For My Next Trick

We are 13 days into the month and us residents just this afternoon had the Actvity Calendar for this month posted to our doors.

I guess it really doesn't matter inasmuch as there are no activities listed, LOL.

Except, "Thanksgiving Social and Tenant Council Meeting with Management, Tuesday, November 18, 12:00 pm - 1:30 pm".

I'm not expecting much from another management meeting or a "Thanksgiving social" but, if the Starbucks strike is over, I'll grab a cup, head down to the Community Room, just to see what Kesha and Assistant Manager are up to.

Hopefully, I can manage to listen, take notes on the meeting portion, keep my thoughts about management to myself, because voicing my frustrations, at previous meetings, has been a waste of energy.

HOWEVER, if there is any mention of our paying for lightbulbs, garbage disposal, toilet, that will be my opening to tell them I've learned it's illegal for management to charge us for those items — simple wear and tear; and ask what have they been doing with the money collected from that illegal practice.

Now that work on that never ending project came to an end, for my next trick Twin 1 has tasked me with designing a cover for this bathroom accessory ……

I haven’t a clue where to begin but, while I’m waiting for an idea to pop into my head, I thought I’d start with purchasing fabric.

After getting my BP checked yesterday (121/58), I drove over to the homophobic, racists, antisemitic Knit for Jesus craft store (don’t judge me for giving them my business. They’re the only option since Michael’s and Joann’s went out of business).

I picked up a bolt of Kente Cloth, cause I know Twin 1, with her afrocentric self, would like it.

Then saw a different print …… somewhat similar, but a little more muted that I thought she might like.

Not knowing which she’d like best, I took both bolts up to the little strait-laced grandma looking lady manning the yardage station.

She oohed and aahed over the Kente Cloth fabric, said she likes color and had in fact told her daughter she was going to make for herself a top and pants out of that specific colorful print.

Sensing she didn’t know what she saw as a "colorful print" actually was, I said, "It’s Kente Cloth".

Seeming not impressed, she said "I just like all the colors".

"Wearing pants and a top is a lot of color, and I don’t see you wearing that much color", said I.

She was a tiny little lady, and that much color would have swallowed her up. Her little body didn't exude the power to carry the print off.

She laughed said her daughter told her the same thing, that it was a lot of color, and now hearing it from me as well, maybe she’ll just make a top.

Thinking it might not actually be safe for a basic white strait-laced grandma type walking around in Kente Cloth, I added "Kente Cloth is pretty ethnic. They call it cultural appropriation now days".

We left it at that, as another customer approached, oohed and aahed over the Kente Cloth.

Later that night, I got to thinking about that conversation, wondered if I’d spoken incorrectly.

So, I asked Google …… "can white people wear kente cloth?"

There wasn’t an exact ye or ney. It was more or less, do it at your own risk, because inasmuch as the cloth symbolizes Black Excellence, to see a white person wearing is "conflicting". That you’re likely to get a lot of side eye because some do see it as cultural appropriation.

The internet also reminded me of the hew and cry that was when "with the introduction of new federal police reform legislation, Democratic Congressional leaders came together in Emancipation Hall in the U.S. Capitol to kneel together in support of the fight for racial justice. In addition to the symbolic gestures, the leaders, including Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi and Minority Leader Chuck Schumer, wore kente stoles …… In doing so, they meant to honor Black lives. Instead, they appropriated African culture".

They’d meant well, but caused quite a stir.

I imagine if that strait-laced granny follows through with either a top or pants or both, her circle of friends might think it cute, even some in the general public might think it cute/cool; but for me, I’m big on respecting the various cultures.

Like when I was training at the Thai culture Pain Cave. When told it would be deemed disrespectful to walk across the floor in shoes, I’d take shoes off in an area provided at the door, walk to the back training area in socks, slip athletic shoes back on AND repeat the process leaving — take off shoes in back room, walk to the front in socks, put shoes back on in area provided.

Once, Trainer said he’d ask the guys if an exception could be made for me, but I requested he not do so because "I believe in respecting the culture".

Later today, I messaged Twin 1 photos of the two prints; she chose the second one, the not Kente Cloth one.

Go figure.

The Kente won't go to waste. It will eventually come in handy for something I make in the future …… not pants and a top, though I myself probably could carry it off.

Bow Wow Wow Yippie Yo Yippie Ye

Skelly got a dog over the weekend … a Golden Retriever.

Meet Cujo.

I’m currently having a real fixation with skeletons, wish I had more and almost added a skeleton planter, I saw at the market, to my menagerie.

It’s a planter I can leave on the patio all year round but, since the sun kills every plant I try to raise on the patio, I couldn’t justify the purchase.

Also inside the market, I spied a clever way to "carve" a pumpkin … I ininitially thought it was a mask glued on, which would have been a great idea, but painting does just as well as carving.

Leaving the market, I spotted a Rubicon tricked out with a Halloween display, driving in. Of course I turned around, took a few pics as the occupants walked away.

I'll be sad to see the month of Halloween end, because seeing seasonal decorations is so fun.

In other news — knock on wood, I think the angry tree spirit, with a little kick from an old remedy, has left the unit.

I got serious about speeding its exit when the timer on the cellphone failed — another act of electronic vandalism. The timer would tick off the minutes I'd set for cook time but, when the time was up, it emitted no sound/no signal to let me know time had run out, after which an old remedy came to mind.

Back in the day (around 2005), when I was up against the Klan at that racist agency (CEO Klansman, various Klan Department Heads, their Klan secretaries), I’d get to the office early, before the racist arrived, walk around and into various offices with a ying yang mug of Gadatsu Holy Tea, speaking out loud, "Evil spirits, chew on this" as a way to draw their dark energy out of the atmosphere in which I was working, because that’s what Holy Tea does. It’s used in rituals to bring peace and salvation to unrested spirits, effective in purifying negative energy.

One morning, as I was working the ritual, I failed to notice my boss was in her office, saw me, yelled out, "Shirley, what are you doing?"

"Getting rid of evil spirits", said I.

She was cool, knew I was different, liked me, sometimes helped me by giving intel on what the Klan was planning. So, she just accepted what I was doing, like it was normal, went back to whatever it was she was doing. LOL.

I only had to do the ritual a couple times before I felt a shift in the energy … the Klansmen, Klan girls not so sure of themselves, more leery of me because I didn’t seem to react with the fear they’d expected. Instead, I was always smiling, walking around looking smug, like I knew something they didn’t.

I did.

End the end, the racists could never get me or get to me and, eventually, all the bad energy they directed at me bounced off my wall of protection and hit ‘em. The racist CEO resigned ahead of an indictment for financial fraud, the various racist Department Heads, like rats jumping a sinking ship, fled to other jobs. One committed suicide, and those remaining — because they couldn’t find other jobs, went on the downlow with their racism, were no longer a problem for me.

So, anyway, when the timer on the cellphone went out, I decided to get serious about sending the tree being on its way, thought back to the Holy Tea, which has been with me, in the cupboard all these years.

I’ve never had to use it since those days with the racists, but it doesn’t hurt to have such a powerful antidote to unruly forces on hand, so I’ve kept it all these years … when I moved to Long Beach to help Great Granddaughter out, when I moved back to where I am now, the tea was always with me.

On Friday, I performed the ritual, sent the tree being — knock on wood, packing.

In even more news, it appears Lu and Dream Lover are back on; as daily, since trucks arrived, carted Lu’s hoarding stuff away, I’ve observed him heading for her unit and, looking at posts on Facebook, Dream Lover has been gifting Lu with some of his Crafts Day artwork.

That’s all she needs … more stuff.

At any rate, Happy Monday, the game continues.

I Smell a Rat

It’s inspection time here on the complex. The landscapers are tidying up the outside, the Maintenance guys are changing out the A/C filters, the Assistant Manager is inspecting units to make certain everything works in advance of the State and Federal inspectors.

The most recent Assistant Manager is a cute little young lady that seemed to be enjoying seeing inside our units. When I opened the door, she immediately said, "Oh how cute".

"Wait until you see my Next-Door Neighbor’s unit. Mine is a mish mash of things I like. Hers is like a museum", said I.

I was actually heading out when she and the Maintenance guy arrived — on my way to Pizza Tuesday in the Community Room. So, I told her to feel free to inspect, lock up when they leave.

Arriving at the Community Room, I found Kesha was hosting a Resolution Conflict session with a few seniors — reading from some handout, and the counter free of pizzas.

I positioned myself at a table next to them, whereupon the Baker leaned over, whispered "There are no pizzas …… from now on".

"Why?" asked I.

"We don’t know".

I smell a sabotaging rat.

It doesn’t seem coincidental that, after all these years, when we get a Kesha as Activity Director, all of a sudden the tradition of free pizzas on Tuesday comes to an end.

Not only that, but the Calendar indicates Kesha would today be hosting "Social: Chips and Salsa Social" 12:30 to 1:30, but that too wasn’t happening because Management didn’t give her the money for the chips and salsa.

I definitely smell a sabotaging rat. Kesha’s days are numbered.

Before I arrived, the ladies said they were asked to fill out a Needs Assessment Survey, which is to justify Kesha’s position.

Uh huh.

So, nothing that was scheduled to happen this morning came to fruition, no fault of Kesha’s, but the newer resident (Crafty Lady) that occasionally hosts crafts for us, had us making art out of cut up paper towel rolls.

First, Crafty Lady provided us with strips of paper cut from paper towel tubes, and circles cut from a cardboard box.

Then we folded a strip, nestled the folded strip inside the unfolded strip to produce a flower like design, hot glued the designs around the cardboard circle however we saw fit.

The Other Wheelchair Lady is trying to make a bunny.

I didn't stay long enough to see her finished bunny, or the finished product of others, but inasmuch as the session is to continue tomorrow, I'll get to see how the projects turn out, and will post the results.

I'm a crafter, so I was quick to position my little designs in the middle of the board, paint and be out, back to my needlepoint.

As we were crafting, Kesha (who had been working on something in the office) came back into the room, began taking pictures of our craft session.

"She’s going to turn those photos into Corporate, take credit for what we’re doing", said Crafty Lady.

"Doesn’t matter", said I. "Won’t help her" (because I see far, know her position is about to be eliminated and there’s nothing she can do to save it).

It’s great to be retired, not have to worry about downsizing, layoffs, and sabotage because you’re Black.

In fact, last Sunday, September 7, marked my 15th year of sliding the chute.

Other than discussing the obvious impending dissolution of Kesha’s position, conversation at the table was how those of us who are familiar with Not Dead Nancy, from the old days, were shocked at her appearance; all saying, like I, that they did not recognize her, and how sad it is.

Someone finally asked me about that photo of my sitting on Meat Man's lap — it was Crafty Lady. She said she’d been browsing the photos of last Friday’s event, posted to the residents’ FB page, saw the photo and wondered what’s going on with him and I.

"Not a thing", said I. That H_____ (Meat Man) is just someone I like to clown around with.

She said she’s run into him a few times, he told her he was single.

Those of us who have known Meat Man for years — the Baker and I, laughed.

I didn’t go into detail — that he actually has an off-site fiancé, just said Meat Man is like a dog chasing cars, goes after every new woman on the complex, and I'm surprised he hasn't already pitched himself to her.

"He’d be wasting his time", said she.

"He usually is wasting his time", said I, "But that doesn’t stop him from chasing".

That’s pretty much all the news, except there was a box set up in the room where we could drop topics for the upcoming Community Meeting.

Had I known, I’d have brought down a typed complaint about lateness of the Monthly Calendar. However, seeing sticky note paper available, I printed out my complaint — how frustrating it is to receive the Calendar after an event or on the day of and, while others said they didn’t sign their name to whatever issue they dropped in the box, I signed mine.

Bring It On.

What a Week!

I’m beginning to think Catalyst’s comment on my last post "Eclipse, Schmeclipse, who cares anyway. It only means the Apocalypse is getting close" is right on, because so much has happened in the world this week.

Last weekend’s rain ………… third weekend in a row we had rain to deal with, plus rain expected this weekend, not to mention the up and down weather during the week of freezing cold one day, 90 degree heat the next, had me not feeling my best as I fought off an ear infection and sore throat.

Along with the up and down weather, there was the Eclipse, sentencing of the Goon Squad Cops that tortured two Black men in Mississippi, news that Paul Flores (purported unaliver of Kirsten Smart) had been knifed in prison for the second time and, lastly, ta ta so long to O.J. Simpson.

That was a lot for one week.

If you’re unfamiliar with the Goon Squad, it consists of six white Mississippi cops (Brett Morris McAlpin, 53; Christian Dedmon, 29; Jeffrey Middleton, 46; Hunter Elward, 31; and Daniel Opdyke, 28 and a former police officer from the city of Richland, Joshua Hartfield, 32).

A white neighbor took exception with mixing of races and reported seeing two Black men (Michael Corey Jenkins and Eddie Terrell Parker) living with a white woman.

Not illegal in this year of 2024 but hey, it’s Mississippi.

At any rate, the cops illegally entered the home, kicked, waterboarded, shouted racial slurs, assaulted Jenkins and Parker with stun guns and a sex toy, then Elward shot Jenkins in the mouth.

Their vicious acts were then covered up by planting drugs and having Jenkins and Parker arrested.

With McAlpin and Middleton threatening to kill the other officers if they spoke up, those false charges stood for months until pressure mounting from a Justice Department civil rights probe caused one of the six to break rank and spill the beans.

This week was the Day of Reconning for the six.

Jeffrey Middleton 46, Daniel Opdyke 28, Hunter Elward 31,
Brett McAlpin 53, Christian Dedmon 29, Joshua Hartfield 32

I’d have liked to have seen the neighbor that set this whole thing in motion charged for something ……… anything, but what I don’t get is why can’t people with this kind of bias hatred just stop?

You want to hurt someone because you don't like the color of their skin, you don't like them mixing with other races, you don't want them as your neighbor, you hate for whatever reason, and you act out on that hate. People are harmed, people are unalived but, inasmuch as 9 out of 10 times you are caught, called out, imprisoned, your own reputation gone, life in tatters, so what purpose did it serve to act out on your hatred?

It just boggles my mind that folks can’t live their own lives, leave others alone.

Also of note this week was the Eclipse (Partial in my neck of the woods).

After reading reports of those who experienced the Total, I’m jealous and wishing I were more the adventurous type as I could travel to Spain to view the projected 2027 Total.

In the meantime …..

My Kinda Eclipse with Guacamole

As for Paul Flores, second time in a row he's been knifed while under protective care, so I don’t think he’s going to survive much longer in prison. He should probably just tell what he did with Kirsten’s body.

Speaking of telling, the least noteworthy event this week, on my scale, was the passing of O.J. Simpson without clearing his conscious and confessing.

No surprise though that he was a liar to the end as he’d lied at reports of his health not being well, saying his health was good just before that was proved a lie by his demise.

He always reminded me of my abusive egomaniac ex. He too could never accept responsibility for his actions.

In fact, when the ex learned he had six-months to live, something in him, possibly conscious, prompted him to call, give me the news.

As if I cared.

But my humanity took over and I offered forgiveness, saying "I hold no ill will for anything".

His reply was to get pompous, arrogant, "I? I did nothing."

Okay, I thought to myself, You tell that to St. Peter at the gate that torturing, abusing women was nothing. Then, after he passed away, I guess reality hit because there were visitations ... many visitations with he begging for forgiveness.

By then, my heart had hardened. All I could think of was his saying "I? I did nothing", so I told him forgiveness had been offered, he'd gotten his usual arrogant self, now it was too late, so F off and go straight to hell. (Yes, I spoke to a dead person).

After a time he did. I'm assuming both the F'ing off and going to Haydes.

One interesting thing I ran across in reading comments about O.J. was that thousands of Ford Broncos (the car made famous by the 1994 slow speed police chase) were recalled the same day he passed away.

Though the recall had nothing to do with his death, but involved possible cracked fuel injectors that could cause a fire, comments were "They both ran out of gas".

Odd that the recall happened the day he passed away and, inasmuch as I don't believe in coincidences your guess as to its cosmic meaning is as good as mine.

On the 8th Day of Christmas

I awoke to a message that "High winds and dangerous fire conditions are forecast from Saturday morning through Sunday afternoon. We may have to shut off your power to decrease risk of dangerous wildfires".

Are you serious?

Especially when you’ve already notified us of a planned maintenance power outage scheduled for Wednesday.

This is a senior complex. We should be exempt from these.

Color me annoyed as I work out a backup plan for tomorrow morning’s ritual — the morning I’m planning to attend the local Breakfast with Santa event, should I awake to an outage.

Down to my last Canyon Bakehouse bagel, I yesterday put in another Walmart pick-up order and saw they’d learned from the day when the pick-up line extended out of the full parking lot, down the street to the corner of the intersection. The system now requires reservations. Customers pick the time they plan to pick up in hour increments.

I chose between 11 and noon, because it’ll coincide with this morning’s workout ending at 11:30.

Good system, and the fact Walmart came up with it ???? …… I’m impressed.

Needing nothing in particular from the market yesterday, but out and about passing, I pulled in to find the elf.

Whoever is in charge of hiding this year — probably a lazy manager, is making it too easy.

Sparkle was once again in plain sight as one walks through the market doors.

You’d have to be blind to miss her.

Lastly, have you seen the latest photograph of Kyle Rittenhouse and the thread going around on X, formerly known as Twitter about his appearance?

It appears his little pathetic crybaby pudgy self (and yes, that was a body shaming thing to say, and I don’t regret saying that about him) has exploded to twice its previous size.

My favorite comment on his appearance being "I am loving this for Kyle".

His turning to food for comfort reads to me as guilt.

He can pose as the poster boy for the Proud Boys, go on talk shows, write a book, enjoy the celebrity, enjoy and laugh about having evaded consequences, but that something inside that we all have — the voice of reason and conscious, will one way or another have its way with us.

Kyle's Karmic Consequences are showing, giving us an idea of the turmoil going on inside.

UPDATE: According to another blogger, and various other sources I see online, the photo is thought to be altered. Whoever altered it did a good job, and nice to think Kyle could one day ballon up like that out of guilt.

Oops, I Did it Again

Seems I got a week ahead of myself in pronouncing Activity Director’s End of Summer Luncheon. That event is not until next Tuesday — still five or six weeks before the actual end of summer, but whatever.

Today, thus far, has been a disappointment insofar as Indictment/Arraignment No. 4. I’ve seen no news as to what if anything is going on with No. 45 showing up at the Fulton County courthouse.

I did however run across news that Thao, the former cop who held back bystanders while Chauvin murdered George Floyd was sentenced to an additional 4.75 years in prison on state charges for holding back those concerned citizens, including a first responder — an off-duty firefighter who walked up on the scene, identified herself, asked to be allowed to provide aid to Floyd.

The arrogance Thao displayed toward that first responder with his "If you are who you say you are, then you know not to get involved", disturbed me just as much as Chavin’s actions, so these additional years — to run concurrent with the three and a half years he’s already serving on federal charges for depriving Floyd of his civil rights, are well deserved.

Thao’s continuing arrogance is still on display with his statement at this latest sentence that he’s grown in his "Christian faith" while in prison (don't they all) and that "I did not commit these crimes. My conscience is clear. I will not be a Judas nor join a mob in self-preservation or betray my God".

Spare me!

Do your time, be grateful you didn’t get life and wake the f*ck up.

And speaking of arrogance, just how arrogant and privileged can a person be to think they can park their pontoon in a place designated on a dock for the Riverboat. THEN, not only refuse to untie and move your boat when the dock employee asks you to so the Riverboat can come in and while folks on the Riverboat are chanting the line "Move b*tch get outta the way" from Ludacris' song at you. THEN, when the dock employee goes to untie your pontoon himself, you assault him. THEN seven more of your arrogant privileged friends pile on this one dock employee and begin to beat, kick, assault him.

How arrogant and privileged in your thinking must you be to think that any of this is okay for you to do?

Tee shirts are already out commemorating those who stepped up and revoked that privilege card.

There’s also talk of making August 5 an unofficial holiday.

I imagine some of those who stepped up will need bail money and lawyers — for sure Chair Guy will need bail and a lawyer.

I stand ready to donate to legitimate gofunds and hopefully lawyers will step up pro bono.

But Wait …. There’s More

No golden parachute for this bozo.

And no soft landing into another gig.

In other news ...... Standing in line outside Assistant Manager’s door yesterday afternoon, with a group of residents waiting to turn in requested paperwork to get a new parking permit, I peered into the Game Room to see if the book I’d donated to our Library last month was still on the shelf.

It wasn’t.

Then

Now

The book (by George Dawson, son of slaves) is now in the hands of someone with a stronger constitution than I. Someone not so easily triggered as I when reading, in the first few pages, how a white girl’s lies caused an innocent Black man to be beaten by a racist mob and unalived by hanging.

I wonder if people who committed those kinds of atrocities, based on racial hatred, ever felt guilt or shame or regret?

Probably not and, since I don't believe in hell, but believe we transition into another life, they've somehow shapeshifted into those living amongst us now who still harbor that kind of hatred. The kind of people who shoot to kill when they see a Black face knocking on their door looking to pick up his siblings at the wrong address, the kind of people who shoot at a Black Fedex driver they feel doesn't belong in their neighborhood, so on and so forth.

Oh, well. I'll file these thoughts under reasons why I don't want to save the planet.

As for why us residents are being issued new parking permits …… a few weeks ago, as I was logging in miles around the complex, I saw a corporate looking guy walking around, with a clipboard, looking at the back of cars and writing stuff down.

I knew something was up, not sure what, but I’d guessed he was checking to make sure all cars parked on the premise had a permit, updated registration sticker and I was equally sure he found quite a few that had neither.

Sure enough, attached to our doors yesterday morning was a notice saying "New parking permits will be issued. All open parking spaces will no longer be assigned. Please come to the Leasing Office to receive your new parking sticker by Monday, May 1. Vehicle registration and insurance are required".

In order to weed out those cars which are not in compliance with having proper insurance and registration, they're issuing new permits AND, if you don't have one, you are SOL and will lose your ride — get towed.

As for doing away with assigned parking spots, fortunately I pay extra for a carport, but those with a free assigned parking spot are fit to be tied that they will have to now scramble for parking.

I don’t see the logic of aggravating the seniors thusly, that is unless the problem is there’s not enough parking spots for the number of residents who have cars OR it could be Corporate just wants to bring in more money by putting residents in the position of where, if they don’t want to scramble, they'll have to pay for a carport or garage.

I’m leaning toward their motive being the latter.

Another Winter Storm

With a weather forecast of heavy rain — which started today, through next Wednesday, it’s not looking good for plans to tackle Devil’s Canyon Road this weekend.

I do have makeup refills to pick up at the mall this weekend, before the orders gets cancelled. So, hopefully there’s a lull long enough to let me venture out.

The good news is, I made a fortuitous mistake and placed the order with a store in a mall other than my preferred location. The mall I mistakenly placed the orders with is one I can reach by street travel, no traversing the freeway in a storm required and I’ll be able to put in some walking miles as this mall is covered, while my preferred mall is not.

The fact this fortunate mistake was made kind of takes me out of the "Trouble Trouble Boil and Bubble" worrying frame of mind and into thinking that "All Things Work Together for Good" — that what looks bad on the surface, a mistake, may be a step in the right direction.

At any rate, curious as to how Devil’s Canyon Road got it’s name, I did a little research and learned a man by the name of Daniel Sexton, who arrived here in 1841, was working for a Colonel Isaac Williams on Williams’ Chino Ranch.

Now Williams had been an Indian Fighter. He fought as a Captain under General Andrew Jackson "Old Hickory", along with Davy Crockett and Sam Houston in the Creek War, involving the Muscogee, the Choctaw (my people), Cherokee Nations, and Lower Creeks faction of the Muscogee — whoever they were.

The "hostilities" ended in 1814 with the signing of the treaty of Ford Jackson when Andrew Jackson "forced" the Creeks to "surrender" more than 21 million acres in what is now southern Georgia and central Alabama.

Stolen land, which has nothing to do with how Devil’s Canyon Road got its name, but was so interesting that I thought I’d add it in.

Back to Daniel Sexton working for Colonel Williams ...... one day Williams told Sexton he was tired of eating meat, and craved vegetables. He sent Sexton and two of "his Indians" (slaves???) to survey a road so that they might get up to timber lands, and there cut trees for fencing, so that he (Williams) could keep cattle out of a vegetable garden.

Sexton had not gone far when one of the Indians was bitten by a rattlesnake and died.

Sexton and the remaining Indian continued up the canyon, found a feasible route for the proposed road and, as they returned, the second Indian was also fatally bitten by another snake.

The Indian yelled "El Diablo" as he died, and so the Canyon received the name Devil’s Canyon and the path, from the college to the top, Devil’s Canyon Road.

At least that’s Sexton’s story as to why he started off with two Indians, then there were none.

I personally don’t believe him.

My spidey sense is telling me Sexton did something dastardly to the Indians and the yelling of "El Diablo" was that Indian's dying words towards Sexton — calling him the devil for having murdered the first Indian and now him, the second.

So other than exposing Sexton as an 18th Century serial killer, I’ve been a bit of a bookworm.

After sitting on the Faun of Grey Gardens for months, I started reading it early last week — around the 10th. Such an engrossing read that I couldn’t put it down. Finished reading a few days later … on the 17th.

Due to her many cruelties to Jerry, I ended up not liking Little Edie very much.

Yet another example of how it so often is that "No good deed goes unpunished". I never could or would have extended to Little Edie the patience and kindness Jerry did.

I also couldn’t believe Jerry gave a shoutout to his parents in the Acknowledgment — parents who did nothing for him besides giving birth and a terrible childhood.

At any rate, investigating online, I see the house still stands — though looking at photos of the renovation, it looks nothing like the house formerly inhabited by the Beales.

Little Edie passed away in 2002, while Jerry is pretty much all that’s left of that interesting saga.

Looking at Jerry’s Instagram page, I see that he just had (on February 6th) an event with the book’s co-author Tony Maietta. So, with his stoneware business, continuing book sales and related events, it all came together in good for Jerry.

Judging by the book title, this life of George Dawson — the grandson of slaves, turns out well. But the start of the book is so triggering that I don’t think I’ll get far enough to get to the good part.

First few pages begin with an incident much like the unaliving of Emmet Till — a crowd of angry Whites dragging an innocent Black man through the streets to the hanging tree because of a lie.

A young White girl, pregnant by her White boyfriend, lies and says the teenage Black farmhand is the father of the child.

Why?

Who knows. Especially since, when the child is born, everyone will see it’s a White baby, no color in it.

Which is exactly what happened. A White baby was born and there was not a care the girl had lied and caused the torture and death of an innocent young Black man.

The book, thus far, is too disturbing. So, I think I’ll get rid of it — drop it off at the Library.

It’s banned it some states, so I’ll drop it in the slot and let the Library do as they will with it, if it's banned here as well.

I’m not without reading material because Walter Mosley's latest book, which I preordered months ago, arrived in yesterday’s mail.

Most all of Mosley’s book are page turners, this one will be especially so as it's a continuation of Mosley's earlier novel — Down the River Unto the Sea, and solves the mystery of who it was that framed former NYPD Investigator Joe King Oliver for rape of a White woman, sending Oliver to Rikers prison.

Art imitating life, but this one isn't triggering because Joe King survived Rikers, became a Private Detective and is now about to take names, kick some arse.

Trouble Trouble Boil and Bubble

It’s a tough job, so thank you for doing it
and ousting that idiot No. 45

I actually didn’t realize today was a holiday until, heading for the mail center after this morning’s workout, I saw a group of residents sitting on the bench by the Laundry Room.

They usually only sit there when waiting for the mail carrier to finish sorting, so I asked, "Is the mail carrier not yet finished?"

"No mail today, it’s a holiday".

That explains why I’d seen Head Maintenance Guy, whom I thought was slacking off, heading out and off with his two boys and daughter, thought I.

Though I’ve seen quite a few residents out and about today and during the week, enjoying the weather, I’ve not seen the Baker — which makes me think something might be seriously wrong with her ailing husband.

If I don’t see her at this coming’s Bingo Friday, I’ll know it’s bad.

Trouble trouble boil and bubble.

Thankfully, I’ve not seen hide nor hair of my little rug rat Knock Knock.

I did, however, have an interesting interaction with a child about little Knock Knock’s age at the market on Friday.

I’d parked the car, began walking across the parking lot, spied a man putting groceries into the trunk of the car with two little boys that looked like twins standing in the cart.

One of the little boys was staring at me, but I didn’t think anything of it until, as I got closer to pass by, the kid yelled out "HI GRANDMA!"

Not sure I’d heard correctly, I paused when I got to where they were and asked, "Did you just call me Grandma?"

"YESSS!" was his overly enthusiastic response, causing me to think he’d had too much sugar.

"Do I remind you of your grandma?"

"YESSS!"

"Do I look like your grandma?"

"YESSS!"

"Do you like your grandma?"

"YESSS!"

"Well then it’s cool".

His dad was cracking up during the interaction, and dad wished me a good day as I continued on into the market.

Then, while the cashier was scanning my groceries, I saw a baby staring at me from his carrier in the isle across.

Seeing him staring, I smiled and gave him a little wave which made him smile.

His little sister, seeing him staring, took his head and turned it towards her.

The baby wasn’t having it. He turned back and kept smiling at me.

Finally, his mom and grandma began looking to see what he was smiling at, whereupon I finished paying for my groceries and said to the baby, "Stop flirting with me".

Mom and Grandma began laughing and also wished me a good rest of the day as we all began to walk out.

I left the market feeling like the frigging Pied Piper of children in the Inland Empire area.

What is it that my little rug rat Knock Knock, the kid that called me grandma and the baby see?

Are they all souls from past lives recognizing my soul in its current skin suit?

The week was a heavy one for me due to worrying about a family member who is thisclose to being jobless then ultimately homeless.

I’ve occasionally helped this family member out financially, but it’s reached a point where I can no longer do so without hurting myself and thus will have to accept it’s not going to end well for her.

Trouble trouble boil and bubble.

I’ve seen this family member travelling down the road she’s on for many years and can see why — though she’s a nice person, caring, thoughtful, in the end she causes so many to not like her, not want to even be around her but I have never been able to tell her what I see because she gets defensive, shuts down, goes into denial mode.

Not just with me, but with anyone who tries to get through to her.

It was the Chinese Philosopher Lao Tzu who said, "A tree that cannot bend will crack in the wind". When thinking of this relative, of what I've seen for as long as I can remember, the root cause of her issues is that she's a person who is rigid, controlling, cannot bend and those that don’t bend will break.

I think she’s at that point now and I can’t keep carrying the burden of worrying or bailing her out of financial difficulties. I’m going to have to say no next time and let whatever befalls her befall her.

Her latest situation, and her history of causing people to not like her, got me to thinking of my own history with people.

I've always had decent relationships with neighbors, coworkers, ex boyfriends — some of whom might have been mad at me because of this, that, the other, but can't think of anyone who wouldn't smile and give me an unwanted hug should our paths cross.

I’ve had people in and out of the workforce who hated me because of the color of my skin, but even these racist types couldn't help but like me once they got to know me, even while continuing to try to destroy me.

What I've never had is anyone to hate me for the person I am, people to not want to work with me, even be around me.

So, the fact this is a frequent reality for this family member, one would think she would by now have done some self-reflection and adjusted accordingly, but nooooo, she just gets angrier, more stubborn, more self-destructive.

Oh well. Knowing I was going to have to let this one go, and that it’s going to be bad — trouble trouble boil and bubble, sent me out for a nice long walk to clear my head on Saturday.

I walked the college campus, then tackled an incline, known as Devil Canyon Road — an incline that far exceeds the elevation of anything I’ll be facing at the 5K I’m looking forward to in October.

It was tough going, even with the trekking poles. I almost turned back just feet from the top but persevered.

At any rate, training on this incline a couple times a month — weather permitting, and I'll be able to ace the October 5k, no problem, no injuries.

BTW, the crazy glued trekking poles held up, but I carried an extra tube of glue just in case.