Father’s Day

Happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there … and the mothers pulling double duty as mom and dad.

Activity Director didn’t do anything for the fathers this year and, to tell you the truth, inasmuch as we never received an Activity Calendar, I’m beginning to wonder if we even still have an Activity Director.

I’ll have to remember to check on this.

Nevertheless, there was a luncheon on Friday for the dads.

I only know this because, returning from that morning’s workout, I spied the cute little Hispanic neighbor I took the Zumba class with and chased her down to give her the picture I’d taken of her at the class.

I located her in the Community Room, where I saw the room decorated with balloons and a gathering consisting of a few men and a lot of women.

"What’s going on?" asked I.

"Father’s Day Luncheon" someone said.

Of course I didn’t stay. However, when dropping off trash at the dumpster later that afternoon, I came upon a debriefing conversation about the event.

"How was it?" asked I.

The ladies seemed sore that "The men were served first. We didn’t get to do that for Mother’s Day. We had to stand in line".

Remembering it had been said the Mother’s Day Brunch was a drag because so many were complaining about the little sandwiches, cheese, deli meat platter, bagels, "tiny foods" served, I asked what was served to the guys.

"Pizza! They got better food than us and it was more fun than ours".

The ladies said it was more fun, the energy different because Complex Manager was absent. "Maintenance and the Assistant Manager were in charge and they seemed more relaxed because M___ (Complex Manager) wasn’t there. Everyone in the room seemed more relaxed, and at the end of pizza they made us Ice Cream Sundaes".

That says a lot about our current Complex Manager that so many, including staff, tense up around her. The main complaint I've heard is "She doesn’t do anything", but some have said she's rude and they "hate" her.

Not to discount how others feel about her, in all fairness I have to say I've not experienced that part of her and don't sense her as being that way, not like I did with that horrid Nurse Ratched. M___ promply responds to my email work orders, always smiles at and is nice to me, so I don’t have a problem with her.

However, considering all the complaints I’ve heard about M___, I have to give it to her for lasting as long as she has.

I’m losing track, but as near as I can recall she’s No. 10 or 11 in a long line of managers we’ve run through since I’ve been living here.

She replaced the Tyrant who, during the Pandemic lockdown — office closed, no activities, instead of handling work orders, complained about the pretty rocks Painted Rock Lady was placing on the complex to lift everyone's spirit, took classes online, got a degree in something to do with taxes and quit for a better job.

That was in ’22, so M___ has lasted 2 years.

Curious that neither she nor Activity Director hosted the Father’s Day Luncheon. Perhaps the two of them are out there making plans to move on, blow this joint.

Three Day Weekend?

Happy Father’s Day to all you dads out there AND dads/moms who did double duty — raised children without partners.

This is a three-day weekend for management, because Monday is a federal Holiday — Juneteenth. However, for moi, tomorrow will be business as usual because Monday is a regular workout day.

There is a celebration tomorrow at the University but I’ve not the energy to workout then attend the festival. Besides, it doesn’t look very interesting.

Even though the list of activities includes Food (I can't eat), Fun, Kid Zone, they completely lost me at Seminars and Gospel Hour.

There are festivities within driving distance, but again, no energy.

I’ve been experiencing an energy drain since Friday — a sign there’s a disturbance in the family force, most assuredly Twin 2, which is where the drains have been coming from for quite some time.

Nothing to be done but hope for the best for her — Divine right action and ride the waves.

Other than that, not much going on around here except crafting.

Insofar as residents, the only one I’ve run into the few times I've gone out to toss trash or pick up mail, was Head Maintenance Guy returning from an outing with his wife on Saturday.

He actually smiled and said "Hello, Shirley", which was surprising because it was the first time he ever said my name.

I got the distinct impression he is totally unaware of the "real plumber" comment.

He’s not clever enough to fake it — come across as agreeable while fuming inside, so I can only assume he’s completely clueless as to how I and other residents feel about his skill level.

It must be nice to be clueless.

There have been times when I’ve envied those who travel through life at a surface level, people that don’t feel, sense, know, empath; people that go through life all friggin la de friggin da like, just totally clueless.

So, anyway, HMG is the only one I saw in person, but I did see Red Light playing poor me on facebook again.

You may remember, back in March, when she had that passive aggressive meltdown — posted a host of poor me, people are so mean cryptic messages.

Well, on Saturday, she posted a poor me, I’m so bored plea.

She has everyone’s telephone number, could have easily called those in her posse, asked if they wanted to get together, but nooooo. She wanted the world to witness her pity plea.

I'd be bored too if I was as spoiled as she, didn't do anything but sit on my behind and issue orders … or try to, like "send me the photos".

For some reason, she doesn't have to lift a finger for anything, not even write a check because the County pays her rent. Her daughter is like her indentured servant — here every day, cooking, cleaning, doing Red Light’s laundry, helping her set up for bingo.

We have residents on walkers and wheelchairs who manage to do their own laundry. The resident with the problem legs — the one who propells herself from here to there by leaning left then right, does her own laundry and here Red Light is being waited on like a queen.

Red Light seems to get around extremely well when she's out gathering intel (gossiping) and running the bingo games — both of which I appreciate, but I'm just saying.

No idea if she ever got out to "do something", but I didn’t see any responses to her plea.

So, anyway, even though tomorrow is just another Monday for me, it being Black Independence Day is an opportunity to wear that Blackity Black Black shirt.

Fool Me Once

I woke up to rain. This on the last day of the Upland’s Lemon Festival.

When I first moved to the Inland Empire area, which would have been in 2003. I lived in Upland. So, of course, I went to the Lemon Festival, which was in it’s infancy — only a few years in at that time.

What a disappointment.

Downtown Upland is small, cramped, which made parking hard to find. Insofar as entertainment, there was one stage where I recall a young kid doing a credible Michael Jackson performance.

I could eat what I wanted back then, so was looking forward to all kinds of lemon concoctions to try.

There were none.

In fact, after seeing the lemon pie booth had pies with Ralph’s Market stickers on the box, I left and haven’t attended since.

Of course now, going by what I saw on the news Friday, the Lemon Festival is huge, so I was tempted on Saturday to drive over, see what it’s now all about.

Just the fact that the event was so heavily pubicized on the news could mean it’s a really fun place to go OR they needed the exposure on the news to get folks to come.

Not willing to chance it — under the theory of Fool Me Once, especially since parking would still be bad and I now can’t eat lemon concoctions … if they had any this time around, I decided to stay home, do laundry, work on craft projects.

Giving Red Light the benefit of the doubt — taking into consideration she might not know how to capture photos direct from the website, I yesterday sent her the following message.

I think I worded it to where she could reply a simple yes, I got them or no, how do I do that.

She replied neither. In fact, she did not reply at all.

Alrighty then.

Case closed.

I can only conclude she’s fuming (yes, I’m smiling) and only wanted one thing, that was for ME to obey.

Well, like my mother used to say to us kids when we expressed a want, "People in hell want ice water, but they don’t get it".

She’s probably not as pissed at the fact I did not comply as she is that I had the audacity to question the why/what — why she needed the photos, what she did with them.

Flame on girlie, flame on.

I’m going to make a prediction … After Red Light calms her arse down she’ll probably feel too embarrassed or that she’s put herself in a position where she’ll be reluctant to ask me to make flyers for her July 4 event. She’ll ask someone else to ask me because, based on what I’ve observed in other instances where she’s overstepped or lost a friend, that’s how she rolls. She backs up and hides behind someone else ... asks them to ask so and so such and such.

Manipulative much?

Father’s Day

Happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there … and the single mothers pulling double duty.

I spent the day trying out a new toy — a piece of equipment that on TikTok looked worth giving a try.

What is it you ask?

It’s a sushi maker that supposedly eliminates the need for a bamboo mat and hand rolling.

I, of course, gave it a good hot soapy wash while the rice was cooking. Then set about preparing veggie fillings for the roll — red pepper, carrots, zucchini and — taking a walk on the wild side added a tinsie tiny bit of a no-no gut food … avocado.

Instructions were to "Use the base in the outer frame and place the seaweed paper in the round shaped mold".

"Add half level of cooked sushi rice into the seaweed paper and then use the spatula to press the rice firmly. Use the push bar at the back of the lid to make a groove in the center of the rice."

Took me a second to figure out how much rice was a half level — the instructions meant half the height of the maker. Then it took some doing to get a groove in the center — probably because I added too much rice but, eventually, I got an tunnel in middle of the rice.

"Place ingredients."

"Add more rice until it covers the fillings."

"Press that layer down then fold nori over".

"Put lid on sushi rice and then hold for 5-10 seconds so that sushi rice is tightly pressed and forms the round shape. For a more defined shape you can use rubber bands to hold the lid in place for 2 minutes."

Tired of standing, deciding I didn’t want to hold/press or look for rubber bands, I improvised and went ghetto with a cast iron skillet serving as a hold/press device.

"Remove the lid and then use a sushi knife to slice through the slots."

Don’t have a sushi knife per se, so cuts from a sharp but regular kitchen knife tore up the ends.

"The round shaped sushi is ready for servings", said the instructions BUT didn’t say how to get the rounds out of the mold.

I suppose I could have jiggled them out with my fingertips, but chose to flip the mold over, pop the rounds out with a knife.

Pretty much looks the same as when I handroll — some came out appropriately tight, some came out loose, like those two to the right.

At any rate, those rounds didn’t last long, as I gobbled ‘em up straight away while setting about making more until the prepared ingredients were used up.

Pacing myself as I went along, I only ate the ones that didn’t come out pretty.

Looks like I’ll be eating sushi for the next two/three days for breakfast, lunch AND dinner.

Google tell me that inasmuch as the fillings are all veggies, the rounds will last two/three days in the refrigerator.

All in all, not much difference between using a mat and hand rolling vs. a mold. Taste is great no matter which, rounds still sometimes came out a little iffy with the mole — same as when I hand roll. I suppose, however, if one has no strength in their hands, like my buddy Apache, this device would be helpful.

It also might be good to pack in my luggage for hotel stays where there's no cooking in the rooms, as I can always pack cooked sushi rice, pick up veggies at whatever market is near the hotel.

Deciding to mix it up a little, I threw together ingredients for tempura made with a brown rice flour batter.

Eatin’ gluten-free good in the neighborhood.

Father's Day

Twin 2 dropped by yesterday. Not because it was Father’s Day Weekend — for which I qualify inasmuch as my role in her life was that of Mother AND Father.

She stopped by to pick up a check for the plumber (her A/C unit died).

And before you readers chastise me for being a sucker — giving money to family yet again, there was no way I could live with myself if I’d have turned my back on Twin 2, her ill retired spouse, their dog (my Great-grandson Patches). Let them suffer no A/C in this heat, or having to take out a bank loan, when it wouldn't kill me to give her what she needed. So yes, I’m still at it, but only because it was absolutely necessary and Twin 2 was not “using” me, like Middle Grandson.

When I told Twin 2 about Middle Grandson’s asking for money, just three months after he conned me into getting him out of debt, Twin 2 was shocked. She didn’t know about his calling the first time and offered to have a talk with the boys, telling them to layoff, not ask so often.

”So often” ??????

How about not at all.

At any rate, I told her it wasn’t necessary to have that talk with the boy, because I was just going to say no in future — which may serve as a signal to her as well that the Bank of Me is now closed.

In all fairness, it was only Middle Grandson trying to “use” me, but all are affected by his actions. None of the boys can now call me (I don’t know how they got my number in the first place), because I put a block on their numbers.

Going to be awkward, if and when we have a Thanksgiving Get-Together this year … and we will have a get together because Granddaughter’s new Hubby want me to meet his side of the family.

That get-together should offer up some interesting blog fodder, LOL.

Twin 2 herself seems to have gotten over the disappointment of my response to her texting me one night, “Mom, are you proud of me ... Like the way I’ve lived my life?”

It wasn’t that I responded poorly. It’s just that, she wanted me to respond like this mom ……

Carol Brady Mom

Instead, I responded like this mom ……

Madea Mom

Twin 2 and I are both chalking that regressing into a 12-year old seeking approval, as having been in quarantine too long and menopause.

So now things with family seem to have been settled — Twin 2 has her money, the Grandsons are blocked, I’m looking forward to a long period of being left the hell alone.

I’ll leave you with this hilarious story I read about Father’s Day gifts.

Dear Diary:

For Father’s Day this year, family purchased a week of personal training at the local health club for me. Although I am still in great shape since playing on my college football team 25 years ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try. I called the club and made my reservation with a personal trainer named Belinda, who identified herself as a 26 year old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swimwear.

My family seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started! The club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.

MONDAY:

Started my day at 6:00am

Tough to get out of bed, but it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Belinda waiting for me. She was something of a Greek goddess - with blonde hair, dancing eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!!!!!

She took my pulse after 5 minutes on the treadmill. She was alarmed that my pulse was so fast, but I attributed it to standing next to her in her Lycra aerobics outfit. I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which she conducted her aerobics class after my workout today.

Very inspiring, Belinda was encouraging as I did my sit-ups, although my gut was already aching from holding it in the whole time she was around.

This is going to be a FANTASTIC week!!

TUESDAY:

I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the door. Belinda made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air, and then she put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile. Belinda's rewarding smile made it all worthwhile.

I feel GREAT!! It's a whole new life for me.

WEDNESDAY:

The only way I can brush my teeth is by lying on the toothbrush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. I believe I have a hernia in both pectorals. Driving was OK as long as I didn't try to steer or stop. I parked on top of a GEO in the club parking lot. Belinda was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered the other club members.

Her voice is a little too perky for early in the morning and when she scolds, she gets this nasally whines that is VERY annoying.

My chest hurts when I got on the treadmill, so Belinda put me on the stair monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators?

Belinda told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. She said some other sh** too.

THURSDAY:

Belinda was waiting for me with her vampire-like teeth exposed as her thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl. I couldn't help being a half an hour late; it took me that long to tie my shoes.

Belinda took me to workout with dumbbells. When she was not looking, I ran and hid in the men's room. She sent Lars to find me, then, as punishment, put me on the rowing machine -- which I sank.

FRIDAY:

I hate that bit** Belinda more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic little cheerleading bit**. If there were a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat her with it. Belinda wanted me to work on my triceps. I don't have any triceps! And if you don't want dents in the floor, don't hand me the*&%#(#&** barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich.

The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher. Why couldn't it have been someone softer, like the drama coach or the choir director?

SATURDAY:

Belinda left a message on my answering machine in her grating, shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing her made me want to smash the machine with my planner. However, I lacked the strength to even use the TV remote and ended up catching eleven straight hours of the Weather Channel.

SUNDAY:

I'm having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can go and thank GOD that this week is over. I will also pray that next year, my family will choose a gift for me that is fun -- like a root canal or a vasectomy.

Movie Night

This post-pandemic Father’s Day is looking to be HUGE in this area.

Making the mistake of popping into the market, after this morning’s workout, for a few non-perishables, I found the place crowded. Hot dogs, watermelon and Happy Father’s Day balloons were flying out the door.

I’m thinking backyard cookouts.

I was only picking up perishables, because I don’t dare bring perishables into my unit, possibly incur any more loss that I’m likely to incur with what I already have in the freezer, because we’re living under the threat of rolling blackouts by the utility company. Which, I can’t believe that, in this heat, the utility company is seriously thinking of putting us through such a thing.

Some of us might not live through an extended period of not having A/C, but what do they care.

I myself don’t have to worry about honoring anyone on Father’s Day. The grandsons have a really good dad, someone I admire and respect, so I’m sure they boys will do right by their dad. But my mom and dad separated when I was six months old. Mom moved to California, while my father stayed where he was, out-of-state, with the woman who broke up the marriage.

Mom of course eventually remarried, had children by him — my brothers and sister but, try though I have, I can’t remember anything ever being done on Father’s Day for my stepdad. Not by mom, not by his own children, and definitely not by me because we did not get along.

He resented me because I was not his own, my brothers and sister resented him because he resented me. LOL.

The first, last and only time I ever lay eyes on my dad was in 1977, when he died and mom tricked me into attending his out-of-state funeral.

His oldest daughter — my what ... half-sister? stepsister?, daughter by his then wife, the woman that broke up his relationship with my mother, picked me up at the airport, took me by the funeral home, so I could get a look at my dad in his casket.

Interesting, at long last, to see what he looked like, but felt nothing.

At any rate, I do wish those being feted this weekend a Happy Father’s Day.

Tonight is Movie Night here at the complex. More approximately … Movie Late Afternoon, because the film Get Out is to be set up for viewing at dusk, on the grassy knoll at the edge of my walkway.

I’m interested in seeing how management plans to pull this first-time event off … what apparatus is to be used, i.e., a big tv/a screen?

Then there’s the issue of how many residents, if any, will participate.

I’ve been asking around and it’s not looking promising.

Next Door Neighbor said she’s not going, because she’s seen the movie. Get Out has been on television numerous times.

That’s true, and those who have seen it, on television, will feel it not worth the effort, as she does, to traipse out of their units to see a movie they’ve already seen — the new Wonder Woman or Cruella would have gotten me out of my unit.

While picking up mail today, I ran into Church Lady. She said she’s not going because word on the complex is it’s a horror movie.

That’s true as well, but I told her it was more comic horror than blood and guts horror.

No matter, she’s not going because she was also told there were “bad words” in the movie.

Jesus F Christ!!, thought I.

Some of these old people (Church Lady is just a few months younger than I) are wound up way too tight.

Also, while picking up mail, I ran into Diane — the woman whose quality of life was changed by a car accident that left her with a brain injury and seizures, the resident that put her puppy to sleep because she could not afford the vet bill.

I guess Diane is another one who doesn’t read the Monthly Calendar, because she said she didn’t know about it.

Figuring “dust” to be about 7 o’clock, she doubted she’d come down for the movie.

Another woman walked up on the conversation I was having with Diane — a woman who has never made the blog and whom I don’t care for much because I’ve got good instincts and because she had too much to say when we had Resident/Management meetings, without saying anything worth being heard.

She interrupted our conversation to say how much she disliked the painted rocks.

That interested me, so I asked “Why?”

“We’re not supposed to be doing stuff like this”.

“Jan has permission. They’re not bothering anything, and there’s plenty of other rocks around here”, said I.

“But she’s saying how she feels about people”, said she.

“Do you mean the positive messages she’s writing?”

“Yes. That’s saying how she feels about people”.

I guess she means saying awful things about people like this …

And this ...

The woman said something about the painted rocks "cluttering up the place" and a few other things that were so off the wall that I blurted out what I'd been thinking for years, “You’re awful” and said to Diane, “I can’t deal with this level of negativity” then walked away.

Back in my unit, I began thinking what I should have done was this thing I do to piss off people who are being ridiculous, or behaving in a manner that indicates they're in need of  a curandero.

I raise my hand in a halt manner and say, “I rebuke you demon. I rebuke you in the name of Jesus Christ. Out out, evil spirit. Release that body and let it go”.

It’s so fun to see the reactions.

Generally, it stops people mid-stream. It shocks them, because they don't know if I’ve just put a voodoo curse on them or what.

One woman, when I used it on her misbehaving daughter, whom she was allowing to misbehave, stood straight up, said, “That was rude!”, grabbed her daughter and left the room.

Must have worked some kind of magic, because she later returned, little girl in tow and made the little one apologize to me for her behavior.

I felt the mom should have apologized as well and kinda just brushed the two of them off.

I’m sure to run into this long-time resident again, whom I’m naming Negative Nelly, and if she wants to continue our conversation about the rocks and/or my having said to her face that she was awful, I’m going to rebuke her and hopefully catch it on film.

Déjà Vu

Happy belated Father’s Day to all you dads out there, and single parent moms who are doing double duty ─ parenting as both mom AND dad.

Father’s Day was never big when I was growing up, at least not in our household. Never knew my father, as mom and he separated when I was months old and she relocated out-of-state and that was that until, in my late 20’s, I got tricked into travelling to his funeral. Seeing him in his casket was the first, only and last time I lay eyes on my father.

Mom, a pretty lady, remarried of course ... twice.

Didn’t like my first stepdad ─ father to my sister and brothers and can’t recall a single Father’s Day celebration happening. For sure, if there had been, I’d have not been involved as I’ve never been one to pretend to like who I didn’t.

My second stepdad came into the family when I was grown, on my own, and I liked him. So, I do remember gifting him with tools for Father’s Day until he passed away.

Mom did not remarry after my second stepdad and, having escaped my husband when my girls were only six months old, there was never a Father’s Day celebration with him. So, like I said, Father’s Day was never big in my family.

Elsewhere in my world, I’ve been glued to the news, watching on tv and reading online everything on Bolton and his Book, The Room Where It Happened.

I’ve purchased and read every book that’s come out about No. 45, but I’m done with that and won’t purchase this one, because I don’t want Bolton to prosper as he could have come out with all this information when it mattered ─ during impeachment proceedings. Also, because there’s really nothing new. We all know who 45 is, what he’s done, what he’s likely to do, and none of that knowing has changed anything, so ffs.

When not glued to the news, I’ve been keeping an eye on Nosey’s vacant unit to see if management was going to paint and re-carpet.

They did, but management saved a few bucks by not bringing in professional painters. Instead, Head Maintenance Guy and his assistant did the painting, but management did spring for proper carpet installers.

I’ve not yet seen a cleaning crew, but management may be counting on the maintenance guys to do the cleaning as well, so as to save a few more bucks.

Management is notoriously cheap.

At any rate, we should have a new tenant in the quad soon. Inasmuch as it’s a downstairs unit, the new tenant is not likely to be a handsome active senior.

It occurred to me the other day that I’m the OG in this quad. Not just because I’m the oldest in the quad, but because everyone who lived in the units surrounding me and across from me, when I moved in, has died. Everyone here now came after me.

I’d be spooked about so many deaths around me ─ ghosts and all, except for the fact only one died in her unit. The others were transferred to care facilities, or to live with relatives, and passed away there.

I've noticed seniors tend to give up and let go, rather quickly, when moved away from living independently in their own space.

And, believe it or not, the one who did pass away in her unit ─ Debbie who lived right next door, did visit me a day or so after she passed away. I didn’t see her, thank goodness because I couldn’t handle that, but I could feel her presence and did briefly smell her cigarette scent throughout every room as she passed through here, then moved on to wherever and whomever was next on her visit list.

I’m just back from this morning’s training session, wherein trainer announced he’d no longer be training at that studio after July 31.

Déjà Vu, though actually it’s Precognition.

Remember back in early May when I’d posted about finding myself continuously glancing out the window, looking at the patio, gauging as to whether the space was suitable for working out, because of getting one of those feelings again of knowing something was going to happen before it happens?

I rationalized the feeling I was getting was that Trainer’s studio might not survive, due to Trainer and his partner not being able to hold group sessions upon reopening.

Not having group sessions didn’t impact Trainer at all, as he just switched over to one-on-one personal training, and his partner is independently wealthy, with lots of businesses, so not having group sessions didn't hurt either one of them. However, he and his partner had a disagreement over the weekend, which disagreement Trainer said ended up with his partner disrespecting him in a way he’s not willing to forget or forgive, so he announced to partner that he’s outta there end of next month.

Of course partner realized he’d gone too far, apologized, even called Trainer’s wife and asked her to mediate for him. But Trainer is a lot like me in that there comes a time, and Trainer said there have been other incidents, when we’re done with an individual and there’s no turning back.

I didn’t feel it coming for THIS reason, but I did feel it coming.

At any rate, Trainer is looking for a house with a garage, where he can set up his equipment. If he’s not gotten set up by the end of next month, he says he’ll continue with my training at Planet Fitness.

I’m down with whatever Trainer wants to do, wherever he wants to set up ─ even if we do end up on my tiny balcony.

What’s in Britney's Closet

Browsing the news, I spied an article about singer Britney Spears of Hit Me Baby One More Time fame.

The article said her fans were worried about her because, while displaying her reorganized closet on Instagram, she seemed to be speaking too fast and moving in a frenzied manner.

Curious, I followed the thread to the video.

Wasn’t impressed with the closet reorganization.

Though Britney raved about how everything was organized by color, the walk-in closet shelves looked cluttered to me. And I failed to focus on whether or not she was speaking too fast or moving in a frenzied manner, because I was distracted by a flowered bag I saw prominently displayed up front and to the side of Britney.

Hopefully, this bag isn’t something Britney got snookered into paying a couple hundred dollars for at some trendy Rodeo Boulevard boutique, because I have the same bag and got it for free.

Running low on perfume, I made a trip to the mall’s Estee Lauder counter two weeks ago. Lucky me, it was giveaway with a purchase day. I was given the bag, filled with sample cosmetics.

I liked the samples, but thought the bag ugly. All those flowers seemed old lady-ish and just not me — even though I am an old lady, so the plan was to donate the bag to the residents’ volunteer activity committee as a prize for the bingo table. Before that could happen, however, that day I'd decided to walk the two blocks, I was looking around the unit for something to lug my walking shoes, water bottle, towel, iPod, etc., to the pain cave, and realized the bag was just the right size.

A gift that turned out to be right on time. One I’ve received compliments on and have grown to like.

Who knew?

Forecast for Today

Miserable heat and I can’t comfort myself with ice cream or a nice cold soda, nor chilled melons. Not because I’m on a diet, but because these are some of the foods my digestive organs cannot process.

All I can do is drink ice cold water, take lots and lots of showers and sweat it out. I’d also better revisit my Go Bag, because this is our fire season.

Monthly Calendar indicates the seniors are having a Father’s Day Potluck at noon ─ sandwiches, chips, drinks provided by Activity Director. Seniors are to “bring your favorite dish”.

I’d try to rush back from working out in the Pain Cave to take photos for the residents’ facebook page, but it would probably be a waste of effort because there’s usually only two fathers in attendance.

So, no. I’ll show up for the next big event which, looking at the calendar, isn’t anytime soon.

Yesterday’s workout was moved to late afternoon, because Trainer was stuck in court still working on getting custody of his daughter.

I haven’t asked how it’s going because I don’t feel I should. Besides, I’ve got enough family members to tempt me to worry about their dramas. Don’t need to add anyone else to the list.

However, when he brings the matter up, I listen.

When it appears he’s using me as a sounding board and wants my 2 cents, I give it to him.

Last he spoke on this issue, he was going for full custody but, at last Thursday’s session, when he said we’d have to move yesterday’s time to later in the day, he said, “I’m trying to be fair to her mother. I don’t want to take my daughter completely away from her”.

“Whether you go for full custody or not, your daughter will still see her mom”, said I. “Besides, why be fair to someone who won’t protect your daughter?”

He nodded and had sort of a faraway look in his eyes, as though he’d was considering that statement.

Trainer is in the precarious position of having been told by daughter of what stepfather’s been doing in that home, for some time I might add, with mom refusing to believe, even going so far as to call her own daughter a liar ─ all of which has prompted Trainer seeking custody. The problem is daughter won’t let Trainer bring this up in the proceedings because daughter said she doesn’t want her mother to get in trouble, and Trainer doesn’t want to alienate daughter by going against daughter’s wishes.

This is a phenomena I can’t wrap my head around, even though I learned a few short years ago that a niece had experienced the same thing. Her mom did not protect or believe. Yet today, that niece is loyal and protective of her mom. Can’t do enough for her mom, treats her mom better than my girls treat me and will turn against anyone who criticizes her mom. Even closer to home is Twin 1. Though she’s on a giving and responsible road now, there were years and years and years when she was not (self centered, self involved, irresponsible, verbally abusive). During those years, it was up to myself and Twin 2 to see that her children didn’t become collateral damage.

Now that she's become a somewhat awakened individual, making amends, serving her community, being there for her now adult children, her kids are fiercely loyal to and protective of their mom to the point where they have at times been disrespectful to Twin 2 and myself because they felt their mom’s feelings were being hurt.

So, I understand Trainer’s reluctance to put his daughter’s mom on blast because, even though he’s trying to get daughter out of that situation, daughter will most surely turn on him if she feels his actions will harm her mom.

I understand it, have experienced it, but just don’t get it.

Pizza and Potluck

Another Tuesday here at the senior complex means pizza for the folks. In addition, Activity Director being not present last week to arrange for a Father’s Day activity, she scheduled the Father’s Day celebration for today – sandwiches, sodas, whatever other dishes the seniors wished to contribute.

I was in the Community Room earlier catching up with the folks, but headed back to my unit just as the 1:00 celebration was being set up, so I can’t tell you what dishes were served and how many fathers attended, but generally only two or three. That’s not including The Seer and I who consider ourselves fathers as we were both single parents doing the job of father and mother for our children.

Bingo is at 2:00 and since it’s not Activity Director’s boring bingo but an outside agency coming in trying to sell us medical insurance, bingo is likely to be more engaging with better prizes.

I’m trying to motivate myself into heading back down for that, but I don’t think I’m going to be able to tear myself away from the couch, television, laptop and needlepoint.

Notices were finally received by residents via snail mail that the power will be off on Thursday. Instructions are to unplug electronics, just to be on the safe side in case of a surge. As for refrigeration, everyone is hoping things won’t thaw out during the outage and perhaps the outage time will be shorter than the estimated 9:00 to 1:30 p.m.

Hopefully, because I’ve still quite a lot of frozen items in the freezer department I’d like not to lose.

I finally did get around to making that Chicken Curry recipe that beat Bobby Flay. It was barely edible, and certainly didn’t taste like it could beat anyone, let alone a famous chef.

Probably my fault. I’m just not good in the kitchen, even when following a recipe. Consequently, a freezer full of frozen products.

Church Lady was back in the Community Room this morning and, when I left, she was looking forward to bingo. So, I guess she’s over being upset that the Seer and Shadow called her out on talking the church talk but not walking the church walk.

She doesn’t appear to have learned anything from it however, because the Seer has on good authority Church Lady is still spouting venom to anyone who will listen to her here on the complex and in church.

Speaking of never learning, while in the Community Room Loosie Goosey received a phone call congratulating her on winning $9,000. “Sure", I sarcastically said. "Just send us $10,000 and we’ll send you the $9,000”.

“I know”, said she “Because they already got me”.

“What?! How?! When?!”

“I’m embarrassed to tell you …. it was last month”.

Loosie isn’t that old and being the tough from New York with a mouth on her type, she’s certainly not a pushover, but somehow fell for it, rushed over to Walmart and did as the caller was instructing … bought pre-paid cards, something about putting money into Amazon. They even instructed her to try to borrow more money when she ran out. All told, the caller conned her out of $500.

When I asked, “How did you fall for that?”, the answer was “Desperate. The idea of getting $9,000”. And when I asked, “When did you realize it was a scam?”, the answer was “As soon as I walked out of Walmart”.

She was off in another direction before I could get further details as to what it was that caused her to realize she’d been conned (probably because the caller, at this point, having gotten the money, hung up on her) but, inasmuch as the scammers now appear to have her on speed dial and are calling yet again, at least she knew to hang up this time.

I myself don’t even answer my cellphone if I don’t recognize the number. I figure if I don’t answer and it’s important, a message will be left.

Hard to believe, in this day and age, with so many warnings that intelligent people still fall for that particular scam.

Well, 2:00 has come and gone, bingo is in process but, comfortably settled inside, I’m not going back down.