I don’t know IF the box landed at all.

That photo could have been taken in delivery driver’s own back yard.

Seriously because, believe it or not, there have been instances where delivery people take photos of items supposedly delivered, then themselves turn around and cart the items off.

I've seen people posting videos, from their ring cameras, catching delivery people doing that exact same thing, and it happened to Twin 2 back in April.

What you see in the video is the Amazon delivery driver, unaware of their being a camera in that area, after dropping off a box, verifying delivery by taking a photo, picking up the box then straight up absconding with it.

I don't know what he thought he was delivering, that he'd risk his job by stealing what turned out to be cat food and yarn, but I guess those items, and whatever else he's managing to pilfer from his other deliveries, might sell well at the swap meet he's probably running on the side with his stolen loot.

Of course, Twin 2 made a complaint to Customer Service, and last I heard …… nothing. No word back, no nothing.

I don't know if she got a refund or reordered or both, but she's no pushover, so it's safe to say both.

I’m going out on a limb, taking one last stab at ordering a craft lamp ……… a Verilux which commenter Anonymous brought to my attention, rather than the Ott I'd been aiming for.

Crossing my fingers that delivery goes right this time.

Today is Pizza Tuesday. Activity Director is back from her two-week vacation.

There was no Calendar of Events issued this month, so the plan is to head to the Community Room later this morning, check out if we’re having any kind of crafts today.

BTW, the organizers decided on Wednesday, July 2, for the 4th of July BBQ.

That’s a workout day for me, but I’ll rush back to check the event out, take a few photos for the residents' facebook page.

Case of the Missing Box, Part 2

Yesterday was laundry day. So, while going back/forth to the laundry room, I walked around a bit and located six white gated doors.

I never before noticed that some of us have gated doors.

How did they get so lucky?

I want one.

At any rate, none of the doors I spotted had the tell-tell sign — that plant, but at least I now know we do have units with gated doors, the box was delivered to this complex.

Seeing Miracle Guy out and about — the resident who survived being shot on two separate occasions, knifed and fire bombed, I showed him the photo, asked if he recognized the unit.

He did not, but had a lot to say about the poor FedEx, UPS and Amazon delivery service around here.

Seeing two random residents on a walkway, I approached, asked if they recognized the unit depicted in the photo. Neither did.

By walking up on random residents, getting them involved in the hunt, I run the risk that one of these random folks actually being or knowing and warning the culprit, but that’s okay with me because fear of being found will set in, the culprit will panic, get rid of the loot, think twice about absconding with other people’s property in the future.

Speaking of fear. Isn’t it interesting that shortly after I yesterday posted about my displeasure with FedEx, the Founder of FedEx chose to leave this plane of existence.

Coincidence or did he flee to escape my ire?

Just as I was finishing up in the laundry room, Ernie — the resident we threw a surprise birthday party for a week or so ago, walked by.

Ernie is always out and about, walking his dog, so I showed that photo to Ernie who said, "I’ve seen that door (looked over his shoulder towards the opposite side of the complex to indicate somewhere over there), but I can’t remember where".

Ernie will let me know when he remembers or sees the door again on his walks.

Deciding I needed a treat to fully recover from the aggravation of all that involved the purchase and delivery of that craft lamp, I drove to Starbucks for a half-caf Americano and saw well-mannered service dogs in-training being treated to pup cups.

Heading back to the complex, passing the site across the street where that homeless encampment had been, I was expecting to see some if not all of the former occupants had returned.

Not yet. Surprisingly, the only occupant thus far is one lone tent dweller.

Waking up this morning, checking emails, I find I’ve already been issued a refund for the missing lamp.

WOW! I’m amazed that all I had to say was I didn’t get it because FedEx misdelivered.

This must happen a lot.

I hope there’s some kind of penalty attached to the FedEx driver so he’ll be more careful in the future.

Does that mean the hunt is now over?

HELL NO!

I want to find that resident, know who around here is so pathetic as to not have knocked on my door, tell me they have a misdirected package, come and get it or walk it over, as I and others here are known to do, so I’m waiting to hear back from the email I sent to Manager, asking if she or the maintenance guys recognize the unit.

I’m not sure that, even if management recognizes the unit, they will want to get involved, let me know for fear I’d kick the offending resident’s butt, which I wouldn’t, but management doesn’t know that.

What I will do is put ‘em on blast with the grapevine, and give the person or persons the Evil Eye whenever I see them out and about.

Case of the Missing Box

I’d posted earlier in the month, that the craft lamp died. No worries thought I, it was in bad shape, being held together with electrical tape, I’ll purchase another.

Inasmuch as the popular craft stores have closed, purchasing another turned out to be not as easy as it used to be.

Fortunately, though in-store is no longer available, those craft stores still maintain an online presence, so I ordered a replacement, received a delivery date only to, a week later, receive an email that the order was cancelled.

In investigating who cancelled and why, it was a cryptic "manufacturer issue".

Assuming it was a problem with that particular style lamp, I ordered a different style from the same craft store, received a delivery date, then once again received an email the order was cancelled, money refunded.

Hmmmm? I wondered if these cancellations had something to do with the lamps being made in China and the tariffs.

Whatever the reason, it was getting annoying. Like, why are you still offering the product, going through the steps if you can’t deliver. Remove the item from the website.

Done with that particular source, I ordered from a different craft store.

Lo and behold, it was the same thing ……… received a delivery date, followed by an email the order was cancelled, money refunded.

Getting the message that the craft stores are advertising items they cannot provide, I looked to the "knit for Jesus" homophobic, racist, anti-semitic place but they at least had removed craft lamps from their site, as did the big box stores I looked to, even the blacklisted Walmart and Target I was reduced to breaking rank and looking to.

Googling craft lamps in general, I found a business offering a few used and new. I ordered new, received a delivery date, and held my breath.

Yet another cancellation did not come. Instead, I received notification the item was on its way, to be delivered by FedEx last Tuesday.

Tuesday didn’t happen, but I wasn’t worried, delays happen, and patiently waited for delivery.

I never ever entertained the thought that a box as large as I was expecting might have been misdelivered. That is until yesterday, when I received a survey to rate how satisfied I was with the delivery.

Delivery? What delivery? I never got a delivery.

I rated zero, the reason as having never received the package and asked for a refund.

That set off emails instructing me to look for the package in the neighborhood and contact FedEx.

On the Fed Ex site I found a photo that indicated the box was delivered on Tuesday, 2:01 pm to a door that not only doesn’t look like my door, but doesn’t look like a door in this complex.

On the off chance we do have a door here that looks like the above, I opened the Case of the Missing Box by text messaging the Usual Suspects, asking if they recognized the door. They didn’t, but said they’d look for it when out and about.

I also emailed Manager asking if we have a unit with a screen door.

Manager won’t see the email until tomorrow, so I won’t get an answer until then but, in the interim, I’ve already resigned myself to never seeing that craft lamp ……… that, if we do have a unit here that looks like that, the box has been opened by now, the contents sold or given away, the resident of that unit, in spite of the photo, absolutely denying ever receiving.

If we do have that door in the complex, even if the craft lamp is now gone, I’d still like to know who the resident is so I can give them the evil eye when I see them out and about, let them know I know what kind of human you are, make them feel uncomfortable.

Inasmuch as it was so difficult to find a place that could actually fulfill the order in the first place, delivery people can’t get it right, and we have asshole neighbors around here that, when deliveries go wrong, take advantage and keep the items (it’s happened before to me and others; and it’s happened a lot) I’ll not even try to order another. I’ll manage with sunlight coming through the patio window and the sun lamp.

Mind Games

Activity Director is on the second week of her 2 weeks’ vacation.

As my mother used to say, "One monkey don’t stop no show", so a new resident, let’s call her Crafty Lady — the resident that brought down her leftover supplies week before last, took over when we didn't like what Activity Director had in mind, took over today and showed us how to make bookmarks, from acrylic blanks, tassels, stickers.

Discussion during crafting was planning for yet another BBQ, this one for the 4th of July.

Staff has Friday the 4th off, which means the Community Room is locked. The organizers, because of that homeless gentleman crashing the Memorial Day BBQ, ultimately making off with 8 hot dogs, want not to BBQ outside on the 4th, but in the Community Room, on a day when it is open, where access can be monitored.

Thursday the 3rd is out because the Baker has to take her husband to a doctor’s appointment. Monday the 7th is out for a similar reason for one of the organizers. When I left the discussion, went back upstairs, days were still being discussed.

So soon after the Memorial Day BBQ, I’d like to see the idea of another BBQ dropped altogether.

Not only is the date an issue, and inside rather than outside to keep the homeless away, the organizers want to limit invitees to the usual suspects — only the bingo players.

Good luck with that.

Judging by what happened last Thursday, where we had a private surprise birthday party for one of the guys who has been helpful and Judy, who has fallen out of favor because she never contributes and pissed off the Baker in one or more of the bingo sessions I’m told, passed by, saw us gathered, came in, brought another resident with her, sat down and waited to be served cake, but left after being ignored for half an hour, I expect it will be the same trying to limit attendees to the BBQ the organizers are now planning.

Seems there’s a lot of playing of mind games going on — grievances and subliminal paybacks for those grievances.

I’ve never seen the Baker angry before but, in speaking of Judy, the Baker’s face turned red and she shook with anger saying she was already upset because Red Light had started posting things about her again (that is until I blocked RL) and then Judy had gotten on the Baker’s case in bingo when the Baker called the correct number but the wrong location (like G 73 instead of O 73 because vision in her right eye is down 40%). She said Judy humiliated her and had done so on other occasions in bingo.

Instead of saying something like, Give me a break Judy. It's getting annoying. I got the location wrong, but you know what the number is, the Baker internalized the annoyance and is now walking around fuming at Judy.

I told the Baker what I’ve always told her, that she needs to stop letting people walk all over her, speak up for herself.

She said, "Maybe I will next time it happens".

She won’t.

She never does.

She just gets mad, tells others of her grievance, others get mad with her, then come grievances and paybacks.

I suppose you’d call this passive-aggressive behavior.

As I’ve said ever since no one had my back when I had that dust up with the Black Witch, and the usual suspects not only did not have my back, but tried to silence me, tried to make me allow myself be walked all over like they let others do to them, I’m done fighting other people’s battles for them, don't really care how the usual suspects try to punish Judy, whether or not Judy crashes their BBQ.

The Talker and I seem to be the only one of the usual suspects with the guts to tackle things head on and thus whatever is immediately handled, over and done with.

Backing up a bit to the homeless …… we had a substantial encampment building up in the field across the street at the end of that corner away from the businesses.

I didn’t hear anyone complain about it, because we know, with the uncertainty of what Donnie Two Dolls is going to do with Social Security and SSI, it could happen to anyone of us.

That is, there were no complaints until some bad actors from the field began coming onto the property, hanging out — which frightened some of the more vulnerable seniors from going outside. One bad actor was seen stealing cute little items residents had placed on their patio railings. Others from the homeless encampment began sneaking in at night to swim in the pool. We have a shower at the pool, but instead of using that, they put soap in the jacuzzi to take a bath, and tried to beat up the security guard when he caught them, tried to remove them from the property.

The result was police involvement, one of the homeless guys trying to attack the cops with a hatched, and the city sending in a crew to dismantle the encampment — towed the campers away, etc.

You hate to see them displaced like that, but had they left us alone, we would have left them alone.

Twin 1, who runs a non-profit which provides essential services to the homeless, had serviced that encampment last time she was here and, when I told her they’d been evicted, said how sad it was, that "They’re getting desperate. It really is a walking dead situation where it’s every man for themselves and people are just doing whatever it takes to be fed and cared for. It’s sad all around. I completely understand the need for y’all’s safety and I also understand the need for the items they have. They do have to go about at the right way."

As long as that field is vacant, the homeless will be back, and probably are in the process of moving back while I’m typing this, but hopefully it will be a nicer group, bad actors gone, won’t cause us any problems.

Obama Appreciation Day

Official White House Photo

Today Is ....

That is all.

Triggered, Part 2

Except for another visit from a hummingbird peering in through the window, the patio remains free of nesting birds. That last solution (scary tape wrapped around a balled-up plastic grocery bag, dropped into the eave) seems to have worked.

It’s beginning to look like I might have to try that scary tape on Red Light, because something she saw on the residents’ facebook page triggered her into posting yet another pathetic comment …… This one directed at her favorite target — the Baker, AND a new target — the Talker.

At least, her sentence structure is better; but she keeps saying things like "Okay" and "If that’s the way you want it", like it’s over, but it’s never over, she persists, like those birds did.

Inasmuch as simply deleting RL’s comments isn’t deterring her any, I decided to respond to her comment, fully knowing it would be poking the bear.

Sympathy is obviously what she’s trying to elicit from her poor poor pitiful me act, which reminds me of what someone said to me back in the day when I was weak, unillumined, feeling sorry for myself. I was told, "If you’re looking for sympathy, you’ll find it in the Dictionary between Shit and Syphilis, and it will do you about just as much good".

Best advice I've ever been given. The dose of reality I needed to pick myself up, get on the road to enlightenment; so, instead of deleting RL’s comment, I poked her.

That one must have stunned her, because she didn’t come up with an immediate retort, which pause was just long enough to give me time to block her from viewing and commenting on our page.

I got the last word which I know, control freak that she is, is going to drive her up the wall.

I also preempted her next move, which surely would be to call her son, have him post to our page for her, so I blocked her and her enabling son.

With neither she, nor her son, having access to viewing our page, I can almost feel her frustration at now having no place to watch, get triggered and vent.