Hippy Dippy

Today was the event I was unclear as to whether it's a Labor Day Luncheon or Bingo with Lunch at noon. So, I suited up and headed down early, to scope out the scene, see which it was and if it was something I wanted to get involved in.

Early being 11 a.m. wasn’t early enough because, standing outside the door peering in, I saw residents already seated.

I didn’t see any bingo cards, so I decided to step through the door, spend time in the free A/C and, as I entered, who did I see seated right next to the entrance but Meat Man — the resident who so annoyed former resident Home Girl. She'd moved out and to Sacramento in October ’24 to be closer to family.

Long time readers might recall when formerly named Handsome Man, here on the blog, was downgraded to Meat Man because, at Pizza Tuesday, he had flirted with Home Girl in a disrespectful manner ... when the then Activity Director asked what kind of pizza he wanted, he’d responded "Meat", then looked at Home Girl (who had enormous boobs and an equally enormous behind) in a leering manner and added "Because I like meat".

Thereafter, every time Home Girl ran into him, she went out of her way to be rude, show her disgust and, in camaraderie, I renamed him Meat Man, LOL.

So, anyway, Meat Man had never crossed the line with me, Home Girl is no longer living here for me to support her, so I sat down and, in between my moving around snapping photos for the Residents’ FB page, Meat Man and I chatted.

I did tell him that he’d been persona non grata for a while because of his sleezy approach to Home Girl and, rascal that he is, he laughed and laughed and laughed, saying "Well, I do like meat".

You can’t stay upset with a good-natured bad boy who knows he’s bad and is proud of it.

I ended up taking a photo with him.

Residents are gonna talk.

I didn’t see much Labor Day in the event. It was more like a birthday bash for the Baker ... the room decorated in colors and items she likes.

I was asked to sign cards for two others, so I guess those two lucked up to be included in such an elaborate birthday party as, normally, they would have just gotten cake and an off-tune song at bingo.

Lunch looked to be Spanish themed, but I didn’t stick around long enough to see exactly what was on the table. I just took a few photos, chatted with Meat Man, headed back to my never-ending needlepoint project, and other stuff.

I imagine Talker will take over where I left off, send me photos of the cakes and video of the singing to post.

During the week, having decided I wasn’t happy with that pouch I’d made for the medical device, I flashed back to the Hippy Dippy days when Indian styled medicine bags were the thing. Nixing the idea of replacing the rope with a chain, I picked up suede cord, wooden beads, and reworked the pouch into a medicine bag.

I can fit the entire device, rope and all into the bag and no problem being able to access the button through the bag.

Much more stylish, hippy dippy type jewelry and, with plans to make a neutral faux leather version that will go with every outfit, I won’t have to make more than just the two medicine bags.

MEME OF THE DAY

Hot and Ready

And not just the pizzas Kesha brought in this morning for the seniors.

Engrossed in my own self this morning, I nearly forgot to head down to the Community Room, check to see if Kesha was here this Pizza Tuesday.

She was just hauling pizzas out of her car as I arrived. Said she did come last Tuesday, but late. So, it was after I’d left, returned to my unit.

As Kesha was going back/forth to her car to bring pizzas in, residents began to line up at the counter in front of the pizzas.

Kesha asked that no one take a pizza until she’d brought them all in and had the sign-in sheet ready.

I stuck around to make sure the residents didn’t disrespect Kesha by doing what Kesha had been warned by Talker and Baker they would do …… run all over her, do what the heck they wanted.

I observed one male resident, at the front of the line, opening up boxes, looking to see what type was in what box.

Not good and not sanitary, but if others in the line, that were going to eat those pizzas, didn’t object, yell "HEY!!", then I wasn’t going to get involved.

Fortunately, Kesha walked in with another load of pizzas, caught the resident in the act, and read him the riot act.

Good for her, Kesha is not going to take any shit, thought I.

In fact, Kesha did not only read the resident the riot act, she told everyone to calm down, sit down until she got everything together and returned to distribute pizzas.

No one sat down.

Lu, sitting near me by the entry door, yelled out, "You guys don’t listen. She told you to sit down, so sit down".

Whereupon, Lurch, standing in line at the opposite side of the room yelled back, "You do the same thing. So don’t tell us what to do".

That started a back and forth between Lu and Lurch, during which everyone finally sat down, Lurch yelling at Lu from his now seated position.

I was laughing my ass off, visions of the South Park episode where the old people at the senior center got into a fight running through my head. It was on the tip of my tongue to yell what Cartmill had yelled …… "OLD PEOPLE FIGHT!" but I managed to rein that in and instead say, "I thought you two were friends".

"We are friends", said Lurch, "But don’t be telling us we don’t listen when I’ve seen her doing the exact same thing".

The two were still at it when a new resident walked up to the entry door. Just as I saw the person about to enter, I said, "Okay you guys. Company’s coming. Don’t let them see you acting like this", and it ended.

Kesha soon walked in, distributing pizzas began so, with my work of looking out for my homie Kesha done, I headed back to my unit, still laughing.

Over the weekend, I’d received word a Spiritual Practitioner I’d trained with (last one that I’d trained with still living) was celebrating her birthday ……… HER 106th BIRTHDAY!!!!!

Back in 2019, I blogged this Practitioner …… retired, living in Hawaii, had celebrated HER 100th BIRTHDAY!!!

One Hundred was a goal she’d set for herself.

I’d said that, even though this Practitioner looked to be in good condition for her age, that living to 100 would not be something I’d want for myself, that my goal was to be gone by age 35.

Evidently, the Universe had other plans, as I’m now 46 years over my target.

She's now living in Laguna Hills, California, and looks pretty good for being a century and six ……

However, even though she looks pretty good, living that long scares the crap out of me.

I’m hoping that, as a former student of hers, connected at a spiritual level, that whatever she has that’s giving her such a long life is not contagious, doesn't infect or affect me, cause this former student of hers to reach 100 and over.

This is she at a meditation retreat I attended in 2009.

This is she celebrating her 106th BIRTHDAY this past weekend.

I know how one of my readers likes to kid around (and you know who you are, LOL), so just to be clear, she’s not the blonde, she’s pictured lower left.

Gift Horse

I heard through the grapevine that, even though Activity Director quit last week, tomorrow’s Pizza Tuesday is still a thing because a new Activity Director has been hired.

That was quick, which makes me think Activity Director played right into her mean boss’s hands by quitting. Mean Boss probably had someone in mind she wanted in the position — a friend or acquaintance, as insecure people in management positions almost always push current staff out, build a staff around themselves that is loyal only to them, as a way of protecting their incompetence from being outed.

I may have to do a walk-through tomorrow just to get a glimpse of the new hire.

Other than that, no longer having access to the Activity Calendar, I’ve no idea what’s scheduled for the seniors this month.

Yesterday, Sunday, was laundry day. So, while in the Laundry Room, I checked the community board and saw my latest work — the flyers that annoyed me into bringing out my Anne Marie cursing side, had been published.

To avoid confusing the seniors that had already received copies of the first flyer, the Baker posted the old and the new side-by-side to make certain it was understood there’d been a change.

Good idea. No one else needs their brains to be as scrambled as mine had been in completing that simple project, and I’ll be flabbergasted if the Usual Suspects actually get up/out to play bingo 10:15 in the morning.

I myself may have to get up/out, just to peek in, see if they do.

I was looped into a text message thread yesterday, where members of the High Table are on a hunt for birthdays to celebrate — naming residents they were planning a cake party for, asking members to provide birthdays of residents that might have been missed, so they too could be celebrated.

It used to be that birthdays were celebrated by month — one cake would be brought out during the snack break at bingo, those in attendance would be asked to stand if their birthday fell within that month, the attendees would "sing" happy birthday.

Looking at the photos recently sent for me to post to the resident’s facebook page, I noticed one cake per month has morphed into elaborate individual store bought/store decorated birthday cakes for each and wondered how the group could afford it.

I’ve since learned, "Donations", but who is doing all this donating?

So, anyway, if they’d looped me into the conversation as a way of getting my name added to the birthday list, they are out of luck, as I don’t care to have my birthday celebrated around here — I think it’s embarrassing, don’t get how the seniors enjoy being made the center of attention, having their birthday put on blast in that manner, and it all feels so phoned in …… not much feeling, especially the "singing".

For instance ……

Not only does this "singing" sound more like a death knoll, phoning it in, no feeling to it at all, it seems some don’t even know birthday boy's name, LOL.

They just want cake so, no thanks. I’ve no problem in spilling my age, but my date of birth is a state secret.

Around 6 o’clock Friday night, there was a rapid knock knock knock knock on the door.

No need to ask, "who is it?". Only one person knocks like that.

With the Talker waiting at the bottom of the stairs, Little Knock Knock ran up to drop off a gift from her Aunt H — Talker’s sister that I sat with at the fateful July 4th BBQ, where we had that High Table drama.

It's nice to be thought of, but I can’t help but look this gift horse in the mouth and wonder why?

Aunt H and I only met that one time, so receiving a gift from her is a little puzzling.

The earrings are not actually my style, but I’ll of course wear them to the next patriotic themed event …… whenever that is, to make her feel the gift is appreciated should our paths cross again.

When it occurred to me that I was looking a gift horse in the mouth, I wondered where did that phrase came from?

Mr. Google says, "The saying ‘Don't look a gift horse in the mouth’ means you shouldn't be critical or ungrateful when receiving a gift or favor, even if it's not exactly what you wanted. It emphasizes the importance of appreciating the gesture and the giver's thoughtfulness, rather than focusing on the gift's perceived value or flaws".

"The idiom originates from a time when horses were commonly used and their age and health were often determined by examining their teeth. To inspect the teeth of a gift horse would be considered rude and unappreciative, implying that you are more concerned with the horse's worth than the kindness of the giver. Essentially, it's equivalent to saying ‘beggars can't be choosers’".

Postscript

A new auto center popped up in the area near the craft store and Sprouts Farmer’s Market I frequent. That center includes a Jeep Dealership. So, on Thursday, instead of driving way far away to where I usually take the car for annual maintenance, I'd scheduled service at the new closer dealership.

Not sure if I’ll use them again.

The intake felt awkward. It wasn’t that the Service Advisor was rude. He just seemed put upon, like he was somehow being inconvenienced. Didn’t communicate well, didn’t even ask if I had an appointment. Instead, kind of rushed me away by saying something about his doing this, that the other ... that I couldn’t make out, then said "I'm actually on my way to lunch".

Consequently, in the waiting room, I wasn’t certain of what was happening. Was my car being serviced or had it been driven off to the side until he returned from lunch?

Didn’t have long to ponder because I was notified, some 45 minutes later, work was done, car ready to go.

So quick, compared to the two/three hours I’m accustomed to waiting. Didn’t even get very far in finishing my book.

I appreciated the speed. However, all in all, I’m not sure I’ll use them again, unless it's an emergency.

It wasn’t just the awkward intake, but I’m not sure I can trust that, in spite of the paperwork that indicates they did, that they completed the multi-point inspection and everything else that is to be included in maintenance because, when taking trash to the dumpster this morning, I thought to check to see if the tires had been rotated.

They were not.

How do I know?

Last year I’d painted, with fingernail polish, a red dot on the left rear tire.

Checking that dot after last years’ service, I saw that tire was now on the left front of the car, which made me comfortable in trusting that dealership.

After service this year, the tire with the dot remains on the left front tire, which makes me question if this new dealership did anything other than a quick oil change.

Can’t trust anyone these days.

So much was happening at Friday’s bingo that I forgot to mention the day was Red Light’s birthday.

We surprised her with a card, cake, cupcakes at break time.

Buttons — our 87 year old that uses those cute buttons to fill her card, tells me she's going in for outpatient surgery next month for skin cancer removal ... the 6th in 10 years.

What makes her so susceptible she says is "1) My age 2) I’m fair skinned 3) I have blue eyes and 4) I don’t drink coffee".

I didn’t doubt what she said about coffee, but you know by now that I research everything.

This is what I found ... coffee prevents skin cancers because of an "enzyme called ATR, which plays a key role in the survival of cells damaged by ultraviolet (UV) rays. Inhibiting ATR can eliminate UV-damaged cells that are precancerous. Because decaf coffee doesn't contain caffeine, it doesn't have this effect".

Learn something every day.

I asked Buttons if the spot is always in the same place. She said "No. It appear wherever".

Since she was so willing to talk about it, and I was learning, I further asked the location of the current spot.

"On my leg".

"How was it found? Like did you feel a pain and figure it out?"

"No. The doctor found it".

The image that popped into my head was that of her doctor examining her naked 87-year-old body for spots. So, curious as I was as to how the doctor found it, I didn’t think I could handle the answer and questioned no further.

Grey Gardens

Though it looks like it’s going to be a page turner, I’ve not yet had time to get into The Faun of Grey Gardens. However, the thought did occur to me we’ve got our own little Grey Gardens here on the complex.

Don’t know why I didn’t see the correlation between the two Edies before, and characters I’ve blogged about who have come and gone, the current Black Witch, R who won the Halloween Costume Contest dressed as a witch, and who doesn’t like children being in the Community Room, not to mention the Smoker.

What brought about the epiphany was when Red Light telephoned me last night to say her next door neighbor — the Smoker, had vandalized her door.

Story is that Red Light, awake for some reason and sitting in her front room at 3:00 a.m., lights off, heard a rustling noise at her door.

Afraid someone might be breaking in, she peered through the peep hole and saw Smoker.

Why Red Light didn’t make a noise, like bang on the door to scare Smoker away, I do not know. What she said she did was to wait until she heard Smoker go back into her own unit, then open the door to see what Smoker had been doing.

Smoker had ripped apart the Christmas Wreath on Red Light’s Door — a wreath that Red Light had herself made, even attached a little red Christmas wagon.

She said pieces of the wreath were spread out all over the concrete outside the door, and the red wagon was gone — Smoker took it.

After Red Light paused her story long enough for me to finish laughing my arse off, she went on to say she’d call Security, but no one showed or seemed to care. Likewise, when she reported the incident to the office — they said, "We’ll look into it", which Red Light said that’s what they always say and nothing happens.

Red Light toyed with the idea of making a police report, because vandalism is vandalism, but she’s afraid the cops will laugh at her.

She’s probably right.

Asking what I would do, I said "Well No. 1, I’m happy to know Smoker finally went outside. No. 2, I’d play the game with Smoker — put up another wreath, sit/sleep by the door and wait. If I heard her vandalizing that one, I’d quickly open the door and pepper spray her arse. If you don't have pepper spray any old household spray will do."

Of course, she won't do that. I believe she enjoys playing the helpless victim.

At any rate, I can’t stop laughing at what Smoker did.

As for WHY she did it, Red Light is surmising someone has yet again complained about the smoking and cigarette smoke seeping into the complainer’s unit.

"I only complained about her that one time Shirley", said Red Light but she thinks Smoker thinks all the complaints are coming from her, and destroying the wreath is revenge.

So many crazies/witches in my life story and here in our own little Grey Gardens. Hard to determine which witch the song (Ding dong the witch is dead) is referring to.

I'm afraid I'll be having flashbacks and giggling over this episode of our little Grey Gardens every time I think about it.

On another note, I've cancelled consulting with the holistic dentist 12 noon Monday, because the all-female dentist will see me 2:00 Tuesday. If there's a cancellation on Monday, she'll see me then.

Also, my girls turn 55 today.

A lot of people change so much as they age that they no longer resemble photos taken in early years.

I think my girls still look as they did when babies and, interesting enough, in most photos I've noticed they position themselves just as they did when babies — Twin 1 positioned to the right, Twin 2 to the left.

That Naughty Number

Walking into the Community Room, seeing the naughty number on the Talker’s birthday cake, I blurted out, "Sixty Nine!!! What kind of party is this?!"

There was just a handful of us invited to the shindig, seven women and one male whose birthday had been celebrated just before I left for the week in Long Beach.

I had been invited to his party as well, was a no show and darn if he didn’t call me out on it, saying, "You were supposed to be there".

Thinking on the fly, I said his party had been scheduled for 4:00 and at 4:00, I’m in my p.j.s watching Judge Judy.

I don’t actually recall what time his party was scheduled for but my answer had everyone laughing which got me out of hot water.

It’s nice to be wanted, especially when so many others are not — including Red Light and surprisingly the Baker wasn’t invited but, as you all know by now, these back to back to back to back parties are just not my thing.

So, anyway, that one is behind me and I met two new residents — not exactly new to the complex, but new to me.

The two were rather insistent when everyone went around the table, divulged their birth month, and eventually got me to reveal mine.

Inasmuch as so many have tried to get that info out of me for years, the info is likely to get around. So I may have to make myself scarce when the time comes so I don’t have to deal with being celebrated.

I didn’t have to ask for details on former Activity Director because, shortly after I’d blogged yesterday about former Activity Director’s (fAD) news, Red Light called to see if I’d got copied on the message.

Saying I had, I asked about the baby boy and learned fAD is 35 years old, expecting her first child, planning a wedding to the baby’s dad.

FAD’s mom is so excited about becoming a grandma that she’s retiring so she can stay home and take care of the baby when fAD goes back to work.

Red Light was just as upset as fAD at not being given any notice of her being transferred because the ladies were planning a baby shower for her.

Odd that Red Light was upset because, whereas the rest of us just complained about fAD to each other, Red Light had called Corporate and lodged a complaint about her rude behavior. Essentially getting fAD in trouble. Probably contributing to the decision to send her to a different property.

Looks like Red Light will still have an opportunity to plan yet another party — host a baby shower, because our new Manager (No. 10) is also expecting.

I did learn at the birthday party that the White Elephant game is still planned for the Christmas party, so we’ll see how that goes when the time comes.

Today being Talker’s naughty numbered birthday caused me to try to recall how I celebrated when I hit the naughty number.

Of course, I couldn’t remember a thing but fortunately I had backed up posts from when I first began blogging in 1997 on a different platform, under a different domain name, and located that day.

The post that day was titled I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead and below is the text of that post from 2013.

Finding myself wide awake at 1:08 this morning, I had thoughts of naming this post "Up All Night".

I’d gone to bed around 10:30 last night and, after reading a chapter of the fascinating read delivered day before yesterday, I forced myself to stop reading, turned off the lamp and was asleep before I knew it.

So why the 1:08 wake-up call is beyond me. It’s not like waking up regularly between 3 a.m. and 4 a.m. isn’t enough. And, though I admit to being annoyed at times, I choose to believe the 3:00 to 4:00 wake-up calls are a spiritual responsibility and a blessing rather than a curse because the 3:00 hour is the time when this part of the world is quiet so that the meditations (prayers) we do for others can sink into the stillness and be most effective. Consequently, I try to roll with waking up so early rather than be annoyed by it. Besides, I generally lay down on the couch around 6:00 and get two more hours of sleep. Except today I’ve got an appointment with the locktician and, thus, am going to have to plan for a long day of fighting drowsiness.

I had the same problem when I was still in the working world. Waking up between the hours of 3:00 and 4:00, meditating, but then having to get ready for work two hours later, was exhausting. I’d drag through the day relying on Starbucks coffee for energy. The caffeine worked – I was alert, aware and effective in my job but there were times when I was so high from two/three big cups to stay awake that you could have scraped me from the ceiling. And once I was so wired – twitching and jerking like a junkie and behaving so strangely that, when I stopped at the mall after work, someone reported me for suspicious behavior and I found mall security following me around.

At any rate, awake at 1:08 this morning, and thinking it might be a sign that someone I knew was in trouble, I sat up and meditated for all in my awareness, then turned the lamp on and read another chapter or two of the Elle Zober book. The book is so fascinating that it’s difficult to put down — I don’t want it to end, so I’m trying to read it in segments. But, taking it with me to the hair appointment today, I’ll likely finish the book by end of day – that is if I can keep my eyes open.

Along about 3 a.m. this morning, I decided it was time to get out of bed altogether and start my daily computer activities. While walking around getting myself acclimated it suddenly hit me – today is my birthday … my 69th birthday.

Is that why I was awake at 1:08?

Not that I’m disturbed about the age. I’ve never really paid attention to the number. I am, however, a bit disturbed and a lot surprised that I’ve lived to reach the number. I always figured I’d be outa here at 39. I wanted to live just long enough to see my children raised then, one way or another, I was checking out.

Infinite Spirit had other plans, so I’m still here and what’s running through my head are all the things I’d have done differently if I’d known I was gonna live this long – like focused more on body image and finances, so I’d now be a slim trim rich beoch.

I don’t plan to do anything special to celebrate. Other than the annual lunch my homie Ras and I have, to celebrate our mutual birthdays during this astrological period, I generally never celebrate my birthday – for no reason other than my birthday has just generally been no big deal to me. Looking back at what I’d blogged in the past on this day, I find I generally forgot it was a birthday, was feted by daughter, or simply enjoyed some little something that happened which let me know though I was up in age, I still had the it factor.

In 2012, busy with making plans to free myself of that situation in Long Beach, I was making trips to Target for storage containers, where some guy stumbled and tripped on his own feet when he saw me and said, "WOW!". I’d posted THAT was a great gift for a woman on the day she turned 68 years of age.

In 2011, I was so involved in the pursuit of weight loss that I forgot my birthday until I saw the date pop up on the computer when I logged on after a morning walk.

My 65th birthday in 2010 was interesting in that, once again, I forgot all about it. Instead, I’d posted about having gotten an indecent proposal at work that day by a kid in his 20’s. He’d sent me an email calling himself a "young hunter" in search of a "cougar". And said that if I ever needed his "services" give him a call, and included his telephone number. Flattered and not wanting to hurt his feelings, I thanked him for the offer and said that he’d be at the top of my list if I became so inclined, then to myself I’d laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed cause, to coin a phrase, "Ain’t nobody got time for that".

In 2009, daughter gifted me with a DVD/VCR player.

In 2008 and 2007, there was no mention of my even remembering I was having a birthday.

In 2006, daughter gifted me with a Mystery Cruise (she’s always been the thoughtful considerate one in the family).

And in 2005, my homies Ras and Angie and I celebrated our mutual birthdays by taking an introductory pole dancing lesson at S Factor, up in Hollywood. Ras and Angie were in their late 20′s/early 30′s, I was turning 61.

So there are no plans to celebrate or even care that today is a birthday — and I don’t mean it in a negative connotation. When I was a child, I would have been hurt had my birthday not been cause for celebration. As an adult, it just doesn’t seem all that important. I just wanna get my hair done and go back to bed.

Nice Try but No Cigar

When Activity Director was a no-show at management’s Thankful Celebration and a woman who introduced herself as her supervisor walked around, greeted us, I had speculated out loud to my tablemates that Activity Director was being replaced.

"Oh no" said someone at my table. "She’s just substituting for her".

Most of the residents I’ve come in contact with around here are surface or below surface level in their vision, can’t see beyond what appears before them. Naive would be a good word to describe them and they often surprise me with their lack of understanding even the basics at a deeper level.

Makes it difficult to get close to anyone of them, because I have to dumb myself down, be careful what I say, how I say it. Consequently, I mostly play stupid, just listen, let them talk.

So it wasn’t much of a surprise that no one saw what I saw … that Activity Director was likely being replaced.

But then, Negative Nelly popped up and wisely stated "That’s how it starts".

That right there made me like her, as I could see she was different than the others. She was more than just a surface individual, so I said, "She’s right. That is how it starts" and left it at that because no one else was buying it.

Sure enough, I was included in a mass message from Activity Director yesterday, which message stated "My supervisors have switched me to a different property effective immediately".

I wonder if that’s because of the complaints about Activity Director’s poor attitude and years of perpetual screwups.

Text of the message went on to say "I wish they would have told me where I would have had time to say bye ... Oh and the baby is a boy!"

Overlooking the poor sentence structure, that’s interesting that she was given no notice. As for the baby .... what baby? Was she pregnant or did she just have a baby? I didn’t know she gotten married, or is this a baby daddy kinda thing?

At any rate, because one could never count on her showing up when a Craft Day was on calendar, I stopped going. Now that she's out, I may go back.

As for the baby boy, I’ll get details this afternoon on what that's about, as it’s another day, another party.

Talker called a little while ago to invite me to a birthday party being held for her in the Community Room at 3:00.

Do I want to attend?

No disrespect to Talker, but NO. I’m partied out.

Will I attend?

With Talker herself going to the trouble of phoning and inviting me, I feel I must.

At least I can get details on what now former Activity Director means about a baby boy.

I had a strange encounter at Sprouts this past Monday.

As I exited the car, was walking across the parking lot towards the store’s entrance, out the corner of my eye I spotted a man over to my right seeming also to be heading towards the entrance and checking me out.

It just registered briefly that I was being looked at in a seemingly admiring way, then I thought no more about it until rounding the corner of an isle in Sprouts and literally pushing my cart into him.

He didn’t have a cart, had no items in his hand, and it didn’t take long for me to realize he’d been tracking me.

After having spotted me in the aisle, he must have been checking me out further AND, when he saw me preparing to come out of the isle, positioned himself at the corner, where I couldn’t miss him ─ almost ran into him.

Smooth operator that he was, as I moved to go around him "Good morning" he said, then calmly lifted his arm, looked at his watch and continued "Or should I say good afternoon?"

Nice try buddy, but no cigar because focused on trying to remember what else I needed, as I was shopping without a list, I off handedly replied "Yes. Thank you" as I continued around and past him.

WHAT!?

That was a silly reply to "good morning", but my mind was otherwise occupied.

I don’t know where he went after that dragging his deflated tail behind him or what he did but I later felt bad that he’d gone through so much trouble, and I didn’t even smile and say “Good evening” back.

Thinking about it later, I pondered how difficult it must be for a man to approach, make the acquaintance of, introduce himself to a woman in the wild that he’d like to get to know without coming across as some kind of weirdo.

All Fun and Games Until Somebody Chokes

Bingo was preempted by a surprise birthday party for the Baker today.

Red Light, the organizer of the event, went all out.

Potato Salad

Ribs

Corn on the Cob

Pièce de résistance

Of course, my sensitive gut demanded I decline but it was not only my gut issues stopping me from eating anything.

It was just yesterday when Red Light texted me to come down to her unit, sign the Baker’s birthday card.

That was the first time I’ve been in her unit and it didn't feel right. Sorta anti-feng shui.

She’s got that nice patio window to open out to the world, let the sunshine in, but the curtains on the patio window were drawn and inside was like a dungeon — dark, gloomy, cramped.

The dark brown couch and matching big chair, which were too large, took up too much space. The color did not serve to brighten up the place. Nor did whatever was causing the kitchen and kitchen table area to look small and cramped.

Hers is a one-bedroom, same as mine and we all have the same space to work with. So, the idea of Red Light sitting in that dark depressing atmosphere all day, no space to move around … if I could have eaten what she’d prepared in that kitchen of hers, I could not, would not.

Would you believe that, in the midst of the seniors enjoying their meal — me with a kale salad, cherry tomatoes and walnuts, there was a loud bang.

One of the seniors was lying flat on her back on the floor.

Pandemonium broke out as we tried to grasp what had happened.

"Did she just fall and hit her head?" someone asked.

"Don’t touch her!" someone else yelled.

"I’ll go get management" was another voice.

"Should I call 911?" asked another.

The woman on the floor, in response to "Are you hurt?" began touching her chest.

Assistant Maintenance Guy rushed in, took one look and said, "I can’t touch her".

By then, the woman on the floor had somewhat caught her breath and asked to be lifted from the floor.

AMG repeated, "I can’t touch her", so two ladies managed to get her off her back into a seated position. The woman who’d fallen then grabbed onto the edge of the table and, with the help of the two ladies, got herself off the floor back into her chair.

When someone again asked, "Should I call 911?", she replied "No, I’ll be okay".

The problem she said was food got stuck in her throat and, first thing she knew, she was on the floor.

When she said food had gotten caught in her throat, I thought Ah Ha!, food from that dark gloomy kitchen, but who knows.

The new manager (No. 10) showed up, as did Head Maintenance Guy.

I couldn't hear was No. 10 was saying to her, but she did give her a piece of a paper and a pen, had her write down what happened, had two other residents sign as having witnessed seeing her on the floor.

I'm assuming management was protecting itself from a lawsuit — it wasn't a slip and fall.

At any rate, I looked over shortly after all was said and done — the fallen resident looked fine, fully recovered, had gone back to eating, went onto participate in the party games.

Other than the choking incident, the event was a success.

Unlike her drab unit, Red Light had decorated the room beautifully.

Sitting in my usual spot, regular table, what did I find but boots.

How kismet was that.

The Baker was thoroughly surprised, cried several times, even though she arrived before most of the residents, because there was a miscommunication as to when to arrive.

I’d planned to be there well before she, in order to capture her look of surprise. However, due to the miscommunication, I missed her initial surprised reaction. So, what I did was to later have her go out, come back in, do a reenactment, LOL.

Terrific acting job.

At the end of the event, as we were preparing to clean up and head out, I saw a half-naked woman enter the pool area.

It’s your lucky day Mike …. Black Bikini is back. She’s wearing a different skimpy outfit, but it’s definitely your girl.

No one in the room claimed to know her, but she absolutely must be a new resident, not a visitor.

Last time I spotted her, she was cleaning the pool's filter. This time she grabbed pool equipment and began cleaning the jacuzzi, then the pool.

When You Snooze You Loose

Not able to get that animated haunted tree off my mind, I went online yesterday to order. Lo and behold, this early in the Halloween season, it’s sold out already and is not available anywhere.

There are lookalike inflatables available, but I don’t do inflatables.

I usually do cute stuff for Halloween. However, thinking I’d be a vampire if we have a party and wanting a haunted tree on the patio, got me to thinking why?

Why have I gone dark?

Looking at the continuing police brutality against POC, the unrelenting determination of the Alt Right and stupid No. 45’s supporters, I think it’s my feeling of hopelessness coming out as vampires and haunted trees, rather than the usual candy corn.

So, anyway, after thinking about the unavailability of that rather large tree, it occurred to me it was probably for the best because the outdoor storage area already looks like a prop shop. There’s no space for that particular tree.

I decided on a smaller more manageable version.

On tap for today is dismantling the red Adirondack chair.

It’s so rickety weather worn that I can probably smash it to pieces by sitting on it or tossing it off the balcony. I’ll instead take the safe route of dismantling with the electric screwdriver.

I wasn’t going to blog about an interaction between Red Light and I that occurred Saturday before last because, though puzzling, I didn’t think it important and because — in what would probably surprise her, I didn’t think Red Light was important, worth a second thought. A vete a la verga, if you will (Thanks Bob for that awesome new curse word).

Reading on Dawn’s blog this morning that today is her birthday (Happy Birthday Dawn) brought the interaction back to the forefront of my mind, segued into adding to today’s post.

Insofar as my neighbors, except for the crazies — whom I avoid altogether, I walk the middle path by maintaining friendly relationships, careful to not get too close.

That works out well as it keeps me an observer of the drama, never in it and, being an independent party, people like to think I'm clueless as to what’s going on and can’t wait to spill the tea all over me.

I, of course, play it up like shock, awe, it’s the first time I’m hearing the tea, use it for blog fodder.

So anyway, I know Red Light has had several disputes — is disliked by her upstairs neighbor (there have been complaints to the office about Red Light and vice versa), disliked by her own next-door neighbor the Smoker, and recently my Next-Door Neighbor told me about telling Red Light, "Lose my number Don’t call me again!"

I guess Red Light was getting bored when, Saturday before last, she turned her attention towards me with the text — "When is your birthday?"

Back in March, when Red Light invited me to lunch with herself and the Talker, sensing she was trying to get too close even then, I declined — using my food issues as an excuse. In all honesty though, I said no because my spidey sense told me to not trust her knowing too much about me. She’s okay as a neighbor and gives good blog fodder, but she’s just not the kind of person I’d have as a friend.

From the way people around her are dropping away, I guess I got it right.

She’s a bit of a troubled soul, has gotten into EVERYBODY'S business. Even tried to turn me against Painted Rock lady, which didn't get anywhere because PRL hasn't done anything to offend me personally.

Red Light even recently called Corporate and made a complaint about Activity Director being incompetent and rude to the seniors.

She isn’t wrong, but why reach out that far about something that’s been going on for years before you came on board, hasn’t impacted you personally but you decided to make an issue?

Long time readers of the blog know I don’t celebrate my birthday.

Birthdays in the family were celebrated when I was coming up, but so rarely that I learned not to expect or want so as to not feel hurt; but even if I did celebrate my birthday, I’d not be comfortable with giving Red Light my exact date. No telling what she could do with that data.

My reply to "When is your birthday" was "Thanks for asking, but I don’t celebrate my birthday for personal reasons".

"Sorry I asked" was her snippy response.

I mentally called her a bad word — the "B" word, went on with my day.

Expecting she might still be mad and a little standoffish days later at bingo, seeing she was not, I attributed it to a moment of frustration about not being able to penetrate the shell I’ve placed around myself.

Oh well. But best not to try me further because you're bored and curious.