Close Enough

I am getting pretty damn sick and tired of seeing Charlie K’s name pop up every time I boot up the laptop. More sick and tired of even seeing headlines about Donald Two Dolls and Taylor/Travis. My brain is literally screaming "MAKE IT END. WHEN WILL IT STOP?. MOVE ON!".

Other than that, life has been pretty quiet — no knocks on the door, no surprise visits from the Maintenance Guys.

Ever since last Halloween, I’ve been itching for the return of Halloween, so I can began decorating.

The First of Halloween (October 1) now just around the corner, I figured "Close Enough", and yesterday set up the front door.

I'd planned to place a pumpkin in the corner, but had to have the skull when I saw it at the market.

I’ll probably do the patio next weekend. Skelly was a pirate last year. This year he wants to be a cowboy so, with the sewing machine still set up, I’m going to knock out a western like bandana for him sometime this week. Fat quarters (18 x 22 inches) of pleather (fake leather fabric) and denim have arrived, so it’ll also be working on medicine bags in those fabrics this week.

After two days of seeing those two huge dumpster trucks clearing out Lu’s unit, her patio looks clear and everything seeming to have returned to normal in that quad, I think other residents are thinking like I’m thinking …. That it was a lesson in not judging a book by its cover.

Living in that quad is the drug dealer, his wife, and a woman who was previously homeless. We’ve all — myself included (though I’m at least friendly/neighborly towards them) eyed them suspiciously, but it was Lu, the woman we’ve known for years, would not have believed if we had not seen with our own eyes, who was the troubled one in the quad.

That event triggered me into more Death Cleaning, so I spent three days tackling the closet and ended up with clearing two big bags of gently/barely worn and some never worn items (tags still on) to donate to the Salvation Army store.

With 4 sweatshirts, 9 tee shirts, 4 blouses, 4 tank tops, 2 body suits, and 15 pairs of leggings cleared out, it is now a lot less aggravating to find what I’m looking for in the closet.

In fact, I found two tops I’d purchased, hung in the closet, forgot all about.

The 1944 top was a fun find, have been wearing it since. Jasmine Crockett’s clapback on MTG was initially put in the donation pile, but inasmuch as it’s so iconic, I’m not ready to part with yet. I don't see myself wearing it anytime soon, but it's nevertheless back to hanging up in the closet.

Just as I was finishing up this post, I received a text message from Crafty Lady. Seems it’s a group message alerting everyone to her having gotten "two vaccines yesterday, shoulder hurting really bad, experiencing flu-like symptoms, ergo no crafts for today".

I was just about to reply, "take care of self", but then it hit me that Crafts had been moved to Monday so Kesha couldn’t take credit. I understand Crafty Lady might not be as supportive of Kesha as I, didn’t want to give her that little bit of an out to try to keep her job, but WTF, no one told me about Monday being Craft Day.

Now what happened last week makes sense …… the Baker sent photos for me to post to the Residents’ FB page, showing how the Usual Suspects had crafted balloon paintings.

Hmmmm, Why did no one call, let me know they were doing crafts? thought I.

I wasn’t upset, just figured it was strange that no one notified me. They all know I’d never miss a craft session, is something going on?

After pondering all week, I’d come to the conclusion that perhaps Crafty Lady has a jealousy issue with me, didn’t want me included, in which case no worries, I wouldn’t chase the group down. Unless notified in future, I’m okay with being left out of Crafts.

Now seeing this text message that Crafts are on Monday, instead of heading down to the Community Room on Tuesdays, I’ll make a point of checking in on Mondays and, if I see crafts taking place, if anyone dares to greet me with "Long time no see" or anything of that nature, I’ll let it be known I’d been left out of the loop, that Crafty Lady’s sending out that group text message was first I’d heard of Crafts on Monday.

F 'em all and, if Crafty Lady is one of those who does have a jealousy problem with other Black women, which might be why she doesn't want to give Kesha the opportunity to take credit for her sessions and left me out of the loop, then F her two times, with a dirty dick and sandy vaseline.

The Collection

My ballot arrived on Friday. First item on my to-do list Saturday morning, was to mail in my completed ballot. Only, I didn’t trust the postal service; instead, drove to the University, dropped it off in the Official Ballot Drop-off box.

From there, I drove to Sprouts, picked up specialty gluten-free items not available in this area, after which I drove back to the complex, and the fun began.

Not to get ahead of myself, count my chickens before they hatch, but hoping that by placing my ballot in the drop off location, I’d single handedly voted 45 off the island, I began thinking I’d better dig my champagne glass out of storage.

Problem with that was the glass was buried in one of the many containers stored in the patio storage area, behind cosplay costumes, holiday decorations, et al.

Nothing else to do but what I’d been wanting to do for some time — move everything out of the way, dig out those containers, begin the laborious task of going through every item, in every container, to see what exactly I’ve been holding onto for so many years.

It was an all-day task, wore my poor body out, but a rewarding process because, in the end, I’d not only found my champagne glass ……

…… I also found memorabilia I’d forgotten I had — like old costume tutus, that I dumped in the trash; miscellaneous costume accessories, also trashed.

I outgrew this old Brooks & Dunn poster a long time ago, was going to trash it, but decided to put back in storage, as I wasn’t yet ready to let go of.

It actually isn’t a poster, but a cereal box cover I’d framed and displayed until putting into a storage container, during one of my moves, then forgot all about.

Same with these old license plates from my heyday …… eons ago, when I was feeling myself as a Brown Babe. I’d forgotten they were in storage, set them aside to toss, then decided to put back in storage for a while.

This Billikin was a gift from a coworker back in ‘98.

The Billikin is a little creature, carved from whale teeth and walrus tusks, adopted by the Eskimos as a symbol of good luck and happiness.

"As a blues chaser, I'm a honey — To bring good luck, just rub my tummy".

I can always use more good chi, so I put the Billikin back in circulation on a shelf.

Rocks from the Mediterranean Sea were also a gift from a coworker who travelled to Spain. Put those back in circulation as well.

Back in the day, Blessing Bottles — that I purchased at a craft fair, were what I’d gift on special occasions. Darn if I didn’t come across two Happy Birthday bottles, a Happy Boss Day bottle, and a Peace and Simplicity bottle.

I won’t be needing to bless any bosses again, thought I, so I tossed that one.

I would have liked to have given the birthday blessing bottle to someone with an upcoming birthday, but the cork on one was broken, and the tags on both were old and stained from age, as was the tag on the boss bottle.

The tag on Peace and Simplicity has also seen better days, but I don't mind the aged tag, live for Peace and Simplicity, so I put that bottle back in circulation, on a shelf along with Billikin and the rocks.

Peace and Serenity Ingredients

Then I unwrapped an item that turned out to be a Starbucks mug, then another and another and another, so on and so forth — fourteen mugs in total that I have no space for in the kitchen.

Besides, I already have two Starbucks mugs and four special occasion mugs on the kitchen shelf, that I tradeoff drinking from, so I set the mugs aside to drop off at Goodwill.

I didn't even know I had that cool Halloween Mug on the left.

At any rate, after putting the collection of mugs in a box to donate to Goodwill, I pulled them out — decided to keep a while longer. However, not wanting to clog up the patio storage area again, I moved some things around on a bookshelf and squeezed in a home for the mugs.

After reading Dawn the Bohemian's post this morning, about how Goodwill overprices and employees manhandle donated merchandise, I was glad I’d decided to keep the mugs for the time being.

All in all, I cleared out seven containers — stuff my family will not have to deal with when I pass away.

I set the empty containers out by the dumpster for the taking (they disappeared almost as quickly as I dropped them off).

Very little went back into the patio storage area — only a few costumes I might yet wear again, the Brooks and Dunn cereal box poster and the license plates.

Also, out of storage and shelved are little China teacups from Tea Rooms Twin 2 had taken me to celebrate past Mother’s Days.

A little box from Africa, gifted to me by one of the attorneys from a law firm I worked for in the mid to late ’70s.

Opened

Closed

Miniature cowboy boots and a Hispanic Cowboy I picked up years ago.

My little country/western tape dispenser, that's been missing for years. Thought had been lost in a move.

And lastly, his and her mugs from the famous Warehouse Restaurant, where I was wined, dined and tricked into a relationship by that married man who passed himself off as single.

As for why I’d find those in storage, put them in circulation in the kitchen cupboard, rather than smash to pieces, toss in the trash — though I still feel duped and used by that guy, would like an apology before he leaves this parenthesis in eternity — if he hasn’t already died, I'm not bitter. I still have some fond memories of my time with him, don’t mind the mugs as a reminder I should not have been so trusting.

All in all, a productive weekend.

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.

Will the Real Susan Please Stand Up

Kitchen has finally been put back together.

It’s not been organized per the standards of professional organizer Marie Kondo but, with the aid of a spice rack, plastic bins, canisters and turntables, organizing items by what I use most, what I use least and in quadrants with snack items all together in one area, baking supplies all together in another, so on and so forth, there’s no longer a frustrating hunt through stuff to find other stuff.

Wanting to know where the term "Lazy Susan" came from sent me down a historical rabbit hole this morning.

One story is Thomas Jefferson invented the Lazy Susan, named it after his daughter Susan because she didn’t care for being served last.

I can’t image how a revolving tray factors into Susan being served any sooner than anyone else, that is unless the meal is placed on the device in the middle of the table, where Susan can spin it to her advantage.

I guess the dynamics don’t matter because, "The problem with this story is that Thomas Jefferson doesn't seem to have had a daughter named Susan".

Records indicate Thomas had six children with his wife Martha Wayles Skelton Jefferson — Martha, Mary, Jane, John, Lucy Elizabeth and Lucy Elizabeth I.

Lucy Elizabeth twice, because the first Elizabeth passed away after 5 months. The name Elizabeth was then passed down to the next baby, but Elizabeth I only lived 4 months.

Then there was the enslaved Sally Hemings. Thomas fathered 6 children into slavery by Sally — Madison, Harriet, Eston, Beverly.

Evidently two of Sally’s children passed away early, and being slaves, weren’t given names.

All toll, Thomas sired 12 children, none of whom were named Susan.

Another story is that it was the inventor Thomas Edison who created the Lazy Susan and "the turntable he created for his phonograph evolved into the Lazy Susan".

Edison was married twice, fathered 6 children, none named Susan.

So, though I never learned who Susan actually was, if and why she was lazy, and which Thomas invented the revolving tray, I’m enjoying the convenience and ability to spin, rather than dig through items.

Red Light has been making the most of her last few weeks here ─ gathering tea, spilling tea before she moves to Eureka.

She phoned the other night to say not only are there 16 vacant units, but she’d spoken to 5 others who have given notice.

There’s definitely some kind of mass exodus in progress.

One of those looking to move is the resident I'd indicated was the latest to fall for whatever it is Dream Lover is laying down — our Boebert character.

In fact, according to Red Light, Boebert has already looked into acquiring a one-bedroom downstairs where Red Light is going, but those downstairs units have been leased out already.

Red Light also said the reason for Boebert wanting to move is cigarette smoke continuing to seep into her unit.

Boebert’s unit is on the back side of TinTin’s place ………… the unit from where Patty the Smoker had been evicted, actually taken out on a stretcher by medical personnel, so I assumed the smell of cigarettes was still in the vents, seeping into Boebert’s place, but noooooo.

Red Light said TinTin is now smoking in the unit.

That’s right. TinTin moved into the unit, immediately tried to move out because of the cigarette smell, was denied because Section 8 requires one stay in place for a year, now she’s adding to the smell by smoking her own darn self.

Residents in the building on that side of the quad can’t seem to catch a break.

What with residents moving to other housing facilities, moving in with family, going into hospice, passing away, there’s going to be a whole new cast of characters on the complex. And what we me not socializing all that much, and no Red Light making sure the tea kettle is always on, I’ll be tea less.

Two Days In

Two days in and so far, so good.

I was mercifully spared from working out New Years Day by an early morning message from Trainer saying he’d opted not to open the studio that day, would see me Wednesday.

YIPEE, thought I.

Not that I don’t enjoy working out — hard and exhausting as it sometimes is, I do enjoy working out, am grateful to be able to do so because, when I feel a slump, I generally feel better after. It’s just that I sometimes resent being locked into the routine of, three days a week, having to get up at a certain time, suit up and head out.

A part of me always yearns to retreat from the world, self-isolate like so many of the seniors around here who are never seen, do not come out, and that routine — for better or worse, won’t let me give into that yearning.

At any rate, the cancellation gave me the impetus to not only get the patio decorations back into storage, but to spend the day better organizing the kitchen counter to give me more space, the kitchen cabinets — so that I can easily see what I’m looking for, rather than engaging in a frustrating hunt, and just better organize things in every room to make the rooms not seem so cluttered with stuff, without throwing out items I was sure I’d later regret tossing out, as I so often do.

Painted Rock Lady must have been sneaking around early morning New Year’s Day because, when I left the unit to head for the liquor store, play my lottery numbers, I found she’d graced my walkway with new creations.

As for the lottery, with the pot of all three games now in the millions, I couldn’t risk not playing, only to later learn I’d missed out, that my numbers had finally come up.

So, I suited up for driving to the liquor store and, on the way, looked over towards the area that is the entryway into the nice neighborhood behind us and saw the recently developing homeless encampment had disappeared.

Not too surprising since, at last Friday’s bingo, the topic of the encampment had come up. Shadow and the Baker both said they’d "called it in".

I don’t know who they called to get those folks removed, didn’t ask, but I’ve got mixed feelings about it.

It wasn’t on or in front of our complex, which made it not our problem, so why call?

The unhoused have to go somewhere and, if not causing problems, live and let live because, as the saying goes, "There but for the grace of God go I".

It was more a problem belonging to the businesses in that area, and the more prosperous living behind us, who use the area as a walking trail — all of whom I’m sure "called it in". No need for anyone here to get uptight and involved.

I myself was impressed with one of the builds.

It was constructed in such a way that allowed for a doorway, and tall enough that the occupant could stand and move around freely inside.

That's a lot of construction materials to be carting around. Wonder how he manages it.

I also wonder where the occupant relocated to.

So anyway, tomorrow marks the beginning of my personal DÉJÀ VU, when the weekly routine of everyday life begins all over again.

Heavy sigh!

The Long Goodbye

This post started with my saying the week ended on a high note because we’ve had more sun than rain, bingo for April is back on, No. 45 has been indicted or, as he whined "indicated", I had an energy burst after yesterday’s workout and cleared the closet of clothing stored in four clear plastic containers — the items I couldn’t let go of when I purged the closet back in March of last year AND, this being end of the week, my Little Knock Knock was well on her way to San Diego.

At least that’s how this post started off.

Not that the week did not end on a high note. It’s just that there was a moment when it looked like a monkey wrench had been tossed in when, along about 10 a.m. this morning, as I began typing, there was a knock knock knock on the door.

Is this an April Fool’s Joke?, thought I as I opened the door knowing who I’d see standing there.

No joke. It was my Little Knock Knock.

Her GG Talker yelled up that "She’s leaving and wanted to say goodbye".

Cue sigh of relief as I said "Ohhh, you’re leaving" and gave her a hug when she said yes, waived goodbye at the door, went back downstairs, waived goodbye again, then rode off on her little scooter.

Hopefully, she’s not going to travel all the way to San Diego by scooter.

So that saga having come to an end, I imagine future posts will be a bit hum drum.

Like posting about yesterday’s clutter management project, where I went through every piece of clothing I’d been holding onto since I last attempted clutter management.

I tried each item on and, if it didn’t look right on me — for one reason or another, placed the item in a donation pile.

A handful of pieces, I didn’t know why I’d stored in the first place, and hung them back up into rotation.

There was one leather top I’d been holding onto for more years than I can remember, in hopes I’d one day fit back into it. I got my left arm through easy enough, my right arm as well and thinking that at last I could put back into rotation pulled it down over the girls where it tightened, locked, turned into a straight jacket.

No matter how I tried, I could not get it back up over the girls and, with no give in the leather, I couldn’t squeeze either arm out.

Sadly, I had to get the scissors and cut myself out before I suffocated.

So anyway, now that the pandemic is, if not over at least has slowed somewhat, Salvation Army is once again accepting clothing donations, and will be getting some pretty nice pieces — except for the leather top. Some pieces never worn, still had the tags on.

Of course, emptying four containers of jeans, jackets, sweatshirts, tops, leggings isn’t going to help me achieve the Environmentally Sustainable Wardrobe Debra blogged about because, having been stored away, I didn’t include those items in the count.

Anxious to donate the items before I changed my mind and began taking some back, I drove to the Donation Center after Knock Knock interrupted my typing.

The place was buzzing with car after car after car dropping off donations.

I heard the guys talking about how much had come in, with one guy saying, "It’s the first of April, people are anxious to make room for more stuff".

"Wrong", said I. "I don’t want more stuff. I want even less than I still have".

"Oh, we know you’re going to go inside and start buying some of the stuff back", said one of the guys.

Just between us, I've never been inside the donation center. Never even thought about buying from, just donating to.

Curious now ... next time I drop off, I may go inside just to satisfy my now curious self.

So anyway, as I got in the car to leave, I saw a woman drop off something that looked really interesting and asked the guys if I could take a picture.

I’ve only seen stuff like that in old movies. However, as one of the guys pointed out, it’s not Vintage but a Crosley because, in addition to the record player on top, it has a cd player on one side and a cassette player in front.

Still a cool item, but not one that I’d have room for. Especially since my end game is to simplify, live with less, not more.

As for No. 45 ... after being let down on last Tuesday’s indictment day that didn't happen, this coming Tuesday’s arraignment day is kind of anti climatic, but I'll take it.

Perhaps it will be like the Murdock situation where, once Karma finally caught up with Murdock, those who previously feared his powerful family were less afraid and began doing their jobs of digging up bodies, investigating the "suspicious deaths" they were well aware of before but let slide because of the then powerful Murdock family.

So maybe this Tuesday's arraignment will open the door for prior bad acts to come in, bury the guy.

I do like what Megan McCain had to say in referencing the insult 45 once hurled at her father that "I like peple who aren't captured". Megan wrote in a tweet, "I like people who aren’t indicted".

BAM!

Christmas in September

It’s not yet even time to set up my Halloween decorations and here I am buying for Christmas already because, at the craft store yesterday, I couldn’t resist this little Christmas boot.

Here I go again … on one hand wrapping up whatnots, sending them to solitary confinement, then turn around and bring another whatnot in.

I think I’m not so much getting rid of clutter as I am just swapping old clutter for new clutter.

As for what else I’ve been into … not much. In Redlands yesterday, I got the flu shot off the to-do list and then browsed the local shopping mall’s craft stores.

Passed on hay bales and a skeleton for the Halloween patio display, bought the little Christmas boot instead.

While at the medical center waiting for the shot, I did finally get in a little down time to continue reading Randy Rainbow’s autobiography. I also had time a few weeks ago when I was at the center waiting for the second shingles shot.

When last I posted about my slow progress reading his book, I’d just learned Randy had been a blogger here on Blogspot.

Picking up from there, more fun facts I’ve learned is that he added YouTube videos to his portfolio. The first being a comedic monologue called "Vision Board".

I looked it up.

It starts off slow but once you get the gist of where he’s going it’s hilarious.

Among other noteworthy videos worth a peek is "Randy Rainbow is dating Mel Gibson".

Of course, he wasn’t really dating Gibson. What he did was, after Gibson had that infamous racist, homophobic, misogynistic, antisemitic rant, Randy put that rant into a phone call he was having as him calling his boyfriend Mel, asking innocuous questions about what to make for dinner and asking Mel’s opinion on home decorating, with Mel’s rant screaming in response.

Also worth looking up.

Another fun fact, before hitting it big because of skewering No. 45 and all his Making Attorneys Get Attorneys fools, is that Randy had a side gig as a bingo caller — Broadway Bingo at a place in NY called Therapy.

While hosting bingo, Randy wore a pair of ruby red slippers that he hand-sequined himself and which became so popular with brides and Drag Queens that Randy opened an Etsy store where he sold his hand-sequined pumps.

So many fun facts in his background and I’m only halfway through the book.

Inasmuch as I’m at the part where he is now famous, I can’t imagine there’s anything left that those that are fans don’t already know, but I won't know for sure if there are other surprises until I squeeze in time to finish.

This is the longest it’s ever taken me to finish a book — not that it’s boring.

It isn't.

It’s just that he's not Walter Mosley — the only writer I so enjoy reading that I'll stop everything to read his books, finishing practically overnight, and there’s not enough hours in the day to read others — what with working out, needlepoint, scrapbooking, TikTok, television, cooking, cleaning, napping. Reading time is relegated to when I’m away from home in a wait situation — wait for the doctor, wait for the car to be serviced, both of which wait times are seldom and few in between.

When I do finish this book, my next reads are already lined up.

And Just Like That, It's Monday Again

Yep, it’s Monday again.

Last week was a lot — Excessive Heat Warnings, Flash Flood Warnings, Wildfires, Ukraine, Mar-a-Lago, Steve Bannon, The Queen, 21st Anniversary 9/11 Terror Attack. In between was waiting to see how the cops were going to spin away the latest trigger-happy cop murder of an unarmed person of color under the category of Sleeping While Black (Donovan Lewis, Columbus, Ohio).

I did read something hilarious about Mar-a-Lago, which Michael Cohen pronounces as Mar-a-Lardo because it more appropriately describes the physicality of the bulbous orange guy.

What I read was that because it’s become clear that serving as one of No. 45’s attorneys is a risky job, the joke among lawyers is that MAGA stands for "making attorneys get attorneys".

I haven’t a clue what if anything has been going on blog worthy around the complex, because of all the above happenings. I did put in a few hours on that never ending needlepoint project. I also put in some time on that clutter management project I began last Monday.

Focusing on items taking up space, not serving a purpose, I got the Starbucks coffee cup collection and other miscellaneous whatnots down to a manageable level. Not that anything went anywhere because, not ready to part with those things, I just moved them from general population (everywhere) to solitary confinement (packed in clear containers, stored in patio storage area).

That alone cleared up a lot of cabinet space and is a good compromise to weeding stuff out so, if anything happens to me, family won’t be burdened. They’ll find a lot of containers, but it’s a lot less hassle to move containers, set aside to investigate contents, than it is to pack stuff up, decide what to take, what to toss.

While at it, I finally did something I’ve been wanting and planning to tackle for like forever …. organize the junk drawer.

Junk Drawer Before

Junk Drawer After

Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo. Believe it or not, I can do magic because, other than craft items that belonged elsewhere, mostly everything that was in the drawer before is still there, just better organized.

Eventually, I’m going to have to make some decisions about all the containers previously placed in the outside storage area, to make room for more containers, but not any time soon.

Labor Day? It’s Still Monday

It’s still Monday, which meant a workout this morning and a stop by the market after.

The only change to a normal Monday routine was when Trainer set the workout playlist to old school Boys 2 Men, instead of the usual playlist of today’s music — like Dua Lipa, Ed Sheeran, Shawn Mendes, Doja Cat and the likes — even Justin Bieber (anything but Country because Trainer hates Country Music).

When I said Boys 2 Men was a nice change except, back in the day, I was more into NSync and the Backstreet Boys, had even taken granddaughter to an NSync concert, Trainer switched the music up for me and himself got caught up in the groove.

I didn't receive word the seniors were doing anything special today for themselves — it’s too hot outside for a potluck BBQ anyway. So back in my air-conditioned unit (fortunately the a/c is still hanging in there after a vigorous workout last few very hot days and everyone in the complex pulling from the system) it was back to a kitchen de-clutter project I picked this Labor Day weekend to begin.

I don’t know if it was seeing Red Light’s cluttered kitchen that sent me on this project, or the fact I learned the Seer moved out last week, went to live with her daughter because she (the Seer) had a stroke. However, every time we lose someone, I do think about getting rid of stuff — not leaving so much for family to have to deal with should something happen.

I knew I’d not seen the Seer walking down the walkway or in bingo for weeks and weeks and weeks, was wondering where she was. Learned at Friday’s surprise birthday party for the Baker that the health issues she’d been dealing with for years had gotten the best of her, she’d had a stroke, was hospitalized and instead of returning to the complex, moved in with her daughter and grandkids.

Though the close friendship we enjoyed was long ago gone because, when she hooked up with Shadow, she suffered a drastic personality change (as documented here and there on the blog), I’m sorry to hear life has not gone well for the Seer.

Especially sorry because Shadow was such a bad influence on her, sent her on a path that ended with putting her at odds with most everyone here on the complex at that time which, in the end, cost her valuable helpful friendships that could not be repaired after the two of them were splitsville.

I remember when the two of them walked into an event and the bad vibes coming from the two were palpable, killed the energy in the room. I was still in my not giving up on her stage back then, so I greeted her with "Hey! How are you?" Her reply was "I’m good, but nobody better not say nothing to me".

Alrighty then. You create your own reality.

After scaring people thusly, on more than one occasion, nobody would know what to say that wouldn’t offend her, so everyone just stayed out of her way.

Then, when she and Shadow broke up, there she was pretty much alone. Now she’s gone, he’s still here.

I never did find out why she and Shadow broke up, but thinking about it reminded me of another couple I think have called it quits.

It may be time for our Karen character to take a new try at Dream Lover because, at the surprise birthday party, I noticed Dream Lover and his girlfriend were not only not speaking to each other, not looking at each other, but sat separate and apart — he at one end of the room, she at the other end farthest from him.

Awkard!

Too bad these couples didn't live by that old idiom, "Don't poop where you eat".

Woman with the Red Chair

Known the first few years around here as "The Walking Lady" because I was doing laps around the complex, and last few years as "Lady with the Red Chair on her patio" (laps are now done on the college campus) residents accustomed to seeing the chair, as they stroll by, are going to think I moved.

The pieces are ready to be taken down to the dumpster when I return from this morning’s workout.

Rather than carrying the pieces down in bulk, wrapped in bags, I’ll have to transport them down carefully, piece by piece, in order not to impale myself on the broken vampire-killing stake like areas like these …

Next on the agenda is to prepare for tomorrow’s fasting blood test.

Shouldn’t be too difficult, as I don’t eat anything after 7 p.m. anyway and, as my appointment is 9 a.m., it shouldn’t be too rough to hold off on breakfast until after that time.

When I had that in-person session with the doctor last week, she mentioned a bone density test, which I declined saying "I don’t need it".

I strength train. My bones are fine.

Nevertheless, I got a call a few days ago — "Your doctor has authorized a bone density test" and after asking if I was in a wheelchair or had a hip replacement and other age-related questions I don't recall, an appointment was scheduled for next week.

It would have been a waste of my time and energy, but I let it go. THEN, after thinking about it, I got mad.

My thinking is that inasmuch as I only go the medical route when it’s something I can’t solve on my own through holistic measures, don’t bother the doctor for every little thing — even go outside of plan for eyewear because their Optometry does such a poor job that, when I do seek medical attention, it means I really need it and should get it.

That not only did not happen with the doctors I ran through with the rash situation, but I’ve yet to hear from dermatology.

I went in for a rash, ended up getting a Shingles shot and now scheduled for a bone density test — things I’m sure they are billing Medicare handsomely for, but no help with the one thing for which I sought help.

I called yesterday and cancelled the bone density test.

While still angry, though I no longer need dermatology (turns out the rash was an allergic reaction to brown rice flour), I called Member Services to vent.

They’ve sourced with an outside dermatology institute.

That’s interesting.

Dermatology used to be part of the medical center’s operation.

Getting the name of that outsourced institute, I went so far as to call.

No one answers the phone there.

Looking up Yahoo reviews, I learned the institute did me a favor by not following up on what the doctor ordered.

Their reviews are along the lines of "Horrible Service!!" ... "Calls are outsourced to a call center".

I didn’t get a call center. I got no answer.

"Office staff is rude and inefficient!" ... "Go to a different Doctor!!" ... "I would not recommend this office" ... "My experience with this dermatology doctor is very bad. If I had to give negative or 0 I would definitely give him zero".

Sounds like just another nightmare I don’t need to put myself through. So, if they ever call or send me an appointment card — which I doubt, it’s a big fat no thanks.

I’ve been with this HMO since my early 20’s. They've made some mistakes — like for decades diagnosing my food allergies as an ulcer, prescribing valium, et. al., and like killing my youngest brother's wife, but at least there was service.

As for HOW they killed my youngest brother's wife ... she regularly got mammograms but ending up dying from undetected breast cancer.

I guess they perform the tests but are not good at reading them.

They tried to kill Twin 2 as well. Poo poo'd her symptoms, prescribed medication rather than figure out the problem until I read her symptoms of fibroid tumors in a magazine and urged her to tell them what I suspected, insist on specific treatment, which she did and eventually got.

Now that there are not only mistakes, failure to diagnose correctly, but no service at all, I'm going to ask around to see if things are like this all over or if there is a better, more reliable, more responsible medical provider.

I did get a survey asking me to rate the doctor that looked at the rash, said "I don’t know what that is" and though disappointed in her lack of medical knowledge and giving me that shingles shot, which I now have to get a second dose and shingles shots every year, I don’t want to give her a bad review.

Being as how she’s a Black woman, her journey through medical school and being hired on by the HMO can’t have been easy.

I can’t give her a good rating. I won’t mess with a Black female doctor's career by giving a bad review, so I’ll not respond to the survey.

If it turns out she’s a lousy doctor, it will catch up with her but, from the lousy service I’ve gotten recently, seems she fits into the program just fine.