"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.

Aging and Bird Behavior

I took a blow to my ego yesterday when, leaving the Pain Cave, the friendly neighborhood homeless woman I’ve seen around so frequently that I’ve gotten to know her (62 years old, homeless 15 years, never asks me for money but will try to sell me something she’s managed to get her hands on and will occasionally ask me to buy her a beer) instead of referring to me as the ususal "mama" — "Thanks, mama …… Did you workout today, mama?" referred to me as "grandma".

What the hell, thought I. Am I starting to look my age?.

And then this morning, after finishing the latest battle with the birds, heading out to run errands, the drug dealer’s wife (they live in the complex), who always refers to me as "My Black Queen" — "Good morning, my Black Queen" referred to me as "Mama" — "Have a good day, Mama".

Two back-to-back blows to my ego. I’m crushed, LOL

The day started off with yet another battle between myself and the birds.

Around this time every year, for thirteen years of living here, I’ve successfully discouraged birds from moving into the highly desirable corner eave, which is way too close to my living space and access to the patio storage area.

I don’t mind, and rather enjoy, seeing birds visiting the patio area and frequently take photos of them relaxing on the railings.

Occasionally, a hummingbird gets curious …… flies all the way up to the patio window, looks inside, then is gone before I can grab the phone, take a pic.

What I take issue with is when the birds bring their bags, prepare to occupy the corner eave, make babies.

Sorry, but I don’t want to have to listen to the noise of the parents cooing, the kids going chirp chirp chirp, and don’t want to have to deal with cleaning up the mess they bring, so I tell them "You can’t build here. Go somewhere else" and chase them away.

But just like Red Light, they refuse to move on, and the battle begins.

After a few days of seeing fly overs, birds checking the space out, it was yesterday I caught a couple bringing in supplies.

I pulled out the holographic scare tape.

It wasn’t easy, but I managed to tie some of the tape around a pipe, hoping the tape, flying in the wind, would scare the couple off.

It didn’t.

There they were, this morning, slaving away bringing in more supplies.

Looks like the tape slipped down the structure, was not close enough to the eave to deter the build.

So, this morning, I balled up some of the holographic tape and again, not easy, but I managed to drop the ball of tape in front of the eave, hoping that, because the ball was so light, the wind didn’t blow it away.

The wind didn’t, but the birds swooped in and somehow, between them and the wind, the tape rolled away from the eave, and it was business as usual for the birds, who flew away when I repeated there was no room at this inn for them here, go elsewhere, and watched me, from across the quad, to see what I was going to try next.

What I did next was to ball up a plastic grocery bag, wrap holographic tape around it.

I managed to drop it in front of the eave.

This heavier ball is probably going to interfere with drainage, but being my last option to win this battle, it is what it is.

I did try unsuccessfully to push the balled-up materials back into the opening, to bar entry; but having no luck with that, was hoping the reflecting tape, at the front door of the home they were trying to lay claim to, would at least scare them away.

Would you believe …… it didn’t.

Scare, the holographic tape did not. However, it does look like the curve appeal is no longer quite as pleasing because, after what looked like an inspection and discussion between the two, they flew away and have not returned.

If they do decide they can live with the eyessore and come back, I give up, they win. The corner eave is theirs.

Triggered

It would appear that our former resident Red Light has gone all Baby Reindeer.

Last Red Light (RL) made it to the blog was back in February, when she was having her third public meltdown on facebook …… her passive aggressive way of manipulating people into feeling sorry for her. Like, "Hey look at what’s happening. I’m a victim here" because she had been told, as a non resident, she could not continue to attend our bingo sessions.

RL did not take it well, went publicly postal.

Her public meltdowns usually come in the form of cryptic memes but, this last time, she named names and made veiled threats, which got her into a lot of trouble.

So much trouble that the authorities got involved, after which she wisely removed those posts, learned a lesson, moved on with her life in her fancy new luxury community in Yucaipa, touted as "modern amenities and conveniences of metropolitan life, but with the privacy and tranquility of small-town living".

Seems like learning lessons, letting go of this community, getting on with her life in the Yucaipa community, like a good little Baby Reindeer, is something RL is not capable of.

Small-town living must be lonely and boring because, when I went to the website last night to post photos the bingo organizers had sent to be added to the Residents’ Facebook page, I saw RL had spiraled into yet another meltdown — her fourth, because she'd posted to our page ……

I can only assume what triggered RL is that while she’s sitting in her gilded cage, bored out of her mind, she checked our FB page, saw the photos of our Memorial Day BBQ, coffee and donuts, fun with crafts.

First of all, RL gets an F for sentence structure, not making a whole lot of sense in parts.

Second of all, no one here dislikes her … some were irritated by her continuing to attend our bingo sessions, long after she’d moved, not as a welcomed guest, but as still being bossy and in control; but no one here is putting any energy into disliking her, would have remained friends with her — met her for lunch, allowed her into their units for a visit, visited her at her place. She could have even attended the BBQ, just not play bingo or craft with us.

That is, she could have participated as a welcome guest in these other activities, had she not had that meltdown where she burned every single bridge.

You don’t get to burn down the bridge and then feel sorry for yourself because no one now comes to visit.

RL seems to think that because she did what she deems as "a lot for people", that residents owe her something.

This is a community. A lot of us devote our own time, energy, money into supporting our community.

Management didn’t throw that BBQ for us, us residents joined forces, threw the BBQ for ourselves; and no one contributed more than the Baker (the Bea that RL seems so fixated upon as a friend who she feels betrayed her), whose whole family contributed — provided the meats, sodas, brought over that huge awning to protect us from the sun.

Even the donuts for Craft Day were not from management, but from Talker, who walked across the street to the donut shop, paid for with her own money, to go with the coffee provided by Activity Director.

Those of us who are a little better off than others have always given to the community, and I can’t imagine any of us consider it as the quid per quo RL seems to think it is — I did this for you, so you now owe me a lifetime commitment.

I’m sorry for RL that she is bored, lonely, unhappy, but no one forced her to move. She moved because she didn’t like Manager and wasn’t comfortable with a maintenance issue going on in her unit, but you can’t have it both ways. Can’t move, then continue to return and act not as a guest, but as a resident who is an integral part of the community, still in control of how things are done.

If she wanted to maintain her status, rather than irritate those who’d taken over where she’d left off until they complained and got her banned from bingo, she could have moved back and regained her throne …… that is she had the option to move back until she blew it with that third public meltdown — burned bridges by naming names, attacked those friends she now think are putting time and energy into disliking her, made those veiled threats.

Inasmuch as she'd posted that comment to the Residents' page managed by me, I was able to remove it, which I did.

Hopefully, I took it down before very many saw it but, if not, the only one to look the fool is RL herself.

How it Started

How it’s going.

Maybe our two dolls are working.

Mish Mosh and a Correction

We had some freaky weather yesterday.

The day started off hot and muggy, followed by cool and gloomy, then came the rain, Flash Flood Warnings, thunder, lightning, ending with the return of sun and heat. All this between 8AM and 4PM.

It was like the weather gods had a work schedule, threw everything at us in one shift.

The only weather-related event that didn’t happen yesterday was an earthquake or a fire.

Also what didn’t happen yesterday was, even though Management indicated the only way we would be getting an Activity Calendar for the month was through signing up for Rent Café; yet and still, after having capitulated, signing up, no calendar of events was forthcoming, which prompted me to walk down to the Community Room to see what if anything was going on.

The joint was jumping. In addition to the day being Pizza Tuesday, there was coffee, donuts, a mish mosh of Arts and Crafts going on.

Trash Tosser was in the room, chatting with I forget who; while Dream Lover, who had been the recipient of her trash being tossed at his door, was also present — sitting at the opposite end of the room.

I sensed no tension. Energy in the room was high; everyone was on their best behavior.

I imagine the strong coffee (I had a cup, and it was strong enough to make my hair stand on end) and sugary donuts had a lot to do with the high energy, LOL.

Di was in the room — the 60 something who was in a relationship with Meat Man’s 20 something son until the son turned Baby Reindeer, ending in police involvement.

Di is very pretty for her age, gets around well, but I think she’s losing it.

She always lights up when she sees me, waves and says "Hi, Shirley" but, when I walked into last week’s BBQ, she waved, greeted me with "Hi, Diane".

She’s known me for as long as I’ve lived here, but it’s just in the last two years she’s been calling me by random names.

When I walked into the Community Room yesterday, it was "Hi, Joanne".

I don’t even try to correct her any longer. I just go with it.

Crafts was a mish mosh. Supposedly to be an uninspiring writing of Father’s Day messages on blank canvases, when no one seemed interested, it switched to a new resident bringing down some of her leftover crafting supplies — wood, stencils, paint.

I chose to do a stencil project.

Others worked on pre-printed canvases.

Buttons, our 88 year old that lives alone and is always on the go …… takes the public bus to the catholic church and a shuttle to the Senior Center to take classes/participate in activities at those places; and is a crafter — knits, crochets, writes poetry, plays bingo with pretty buttons, outdid all of us by painting a little wooden tray, then painting little wood flowers to display in the tray.

Returning to my unit before the rain began, positioning myself in front of the never-ending needlepoint to put in some time on that project, I flipped on the craft lamp and found it didn’t turn on.

Fortunately, I had a replacement bulb.

Unfortunately, the replacement didn’t work. The lamp still would not turn on.

The lamp, which had seen better days and was literally being held together with electrical tape, had died. So, I took it to the dumpster, ordered a replacement and then began to bemoan the fact I’d not be able to see clearly enough to do any needlepoint work.

Until …… I remembered the sun lamp I’d ordered when lousy weather dragged on for so long that I’d experienced an episode of SAD (seasonal affective disorder).

Thing was, after last Halloween I’d turned that sun lamp into a skeleton lamp.

Not wanting to undo Skelly the skeleton from the structure in order to use the sun lamp as a craft lamp until the new lamp arrives, I made it work.

While in the Community Room, I got an update on Painted Rock Lady.

I’d posted yesterday that I didn’t see Fire Rescue take her away on a stretcher. Turns out, I didn’t see that because an ambulance had earlier arrived, taken her away.

Talker had gone over to check on her, found her lying on the floor, called an ambulance. Both the amulance and Fire Rescue responded.

Painted Rock Lady has been calling friends from the hospital, saying she wants to recouperate at home, rather than in the hospital.

Since being found on the floor signifies she obviously can’t do that living alone as she does, friends are urging her to go to rehab.

My guess is Painted Rock Lady feels the end is near, doesn’t want that end to come in the hospital or rehab, but at home. She’s been around long enough to know the pattern — that when residents go to rehab, we rarely see them return.