Recap

"I’ve been married for 52 years", said Hoochie Mama who was sitting next to me at today's Celebration of Life.

Hoochie Mama is the resident who moved in 2019 and quickly earned herself a reputation of being desperate because she’s so aggressively came onto the men, made a not PG-rated cupcake at a decorating event, couldn’t have a conversation without mentioning that three-letter word that starts with s and ends with x; and, more recently, came to an event as a moocher, tried to cut in line and, once in line, began grabbing chicken, eating it as she moved through the line grabbing at the other food.

Her behavior was disgusting, embarrassing and discussed at length by everyone who saw it, prompting me to provide the Baker with meal tickets for future events.

So, anyway … Impressed at 52 years, I said, "I don’t know how you guys can do that ─ Stick with one person year after year. I couldn’t stand being in a committed relationship for more than 6 months".

Then she held up 5 fingers, saying 52 years with 5 different husbands.

Laughing, I said, "It doesn’t work that way. You can't total them up". Whereupon she got a little miffed, said, "It does for me!".

Okay. Whatever. My instincts were right when I saw her walk through the door and heard myself say to myself, "OH NOOOOOO!".

Then, when her eyes landed on me, it was "NOOOOOOOO" again.

When she walked over, placed her hand on the back of the chair to my right, asked if it was okay to sit, I just kinda shrugged my shoulder while in my head I heard myself say, "It’s okay to sit anywhere but here".

She sat.

I was reluctantly polite when she engaged me in conversation, but I shut down after she got miffed over "It doesn’t work that way".

Fortunately, I saw Hell on Wheels (HOW) at the door. She was being escorted in by her daughter and her daughter’s drop-dead handsome hunk of burning love boyfriend, who had all of us ladies breaking our necks to get a good look at him.

They located HOW at the other end of the table where I was seated, to my left. So, I slid down to the seat nearest HOW, leaving two seats open between myself and Hoochie Mama.

Hoochie Mama noticed, seemed to know I wanted away from her, let out a little laugh about it.

I was really surprised to see HOW, especially since she was sitting upright in a wheelchair after being told she’d be bedridden for like the rest of her life.

She said she’d been through it but was "tough". Then she looked at me and said, "You’re tough too".

Interesting that, having not seen me in a couple years, while she was in care facilities, bedridden in her unit surrounded by nurses, and then in and out of the hospital, that she could look at me and see something that made her say that.

Anyway, Hoochie Mama was forgotten by me and HOW and I had a pleasant conversation about what’s been going on around the complex.

Just before the speeches began, and a slideshow was shown of the life of the Baker’s husband (They'd been married 40 years), HOW’s daughter and her drop-dead handsome hunk of burning love boyfriend sat in the two seat that were open between myself and Hoochie Mama, with the boyfriend, lucky for me … or so I thought, sitting right next to me.

He generated nothing, no heat, no aura. I felt no sense of anything. He felt empty and, when he spoke/commented on anything being said by speakers, his vocabulary seemed limited to "That’s awesome". He told a passing woman wearing Frankenstein earrings, "I like your earrings; they're awesome". Then, when clapping was done, he went overboard … big arms overhead, big hands coming together slow and loud.

I wrote him off as an empty vessel, a big dumb, clumsy oaf, delicious to look at but good for one thing.

I’ll leave it up to you readers to figure out what that one thing is.

Di was in the room.

I guess management lifted the ban, allowed her to enter the Community Room, attend the Celebration of Life.

At the end of the slideshow, it was announced the show would be on loop, everyone was invited to eat. So, once people started getting out of their seats, moving, lining up, I took it as my opportunity to do as Bob suggested, pull an Irish Exit and did.

The hardest part of the Celebration for me was when I first walked in, the Baker walked up to me, I hugged her and asked how she was doing. If she had fallen apart at that time, I would have done likewise; but she said she was "Okay, for now" and actually seemed to be.

In fact, during the entire Celebration of Life, the Baker seemed the one to handle it best, even said that the activities she spearheaded would continue.

Talker and Crafty Lady told her not to worry, that they had her back. That she should take it easy and they would continue the activities for her.

I know she can count on Talker. I’m not so sure about Crafty Lady as she’s prone to start/stop, have heart palpitations, a swollen knee.

Do I sound snarky … bitchy? Probably because, though I maintained during the Celebration of Life, I came home with a migraine and I don’t get migraines.

I don’t know if I picked up something from the big dumb oaf or Hoochie Mama.

Endings

Yesterday’s crafts session was, once again, cancelled. Last time, it was heart palpitations. This time it was a swollen knee, with Crafty Lady saying she has doctor appointments scheduled for the remaining Wednesdays of this month.

She said she’ll let us know if she decides to switch to another day, but I sense she’s losing interest in hosting the class and, truth be told, by the time she decides what she wants to do and when, I probably will have lost interest, found something else to do with my time.

Hearing a knock knock on the door just after noon today, I took a look through the kitchen window, found Head Maintenance Guy standing there.

Opening the door, I blurted out "Don’t tell me there’s a surprise inspection".

He didn’t smile.

With a serious look on his face, he handed me two pieces of paper – one an envelope, which he said had already been attached to my door.

Because he looked so serious, I opened the envelope and found an "In Loving Memory Of" card, gasped and teared up as Head Maintenance Guy said, the Baker’s 88-year-old husband had passed and, instead of Bingo Friday, there will be a service in the Community Room tomorrow at noon.

Since Head Maintenance Guy said the envelope had already been attached to my door, before he came up with his Notice, I checked the camera and saw the Baker’s daughter had brought it upstairs the day before, the 7th, at 10 o’clock.

Inasmuch as I’ve been housebound to escape the heat, if Head Maintenance Guy hadn’t had his Notice to deliver and had he not knocked on my door to let me know of the card having been attached, there’s a good chance I’d not have opened the door today or tomorrow, would have missed the service.

Actually, I would have preferred to have missed the service because I really don’t want to go. I empath and it’s going to be an emotional event that I’m already feeling, am working hard to maintain.

Considering what happened earlier this year, I don’t think I can handle it. However, being close to the Baker, her granddaughter, my not attending would be clocked. So, I’m going to have to at least make an appearance, show my respect without associating it with what happened earlier this year, try not to let the room full of grief get inside me … end up falling apart.

I don’t see the Baker recovering from this loss. Maybe she'll leave the community, move in with family, maybe stay in the community but be forever changed … because I now know from experience that a loss like that does change one.

Inasmuch as the Baker is the Cheer Captain around here – the one spearheading bingo and events, with the rest of us as supporting characters … me doing the flyers, taking pics, others cooking, setting up, providing prizes, whatever she needs doing, the bell is probably going to ring on Bingo Friday and future events.

It’s going to be very sad and very boring around here for a while. I may have to start popping into Kesha Tuesdays for tea.

What Head Maintenance Guy had come to my door to post was a Notice indicating "Annual Certification Letter, First Notice". The paperwork I’m required to submit, proving that I’m still poor enough to continue living here.

My last recertification was just this past January … we’re only in October, so it’s way soon for another round.

Some of you might recall I blogged about my getting through that last recertification by the hair of my chinny chin chin, because they added up what I had coming in monthly through sources of income, THEN they added to that what was in my savings account AND my checking account, essentially adding the same money twice, which made me look well off. Plus, because the automatic bill payments for rent, utilities, etc., had not yet been processed, my bank accounts had been flush with cash. Once the Assistant Manager totaled everything up, I came across as a rich b!tch and qualified by the hair of my chinny chin chin … less than a hundred dollars under the cap.

I’ll have to make sure not to recertify this time until payments have processed, brought the accounts down to reflect reality and for sure not until closer to January, even though the notice says "I strongly urge you to not put this off".

Me thinks that, now that office staff no longer accepts checks and money orders for rent, everything now goes through Rent Café, they probably don’t have enough to keep them busy, so are creating work to do.

At any rate, we’re supposedly having a Residents/Management meeting on the 20th. I’ll ask should I ignore this early notice and recertify in January per usual or not.

PIVOT!

Today's crafts session was cancelled due to Crafty Lady having heart palpitations.

She's been having heart problems for a while and, back in April had an operation … something about putting a watchman in her chest.

Her heart problems have not gone away but, so long as she takes it easy, its somewhat manageable. Only she’s not been taking it easy lately.

I saw, a few days ago on her facebook page, that she was working on cleaning crafting supplies from storage she has in Murietta and, just yesterday, also as seen on facebook, she was working on putting together a dresser, rearranged a room for more space, hung an extra curtain panel, so no surprise that today she’s having heart palpitations and her body hurts.

She’s got to be more mindful of her condition … what she can and should not be doing because she can’t die before I do as she’s one of the three points of contact set up to contact granddaughter and Twin 2 when I die.

I wasn’t intending her to be a point of contact, but you might recall when some of the organizers had finished their craft projects, were off planning what to do for the seniors come Thanksgiving, Crafty Lady found out they were doing something with her not in it, got upset, said "I guess I’m not invited to that!".

No matter what she's doing, others are not allowed to leave her out of what they are doing.

There was also the time when Talker and another resident were having a conversation on the opposite side of the Community Room, while Crafty Lady was busy doing something else. However, because she (Crafty Lady) wasn’t included in their conversation, she accused them of talking about her.

All to say she invited herself to be a point of contact for my family.

How that came about was I awoke July 31 from a dream where I was attending one of our events, stopped by a round table … We don't have round tables in the community room. Some tables are square, others are rectangular, so I don't know what that meant inside the dream, but there I was stopping at a round table where was seated Meat Man and a woman I did not recognize.

After chatting with them for a bit, I bid them goodbye, saying "I'll see you at this event next year". Then I heard myself correct myself saying, "Oh, wait. I won’t be here this time next year".

A clear indication to me that I’ll be dead before July 2027.

I took the dream in stride, began making preparations, starting with updating my family contacts sheet with the office and cancelling my eye appointment for new glasses, because it wasn't worth the expenditure. I do need new glasses, but it's not worth it if I only have a year or less to go.

I later that day was in the Community Room filling out the form for the office, telling Talker and the Baker of the dream, that I was giving them a copy of the form/adding them as neighbors allowed to enter my unit, giving a key to the Baker, asking that if I suddenly go missing, not seen for a time, please check to see if I’m still breathing, contact family if not and Crafty Lady blurted out, "Add me to that".

I couldn’t very well say no and really, since she long ago got over that thing she had for me, which made me uncomfortable, I find her to be okay and the one with the most family, friends, resources to be helpful to granddaughter and Twin 2.

So, now that she’s factored into the equation, she can’t go before I do.

I also, at that time, sent Twin 2 and granddaughter a copy of the form with instructions to trust Talker, the Baker, Crafty Lady, but avoid our MAGA neighbor at all costs, LOL.

Now that Meat Man himself has surprised me by moving out of the complex, I’m not sure if that throws a monkey wrench into what the dream told me. It said I would not be here that time next year, not that he would not be here that time next year.

Now that he won’t be here that time next year, I’ll just have to wait and see if the dream still holds true for myself.

So, anyway, with crafts cancelled today, no tutu for Skelly, I pivoted to thinking about that grass skirt I made and wore at the Resident’s End of Summer Event.

Skelly and I aren’t the same size, but I figured I could make it work; began looking through my crafts stash for shells I knew I could probably turn into a Hawaiian lei.

Lo and behold, I found blue tulle fabric I didn't know I had or why I had it.

I worked a little magic with it and Skelly is just about ready for tomorrow's debut on the patio.

Knock Knock Knock, Day 2

Shortly after noon today, there was another knock knock knock on the door.

It can't be little Knock Knock, because she’d gone home with her parents, thought I; and assumed correctly it had to be my White-Haired Neighbor, once again catching me wrapped in my sarong, because I had no intentions to seize the day.

She said maintenance was currently in her unit. That she’d approached one of the maintenance guys when she saw him outside, he had grabbed his equipment, come up to her unit, was currently addressing the condensation pipe over the tub, clearing the pipe of dust and grime so her tub would not get the rust stains I’d spoken of.

Interesting …… inasmuch as we are warned not to approach the guys when they are out and about, that we absolutely must put in a workorder.

She said that, since he was here, did I want him to clear my pipe as well.

I said sure, quickly dressed in day wear.

Then, she knocked again, had a what the hell look on her face, said she doesn’t understand it but maintenance had said no, they could not clear my pipe, that I’d have to put in a work order.

"That doesn’t surprise me", said I.

"But they are here now, and you’re right next door", said she.

"Yes. I know it doesn't make sense, that it’s petty", said I, "But not making sense is how things work around here".

"Since he’s here, why don’t you call the manager now and request it?".

"I’ve lived here 14 years, have been through the ringer with management and maintenance. The maintenance guys we have now are good, they know me, like me, and I have no problem with them. But the way things work around here are strange. I’ve accepted that, but have learned how to protect my peace from the strangeness. So, for now, I’m accustomed to cleaning the rust, won’t be calling the manager or putting in a workorder. I’m at the stage where if they don’t care, I don’t care."

She said, "I understand because I had problems with the manager over where I lived for 34 years. He had a problem with cats, had trapped two cats for three days, so I reported him to the ASPCA. After that he kept finding issues with me, tried to get me evicted. So, I understand."

She walked away with a look on her face that read she was stunned/couldn’t believe that, since maintenance was here, the equipment was here, why he couldn’t do my unit; and I hope she told him what I'd said, that "If they don't care, I don't care".

Wait until she finds out she’ll have to pay for overhead lighting, garbage disposals, and whatever else maintenance issues management decides to bill residents for.

Plus, because she didn’t put in a workorder, but got one of the guys to come to her unit, handle the A/C condenser pipe, the entire complex will probably get notices to our doors to "Not bother the Maintenance Workers when they are out and about".

Other than that, it’s all peaches and crème around here. We even, at long last, have a management-sponsored event coming up — "Resident’s End of Summer Event, join us by the pool for food, games and prizes, 11am – 3pm, Tuesday, August 25, wear your best tropical attire".

In other news, I received bad news from the seller of the Boot Urn. Emailing my height and weight, asking if ashes would fit, he or she replied, the boot holds "130 cubic inches which is approx 130lbs precremation".

I am considerably over 130 pounds, so bummer with my plan to go in style.

Wazzup?

Still not much going on, except this month’s bingo games have been cancelled, MAGA and Talker had another dust up, the Baker and Di also had a dust up. It went 2.0 …… got physical.

Snug as a bug in a rug under the A/C, working on scrapbooking, cleaning the spice rack of expired spices, reorganizing the kitchen cabinet, I’ve been getting news of the dustups second hand from the parties involved.

Talker tells me MAGA is still following her around, trying to engage/get close and, as usual, has been involving herself in things that are none of her business and aggravating others. Like when she wormed her way into one resident’s life, the resident let her guard down and expressed being depressed.

MAGA feigned worry about the woman’s mental health, called the police, who arrived to check on the woman.

She didn't appreciate it. Expressed to others that she felt betrayed/embarrassed. Withdrew even further because of it.

Then, when Patricia/one of our Usual Suspects passed away, MAGA got involved, feigned being closer to Patricia than Patricia would have allowed, inserted herself into the family’s business.

Another of our Usual Suspects/Louise was out-of-state visiting her daughter, fell, broke a hip and is now recuperating in an out-of-state rehab, staying in contact with Talker and the Baker.

MAGA is losing her mind running around trying to insert herself in Louise’s business, trying to get Louise’s telephone number.

Louise doesn’t like MAGA, would not appreciate a telephone call, we all know this. So, MAGA somehow found out Talker is the point-of-contact, asked Talker for Louise’s location and telephone number. When Talker said she couldn’t give Louise’s personal information to her, MAGA began badgering her for it. When Talker pushed back, MAGA accused Talker of being aggressive and words were exchanged.

Talker needs a restraining order but instead reported the following around, harassing to the office.

Not that anything will be done by management, but so there will be a record on file.

So now, word on the grapevine is to let our families know that if and when we pass away, be on guard for MAGA to try to get involved with our families.

I myself am drafting a text message to granddaughter and Twin 2 to not be fooled by, stay away from, do not be polite to, give no information to MAGA when my time comes.

Speaking of which, I’d previously mentioned Twin 2 gifted me with a cremation package. Since then, I’ve been thinking about wanting my ashes in a cowboy boot cremation urn.

Found it.

At $253.50, I haven’t ordered yet, but I will.

So, anyway, the Baker tells me her dustup with Di occurred when the organizers had gathered in the Community Room to plan bingo, learned the office will be closing early on the days planned for bingo, causing the Community Room to be locked up, decided to cancel August bingo.

At one point, the Baker was on the phone checking something to do with the results of doctor ordered lab work, the results being too high. Di walked into the room, began telling the girls about the woman she testified against being released from prison.

The girls keep doing what they were doing, the Baker on her phone, the others doing whatever, no one engaged.

Di became furious, yelled, "No one f__king cares about what’s happening to me"!

Now let me just say here that, if you haven’t already figured it out from previous postings about her, the Baker is the sweetest, kindest, most generous/patient human being ever …… darn near a Saint.

Di isn’t a bad person, she’s just a basic human …… complicated.

Baker said that when Di yelled no one f__king cares about what’s happening to me, "I lost it. Told Di that no one is paying attention because we’ve all heard a version of it over and over and over"; and, with one of her hands, she grabbed Di by the arm, grabbed her walker (a replacement walker???) with the other hand, escorted Di and the Walker to and outside the door.

"Well, damn", laughed I. "You got physical. Ushered her out the room".

Asking the Baker if she’s seen Di since, she said "She actually returned a few minutes later. Apologized for the outburst".

No one paid attention, no one engaged.

I See Dead People

Well not people, just person; and not up close and personal, but off from a distance.

The plan yesterday was to, after working out, head across the street to the market for groceries.

After loading my workout gear into the car, I thought to check my fanny pack for cash and oh oh, I didn’t have sufficient on me.

Thinking the ATM at the market across the street had probably been emptied over the weekend, fresh cash not yet arrived (no cash in the ATM has happened before on a Monday), I drove to the branch of the same market that has a Teller setup, sure to have cash.

This branch of the market is located in the heart of where the homeless congregate. Thus, the shopping center that houses the market, a restaurant, fast food place, et al, is video monitored, with a voice that comes over the air announcing the area is being monitored, no loitering.

Also, inasmuch as the market is off to the side, away from the other shops and stores, the first business on that side of the lot, there is quite a lot of high iron fencing where the market and the market’s parking lot is located, to control access, keep the unhoused out.

What with that monitoring voice coming over the air, fencing and security guards, I always think of a prison when I shop there.

Believe it or not, this market always has the freshest produce.

I can only assume that, regardless of the people I see living on the streets in that area, it has something to do with Redlining …… that area being rated at a higher income than where I live because fruits and vegetables are not always that fresh at the corner market, often appear to be on their last leg. That never happens at this other market — the prison.

So, anyway, as I was driving to the entrance of the prison, I looked over and saw what I instantly knew was a dead body.

First thing I spotted was a figure on the ground, covered with what looked like a blanket. Then I noticed the cop car parked alongside where the body was located.

Once I parked inside the prison, I could see the tape surrounding the scene.

I observed nothing that gave the impression a crime had been committed, so maybe the person just gave up the ghost by natural or medical means.

That’s what happened to one of my brothers. He had a heart attack while stepping off a bus, passed away right there on the sidewalk.

After getting cash inside the market, I spent a long time working through my list because I was out of absolutely everything — except eggs.

By the time I finished shopping, headed back to the car thinking the coroner would have arrived, taken the body away by now.

Nope.

Still there on the cold sidewalk.

Just how long does it take for the coroner to get to the scene? thought I.

Remember that classic "train leaves the station" math problem? Well, the answer to how long it takes for the coroner is much like that math question and was found in the news I found online this morning.

Let’s say I was at the market from noon to 12:30. The video indicates the news and coroner arrived 17 hours ago. I downloaded the video at 7 a.m. this morning. Seventeen hours from 7 a.m. is 2 p.m.

So, correct me if I’m wrong, with my poor math skills, in estimating the answer being the coroner arrived around an hour and a half after I left ……… the deceased body lay there two more hours ……… likely way more because the unknown element is what time did the cop arrive, cordon off the area before I arrived.

So, that's how my week started ……… seeing dead people.

Death Cleaning

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They’ll be back.

Things are getting weird and creepy for me around here.

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

More on that in my next post.

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

For Whom the Bell Tolls

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seer moved out in 2022.

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

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

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

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

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

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

A sign someone has passed away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

RIP Toby

On the 5th Day of Christmas

I received word that one of our bingo regulars passed away.

Faith, who was the former girlfriend of Dream Lover, had been taken away by ambulance last week.

A few days later, after being returned home after that medical emergency, a neighbor checked in on her yesterday, found her deceased in bed.

And so it begins, the time of year when the death toll around here seems to increase.

In a previous episode of Tales of the Complex (thanks Bob for that title), I’d written that it appeared Dream Lover was embarking on yet another relationship after the aforesaid Faith.

He and Her Haughtiness, renamed Boebert because she was talking during bingo, sat together at bingo, stayed seated long after play was over, seemed deep in conversation, which ended with Boebert running around looking for a pen so they could exchange telephone numbers.

Dream Lover's by then ex-girlfriend Faith was in the room seeing this.

Though they'd broken up and were supposedly just friends by then, it still had to hurt.

From what I’ve observed since, that budding new relationship was over quick fast in a hurry because, two weeks later, when Boebert showed up for bingo, Dream Lover was already seated.

Inasmuch as that’s not his usual modus operandi to arrive early, be seated, I surmised he was probably waiting for her.

He looked up, smiled when she walked through the door.

She chilled — had a cold look on her face, and though walking directly by him, she deliberately looked past/through him, and sat elsewhere.

He looked confused, and I’d occasionally catch him looking over at her, trying to make eye contact.

I’m sure she could see and feel him doing so, but kept her head down, refused to look up at him, and fled the room the minute bingo was over — I assume to escape his walking over to her.

It was brrrr all the way. The cold shoulder, which led me to two possible conclusions ……. he'd either said or done something she found offensive OR one of the residents in the know had informed Boebert of Dream Lover’s history with women here on the complex.

A history of having battered the woman who was living with him when he first moved in — which battering sent that woman fleeing to a shelter, never to return, and then getting into a relationship with Faith, that came to an end for unknown reasons — all obvious Red Flags.

At any rate, it looks like Boebert nipped it in the bud.

And so ends this episode as we wait to see who Dream Lover is going to go after next.

Maybe he’ll get desperate and rethink having rejected our Karen character, who used to send him love letters and whom he reported to the office for harassment.

Score Card

Tis the season and, thus far, the score around here is two falls and one death in a short period of time.

The death was an old gentleman living with his 18-year-old grandson.

The two were a popular fixture on the complex. Never attended activities, but regularly seen out walking together.

The kid moved in with his grandpa two years ago, after his mom passed away, now his grandpa is gone, and he’ll have to find other accommodations.

One of two falls is a neighbor around the corner in this building. She just kind of slipped while out walking on the complex, her foot went wonky, and she’s laid up with a broken foot.

The other fall is that new resident — moved in three months ago, the guy the ladies were all going ga ga over.

Word on the grapevine was the guy, mixed with First Nation blood and some other blood type, resulted in his being a devastatingly handsome kinda guy but "He’s mean ….. antisocial …… doesn’t like people knocking on his door; And he doesn’t like women. Says he’s sick and tired of women always chasing him".

He slipped in a puddle on the property, fell backwards, landed on his side, cracked a rib and was laid up for a while.

Today, returning from this morning’s workout and a stop by the market, was the first time I’ve seen him up close and personal — other than briefly, one time before I heard the girls speak of him, when we'd passed on the walkway and I'd said, "Good morning". He'd scowled at me but did say "Good morning" in return.

I later understood the scowl face was because he'd come to expect women around here were thirsty and "Good morning" from a female, in his mind, translated into "Hubba Hubba Awooga".

He'd been burned, was guarded and didn’t want to open the door by appearing friendly.

Today he did.

Talker pulled up behind me just as I was getting out of the car, chatted me up for a bit, then went to park whereupon I thought to ask her if my Little Stalker had liked my Wednesday dance.

She didn’t exit the car right away, so there I was standing in the parking lot, arms full of workout gear and grocery bags, when this Silver Fox walked across the lot, stopped, looked at me, asked "Are you alright?"

That was nice.

"Yes, I’m just waiting to say something to my neighbor".

As he then moved towards his parked car, Talker exited her car, saw him and engaged him in conversation, asking how he was.

"Worst year of my life", said he. "I had Covid, Bronchitis, a growth on my chest blew up into a big deal and had to be drained, then I fell and was laid up for a while".

Standing close enough to listen as he and Talker finished their conversation, I did not introduce myself or ask for an introduction because, since he’s so leery of women coming onto him, I was being guarded in return.

After he walked away, I mentioned to Talker that he seems nothing like what I’ve heard from the other ladies.

She'd not heard what I'd been told, was surprised the others had labeled him as antisocial, tired of women chasing him.

"That’s because one of the girls, I won’t say who, was constantly knocking on his door", said she.

Ohhhh, the old sour grapes. He wasn’t interested in whoever that was, so she put antisocial yada yada yada out on the grapevine. Now everyone stays away from him.

Talker went on to say Silver Fox is in business — owns an ammunitions company.

"He’s an arms dealer", I joked, but sometimes words come out of my mouth that turn out to be accurate.

At any rate, having seen the infamous Silver Fox up close and personal, he seems nice enough to me, is handsome but not the drop dead ga ga the other ladies seem to think.

In fact, I don’t see First Nation at all. Instead, I see Louisiana Geechee, clearly Creole in his skin color, texture of his hair, mustache, beard and body type; but Covid, Bronchitis, a Growth on the chest that needed draining (a cyst?) and now a cracked rib is a lot.

He's like that Charles Schultz Peanuts character that has a cloud following him. Possibly, some woman he left behind in Louisiana that is now working a voodoo ritual on him.