Bad Penny

Clearer heads must have prevailed, because that planned power outage never materialized.

Considering the heat, our needing A/C almost 24/7 — to sleep during the night, exist during the day, I thought it a dumb bureaucratic idea in the first place.

Someone in authority must have agreed with me.

I was scheduled for the vaccine booster today, but then thought …… it’s only Tuesday. If I have a bad reaction, or don’t feel well, that will make it difficult to get through this week’s workouts.

I rescheduled to Thursday, thinking I’ll be able to push through Friday’s workout and have the weekend to recover.

It’s a good thing I rescheduled because, since I was free today, I went down to the Community Room for Arts and Crafts, and found the proverbial bad penny had turned up …… Red Light was seated at the table.

Though not necessarily a "bad" penny, maybe a little tarnished in that she’s a good person with a tendency to stir shiz up, I nevertheless thought Why is she here? Better yet, inasmuch as she doesn’t drive, how did she get here?

The how is via a curb-to-curb Americans with Disabilities transportation service.

The why is to deliver birthday presents to Upstairs Lady (the resident who has problems with her legs and should have gotten that downstairs unit) and to our Boebert character.

Thing is though ……… I may have manifested her.

Hearing water drop planes and helicopters during most of the night/early morning hours, heading towards the out-of-control, 0% contained as of last Thursday Line Fire, prompted me to check the updates this morning ……… Only "5% contained as of today and current weather conditions causing very erratic behaviour" it’s shifting towards Yucaipa.

Yucaipa is where Red Light moved to.

Wondering if Red Light is under orders to evacuate, I called the Baker — whom I know is in constant contact with her, asked if she had any info on how Red Light is fairing.

"She’s located in a more populated area, in the city, so seems to be okay", said the Baker, but then I joked Red Light might be ready to move back just the same.

And just like that abracadabra…hocus-pocus…expecto patronum, that penny turned up.

Red Light indicated, though she does live in the city area, she did received a pre-evacuation warning.

So, I ask again, why is she here? With current conditions in her area, and a pre warning, she should be standing by.

According to her, she's been here a couple times, because she likes the people here but said she has no plans to ever move back ……… she doesn’t like our units.

I can’t blame her for that since she’s now living in the lap of luxury, complete with washer/dryer in her unit, but fire changes direction/moves quickly. Visiting now is running the risk of getting stuck out here, can’t get transportation back to her luxurious apartment.

At any rate, not seeming concerned about any of it, Red Light joined our lively group in Arts and Crafts.

Keeping in mind that painting is not my strong suit, I think this latest project, though amateurish/not Grandma Moses quality, is far better than the sucky job I did on that pumpkin a few weeks back.

Before

After

Of course, tea was spilled while we worked on our pojects ………

Evicted Bicycle Boy has been seen riding his bike through the premises. Lu thinks he relocated just down the street and is afraid he’s planning some kind of revenge on the property.

I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s that kind of insane being.

We're losing two of our usual suspects — Boebert and Homegirl.

Boebert is moving to a brand new complex, I forget where, because she can no longer handle rule breakers smoking in their units, the smell of cigarette smoke seeping into her unit.

Homegirl is having medical issues, moving to Sacramento to be closer to family.

Several women at the table, including the Baker, complained about our resident pervert — Bill.

Bill who, on more than one occasion, has exposed himself to female residents, has escalated his behavior to knocking on doors, asking for sex.

I kid you not.

Bill’s latest is that he knocked on Di’s door (the 60 something who was in a relationship with Meat Man’s 20 something son until the son got rough, demanding and police were called).

Bill asked to use Di's bathroom.

He has his own unit. Not only does he have a bathroom in his unit, he also has a wife in it, who is battling cancer.

Di, like a fool, let him in.

Bill could have harmed her right then and there. Instead, he used the bathroom, then came out with his you-know-what in his hand.

The way it was described to me, the way Di described it to the ladies who were telling me, is that Bill twirled it around and asked Di, "Do you want some of this?"

Seriously. I kid you not.

This place is turning into a mad house.

With as many women as there are now complaining about Bill, management has to be aware. So why is Bill still here ……… and why is there not a restraining order on Bicycle Boy?

Things are out of control.

The ship is sinking and there's no one at the helm.

We're having a Community Meeting this Friday, the first we've had since 2020.

The timing conflicts with Friday's workout, but I'm thinking I'd better call off on working out, attend the meeting.

The natives are angry. The meeting is going to be wild.

And that's the tea.

Two Insults in One Message

Today started off funky, with the results of yesterday’s blood draw — sodium levels are high and Cholesterol/HDL/LDL are off the chart. The Medical Record sums it up as "Morbidly Obese" and having "Fat Blood".

Two insults in one message.

"Fat Blood"??!! … what does that even mean and, hopefully, the vampires won’t find out about it, because it sounds like something they'd like and they'll want some.

You readers have seen photos of me. I’m not a Size 1, but I’m having trouble accepting myself as morbidly obese, so I’m just gonna let that one slide.

Of course, attached to the results, are suggested measures to not be morbidly obese with fat blood.

Suggestions include eating all the things the Gastro Specialist indicated I can no longer eat, such as fruits, whole grains, beans, nuts, soy products, because I’ve developed an allergy and it was those foods causing my gut episodes.

I’m also to limit sodium and alcohol — which I thought I was limiting sodium using pink sea salt, and I don’t drink.

Also, I’m to limit drinks and foods with added sugar.

I haven’t had a soda in a decade and, except for the occasional See’s Candy (which I have no intentions of giving up), sugar has for years been substituted with Stevia (the plant-based sugar substitute that I was using long before Walter White/Heisenberg made the product infamous in Breaking Bad).

In addition to the above, also added to the cure is to “Be physically active. Try to do moderate activity at last 2-1/2 hours a week. Do not smoke”.

Working out — in one form or another is my middle name, and I've never smoked. So, from my point of view, I’ve been doing everything right, insofar as my gut issues will allow, and it's all going wrong. I'm getting negative results.

It’s frustrating, confusing, and bummed me out a bit this morning because, what I see as my options, in order not to be “morbidly obese” and have “fat blood”, is to go back to the foods that make me ill.

I’ll be cramping and puking my guts all day, but I’ll lower my cholesterol and maybe get thin.

So that’s how the day started but, after a good workout in the Pain Cave, I was ready to put those results behind me, get groceries at the other store and move on.

Pulling into a parking space at the other market, I saw the cutest little car parked facing me.

Leaving the market, I heard sirens, saw fire and rescue passing by, and observed helicopters above.

Correctly assuming there was a fire nearby, I returned to the complex to find it was just down the street from the market, near Walmart, and it was bad — quickly spreading to 50 acres, causing those living near the area to evacuate.

On my way to pick up mail, I managed to get photos (not good ones) of the billowing smoke from the fire.

I also finally ran into Jan, the painted rock lady. Told her I was the one who’d taken the bible verse rocks, said I was impressed with how neatly she managed to get an entire verse on the rocks and asked how she managed it.

"Carefully", was her response.

Jan is all excited about being admitted to the hospital next week for knee surgery, which she feels will enable her to walk without use of a walker.

I don’t know how safe it is to be hospitalized and have surgery during this pandemic, but I wished her a successful surgery and speedy recovery.

Me and My Bright Ideas

Thinking of getting deeper into this TikTok thing, I purchased a vlogging kit.

With no idea as to what the content would be, I thought I’d first learn how to operate the equipment and wait for inspiration to strike.

Picked the kit up on Tuesday.

Unboxed it last night and immediately broke a nail trying to get the cellphone into the holder.

Then chipped two other nails putting the darn thing together.

Already not happy with the purchase, I began liking it even less when I realized the holder would only allow the phone to be used in a horizontal manner.

Having had just about enough, what tipped the scale to more than enough was when, in removing the cellphone from the holder, the phone slipped out, fell on my foot, hit a bone.

While icing the area to numb the pain, prevent swelling, I reboxed the kit with plans of returning to point of purchase this morning before anything else can go wrong.

My bright idea now is to spend less time on TikTok, get back to my needlepoint project where the worst that can happen is I drop a needle.

No harm there, unless I forget to pick the needle up and later step on it.

Other than that, not much going on around here except, from my perch on the couch, I have seen that fast walking maskless Covid recovered resident twice and, lo and behold, she was wearing a mask.

One day, heading to the Pain Cave, I saw her returning from the market, wearing a mask.

Someone must have told her she’s still contagious but, just in case I’m outside and she’s approaching unmasked, I always make sure to have those extra masks on my person.

In the midst of rising covid cases and the variant, in person 5Ks are making a comeback.

I received notification of three (Moreno Valley Roadrunners 5K, Run for the Ridge 5K in Riverside, LA King’s 5K in Redondo Beach), all on the same day — September 18.

Thinking perhaps September 18 was chosen because of some special meaning, I googled “Is September 18, 2021 a holiday” and discovered Aids and Aging Awareness Day — United States, Batman Day — United States, National Cheeseburger Day — United States, Batman Day — United Kingdom, Chile Independence Day, Octoberfest — Germany, Love and Friendship Day — Columbia.

None of those days, meaningful to others, appear to tie-in with 5Ks, so, I dunno why that particular day. At any rate, I was instantly sold on the King’s 5K because the path appears to be in, through and around a place called Riviera Village, which looks to have a multitude of sights and sounds to take my mind off possibly struggling because I’ve not trained since that encounter with knife guy caused me to feel it unsafe to go out walking.

Having now registered, booked a hotel, I’m having serious 2nd thoughts about the safety of being in a hotel and on the path surrounded by others — some masked, some maskless, some vaccinated, others not.

The more I think about it, much as I do NOT enjoy Virtuals, the plan now is to cancel the hotel, eat the registration fee, re-register as a Virtual participant and qualify at one of the malls.

On another note, if long time readers — who know I live in the Fire Zone, were wondering about the path of the SouthFire, now raging through Lytle Creek, it’s quite a ways away, no ash, no smoke but, ever cautious, I’m keeping my eye on how things are progressing just in case it jumps.

Friday the 13th

Fun fact … I got married on a Friday the 13th.

I did not intend to get married that day, didn’t intend on getting married AT ALL, even though the cop I was dating, who later became father of my girls, and I had been together for a while.

How it happened was … he decided at the last minute for us to fly to Vegas to see the Sammy Davis Jr. show and, once in Vegas couldn’t get tickets, the show was sold out.

On a lark, he suggested we get married and, caught up in the moment, I foolishly said okay.

Some guys make great boyfriends, but you wouldn't want to marry them, have to live with them 24/7.

At any rate, we rushed around, bought outfits and did the do, with me thinking well maybe Friday the 13th being a bad luck day, will do the opposite and bring us good luck.

News Flash, it didn’t; but oh well.

Coming back from the Dermatologist on Tuesday, I stopped for gas. While pumping, a guy at an adjacent pump engaged me in conversation, mostly about the fire off in the distance, I was looking at.

He said he had a fire app on his phone and that, when there’d been a really bad fire in that same location three years ago, people living in that area had asked for help on the app. He and some friends had responded to the plea, driven up, helped evacuate some of their animals.

As our conversation ended, he and I drove away, I began thinking … why is it that I normally so easily engage, enjoy listening to the life stories of strangers, but don’t want that security guard to even breathe my way? 

Looking through old photos to email to a woman who found me on Ancestry and is doing root work on the family (more on that later), mystery was solved.

The Ex-Husband

The girls dad was a Handsome devil and, while looking at that old photo, I realized the Security Guard gives me the heebie jeebies because he reminds me of my ex. The resident I refer to in the blog as Handsome Man also reminds me of my ex, which is why he too gets on my nerves at times. Both are tall, dark, good looking, well built, both carry themselves in a dignified manner and give off that arrogant self-assured vibe that so annoys me.

So, there you have it.

Heebie Jeebies mystery solved.

My attitude towards the two is a case of Once Bitten.

Doesn't mean that every guy who reminds me of my ex is an undercover psycho, who lures women in with their good looks and charming dignified demeanor but, if the vibe is felt, doesn't mean they are not.

And while we’re on the subject of devils — this one not tall, not dark, certainly not good looking or carrying himself in a dignified manner, but most assuredly giving off that arrogant self-assured vibe … the Tyrant has sought fit to bestow a movie on the seniors this evening — A Quiet Place is to be shown in the Clubhouse at 2:30, and this time the Tyrant made sure to indicate RSVP.

I’ve not seen A Quiet Place, but I know it’s hours of no talking by characters in the movie because, if you make a sound, it will attract a monster.

I do enjoy a good horror, but that kind of suspense stresses me out.

I’m hoping to run into Church Lady, so I can ask if she’s planning to attend this afternoon. When my buddy Apache was in charge of Movie Night, Church Lady was so over the top appalled at his showing Halle Berry/Billy Bob Thornton’s Monsters Ball to the seniors, because of the "nasty" sex scenes. She disapproves of movies with “bad words”, movies with blood, so I’m curious to see what about A Quiet Place, a movie filled with silence and monsters, will offend her sensitive nature.

Will be interesting if any of the residents respond to the Tyrant’s movie night at all, but not interesting enough for me to go down and check it out.

Method to Their Madness

It been a quiet weekend, that is if you don’t count the hellish heat and fire trucks racing to the Cloud Fire, which is close to 100% contained.

Yesterday, I learned there was a method to management’s madness in removing our lush greenery, replacing with succulents and covering the ground with I don’t know what … but mulch maybe? 

It’s because of the drought here in California — drought tolerant plants, drought tolerant landscape.

Makes sense, and management could have lessened all the grumbling had they included that info in the notice alerting us landscapers would be redoing the place.

I also learned the woman who started the rock painting group is a resident by the name of Jan.

Jan said she was bored, needed something to do, began painting rocks, got Diane and a couple other ladies involved.

Jan is still at it, while the others have tapped out.

I also learned that, as I’d expected, management had a hissy fit with residents placing rocks all over the place.

Why I do not know, inasmuch as much of the drought tolerant landscaping consists of rocks.

Manager was so incensed that he contacted Jan, ordered her to “cease and desist”.

”Cease and desist” … lol … sounds like management had consulted with the attorneys.

At any rate, Jan did not cease, nor did she desist. Instead, she requested and got a one-on-one meeting with Manager, asked him why — inasmuch as the rocks weren’t bothering anyone, were not in anyone’s way.

Manager couldn’t come up with an answer as to why so, surprisingly, he “gave her permission” to continue.

So, as of now, we get to keep the pretty rocks.

Americana Style: Red, White, Blue

I’m not sure what this “focus” is supposed to mean.

Like focus on what … focus on who and why?

It must be an important message because, I’m finding other “focus” on the property, appearing to be made by different artists, but I don't get it.

Moving Right Along

Looks like I’m good with taking the 2d Moderna shot, as the injection site is back to normal — and without following doctor’s orders.

Having spent my adult years swapping out — wherever possible, natural cures for all the pills and other medicines prescribed by doctors, popping a Benadryl wasn’t in my plans.

Instead, I iced the area, applied an itch stopping crème and Voilà… red raised welt be gone three days later.

Spent the weekend decluttering and preparing for fire season.

Several things motivated me to get prepared … yet again.

First was a notice from the utility company notifying, that because we’re in the fire zone, we’d soon be getting Planned Public Safety Power Outages (PSPS) ... yet again. Second reminder was news of a fire burning in Pacific Palisades, and third was the fire we had, same day as I opened Pandora’s Box, behind the university.

It’s funny, but things I thought were important enough to put on the Grab and Go list last year, I’m dropping from this year’s list.

It’s not that it wouldn’t hurt to lose those things that felt so important last year, year before, year before that. It would hurt, but thinking along the lines of what’s possible to save in a short period of time and what might not be possible to save, I’ve streamlined down to getting out with two things, after grabbing cellphone and car keys — 1) Go Bag that holds important papers, a change of clothing, a few travel sized hygiene products; 2) the Creative Memory Photo Albums.

The 16 albums are thick and heavy, so I’ve worked out there’s no way I can go up and down the stairs multiple times to get them into the car. Instead, I’d toss them over the balcony to the ground and pathway below. Retrieve from there.

Of course, the books would be damaged by doing so, but damaged can be fixed.

In actuality, it would save a lot of time, effort and worry if I had room for a huge water proof/fire proof safe in which to store important books and the photo albums.

I’ve looked off/on at various such safes last two years but, living in an upstairs unit, pounds of heavy metal is probably not feasible. Not to mention, neighbors seeing a safe coming in would automatically think I’m rich, storing money, word would get around. I’ve seen enough movies to know that might not be good for me insofar as tempting the criminal element.

Remainder of the weekend was trying to figure out why the Drive Cam App doesn’t sync with the new cellphone and why the process of photos from phone to email wasn’t going through.

The Drive App is a lost cause. I give up. As for email, I hunted, pecked, researched, I tried this that the other, with no success. Returning from the Pain Cave this morning, I gave it another go. Lo and Behold, I did something right because email began accepting photos.

Not only that, but deleted emails from as far back as 2013 showed up — literally thousands of them, which I had to delete all over again.

How did that happen? Where did they come from? Not a comforting feeling that deleted emails can retrieve themselves.

Also over the weekend, I began thinking of pizza and wondered if there was such a thing as Kale Pizza.

Found a recipe for Garlicky Kale Pizza.

Instead of garlic, which is on the list of things I cannot eat, I massaged the kale with garlic infused olive oil and Voila! — another successful kale creation.

The slice I ate this morning for breakfast was especially tasty with an egg on top.

Also, over the weekend, I leveled up in PokemonGo.

Other Side of the Mountain

Heading out of and into my area involves driving over a small mountain road with an S-Curve, a route I've not taken in weeks due to staying in my unit, leaving only for groceries at the corner market.

City girl that I am, when returning from the dental office around noon today, rounding that S-Curve, spying big fluffy white things on the mountain side, my first thought was “There's giant flowers growing on the mountain. Where did they come from?”

It took me a nanosecond to realize the flowers were moving, so I made a dangerous U-Turn, pulled into a turnout on the other side to get a closer look.

It’s sheep! Not something you see every day in this area. In fact, not something one sees EVER in this area.

Once back at the complex, I did a little online research and learned they’re probably Big Horn, having wandered down from the mountains. As to why they are this far down, my guess is it has something to do with the fire we just had, day before yesterday, way up high on that side of the mountain.

But such an interesting sight.

Things went well at the dental office. They appear to have taken every precaution possible ─ seating set up for distancing, masks, temperature check, even had me gargle 30 seconds with a mixture of peroxide and water before the hygienist began her work ... a new hygienist, but I don’t know how long she’ll be my hygienist as she had a protruding belly. I assumed pregnant, but didn’t verify by asking her about it because I’ve put my foot in my mouth a time or two asking a woman when her baby was due, only to be yelled at that, “I’M NOT PREGNANT!”.

If she’s still there in six months ─ my next appointment, belly still protruding, then I’ll know not pregnant. Or if still there, and belly flat, I'll know she WAS and has since given birth.

My very handsome dentist, Dr. McDreamy, didn’t find anything wrong in the x-rays. That’s always a relief ─ not because of the cost involved in dental procedures, but because of the discomfort. I hate pain.

McDreamy appears to have gone a little soft and pudgy, physically speaking, but he’s still dreamy in my eyes ─ silver hair, blue/green eyes, warm and comfortable looking.

I’d mention in a previous post that although McDreamy is now up in age to where I’d have thought he’d have retired, he probably can’t because he became a father late in life ─ has a young son to see through Junior High, High School, College.

How he came to be a dad is an interesting story.

He’s married to a beautiful Black woman, and when I say beautiful, I mean drop dead gorgeous.

She was a hygienist in the office. There was no hanky panky between them, but he must have thought about it, been attracted to her because he was there for her when she tried to kill herself.

I don’t know how she tried to kill herself, by what means, but she landed in the hospital and the office was shocked. No one knew she was unhappy with her life at that time but, when her attempt at killing herself failed, McDreamy went to her hospital bed and asked, “What are you doing?” Meaning in trying to kill herself.

From there, her life drastically changed, ending with McDreamy marrying her (lucky girl), after which her life became staying at home, going on cruises with him, taking care of him. Then along came a son ─ a big adjustment for McDreamy at the time as he wasn't looking to have a child, wasn't quite sure how he felt about it. But it happened and he took to fatherhood, taking the child with them on the vacation cruises he's so fond of and it appears content with the life he now has (except for no cruises due to Covid) and often talks about what his son is up to.

Other than seeing sheep and Dr. McDreamy, both on the same day, nothing else going on in my life as I patiently wait for California and the Pain Cave to reopen.

Fire Season

No surprise, I knew fire season was coming and began organizing this year’s Go-Bag ─ just in case Little Mountain has its annual blaze.

What did surprise me was that one of the fires is carrying my name.

An odd name for a fire, thought I; and not sure if I should feel honored or appalled, I decided on being amused. No one was harmed by the Shirley fire, no one was displaced, no property destroyed so I posted the photo to facebook, with the caption “It wasn’t me. I swear” and got a good laugh out the reactions.

Then later, curious to know how a fire received such a simple name, I googled and learned 1)"wildfire names are created on the spot when the blaze begins ... a geographical location, local landmark, street, lake, mountain, peak, etc." or 2 "named by the dispatch center that sends the first responders to the fire, though sometimes they are named by the first firefighters on the scene".

Interesting, and inasmuch as I am not a location, "Shirley" must be the first responder/firefighter on the scene.

Crossing my fingers that Little Mountain doesn’t go up this year and, if it does, it’s handled quickly ─ we’re not ordered to evacuate. However, worst case scenario this year is a quandary.

Worst case scenario, in past years, has been to throw the go-bag in the car and wait out the danger in a hotel. However, in this Covid-infected 2020, a hotel is not an option, and I’d rather live in the car than bunk with either daughter. Twin 2 has a wife, stepdaughter, a dog, mood swings (menopause?). Twin 1 has no pets, but is doing that work on skid row and has her volunteer team coming in/out of her apartment ─ both situations bringing in God knows what kind of germs, so no.

That leaves granddaughter. She doesn’t have a dog, she has a cat ─ no pet is preferable, but I can tolerate a cat.

Sorry readers. I don’t mean to offend animal lovers. It’s just that I’ve not been a pet person since that incident with my mom and my dog Skippy ─ where we moved, Skippy did not move with us, and mom said she gave him to the butcher to be turned into ground meat.

Granddaughter owes me LARGE and now married to that rich white boy, living at the beach, professing to love me “so much” appreciating my “unconditional love” (all of which she expounded recently in a thank you note) ─ and little does she know it’s not unconditional at all. I just suck-it-up, do what spirit prompts me to do.

At any rate, granddaughter would be my option before opting to wait the danger out in the car and, if she’s not amendable, then I know to cut that spot out of my life once and for all, and the car it is.

So this year’s fire disaster plan in place, it’s onwards, upwards, with fingers crossed.

Word on the complex is the resident diagnosed with Covid has passed away. Word also on the complex is someone has moved into Nosey’s vacant unit.

I’ve seen no one coming/going, the blinds are shut tight, the unit looks deserted, but Next Door Neighbor tells me she’s seen lights on at night, someone going in during the day.

Time will tell.

I’ve been keeping an eye on the progress of that new senior complex, since last year, when first seeing a sign go up that it was to be built.

Last time I was in the area was middle of June and the building looked to be completed and about ready for occupancy.

Problem is ... it looks like a Plantation, and doesn’t appear to have open air access which, with Covid being airborne, living in a box with an elevator, doors opening up into a hallway isn't preferable. Plus, it’s restricted to those with extremely low incomes ─ 62 and over of age; single adult annual income of $15,000 to $31,000.

A box, that looks like a planation, housing the poor and elderly, but poor/elderly are desperate. I learned this week 500 have submitted applications to be considered for tenancy, 250 have been chosen in a lottery.

I'm thinking/hoping future senior housing construction will take into consideration how this pandemic spreads in close quarters and be more like what we have here ─ individual little homes, opening out into fresh air and sunshine.

We don’t have the best management/maintenance here, but it's not the worst and, looking at reviews of the management group staffing the new complex, seeing all the complaints at their other locations, it's like Nurse Ratched used to treat us; but at least the only complaint we now have is management/maintenance not giving a damn but, in this post Covid world, the fact it’s not a box with an elevator and hallway, we each have individual fresh air access, outside is grass, flowers, trees, well-maintained, is a tradeoff I can live with.

I’m staying until they tell me my income exceeds the requirements, kick me to the curb, or a fire on Little Mountain drives me out.

Framed It

Walking to the mail box Saturday afternoon, I thought I still smelled smoke from the Hillside fire. However, I saw later on the news that there was yet another fire on Little Mountain earlier that day.

Fortunately, it was a small brush fire, quickly extinguished, near homes but with none lost.

The Archeologist came close to losing hers.

Video she’d posted from her security system, showed flames fast approaching from across the street.

Video she posted from the camera in her car, showed flames on either side of the car as she fled 2 a.m. with the kids and their two cats.

It was a pretty terrifying thing to see from the vantage point of the person experiencing it, and worse for her and the kids to experience, but she came out with no fire damage ─ just smoke and, except for one house across the street with fire damage, her immediate neighborhood is intact.

And would you believe, some test tube baby was setting off fireworks that whistled around 10 o’clock last night. It wasn’t the noise that irritated, it was the fear of his/her touching off another blaze.

Looking at how well-connected the Archeologist is ─ cameras recording what’s going on outside her home, a GoPro (or something like that) recording from the car, brought home how technology has passed me by.

I often see things, as I’m driving, I’d have loved to have captured a photo or video of, but wouldn’t know the first thing of how to install recording equipment, or how to extract what’s recorded from it. Then there’s all the various social media sites ─ Reddit, some new TikTok thing and others that I can’t figure out.

I do have a Twitter account, but can’t for the life of me figure out how to tweet or respond to a tweet. Not to mention all the fancy doodads on my own laptop that I don’t have the patience or mindset to learn how to use.

It’s just all too much insofar as technology.

I do, however, have the patience to stab something with a needle for 13 months, 3200 hours.

For instance, this needlepoint for Twin 1 ─ all finished, framed and ready to present when next I see her on Thanksgiving Day.

While simultaneously finishing that piece, I also began working on one for Twin 2. Thus far, I’ve made pretty good progress on, what looks to be,  a massive 35 month project, having stabbed it with a needle for only 240 hours.

Pattern

Progress: October

We Now Return to our Regular Schedule

Winds have died down

The Archeologist was allowed back into her home around 6:00 last night.

Also allowed back was the Baker’s daughter — married to a firefighter, who’d also been evacuated.

I was still smelling smoke as late as 10:00 p.m., but the hot spots must have been cleared otherwise evacuees would not have been allowed to return.

Hopefully, that’s the last of the Santa Annas as today we return to our regularly scheduled programming, with me fiddling away the morning, rather than rushing around performing just in case preparations.

Yesterday’s costume party was a hoot.

Residents showed up in groves.

Even the Seer and Shadow, though not wearing costumes, came out of seclusion to join the festivities.

Having not seen Shadow for many months, I was shocked to see how his physique had deteriorated. Too much sitting, not doing anything other than back and forth from his unit to the Seer’s, has him now with a protruding belly that reminded me of how I looked 9 months pregnant with twins.

Inactivity is a slow death around here.

Church Lady was of course in attendance, looking cute in an angel outfit.

Surprisingly, her “friend” (Quiet Old Guy), who is always always always in the Community Room, did not come out to play. Neither did Hoochie Mama, who also is now always in the Community Room.

Were the two of them off somewhere together? Maybe when Quiet Old Guy asked Church Lady to be his "friend" he meant exactly that, i.e., I'm not interested so let's just be friends. Time will tell.

Though the number of residents in costumes was disproportionate to the many in the room, with twelve entering the contest, it was an improvement on the usual three or four. With so little competition in the past, I always came in first place.

Not this time. My winning streak was broken by a Wicked Witch outfit, complete with apple in hand.

So sweet she was. Surprised and happy to have taken first place, she cried.

I didn’t mind my streak being broken. I’d actually done nothing special by way of costume this year. Because I was coming to the party directly from working out, I’d repurposed the leggings and top I’d worn to the Batman 5K as everyday workout gear but, for this event, called it a costume.

It fit the bill and garnered lots of compliments from the seniors. Especially from Handsome Guy, who rarely participates in group gatherings, but was in attendance and paid a little too much attention to yours truly.

At one point, he asked me to pose for a photo to his phone.

I obliged, but not sure how I feel about that — his having a pic of me on his phone.

From past experiences of guys lying to boost their street creds, “You’d better not go around telling your friends this is my girlfriend”, cautioned I. And just in case he didn’t get the message, I worked into a conversation we were later having about people in the room that, at 75, soon to be 76, I was older than a great majority of folks in the room.

Handsome Guy was surprised, but continued to follow me around.

With not much in the way of eye candy around here, I do enjoy seeing Handsome Guy flashing his pearly whites (That's not a protruding belly on him. It's the way the top falls), but flirting with me is a waste of time. I’m too busy and content to be bothered.

Apache, in his Big Bad Werewolf outfit, was pretty much in character.

He tried to rile the room by bringing a friend ….

Like I said in previous posts, residents have learned to ignore his nonsense. No one paid the 45-Jack-O-Lantern any mind.

Apache tells me there's a new manager in the office, and that he’s already told the guy, “I’m going to be your worst nightmare”.

The new guy has barely put his foot in the door and Apache is already planning an attack.

That's not right and, just like his buddy No. 45, Apache is going to find himself one day impeached.

Church Lady's Angel outfit, took 2nd place in the costume contest.

Third place was a cute little resident dressed as a brown cow.