I'm No Karen ... Right?

After a week of upping my game by working out with trainer Monday, Wednesday, Friday and getting steps in Tuesday and Thursday at the university, the plan for Saturday and Sunday was to go nowhere, see no one, do absolutely nothing.

Life is just not fair. A woman my age should not have to work that hard to stay fit, or so I told trainer, who wasn't very sympathetic. LOL.

No such luck on going nowhere, seeing no one, doing absolutely nothing today.

The optometrist called. My new glasses were ready.

An email arrived from a merchandiser. My order arrived, was ready for pickup.

I didn’t remember ordering anything from that merchant, but okay. It’ll be a surprise.

So, today turned out to be a one and done day in that, since I had to go out, let’s get everything done so I’ll at least have Sunday to myself.

Picked up the glasses, picked up the package — which turned out to be a food organization system I saw on TikTok, advertised as keeping veggies fresher longer (I was surprised, pleasantly, because I was looking forward to trying it out, but then had totally forgotten I ordered it), and finished with a stop by Sprouts.

I don’t do designer wear. My favorite designers are Target, Walmart, Torrid … except for where eyewear is involved.

For some reason, only frames from designers like Dior, Prada, Armani draw my attention and, this time, I channeled Iris Apfel and left the optometrist’s office with three Celine’s — one for computer/tv, one for close up needlepoint work, the third a progressive pair for everyday wear.

Driving away from the optometrist, I spotted a business with my name on it, albeit spelled differently.

If I didn’t have trainer, a gym just for women would be something I’d consider. Only, this one is too far a drive.

I kinda sorta turned into a Karen at Sprouts.

I always check the dates on whatever foods I purchase, and I’m amazed at how many shoppers I see not checking dates.

Picking up a carton of Eggland’s Organic brown eggs, seeing the date of 10/14, I put it back, picked up another carton.

Ditto 10/14, put it back.

Pulled out another —10/12.

Seeing a young woman stocking the refrigerated section, I didn’t approach as a total Karen with “Let me see your manager”. Instead, I was a nice Karen, saying “Excuse me miss. Your eggs are dated 10/14 and 10/12. Today is 10/16. Can you help me find eggs that are not expired?”

She was quite nice, went to the back, pulled out two 10/30’s for me.

Still cutting it close to expire before I get to, but better.

I’m surprised at Sprouts pulling something like that — expired eggs, but I’ve no doubt those eggs will remain in the case, waiting for someone to come along, who will pull, walk away, pay for, without having checked the date.

The person won't die or get sick. Expired eggs are still okay to eat. For me, it's just the point that I'm paying for fresh.

Also at Sprouts, picking up red bell peppers, I spotted something I had to try — Striped Red Peppers.

I’ll roast them in olive oil and add to breakfast potatoes. Maybe eat some raw, to see if they taste differently than regular reds.

With everything done, I’m looking forward to at least being able to rest/relax tomorrow, Sunday, so I’ll have the energy to face another week of the same ol same ol come Monday.

Knock Knock, Who’s There?

Thinking it was UPS with a delivery, I opened the door yesterday afternoon to see three residents from a building over.

At first glance, it looked like a posse that had taken care to block my ability to escape, if necessary — what with the tall redhead standing in front of my door, the nice little old guy (that had been raided by the police, guns drawn, because now former resident Cat Lady had reported him as killing cats and humans) standing halfway down the stairs, and a woman I’ve never seen before standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding a dog.

I quickly learned they’d been directed to my door while trying to track down a car parked in a handicapped spot.

The tall redhead, recognizing my face when I opened the door and who knew I drove a Jeep — that the person they were looking was not I, asked, “Do you know who drives the silver Nissan parked in the handicapped spot”.

”Oh, that’s _____’s car” and I directed them to Next Door Neighbor (NDN).

”What’s wrong with her car?” asked I.

”Nothing’s wrong”, said the tall redhead. “There’s a cat trapped in the engine”.

Oh Snap!, thought I and, as the tall redhead turned to NDN’s door, I quickly put my bra back on, put a mask on (none of the three were masked), grabbed my cellphone to record the happening, and headed out the door to follow NDN and the others as they headed for the car.

Those of us around here, who mask up, appear to be a dying breed. But insofar as I know, none of the three have had covid. So, it didn’t worry me as much as the fast walking covid recovered woman going maskless.

As a matter of fact, it looked like those of us wearing masks were in the minority everywhere I went today. Others were going about their business looking as though the pandemic and variant were over and done with.

At any rate, as I followed the group to NDN's car, I was asking questions — like how do you know there’s a cat in the engine?

”We could hear it meowing”, someone answered.

I found that hard to believe because of where NDN parks. You'd have to be right up on her car to hear meowing and, if you were, why were you so close to her car?

”Who heard it meowing?” asked I.

No answer.

(For some odd reason, Blogger now requires double clicking to view videos).

That’s one lucky cat, kitten actually, because NDN doesn’t let much grass grow under her feet — she’s always going, doing, but had stayed in that day.

What a mess it would have been if she’d not stayed in, gotten in the car, turned on the engine.

One near death experience used, eight cat lives remaining.

As for where this kitten came from, it’s a mystery. The Tyrant trapped and got rid of all the cats some time ago, and the only one I’ve seen around since is that black cat that crossed my path last month.

I saw that black cat hiding in the bushes last week, so he or she is still here, but there doesn’t seem to be a familial relationship between that Black cat and this spotted kitten OR as Jerry Springer would word it, "Black Cat ... You Are Not The Father".

As for where this kitten is going, the three that were at my door headed off to find food for the kitten. I’ll have to catch up with one of them to find out if anyone here is adopting it.

I suggested to NDN that, inasmuch as the kitten was in HER car, she should adopt it.

She gave me that LOOK Black women are known for — the look that says it all without words. LOL.

Today was the last necessary item on my to-do list — the Optometrist.

My prescription hasn’t changed much, but I nevertheless ordered new frames for reading glasses, driving/progressive sunglasses, and added an additional pair for computer/crafting.

On the way back, I stopped by Sprouts for butter lettuce and was surprised to see the store reorganized.

They’ve added self-checkout.

Not fond of self-checkout, I’d rather stand in line forever.

Vaxxed

Shot No. 2 over and done with. I am, as they say, fully vaxxed.

Inasmuch as I had that swelling situation with Shot No. 1 in the left arm, I decided not to stress that arm further and took No. 2 in the right arm.

Experienced no dizziness on the drive back to the complex. Arrived back safe, sound and planning the next step on the road back to a semblance of normalcy.

First thing I’m going to do is schedule an appointment at the nail salon for a professional mani/pedi. I’ve been doing my own nails for over a year now, and it’s time to take it easy and treat myself.

Then it’s a long overdue appointment with Optometry.

After that, who knows, but hopefully it’ll be in person 5Ks, as I’m as over solo virtuals as I am over doing my own nails.

I did sign up for a Virtual Scavenger Hunt, scheduled for this month, which I’m thinking is an activity I won’t mind going solo.

I’ve never participated in a scavenger hunt — virtual or otherwise, so I’m interested in seeing how this is going to work.

The organizers indicate there will be 10 clues to solve that will lead me to 10 destinations in my own city. It’s the “my own city” part I’m eager to see how they’re going to manage when participants are signing up from all over — other cities, other states.

On another note, I think Trainer is trying to get rid of me.

In fact, I accused him of such when I walked into Monday’s session and found my work station, i.e., the treadmill, moved yet again … for a fourth or fifth time — I’ve lost count.

Last week, the station was positioned in the back of the main room, intersecting the feng shui Family and Fame walls, in the Relationship corner, where I could look out, around, see everything inside and outside the studio.

Now it’s in the front of the main room, intersecting the entryway door, up against the feng shui Health wall, in the New Knowledge corner.

Not awful placement, insofar as feng shui goes, but sucks for viewing purposes, as I can no longer see what’s behind me and what’s going on outside the side window, which is usually entertaining.

At any rate, inasmuch as the new location of the station is so close to the exit door, I told Trainer, “I think you’re trying to get rid of me. Moving me ever closer to the exit door”.

Of course Trainer laughed and denied getting rid of me as his motivation, but time will tell if I arrive one day and the treadmill is outside — in the middle of the parking lot.

Trainer knows nothing of feng shui, could care less. He blames the constant arranging and rearranging of the studio on inspiration garnered from HGTV.

Trainer

Girls who Wear Glasses

There’s a theory being floated that eyeglasses may help protect against covid.

Seems farfetched but, if it turns out to be valid, then I’m in good shape because I not only wear a mask but glasses … five pair.

I’m like the Fred Sanford of glasses — Fred Sanford being that character from the old sitcom Sanford and Sons. Fred was an old junk yard dealer whose vision wasn’t anywhere near 20-20, so he kept a drawer full of eyeglasses and would forever rummage through the drawer for a pair to meet his rotating current need.

My vision isn’t anywhere near as poor as Fred’s, but I do need every pair in order to function because, through the years, what with glaring at a computer screen during the day … all day … every day at work, coming home in the evening only to stare at a computer screen another few hours, plus all the eyestrain from reading and close needle work, my eyesight has suffered to the point where I have to switch glasses all day, depending on activity.

I have a pair for when I’m on the computer — which pair also serves for general purposes, like cooking, cleaning, watching neighbors walk through the quad from my perch on the couch. Then there's a pair for reading, a pair for needlepoint, a pair for television viewing and a pair with transition lenses for driving that serve the double purpose of protecting my eyes from the glare of the sun.

I keep getting messages from the optometrist that it’s time for my yearly exam, but I’m holding off on that. Not just because of the pandemic, but because the needlepoint project I’ve been working on for over a year has so strained my vision that an exam now doesn’t seem feasible.

Once I complete this project, which will probably be my last needlepoint project, I’ll let my eyes rest before scheduling an appointment, so I can get a more accurate evaluation.

Having seen blueberry muffins on one of your blogs last week inspired me to take a stab at making a gluten free version.

I had all the ingredients on hand, added way more blueberries than the recipe called for — because I like blueberries, and cut down on the sugar by substituting some of the sugar with stevia and voilà.

It worked out pretty well insofar as taste, but the muffins are sticking to the cupcake holders. I’m blaming that on the cheap holders that came with the aluminum tins.; and I think, next time, I'll leave off the brown sugar topping.

When the timer went off that the muffins were ready to come out of the oven, I tested the doneness using a method that caused me a lot of grief when, a few years back, having a cake baking discussion with coworkers, I mentioned was my method for checking doneness …. I removed the muffin pan from the oven, put my ear close to the pan, listened and, not hearing sizzling, pronounced them done.

When I told my coworkers of that “listening” method their jaws dropped in disbelief, they said they’d never heard of it and they all laughed.

Thinking back on how the girls never heard of the listening method, thought it was so funny ….. they were millenniums, probably unaware of a lot us from before their time know.

How about it? Do you baking readers listen or use a skewer to test doneness?

Business as Usual

It’s been business as usual here on the senior complex and in my part of the world.

Sunday was as I’d expected, no call or text from Twin 1. However, she did somewhat acknowledge Mother’s Day by proxy in a text I received from granddaughter.

I had to laugh.

It’s better than nothing.

The seniors celebrated Mother’s Day with a potluck yesterday, rescheduled from last week.

I did see, when last I walked through the Community Room, that 20 or so residents signed up for the event, so there was interest. Which means the rescheduling was most definitely budget related ─ that the new Community Manager had failed to provide Activity Director with needed funds; but I can’t tell you how the event went because I didn’t make it back from Trainer in time to do a walk through and take photos for the residents’ facebook page.

Apache’s birthday was Monday, so I caught up with and gave him the gift box from No. 45’s store.

His eyes lit up, but he doesn’t want to open the box until Saturday, at the BBQ celebration of his birthday.

I wasn’t planning to go to that. It’s just no fun going to food events when I can’t eat any of the goodies, but I guess I’ll have to go to take photos of Apache's face, when he opens the box, for his private facebook page and so I can see if the underside of the gold bar bank says “Made in China”.

Elsewhere on the complex, word is Nosey ─ hospitalized/recovering from a fall in her unit resulting in a broken hip, was doing well and would be returning some time next week.

Picking up mail on Monday, I ran into one of our Community Room regulars who informed me that she was just home from the hospital where she’d had surgery on her knee.

News to me. I’d not heard, but then I’ve not been around much lately to hear what’s going on.

At any rate, she tells me she’s had her knee operated on THEN without any prompting on my part, she showed me the surgical scars.

OMG!!!!

WHY DO OLD PEOPLE DO THAT?!!!! .. MAKE SUCH A BIG PRODUCTION … BRAG EVEN.

It was bad enough she was wearing shorts to openly display the scars, but inasmuch as I did not appear all that interested in details, she just had to push it by sticking out her leg saying “See”.

Hopefully she read my facial expression (like I was about to toss my cookies) and will be more discerning about the show and tell stuff.

With the dentist off my to-do list, a measles booster off the list, this morning it was a drive to the eye clinic for a long overdue exam and new glasses.

That’s the vision center at my medical provider’s office, not the private vision center I went to after the provider’s office royally screwed up last time I went through the process.

I went back and forth in my mind as to whether I should go to the provider this time, in the hopes they’d do a better job, because everything is covered except purchase of the glasses, rather than to the private vision center that did such great work but cost and arm and two legs.

I decided medical provider’s office.

But upon arriving in a timely manner for this morning’s appointment, I was told my appointment is not until next week. Of course they're right. I'd misplaced the appointment card, but had written the date and time in my organizer, yet and still showed up a week early.

I took this not as yet another senior moment, but a sign from the universe to not waste my time. As soon as I arrived back at the complex, I cancelled next week’s appointment with the provider and scheduled end-of-month with the private center.

Since I was at the medical center, I stopped into the Nurse’s Station for a Blood Pressure Check. It was o-k-a-y and, as I was leaving, the nurse was still looking at whatever it is they see on the computer screen and suddenly blurted out “OH MY GOD!!”.

I stopped cold in my tracks, frightened, thinking she’d discovered a problem.

“You look nowhere near this age”, said she.

Relieved and laughing, I said, “You scared me and thank you”.

Not thank you for scaring me, but thank you because it’s always good to hear I don’t look it.

There's no magic formula to my not looking my age. It's all the Grace of God, expensive makeup and an aging picture I have hidden away in the attic.

Money Talks

The saga of prescription eyeglasses has finally come to an end, but not without yet another snafu.

I had a repeat of what happened with the vision center -- no one called me from the optometry office where I’d once encountered snobby, rude, dismissive guy, that glasses were ready , so I had to call them.

“We’ve been trying to reach you, but your number is not working” says they. “Did you change your number?”

That I did … but I changed my number BEFORE I set up the appointment, at which time I gave their office the new number.

Inasmuch as the office called that new number to verify the appointment, I saw no need to double-check to make sure the records had been changed in the computer when I arrived for the exam and eyeglass selection process.

Evidently, I should have because they tried to reach me for pickup at the old number.

Told, “You can pick up any time”, I drove out there this morning.

Walking into the optometry office, expecting to be greeted by the nice ladies encountered at my last visit, I was instead met by some guy. Not certain if this was the dismissive one, when the purchase was a $20 frame repair, I began expecting the worst. Instead, he began fawning all over me, apologizing profusely for the new number not being entered into the computer, saying things like “You spent a lot of money. We want to keep you happy”, taking multiple opportunities to touch my shoulder, my arm, giving me instructions to call, come back, if I run into any problems, and “I like you. You’re not like the mean ladies” because I wasn’t annoyed or making a big deal out of the mix-up and delay – all this I expect because the purchase this time was ninety times as much as that simple frame repair.

At any rate, all’s well that ends well. The glasses are done and I’m happy with both the near pair, the far pair and the cases which, unlike the vision center's throwaway covers that don't even fit the glasses, are nice looking and functional.

You do get what you pay for, and money does talk -- or at least, in this case, had an impact.

The old sugar cravings raised its ugly head this week in the form of a desire for ice cream at night. I managed to squelch the craving with frozen cherries, but then I’d also been craving See’s Candy.

It just so happened the optometry office was 2.6 miles away driving east away from home to See’s in the Montclair Plaza, 8.3 miles driving west towards home to See’s in Victoria Gardens Plaza.

I decided not to resist, and opted for the mall towards home.

Arriving back at the complex, before heading upstairs for an unhealthy lunch of candy and coffee, I made a run through the Community Room to see if there were any late additions to the bulletin board.

There were.

Tomorrow’s movie is The Good, The Bad, The Ugly.

Seriously … that old thing?

No thanks.

I also saw a Memorial Day Potluck is planned. The notice says, “Must bring a side dish. Meat will be provided”.

“What kind of meat”, asked I.

“Ribs, and hotdogs”, someone replied.

“I’ll bring the potato salad and play it safe with turkey dogs”, says I and added, “Who’s bringing the meat?”

“A woman named Xxxxxxxx”, was the reply.

“I don’t think I know her”, says I.

“The woman who looks like a man.”

I still don’t know who that is, but WOW!

The Great Indoors

I am so happy to have Mother’s Day behind me, because I was full UPTOHERE with all the Mother’s Day commercials on TV. It seems to me that the advertising community really pushed it this year with way more advertisements on what to get mom by way of gifts, cards, flowers, fruit baskets, jewelry than previous years, along with Facebook friends posting photos and sentiments of their moms -- some still living, some long passed away. The many mentions of Mother’s Day on TV and Facebook began to feel like water torture.

At least two loving sentiments about moms – one living, one passed, made me want to throw up in my mouth a little because I knew the moms and they didn’t match the sentiments. One now deceased mom abandoned her children for the grandmother to raise and did not reappear until the children were grown, the son became a celebrity in the music business and mom’s life of drugs and partying had her in ill health in a wheelchair and she needed them. The other mom did not intervene when the daughter told her mom’s boyfriend was sexually abusing her.

I can understand that perhaps these moms have been forgiven by their now adult children, but mom didn’t raise you, she didn’t support you, she didn’t protect you, so why the sentiments of “Missing a loving mom” and, in the case of the other, a photo with arms around mom and a notation “Best mom in the world”.

I don’t get it.

At any rate, Mother’s Day is thankfully over, done with and I don’t have to think about being overloaded with ads and undeserved sentiments again for another year.

In the meantime … I got up this morning fully prepared to put in some miles. I recharged the iPod, so I could walk to music, and cellphone so I could run my timekeeper app. Even went so far as to suit up in the knee brace; but when I sat down to put socks and walking shoes on, the couch felt comfy, the needlepoint project called my name, and that’s where my day went – needlepointing, on the couch, while suited up for walking.

Maybe this inability to leave the unit to do other than the basics -- take out the trash, pick up mail, run by the market, is just a phase, one which I’m hoping will soon pass.

I thoroughly enjoyed daughter taking me to the spa and lunch for Mother’s Day but, even when she asked after if there was anything else I’d like to do, and I was tempted to have her take me to Macy’s and See’s, I said no because indoors was calling me.

Indoors is just so comfortable, so cozy and with the indoor Schwinn for exercise, no new Pokémon in the area, and no need to head out to Starbucks for a cup-o-joe every morning, there’s just no motivation.

I’ve not even been to Starbucks since beginning of March, when I gave butter coffee a try.

After running across an article about a coffee that was purported to be an aid in healing angry guts, PLUS detox toxins out of one’s system, enhance mental clarity AND lower blood pressure, I ordered off Amazon to see what it would do for me.

I won’t know the full scope of whether or not there’s been a change in my body’s chemistry until the next blood test, but I’d have to say yes to detoxing, maybe to helping the gut and maybe to lowering blood pressure a tad, but the taste is so pleasing that I’ve not been to Starbucks since.

I’ve not abandoned Starbucks entirely, as I strengthen the milder Bulletproof grinds a little by adding a half teaspoon of the stronger Starbucks blend.

There are some business things I’ve put off for as long as I dare, so tomorrow I’ll be setting up appointments, which for sure will force me to get out in a few days. Also, I should be hearing from that far away optometrists by end of week, which means a long drive outdoors.

Other than that, I’m not gonna push it any longer. I’ll just go with the flow, and let that flow lead me where it will -- outdoors or over to the couch.

Pick-A-Color

Happy Mother’s Day!

I chose a French mani/pedi for yesterday’s Mother/Daughter spa day, and the spa girls performed a miracle in restoring my weak dry cracked and chipped nails to strong and pretty fabulous looking.

Now that I have been blessed with ease of matter, instead of the occasional special occasion trip to the spa, the plan is to take better care of myself and go on the regular.

A lot of people watching takes place while I’m sitting in the spa chair, and I’ve seen some interesting sights. Like the time two tough looking women, wearing all black, had their nails done in stiletto shape.

Like this …

As I already have a small scar on my face from where I accidentally jabbed a fingernail in my chin -- and my nails are nowhere near as long, narrow or pointed tip, I didn’t see how those women could function without accidentally hurting themselves or others.

When a rather large tough looking man wearing all black arrived to pick them up, and I saw Bail Bond on his shirt, I realized purpose of the nails WAS to hurt someone -- a scratch, dig, cut, shred weapon to be used should they run into rough characters in their bail bond business.

Then there was the time I cringed when I observed a woman have her fingernails painted stark white, her toes pink.

Mismatched hands and toes just don’t seem to flow and brings out a cross between my Inner Sheldon Cooper, who sees the need for order and consistency in the Universe and my Inner Monk, who gets all uptight when things don’t match.

Yesterday, I really cringed when the woman two chairs over had four nails on each hand painted pink, one nail on each hand painted blue, and all toes painted red.

I fully realize that other people’s choices have nothing to do with me and further is none of my business, but eweeeeee.

For lunch, I chose TGI Friday because they have a gluten free menu and, while I overheard a woman at the table behind me order lobster tails, and I was encouraged to order whatever, I opted for a simple turkey burger on gluten-free bun and fries.

Cheap date though I may be, that was far and away the best turkey burger I’ve ever had, but I ran into a problem when I checked the label on the catsup and saw high fructose corn syrup an ingredient. Not wanting to risk an angry gut episode, I asked the waiter if he had any kind of sauce I could use as a substitute for catsup. He suggested avocado vinaigrette.

Never heard of it, but just the word “avocado” sounded like a winner so I gave it a go and they should really bottle the stuff, it was that good.

I always stock the refrigerator with a made from scratch olive oil & vinegar vinaigrette but back in my unit, after googling “avocado vinaigrette” seeing how easy it is to make, I will be making up a batch today.

Next on daughter and I’s list are facials in a week or two. No special occasion, I just mentioned, while sitting in the spa chair, that I wanted to get a facial but was worried about people seeing me with no makeup.

The girl working on my pedicure said, “Wear sunglasses”.

Daughter chimed in, “Yes, wear sunglasses, and I’m planning on a facial, so let’s go together”.

Works for me, and it just so happens those oversized transition distance glasses the vision center made -- the ones I like the frame but not the vision center’s work, will fit the bill in covering my bare face.

On tap for today?

Making that avocado vinaigrette and trying, yet again, to get out of the unit and out for a walk. I didn’t make it out last time I tried and, inasmuch as I’ve a 5K coming up, I really need to put in some training time.

On another topic, I received feedback on Friday’s Mother’s Day Brunch potluck here at the senior complex.

The Seer said "It was okay … not many people showed up … President of the Resident’s Committee got into a shouting match with the Activity Director."

WAIT!

WHAT?!

President of the Resident's Committee is next door neighbor -- the woman with a Master’s Degree in Education, background as a State Commissioner, now back in her element of being large and in charge, albeit in a smaller pond, as President of the Resident’s Activity Committee. Accustomed to being heard and obeyed, neighbor's been getting more and more upset with Activity Director’s poor performance and being a stumbling block to getting activities done at a higher level – such as refusing to allow the public to participate in last month’s rummage sale.

If there’s a battle of wills between the two, not yet certain who I’ll put my money on, but I’m leaning towards neighbor.

Perhaps I will attend this coming Thursday’s Residents/Management meeting after all.

Happy Star Wars Day

… And May the Fourth be with you!

This morning’s needlepoint session was interrupted by a 6.21 mile indoor bike ride to qualify in today’s “With You May The Fourth Be 5K/10K” -- a virtual run/walk/bike/treadmill event.

I registered at the very last minute, so I’ll have to wait for my Bib No in order to post results, then I’ll be receiving this cute Yoda medal.

It supposedly glows in the dark.

Listening to the IPod as I pedaled along, I actually went a little over, qualifying for the 10K portion with 7.2 miles in 43 minutes.

Not necessarily in honor of Princess Leah’s bun hairstyle, but because it was hot and I needed some of the hair out of my way, I ended up with a version of Leah’s hairdo – parted down the middle, pony tails on both sides, minus being wrapped in buns.

The afternoon was a seemingly halfway around the globe drive to the optometrist where I was prepared to face snobby, rude, dismissive guy.

He wasn’t there. Instead, I was met with and had a pleasant afternoon with friendly helpful informative staffers.

The exam did find discrepancies not noted in my provider’s exam, most importantly that one eye is better than the other and needs a slightly modified prescription. Also, the glasses made by the vision center should have been bifocals and, when I’d told the vision center I didn’t want that ugly line, and they consequently made straight distance and straight near glasses – which I find only good for near or far, nothing in-between, the vision center should have offered invisible line bifocals.

Though I didn’t know or remember the glasses I’ve been wearing since 2000 are so multifunctional because they ARE invisible line bifocals, or that invisible lines even existed, the so-called experts at vision center should have known.

Also, whereas the vision center never questioned the frames I selected and, even if I had opted for bifocals, would have made glasses without questioning suitability of the frame for the prescription, staff at this optometrist’s office helped me pick out frames that would best work with the prescription.

You do get what you pay for.

It was hot as Hades on the long drive up, equally hot on the way back but, having once lived in the vicinity, I decided to take the Scenic Route 66 back so I could drive through my old stomping grounds.

The entryway into my old hiking trail is now a pokéstop.

Madonna of the Trail

The below building was an abandoned gas station. I remember when it became a flower shop.

Preservationists turned back the clock, restored and turned the “1915 Cucamonga Service Station roadside landmark into a car memorabilia museum”.

Will I tour it?

No.

Old buildings, classic cars and museums are not my thing.

Clear

With not much on my to-do list, and nothing on the Monthly Activity Calendar to interest me this month of May, looks like I’m going to have a lot of down time on my hands, which means I can get back to the needlepoint project, catch up on recorded television programs, sit quietly and meditate, get my mind clear.

On the calendar this month is bingo, of course.

I’ll pass.

There’s the Cinco De Mayo Nacho Social on the 5th.

I don’t eat cheese, can’t even stand the smell of it, so I’m out.

Then there’s the Mother’s Day Brunch Potluck on the 12^th -- billed as “Pancakes and drinks will be provided. Please bring a side dish”. But that’s what the Activity Director said about last month’s Spring BBQ – “Hot dogs, hamburgers and drinks will be provided. Please bring side dishes”, then she showed up with nothing, disputing our even having thought we were having an event that day until she was shown her own calendar and own sign-up sheet.

Having overlooked so much and so many of her misses, I’m not sure I’m willing to trust her again, so I’m probably out.

The next Residents/Management Meeting is on the 18^th; however, having already declared after last month’s meeting I’d likely not attend another, because residents seem relatively happy with management and there is no new information coming out, my passing is a foregone conclusion -- and looks like I dodged a bullet. The notice indicates the Residents/Management meeting rolls over, at the end, into the Residents Volunteer Activity Association meeting.

Appears to be a set-up to me -- a way to capture folks and get them involved, and I’m done with being involved at the volunteering level around here.

There is to be a Suggestion Box, which I plan to drop in a suggestion that, inasmuch as they’re trying to bring back activities we once enjoyed, bring back the walking group and a weekly exercise class.

To make sure I don’t get sucked into, “It’s your suggestion, why don’t you handle that”, I’m going to type up, rather than write the suggestion and omit my name as the suggesting resident.

Last month feels like a blur. My mind was so cluttered by the chaos surrounding the school shooting, plus paperwork and eye wear drama, that I have no clear memory as to what I did with the month, what if anything was accomplished.

Looking back, I see very little was accomplished needlepoint wise, but I did make my own bib/medal board and, inept in the kitchen as I am, I had one successful cook -- that chicken curry with lentils, also I completed the 22.1 Mile Adventures of Sherlock Holmes indoor bike challenge.

Trying to get off the carbs, last night I tried Chicken Fried Cauliflower Rice which taste-wise was another success, except following recipe directions was a miss because it didn’t hit me until this morning that I forgot to add the eggs, a must ingredient in Asian fried rice.

If my gut hadn’t developed intolerance to so many different foods, I swear I’d eat out every meal.

At any rate, this month is my time to keep to myself and, except for an appointment this Thursday with the snobby, rude, dismissive optometrist and a Mother/Daughter Spa Day on the 13th, to sit quietly and get clear.

Ease of Matter

Would you believe, I finally received email notification on the status of my eye glasses.

That’s twenty-four days after the eye glasses were ready to be picked up, and six days after I got tired of waiting to be notified and called THEM.

Better late than never, I guess; and I do feel less culpable knowing it was not just my blocking the automatic notification telephone number that held the process up because, inasmuch as the vision center is emailing me now, they could have emailed me before.

After giving it the old college try, I’m not happy with the eye glasses, but I won’t be taking them back to the vision center to be adjusted. I’ll hang onto them as backup and begin the process all over again as a way obtaining a second opinion on the prescription.

Much as I don’t want to go back to the optometrist that provided the Sarah Palin eyeglasses, because it’s a long drive to Upland and because there’s a guy there, not sure of his position but, when I was last there having a frame repaired, he was snobby, rude, dismissive, looks like I'm going to have to suck-it-up and head that way.

I’m sensitive to “snobby, rude, dismissive” because I’m never quite sure if it’s because the individual is just an a-hole or is treating me thusly because he's racist.

At any rate, I'll fortify myself and give snobby, rude, dismissive another shot because I’m much more satisfied with the expensive glasses they’ve provided in the past, that have served me for so long, than I am with the less expensive ones provided by my medical provider’s vision center.

“You get what you pay for”, right?

Would you also believe, the morning after positioning the elephants on the counter, facing the front door, the first payment of that windfall finally kicked in.

Coincidence?

I think not.

Because it took two years for the company to track me down, advise I’d left money in the plan when I quit 19 years ago, considerable back payment is involved in this first payment. So much so that not only can I pay off what little debt I’ve incurred, but pay off the monumental vet bill granddaughter racked up in a life-saving operation for her Jack Russell Terrier (my great grandson Patches), with plenty left over to keep my beloved Saturn going, or purchase a new vehicle should it come to that.

I’m not a materialistic individual, so while I await the recertification period for management to let me know whether or not I must relocate, as the increased income renders me ineligible to continue to live in this restricted-income complex, or whether I fall under the “grandfather clause” and income does not apply, the only other indulgence I see happening as a result of this windfall is, instead of the less expensive store brand eggs, I’m upgrading to the more expensive Eggland’s Best, which I’ve always preferred but previously had only indulged myself when on sale.

Other than that, I’m just going to sit here and bask -- for the first time in my life, in what in mystical circles is known as Ease of Matter -- not having to worry about money, not having to think about money, not having to budget every penny, financial needs met with plenty left over to spare and to share.

On tap for today is more creativity. I saw a woman in the market with a graphic tee I admired. Unable to find it online in my size, I’m going to try to locate the graphic's image, capture it, print to a transfer sheet and iron-on to one of my Duluth tank tops.

My Bad

Arriving at the vision center Tuesday afternoon, I learned the new glasses had been ready for pick up since April 6.

The woman assisting me apologized profusely saying she couldn’t understand how I’d not been notified as the system is automated, at which point a little voice in my head went “Oops!”.

Back in August of last year, I’d blogged that, leaning towards the holistic way of life, how annoying it was to receive constant calls from the automated system to either check in with the doctor, or subject myself to this exam or that scan -- exams/scans I’d on several occasions informed the doctor I was not interested in.

Seeing the constant calls as harassment, less to do with caring for my health and more to do with meeting co-pay and drug pushing quotas, I blocked the number.

Doesn’t mean I still don’t get requests to check-in, get an exam or a scan, they just come by not-so-bothersome snail mail now.

I didn’t know everything is on the automated system but, bottom line is, looks like it’s my bad the system was unable to notify me glasses were ready.

At any rate, glasses are in hand, but not entirely off the to-do list.

The near pair works great for reading, the far pair works great for distance, but neither pair is good for multitasking. For instance, when wearing the near pair -- working on the needlepoint project or reading, I now can’t look over and make out the cross-stitch pattern or look up and see clearly what’s happening on the television screen. Wearing the far pair to the market this morning, I noticed that, when I booted up the Pokémon app, to check the lot for critters, the screen now looked blurry. Consequently, one or both are going to have to be remade for multitasking or yet another pair, specifically for multi-tasking, has to be ordered.

Why is aging so complicated?

I’m not complaining though.

There are seniors here who can’t see well enough to read, do needlepoint or drive, with or without glasses, so I’m happy to lug around three different pair, if that’s what it takes.

Feng Shui and Me

The new telephone number didn’t work out. The overall chi energy of it wasn’t good because it contained the Number 4, so I logged on and played around until a good combination of numbers was achieved. I was able to do it without an agent this time because, instead of links taking me around in circles through all the new phones, one click led me straight to the change location -- a good sign in and of itself.

For security reasons, because of a change having previously been made, and because I effectuated the change myself, the latest number is set to go into effect in seven days, instead of instantly.

I’m not a hard core feng shui practitioner, but I do strive to comply with the basics.

Sometimes, however, one has to work with what one has been given. For instance, the relationship corner of this unit is the bathtub; but it is an improvement on past places I’ve lived where the relationship corner was the toilet, and that area of life reflected the toilet figuratively and literally.

Looks like it's reflecting the bathtub now because of my desire to be alone, wash everyone out of my hair.

As for numbers, the Number 4 carries the most negative energy, so once I realized that new number started with 4, it had to go.

At any rate, if this latest number I switched to pushes through in seven days, it’s a done deal and off my to-do list.

On tap for today is a 26-mile drive to the optometrist.

Yes, my glasses are ready and it appears they’ve been ready for some time.

As to why I was not notified and had to call THEM, the young woman on the phone could not say but you can bet I’ll be asking for an explanation when I get there.