Too Late to Back Out Now

I’m not feeling good about next week’s Thanksgiving trip to meet the in-laws.

I didn’t have to worry so much last year about not showing up, when granddaughter said she and her new hubby were hosting a small event at their new home, because I had the excuse of the pandemic.

That Thanksgiving was eventually cancelled. The two decided against a get-together so soon into the Pandemic — when there was just masks for protection, no vaccine.

Since that time, granddaughter and her hubby — discovering they’d bought into a racist neighborhood, sold that house, purchased another and now are expecting their first child.

Again hosting at their new new home, granddaughter called to ask why I’d declined when her mom (Twin 1) asked if I was coming this year. Was it because the grandsons are not vaccinated?

Mostly yes, but actually, it was — like last year, a viable excuse for not showing up, but I said "Yes", that was the reason.

Granddaughter and her hubby made the decision it was important for me to be there, also to protect themselves, their unborn son, other guests, so they uninvited my unvaxxed grandsons. “Will you come now?”

What could I say but “okay”.

Since then, I’ve had a sense of doom and dread. Visions of my walking in, not liking what I see, turning around, getting back in the car and driving away.

My gut is acting up. I’ve been sick for no reason because I’ve been eating correct. In addition to which, I’ve been in pain, walking lopsided due to purchasing a new pillow that caused me to awaken the first morning having used it, to neck, shoulder and lower back pain.

My entire right side is frozen, hurts and no amount of Epson salt baths, pain ointments, workouts, has pulled my right side back into alignment, so I’m sort of walking lopsided, slanted, favoring the left side of my body.

It’s like the plan to attend Thanksgiving with granddaughter, her husband, see their home, meet the in-laws, has released the Plagues of Egypt upon me.

In the midst of this, granddaughter let me know that the youngest grandson will be in attendance because he IS vaccinated.

He’s not arrogant like his brothers, and I feel comfortable he’s not giving her the Aaron Rodgers spiel, because he works in a hospital, is constantly tested and wouldn’t have a job if he were not vaccinated. BUT … will his brothers use his attendance as an excuse to show up yet and still? Will granddaughter’s sensitive too sweet and caring nature cause her to go back to making excuses for her other brothers? Allow them to show up, if not inside, outside, somewhere nearby?

Maybe that’s why I’m getting visions of turning around, driving away.

And this morning, realizing how I’m not looking forward to the trip, but have already booked a hotel for myself and Twin 2, can’t back out without granddaughter being hurt, disappointed, which would anger her very protective husband, I thought to give myself something to do Thanksgiving morning that would make me look forward, pull me out of the Plagues of Egypt stage— register for the local Turkey Trot.

Would you believe, my registration would not go through. The process jammed at the payment stage.

Nothing is going right.

At any rate, after missing the wedding, no Thanksgiving last year, having not met the in-laws, this is something I need to do, must do, so I’m pushing through all that’s being thrown my way.

After all, sometimes the biggest blessing has come through my pushing through what I personally want to do and appearances that make it hard for me to get through. So, I’m doing this and we shall see.

Where’s My Ballot

Tuesday, September 14, is the last day to vote in the Gubernatorial Recall Election.

After seeing friends post, weeks ago, that they’d voted “No!” … “Hell No!” … “F__k No!” and, with me having not yet received a ballot to date, thinking shenanigans may be in play, I looked into the matter this morning.

I did receive the Official Voter Information Guide, two weeks ago, flipped it open and landed on this …..

Not a very flattering photo.

At any rate, having registered and voted only once in my entire life, and that time just because it was absolutely necessary — No. 45 had to go, I was surprised to find my voter status listed as “inactive”.

What the heck?

This better not be one of those fiascos where I’ve been declared dead.

It happens.

At any rate, if I want to vote “No” in this election, I’ll have to reregister.

No thanks.

Once was enough, and if the powers that be are gonna bug me with having to sporadically repeat the process, followed by my name being resubmitted to the jury pool, having to re-submit my Permanent Jury Duty Excuse, then “F__k No!”.

So long as I’ve not been declared dead, I’m good.

I’m just gonna trust the recall process, and however it works out is however it works out.

Yesterday’s TikTok oven-baked pancakes were a win. One of the few things I’ve tried from TikTok that wasn’t a fail except, instead of substituting a sheet pan with a cake pan, I should have used a pie pan — which would have resulted in flatter looking pancakes. Cake pan baking caused the pancakes to rise, come out looking more like slices of corn bread. Especially since I sliced in rectangles.

Blueberries & Crispy Uncured Bacon

Nevertheless, DELICIOUS! Plus, light, fluffy. 

My sensitive gut will not tolerate traditional syrup, so I made a clear stevia simple syrup.

I’m tempted to do pancakes again this morning but, inasmuch as I’ve already ordered a quarter sheet pan (they do exist), I’ll wait.

So this was a win, but the TikTok idea I tried a few weeks ago was an epic fail.

A creator, who calls himself the Dancing Dentist (a Periodontist that likes to dance) suggested, to keep our pearly whites white, that a straw be utilized when drinking liquids — coffee, sodas, etc.

Inasmuch as I’d just had my teeth cleaned, not wanting coffee stains, I took a sip of my hot coffee through the straw and ……

You guessed it.

The inside of my mouth caught fire.

Fortunately, I was in the kitchen, near the sink and could quickly safely, spit the burning coffee out without damaging carpet, couch, laptop (other places I could have been when I took that sip).

When next I run across that clip, I’ll leave a comment asking the dentist to specify “cold liquids”, for those of us who don't think it through, because the roof of my mouth has yet to return to normal.

And btw, as to how I received a Voter Information Guide when listed as "inactive", I just noticed that though the document was addressed to my unit, it was not my name, nor the name of anyone I know.

May be shenanigans after all.

Bucket List

Driving to the dental office this morning, I kept in mind that the address of the acupuncturist (the one I wasn’t too sure of being a thriving business or some sort of back room thing) was in that area.

Lo and behold, the address is directly across the street from the dentist.

Nice area, but none of the businesses on that side of the street look thriving. No lights were on in any of the businesses, there were no people going in/out and, in fact, there was a “for lease” sign up.

The acupuncturist’s office had signage indicating “chiropractor”.

That’s not the same as acupuncture, and I’d be a little afraid of using a bodywork therapist who dabbles, doesn’t specialize in one or the other.

So, my guess is, though it’s no longer a thriving business — due to the pandemic, it’s an on call operation. In that, the answering service lets the therapist know a client needs bodywork, the therapists shows up … that is for the time being. If he’s not getting sufficient business, he’ll probably have to shut down the answering service, close doors altogether.

Dr. McDreamy shared that the pandemic had the dental practice struggling for a while. When I commented on how busy the office looked today, he said, “Thank goodness. We’re almost back to where we were”.

There’s something about McDreamy’s energy that I feed off him. His handsome good looks, blue/grey eyes, now white hair, now soft kinda pudgy body, his deep sexy melodious voice, those attributes just do something to and for me.

Whereas I wasn’t feeling young Doogie, I most definitely feel McDreamy, and it looks like I’m going to be feeling him for a while longer, I won’t have to worry about changing offices just yet.

I did have a new x-ray technician today. The one I’m accustomed to retired in May they tell me. The hygienist, I was assigned to after the pandemic caused my regular to retire, is working out fine. McDreamy’s son is asking for a car, McDreamy and his wife are looking at the cost of college — which he says is shocking, so it’s looking like he’s not going to be able to retire any time soon.

He is, however, scaling back from a five day work week to four.

And btw, after McDreamy looked at the x-rays and did a visual check, he announced everything was okay. No problems noted, not even the spacing issue Young Doogie tried to pull on me.

So, the dentist is off my bucket list. Acupuncture is also off the list because, the old shoulder injury that was aggravated by that back-to-back beast mode workout, has gone into remission, no longer hurts.

Lesson learned though. I won’t be going beast mode again. If Trainer again needs to rearrange my workout day, because of continuing drama with that teen daughter of his, instead of moving me to another day, which puts me back to back, I’ll just gift him the day and keep to schedule.

On my way back from the dentist, I stopped by Target, picked up a few masks to trick that fast walking maskless Covid recovered resident into masking up (per a comment from JanF, except she didn’t say “trick”, that’s my way of seeing it).

From my perch on the couch yesterday morning, I saw her walking two/fro twice on the side walkway — too fast for me to grab the phone, take a snapshot. Seeing her for a third time, in the afternoon, I was relieved to see she was wearing a mask — a white one, no bling.

So she did have a mask other than the bling one she couldn’t find, thought I to myself.

Carrying a purse, she appeared to be headed out.

She no longer has a car, so I’m guessing someone was out front, picking her up and, for the sake of the driver, she masked herself.

Sicnce she’d not been affording us seniors that same courtesy, her white mask for that occasion wouldn’t have been enough for me. She could have wrapped herself in cellophane and I still wouldn’t have had her in my car.

Also yesterday, reviewing Trainer’s Instagram account, before I headed out for the day’s workout, I saw he’d celebrated his birthday the previous day.

I quick fast in a hurry made a Starbucks run for a gift card.

I’ve not yet been to the bank to purchase $2 bills but, had I have done so, I would have included one in the gift card envelope, because I think it would be fun to get those in circulation again.

A birthday yesterday means Trainer’s sun sign is Leo the Lion. All my astrology books are in containers at the back of the patio storage area, so I can’t research to determine why it is he keeps moving thing around in the studio, but moving things around he does.

Readers who’ve been with me for a while will recall that when I began training in September of 2019, the treadmill was located in the back room. Since that time, the treadmill has moved six times, ever closer to the front door, prompting me to jokingly accuse Trainer of trying to push me out the door, get rid of me.

I don’t have to now worry about that being his goal because, when I walked in the door yesterday, I had a shock — there was a couch, where the treadmill had been two days ago.

Did he finally get rid of it you ask?

Well … not exactly.

We’re back to where we started.

So that’s how yesterday and today went. Now that I’ve a mask to pass on to Little Miss Fast Walker Covid Recovered, our paths will probably no longer cross — Murphy’s Law.

That’s just fine by me.

All’s Well that Ends Well

Finished reading that old journal, 94 pages, single spaced.

It was a great read. Sometimes I was on the edge of my seat to see what happened next, because I’d forgotten so much.

It was like reading someone else’s life. Watching as the person grew strong, rose up, out, and got to a place where she was able to look down, watch as the toxic ones began to self-destruct.

Though the journal ended on a high note, I was sorry to see it end. There was more to come, and though what came after was not always pretty, it was never again as difficult to deal with because of what I'd learned, how I'd grown as the result of working myself through those years with the witches.

I had plans, once I finished reading the journal, to trash it. However, it was such a good read, and details so much of what I had to deal with in Corporate America, in order to raise my daughters — who didn’t always understand how hard life away from home was, and give me a break at home.

I don’t want to say I’ve decided to keep it around to guilt my girls for how they were when younger, but I’ve decided to keep it around so my girls can one day read and feel regret for giving me such a hard time. In other words, guilt them. LOL.

Going beastmode at the Pain Cave last week — not having a day to recover, caused an old right shoulder rotator injury to flareup.

I began thinking that I should probably go see the acupuncturist, in China Town, for a needle touchup.

I haven’t been in about five years, but I remember how terrifying driving in Los Angeles traffic was. There’s too much traffic and everything is fast, so I began looking for a local acupuncturist.

Checking online, I found one that appeared to be in a good location — just down the street from my dentist. I checked Yelp and saw the reviews were good, so I requested an appointment through the online set-up.

The next day, I received an email asking for my telephone number, that the acupuncturist would call me when he’s in the office on Monday.

I replied with my telephone number AND immediately, and every day since, I’ve been getting out-of-state calls on my phone from unknown callers.

I don’t answer, of course, but it just strikes me as odd that I give this guy my number and unknown callers follow.

THEN, I get a voice message on Monday saying the doctor is in his office until 1:00, call him to schedule. ONLY, it sounds like it’s coming from an answering service.

Sorry, if I sound elitist, but I was under the impression from the website, this was a thriving business. But the answering service called up an image of a hole-in-the-wall backstreet setup.

That, plus the unknown callers, gave me a weird feeling.

Not only that but, at one point, an image flashed through my mind.

The image was me lying on a table, just the acupuncturist and I in a small room, me immobile, unable to defend myself because I’m stuck with needles, while he molested me.

Now I don’t know where that image came from, why it popped up in my head, but I’m taking it as a warning.

I called the answering service back and said I would not need services of that acupuncturist, that I was going to schedule with the people I’ve used in the past.

I’m still not down for that long drive to China Town. I’ve not even checked to see if Dr. Chan’s office is still open or taking clients at this time.

I’m going to try sleeping in a shoulder and elbrow brace, to stabilize the areas at night, use pain patches in the day, see how it goes.

Once I get a chance, I might drive by the office of the local acupuncturists, as detailed on his website, to see what's actually going on there.

Tales of the Weekend

I can’t believe it’s Monday already, a workout day.

Monday has rolled around way too soon, and I don’t feel ready to face another week of life outside — errands, workouts.

However, with the memory of having run into Not Dead Nancy (NDN) on Saturday fresh in my mind— the only time I left the unit over the weekend, to purchase extra-large trash bags and check mail, and seeing how much more she’s deteriorated since the days we participated in the pool’s Water Aerobics class, and she was hot-to-trot with the guys on the complex, I’ll push through, seize the day and the week.

For new readers, and to refresh others — since NDN hasn’t been mentioned in the blog since 2019, NDN was thusly named because, at one time, we had two Nancy’s.

One was Nancy The One Who Runs into Things (NWRiT) because she always was — once backing her car into the tree out front, almost taking out the gate at another time. There were dings all over her car.

The other Nancy was when NDN was known on the blog as Loosey Goosey because she was an insatiable man chaser.

When, in 2016, the Crisis Team came in and took her boyfriend (the perv known as Creepy Guy) to the VA Hospital for evaluation, because someone saw him outside the complex, standing in the same spot for two hours, talking to himself, and Loosey Goosey realized he wasn’t coming back, was on his death bed actually, she visited and tried to get him to marry her so she could collect on what was rumored to be a nice chunk of change in his bank account, plus bonds and a pension.

Creepy Guy’s doctor got wind of Loosey Goosey trying to take advantage of a dying man, and had her banned from the facility.

THEN, looking for another sponsor, Loosey Goosey approached my buddy Apache, who she knew was plush with cash, asking, “Do you need a girlfriend?”

Apache declined the offer.

So here we were with two Nancy’s being discussed on the grapevine, and sometimes it was a bit confusing as to which Nancy was being discussed, i.e., the one I referred to as Loosey Goosey or NWRiT.

Once I was clear on which Nancy the grapevine was talking about, I could have easily referred to them on the blog as White Nancy (NWRiT) or Black Nancy (Loosey Goosey), but that would have been wrong. LOL.

At any rate, when Nancy NWRiT was found deceased in her unit (natural causes) and people would continue to talk about a Nancy, I one day heard someone clear up the issue of which Nancy by saying, “The Nancy who’s not dead yet”, and thus Nancy, formerly known as Loosey Goosey, became Not Dead Nancy here on the blog.

Did that explanation of the naming algorism make sense?

At any rate, having seen NDN at the mailbox, I can now cross her off the Roll Call List as still living here — post pandemic present and accounted for.

Now completely dependent on a walker since developing balance problems, NDN tells me her doctor recommended exercise so she recently bought an indoor bike, which she got on and promptly threw out her hip. So now, she's dependent on a walker and dealing with pain because her hip is stuck in gear.

I can relate to that. The day after my very first session at the Pain Cave, I was in the drug store, buying every pain aid imaginable so I could work through the pain of kinks loosening up, rather than succumb to them.

Now, almost two years later, though I still can't perform like the younger clients do, my joints are nicely oiled, loosened, and I rarely if ever hurt ... knock on wood, other than when I occasionally aggravate an old rotator cuff injury — and even then, my recovery time is swift and sometimes doesn't even require the shoulder brace I used to wear.

"Don't give up, take it slow, shake it off and work through", was my advice to NDN, but she said she hurt and wasn't planning on getting on the bike again. LOL.

I did manage to clear some recorded television programs off my bucket list, and made some very little progress on the needlepoint project over the weekend. Remainder of the time was napping, and working out how to get the possessed microwave out of the unit, down to the dumpster.

Thinking back on how I managed to get it upstairs in the first place, it would have to have been by use of a dolly — and here we are again with my getting rid of things I would ultimately find useful at a later date because, clearing out the outdoor storage area in December, seeing no further need for the dolly, I gave it away.

I could ask Handsome Man to help me out, but I don’t want to open that can of worms.

His ego would interpret, “When you have a moment, can you please stop by, help me get something down to the dumpster", as "When you have a moment, can you please stop by, wha, wha, wha, wha she likes me, she wants me".

I don’t need the headache, so I ended up ordering another dolly, but one specific to stairs.

In the interim, I managed to get the microwave off the counter — aggravating that old torn rotator cuff injury in the process (no brace needed), but it’s off the counter and in a corner, wrapped in that large trash bag I picked up, waiting for the trolley to arrive.

That one time I was outside over the weekend, I also ran into Negative Nelly — the woman I’d promised to perform the Rebuking Ceremony on should she want to get into it with me again over her dislike of the painted rocks and/or my calling her awful to her face.

As I walked towards the mailbox, just before I saw NDN, here Negative Nelly comes, straight at me, down the walkway, but rebuking didn’t happen.

It appeared she didn’t remember me or the incident because, passing right by me, she looked dead in my eyes, smiled, gave me a cheery, “Good morning” and kept on going.

I’d had a feeling this would happen. That she, being old (though no more older than I), that as time went on — even though it was only two weeks ago, she'd probably forget the incident.

She evidently did, and it’s difficult to be unpleasant to someone who has no recall and is being pleasant, so I begrudgingly returned the greeting with a simple “hello”.

Release the Dogs!

Happy St. Patrick’s day!

It’s been a quiet, drama free St. Patrick’s Day here at the complex.

That is if you don’t count the helicopter flying overhead late last night, shouting out commands ─ one that sounded like “Release the Dogs!”

And if you don’t count the canine officer, along with the canine, I observed walking down the walkway during daylight hours.

Also, if you don’t count the notice, posted to our doors, that yet another “employee has tested positive for Covid-19 and immediately underwent self-quarantine”.

Other than that, it's like I said ─ a quiet, drama free St. Patrick’s Day. LOL.

Word is the “release the dogs” and the canine visit are the result of someone trying to steal that thingy off cars that’s been in the news lately ─ catalytic converters.

I don’t want to jinx myself, but I park in the front. It’s generally cars in the back, and along the side, that are tampered with. So crossing my fingers whoever they were don’t come back and, if they do, they stay away from the front.

As for the employee testing positive, I’m guessing it’s probably Assistant Maintenance Guy, because he works in close quarters with Head Maintenance Guy (HMG) ─ who was the first to test positive. But it could be any one of the three ─ Community Manager, Assistant Manager, Assistant Maintenance Guy.

Covid doesn’t appear to have had any impact on HMG, who I’d spotted walking around mask less a number of times pre his diagnosis. NOW, he's always in a mask, but his wife doesn’t wear one, his children don’t, and visiting family members don’t.

I give all of ‘em a wide berth. It would have been wise for, whoever this latest staffer to test positive is, to have done likewise.

Activity Director stopped by and dropped off a craft project for this month.

Looks to be St. Patrick’s Day wreaths, three of them, different styles.

St. Patrick’s Day is one day, not an entire month, so three is kind of overkill. But since she went through the trouble, I’ll block out some time this week to put ‘em together.

Trainer was miffed with me today.

He’d put me on the Grappler Toss, which is where you stand, holding one end of a rope in each hand, then toss the ropes one at a time during the first set, simultaneously up down on the second set. Only this time, he had me do it from a seated position.

It’s a lot harder seated and I was performing poorly because the right shoulder didn’t like that routine. That’s the shoulder that’s been giving me trouble, that I sometimes wear a brace at home, because reaching back for needlepoint supplies had aggravated an old torn rotator injury.

I pushed myself poorly though a set and a half before the pain became too much, and I had to tell Trainer I couldn't go on and why.

"That’s something you should tell me right away!", chastised he. Then he walked into the other room and let out a loud guy scream ... an “AHHHHHHHHH!”.

I really don’t think the ire and histrionics were so much about me, as it was more about what trainer is holding in ─ the situation with his daughter, so I’m not holding it against him ..... this time.

And I understand how my not telling him I had an injury unrelated to our workouts would have been a concern to him in that, had he known, he'd have adjusted the workout around it, so as not to cause further damage. However, I did tell him, “Life is pain. I try to push through because, if I told you every time I hurt something, you’d think I was too much a risk and not train me.”

I wasn’t kidding.

Getting old is no joke or, as Bette Davis once said, “Old age ain’t no place for the weak of heart”.

And, yes, I know she used a word other than “weak of heart” but that was an inappropriate then, this is a politically correct now.

So that's it for our quiet, no drama day. LOL

I dug into the back of the closet and pulled out my special tee for the day.

Small Space Living

Investing in that needlepoint stand solved one problem in that my left wrist — strained from manipulating and holding heavy aida cloth, is getting better. I still do, however, occasionally wear a wrist brace to stabilize and strengthen the area.

On the other hand, the needlepoint stand has aggravated an old rotator injury in my right shoulder. This, because of constantly reaching back for supplies located on top of the hope chest.

Aggravating that old injury to the point where I’ve had to order a shoulder brace.

Thinking of way to solve the issue of having to reach back, I thought of setting a small end table next to the stand. But, having not the space for more furniture, and not finding a table to suit me, I nixed that idea, but you know how the internet is. Once you go looking for something, it begins sending you suggestions, weird suggestions.

Weird like this …

And this …

Thanks, but no thanks.

So, anyway, this morning I got the bright idea to move the stand around to where my left arm would be next to the supplies. I tried out this position, which worked out well except the television was behind me and I like to be able to look up at the screen from time to time while stitching.

Then, before I headed out for this morning’s workout, I rearranged the hope chest — moving it closer to the window, moved the laptop to the left side of the chest, the needlepoint supplies to the right side and the stand to the right side.

Not very feng shui but, inasmuch as everything I need is right next to me, I think it’s going to work out.

Speaking of furniture, I observed, when heading out, that all that nice furniture placed by the dumpster yesterday was gone.

Someone knows a good deal when they hear about it.

A couple residents were interested, but it was all too big and too heavy for the seniors to manage.

It all disappeared way too fast, suspiciously fast. So, either a resident called someone and told them of the offerings OR management, after they took what they wanted, called one of their friends and told them to hot foot it over here.

Upon returning to the complex, after this morning’s workout, I ran into Apache and another resident who said she is still stunned about the way Cat Lady was thrown out on the streets.

Her and me both.

Apache said the day Cat Lady was locked out and escorted off the premises, he later saw her sitting on a bench down the street. He called the 911 Homeless Hotline, which is what management could have and should have done, and when he (Apache) checked on her later, she was gone.

So, even though Cat Lady brought this on herself by causing that raid on an innocent neighbor’s unit, it’s comforting to know she most likely is now off the streets, in safe hands, getting the help she needs.

Now thoroughly worn out from this week’s happenings, it’s nothing but needlepoint, tv viewing and naps for me until Monday.

Eye of The Beholder

It’s been a frustrating few days as three different deliveries went awry.

I’d been awaiting a Creative Memory product necessary to complete pages in the scrapbook. USPS delivery was scheduled for Thursday night, before 9:00 p.m. Around 8:00, I checked tracking and found the item supposedly had been left at my door 6:15. I did not hear anyone come up the stairs that evening, had not heard a knock and, upon checking outside the door, found no package. Obviously, the driver delivered to the wrong door and, inasmuch as not everyone around here is honest, I worried and contacted USPS because I felt driver error should be corrected by driver. That he or she should retrace where the delivery was made and retrieve the package.

USPS felt otherwise, said tracking indicated the package was delivered to the correct location. I countered with the fact that I am on the receiving end and the package was absolutely not delivered to the correct location. Whereupon, USPS suggested I myself check the neighborhood. 

Not wanting to further frustrate myself, I decided screw it and prepared myself for locating a different supplier for the product, a supplier that did not use USPS for delivery. But then, lo and behold, a day or so later a neighbor from another building walked the package over.

So much for USPS insisting it was delivered to the correct location. It was delivered to the right complex, but wrong building in the complex. 

Thank goodness that neighbor, a woman I’ve never seen before, was honest. It doesn’t appear the neighbor who received the last delivery, which was two separate packets of photos I had printed, will follow suit.

Though I also received email notice the photos had been delivered, I’m assuming the mail carrier put them in the wrong mail slot ─ no way to trace that. So, I can and have already processed a second request for those prints, hope they make it to my mail slot this next time, but the idea of someone with those photos ─ most likely a guy, because I can’t imagine a woman has all these photos (of mostly me in different masks, me participating in different 5Ks, the medals, the swag, photos of me in those face shields I recently acquired, photos of me with family) is really creepy.

At any rate, customer service sucking so hard last few days has been frustrating, but I soldiered through without heading to See’s Candy Store to medicate myself.

Unable to continue with the Creative Memory project, until the photos arrive, I pulled out my next needlepoint project and put together an embroidery stand to work with, because holding and manipulating stiff aida cloth in my left hand, needle in right hand, was beginning to stress my wrists. I’m not sure how long it was supposed to take to put the stand together ─ maybe an hour but, for me, it turned into an all-day 9:00 to 5:00 Ikea like project, but I got ‘er done.

It’s getting pretty crowded here in my little unit, what with both scrapbooking supplies all over the place and a needlepoint project going at the same time. If I ever have to relocate, it would behoove me to get a two-bedroom unit, so I can turn one into a room for crafts.

I titled this post “Eye of the Beholder” because the purple and green face shield was seen entirely different by my millennial Trainer. Kathy saw the shield as me looking like a fly. I likened it to me looking like a bug. Trainer saw Power Ranger and asked me to wear it for his Instagram posting of Friday’s session.

I guess our beholding eye is dependent upon what era we were born into.

Granddaughter tells me all Power Rangers are named after colors, and dubbed me the Bling Ranger.

You can’t really tell what I’m saying through the mask in the video below, but it was “Power Ranger Activate!”

Weekend in L.A.

In Los Angeles this past weekend for Saturday’s 6:00 PM Batman 5K was agony and ecstasy.

The agony first being finding one’s way to the race site in undriveable traffic.

After initially trying to find our way to package pickup, at 2:00, on foot, Twin 2 and I decided on the Uber thing. Entering the package pickup site, looking at all the people and activities already in full blast, I experienced the second agony when I tripped over a concrete thingy I did not see sticking out from another concrete thingy.

I didn’t exactly fall, instead I flew ─ propelled up into the air like a fledgling super hero, then into a dead drop onto concrete, face first. Fortunately, my big boobs hit the concrete first, caused me to bounce before my face could make contact. The bounce rolled me onto my back. I heard Twin 2 screaming, and then I blacked out. Upon coming out of a momentary loss of consciousness, I found two EMTs attending to me.

“Where’d they come from”, I later asked Twin2.

“Mom, you were really lucky. They were sitting at a table right next to where you fell”.

Horribly embarrassed, with hundreds of people witnessing my embarrassment, one voice in the crowd asking, “Did anyone call for an ambulance” and one of the EMTs, in a uniform identifying him as an EMT not a costumed character, replying to the voice, “Ma’am, I AM an EMT”.

It was a spectacle.

I just wanted to get up, get my race package and disappear, but the EMTs wouldn’t let me move.

I repeatedly said, “I’m find, just embarrassed” but they would not let me move until they made a thorough assessment.

The right knee had some scraped skin, hurt just a little, but the right hand was killing me. It later began swelling.

At any rate, once the EMTs had poked, prodded and became assured nothing was broken or cracked, they let me up and I ignored the pain as I went on with my life ─ picked up the race package and, against Twin 2’s prompting to head back to the hotel, get off my feet, took a few photos, totally unsure if I’d be able to return and compete at 6:00.

Batmobile and my Great Grandson Patches

Batman Doll Box

The Usual Suspects

Joker

Once word reached Twin 1 about the fall, the EMTs, the strangers rushing to get me water, yada yada yada, and Twin2 not wanting me to compete, Twin 1 told Twin 2 that mom has been looking forward to this 5K for a long time and wants her medal. Get a wheelchair and push her.

ROFLMAO!

I thought that was a great idea.

Twin 2 did not.

I think she was exhausted already ─ from the traffic and quite a lot of walking we'd had to do before we gave up trying to find the site and called for Uber, and was looking for a way out of walking an additional 3.12 miles at 6:00.

Later checking my Fitbit, we’d already put in over 4 miles, so I really couldn’t blame her.

Determined to rejoin all the fun at race site, I iced the knee and hand, then bandaged the knee, put a wrap on the wrist, pronounced no way was I not competing, and back we went, via Uber, to the site and took off 6:00 sharp from in front of City Hall.

I was expecting the bat signal to start us off, but no ─ that was happening late that night at the end of festivities, plus there was a lot to see, to do, and I wanted to experience it all, but Twin 2 was wiped out and granddaughter needed to potty and refused to use the porta ones, so we left soon after crossing the finish line.

Young people can’t hang.

How’d I do?

The hills were difficult, so I didn’t hurry, got ‘er done and though the official results are not yet in, feel my time was around 1 hour 10 minutes.

The ecstasy was an awesome medal and all kinds of fun on the course.

Riddler Group

Poison Ivy

Female Joker

Almost 5,000 of us on the road

Walking through one of the L.A. Tunnels, transformed into The Bat Cave, was EVERYTHING! So fun.

Finish Line Up Ahead

Icing on the cake was, after all was said and done, with Twin 2 getting tired, impatient, cross, she got caught up in the energy and had so much fun that she can't stop talking about how fun it was and is asking me about the Wonder Woman 5K and wants me to join her at the Hot Chocolate 5K in San Diego.

We'll see.

Life Moving at the Speed of Light

Time got away from me this week.

Life is moving too fast.

It started on Sunday when I wasn’t able to take advantage of November’s Pokémon GO Community Day because I had an appointment with the Locktician (braid beautician).

Arriving at her salon, she wasn’t there, but one of the other ladies said, “I’ll call her to let her know you’re here. She only stepped away for a bit.”

After waiting for what I felt to be a reasonable amount of time, I called her myself and said, “I’m waiting for you” only to be told, “Your appointment isn’t until next Sunday. But since you’re here, I’m on my way. I’ll go ahead and take you”.

I actually didn’t believe I’d made such a monumental mistake until, once back at the unit, I double checked my organizer and she was right.

THEN, on Thursday, I get a text message from my buddy Apache saying, “You missed the fireworks at the meeting.”

“What meeting … when?” asked I.

Turned out I’d missed the previous day's Residents/Management meeting, the first with the new Community Manager.

“But I thought it was next week”, texted back I.

Even though the meeting was on my organizer, I looked at it and thought that inasmuch as we are in the first week of November (which we are not), I had another week.

I didn’t hit my head when I had that fall on the 9^th, but perhaps it rattled my brain.

Still having intermittent aches and pain as a result of that fall, by the way, but nothing Epsom Salt and a pain patch can’t handle.

I’m also unusually tired, which I think is the body recuperating from the trauma of it all.

At any rate, so I don’t forget next week is Thanksgiving (not the week after) and I’m scheduled to head out for the Holiday the day before, I’m constantly checking and rechecking what I have to do and posting reminders so as not to forget anything.

I was actually considering changing my hotel reservation to checking in Thanksgiving Day and out the day after, a turnaround because I’m tired of trying to feed myself in hotels.

If I could eat like everyone else – grab meals in the hotel, nearby restaurants, grab a cup-o-noodles, it wouldn’t be so bad. But having to plan meals, lug the Instant Pot and groceries is tiresome.

Logging into the hotel reservations site, I changed arrival to in on the 22nd, out on the 23rd but, today’s confirmation still had me in on the 21st, out on the 23rd.

I could call the hotel and change directly with them, but I’m thinking the Universe doesn’t want me on the road Thanksgiving Day, even though driving to Long Beach on Thanksgiving Day can’t be any worse than the day before because, last time, the 1-1/2 hour drive the day before took 4 hours. But I don’t like to be fixated on what I want to do, rather than listen and go with the universal flow, so I’m leaving reservations as they are.

Busy working on the needlepoint project -- now in its eighth’s month and not halfway done, plus catching up on scrapbooking, I’ve not been out and about, thus neither heard nor seen Handsome Man or that new neighbor of his.

Tuesday is the catered Thanksgiving affair, so I’m likely to see both – that is if I don’t forget to go. LOL.

At any rate, I’m not looking forward to it. Going to feel uncomfortable.