Roller Coaster

This last weekend was a roller coaster, having nothing to do with the two earthquakes we’d had Friday evening (3.4 centered 14 miles away in Redlands at 8:40 PM, and 3.4 centered three miles away in Muscoy at 11:32 PM).

The roller coaster had to do with my emotions, as this was my first Mother’s Day without Twin 1.

Twin 2, knowing the day would be difficult for me, sent not the usual text message, which I always appreciated and is how we roll, but instead had a box containing two dozen pink roses delivered to my door.

The struggle, in the hours leading up to yesterday were real, and I was afraid to step outside the unit to take the trash out, drive to the market, for fear neighbors or strangers would wish me Happy Mother’s Day, resulting in a public meltdown.

A meltdown happened anyway when the Talker sent me a Happy Mother’s Day text message.

Tone Deaf … Meaning well, but not thinking, thought I.

I started to just delete the text without responding, but instead replied with three crying emojis.

I'd like to think I did not mean to do that maliciously, to make her feel as bad about being tone deaf as I was feeling by what I was experiencing; but maybe I did intend to make her feel bad for being so stupid.

She took it well. Replied with uplifting words that left our friendship still in tack, but she’ll hopefully think twice in the future.

Make no mistake, I know I’m blessed to still have Twin 2, but I don't imagine Mother's Day will ever be completely happy again.

Later in the day, feeling I was all emotioned-out, I ventured outside to toss the trash, run by the market, where I received three/four more Happy Mother's Day greetings.

Strong Black woman that I am, I held it together until I made it back to the car before the damn broke.

Glad to have that day in my rear view, today looks to be another perfect walking weather opportunity, but I'm not ready to run into well-meaning neighbors, who haven't a clue as to the ins/out of my life, asking me, "How was your Mother's Day".

I'll do my walking on the indoor treadmill until the world moves on to something else.

Show n Tell

Feedback on the Mother’s Day luncheon was that it was "okay". Residents were served big Jimmy John's sandwiches.

The only beef was that on the last Father’s Day, the women were told to remain seated while the men/Fathers were served first; but management did not make the men wait until the women were served at Tuesday’s Mother’s Day event.

Since this was not Activity Director’s event, but one of the events Manager is reluctantly required to arrange for the seniors by Corporate, I asked if she greeted them this time.

Not only did she not, she once again sent staff in to manage the event and "hid' in her office.

Manager really is uncomfortable with residents OR is her refusing to greet at the door, and sometimes refusing to attend events a statement of sorts?

I recall, when I was in the working world, I ascribed to the proverb about being discerning about who one breaks bread with.

If I didn't like or respect you, I'd not share a meal with you.

When the three witches, Attorneys Henrietta, Joyce, Jane, treated me like crap all year, but wanted to show how manganous they were on Secretaries Day by taking me to lunch, I made a statement by taking vacation Secretaries week every year of the three/four years I worked for them, so I didn’t have to eat with them and they were left looking shitfaced as the other attorneys and their secretaries celebrated.

Was I being petty?

You bet I was. I wasn’t going to play that hypocritical game with them, so they could pat themselves on the back thinking what great massas they were to their slave; and it felt good to know I was causing them embarrassment.

Would you believe, they didn’t catch on to being embarrassed and laughed at by others until the very last year I worked for them.

To put me in my place that year, they took the temp employee, hired to work my desk that week, to lunch on Secretaries Day.

Problem with that was, in the one week the temp worked for them, he saw through them, commended me upon my return with having left him a manual with such clear detailed instructions and my putting up with the witches for years.

He figured out why I'd taken vacation, laughted at the witches, just like everyone else, and that temp became one of my very best friends, and remains so to this day.

So, maybe Manager is ascribing to the same proverb, about breaking bread, for her own reasons.

Lots of movement here on the complex today — people moving out, others moving in, old faces disappearing, new faces appearing.

Talker knocked on the door last night and, when I opened, she was dancing/singing, announcing one of those moving out is her downstairs neighbor … our Karen character.

Our Karen Character

"Hold up" said I to Talker as she was dancing/singing, grabbed my phone, asked her to repeat what she was doing so I could tape it.

Of course, I didn’t tell her I was taping for the blog. I said it was a keepsake for her, sent the video to her to do with as she liked. She sent it to the Baker, other residents, and her family. All who got a good laugh.

I suppose Karen is moving out because, try as she did, she couldn’t force Talker to move by incessantly complaining about ordinary ever day noises one will hear when others are living upstairs, you living downstairs; and the office didn’t want to hear any more of Karen’s complaints.

Would be funny, if Karen moved to the same one-level complex as Red Light.

Returning from this morning’s workout, I ran into Miracle Man — the resident who, in his younger years, survived being shot on two different occasions, stabbed and firebombed.

He was looking visibly depressed and close to tears. I knew it’s because he’s losing his girlfriend — Ruthie, the woman being evicted because of bed bugs.

Ruthie has been telling others she bought a house nearby, because she doesn’t want to move too far away from Miracle Man.

Not likely she bought a house when she’s on SSI, that is unless she’s won the lottery, but Miracle Man tells me she hasn’t found a place yet, that she’s looking, has a place in mind, but it’s not yet locked in.

I’d assumed that inasmuch as she’s on SSI, the County was helping her to relocate, but research tells me, "No, Supplemental Security Income (SSI) is not the same as county assistance. SSI is a federal program administered by the Social Security Administration, providing monthly cash benefits to individuals with limited income and resources who are blind, aged 65 or older, or have a disability. County assistance programs, on the other hand, are typically state and local programs that provide various forms of assistance, including cash benefits, to individuals who are unable to meet their basic needs".

Either way, Ruthie is not in the position to purchase a house. Rent maybe.

With the handcuffed woman still on my mind, I today researched the police blotter, the department’s website and the news for "Police activity 05/13/25 on Sierra in Fontana" and got nothing. So, I’m moving on from that.

We’ll just have to write it off as The Eighth Wonder of the World.

Happy Belated Mother’s Day

Logging into the laptop this morning, the first thing flashing across the screen was "Egg prices are plummeting".

I'd not describe it as "Plummeting", when I just yesterday noticed an 18-count carton of organic eggs dropped a lousy $1.00 — from $13.99 to $12.99, but it’s a start.

Mother’s Day has come and gone — my 58th, and it was awright.

I received the obligatory texts from the usual suspects — Twin 1, Twin 2, Granddaughter.

I feel bad for my twins. They always want to take me somewhere to eat, do something fun, buy me something, but my worsening gut issues precluded my going anywhere to eat, there’s no place I wanted to go, nothing I wanted to do, nothing I needed. All of which made a not fun Mother’s Day for my girls, as I was content doing laundry and housework.

I had the Laundry Room all to myself, the flowers in the area around the Laundry Room were in full bloom for Mother’s Day, so I enjoyed the peaceful setting.

Talker walked by, saw me doing laundry, came in to give me a Mother’s Day hug and a side of tea.

There’s a new woman in Dream Lover’s life, but it’s not what you think.

Evidently, Dream Lover has a new neighbor — a woman who has taken a dislike to him and demonstrates her dislike by, instead of taking her trash to the dumpster, tosses it in front of DL’s door.

That’s pretty extreme.

Of course, DL went to Manager over it, got the usual "I'll talk to her", but it's unclear as to whether Manager actually did, because the woman has tossed trash at his door more than once OR if the woman was spoken to and, not caring what Manager had to say, continues to trash DL's area.

I’ll have to see who this new neighbor is, determine if management has done it again …… brought in a resident who is not well in the head, or if DL made his usual play …… "I’m looking for a nice woman to spend time with" and she did not appreciate it. Is tossing her trash as if to say to DL that she can see through him and he’s trash.

This scares me a little about who we’ll next get in our quad, when TinTin’s vacant unit is leased out. I’m hoping our good Chi in the quad will attract someone nice, but you never know.

The Activity Calendar indicated, instead of today being Pizza Tuesday, it's a late celebration of Mother’s Day …… "Social: Mother’s Day Luncheon. Celebrate Mother’s Day with a community luncheon full of fun, connection and appreciation for all the amazing moms, grandmothers, Aunts, Sisters, Friends, mentors, etc."

I guess Great Grandmothers fall into the "etc" category, LOL.

I wasn’t planning on attending because I can’t eat whatever is being served; besides, I had an appointment with my Primary at the Main Medical Center — the first time I’ve been able to actually meet with my doctor, face to face, since 2019; and accomplished only because that RN I’d two-weeks ago interacted with by phone, when my BP recorded 173, sent a message to the doctor’s care team that she should see me. Otherwise, it would have taken three months to get an appointment.

I’m actually surprised my doctor hasn’t retired yet, as she’s about my age, maybe a few years younger.

She looks great though, hasn’t aged much — probably because her culture is one that the women do keep their beauty as they age. The men, not so much.

At any rate, she joked about watching her patients age with her, adjusted my BP medication, had her nurse give me a tetanus shot, ordered Lab work — which I’ll take care of later this week, or next week, at a different facility, because the Lab Section at the Main Medical Center was way too peopley for me.

On the way to the Med Center, the dash cam captured a woman, on the far side of middle-age, in handcuffs.

That's her white car blocking the lane.

Mother's Day only two days ago, and mom or grandma is in cuffs.

I’ve never in my life been handcuffed, not even for roleplay fun when I was married to the cop, and could not imagine what an older lady could have done to be removed from her car, in traffic, and handcuffed.

Too Much Week

Too much week Not enough weekend, was on my mind as I awaked this Monday morning.

Probably didn't help that, instead of sleeping, I've been up late nights watching "The Idea of You", over and over, five times already, and I'm not even a romantic comedy type person.

In fact, the only other rom I've ever watched without rolling my eyes, throwing up in my mouth, is the 2006 The Boathouse, with Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock.

In the interim, another Mother’s Day has come and gone — my 57th, and it was awright.

I received the obligatory texts from the usual suspects.

Last Mother’s Day it was Twin 2 who praised me with what a great mom and positive influence I’ve been in her life. This year it was Twin 1 saying, "You have been my greatest teacher on earth".

Sad it is that what seeds I’d planted couldn’t break through her previously hard exterior before she destroyed her relationship with her children, but at least the seeds did eventually sprout and begin to grow.

Better late than never.

Speaking of children, this coming weekend is my trip to Long Beach for Pride and the grandson’s 2nd birthday.

I had no intentions to add yet another t-shirt to my wardrobe for this coming weekend, but the internet kept tempting me with this grandma tee.

Nice, but problem was …… I’m not just a grandma, but a great grandma, so I passed.

Then I thought to contact the seller, ask if she could add "great", and voilà ……

The great grandson’s gift arrived during the week.

He needs another toy like I need another t-shirt so, learning he’s no longer interested in dinosaurs but farm animals, I'm gifting him his first bank account.

Inside all weekend, working on that never ending needlepoint project while catching up on recorded TV programs,watching that rom-com, I didn’t see anyone to find out how Friday’s Mother’s Day Brunch went until I ventured outside yesterday afternoon to take out the trash and ran into the neighbor around the corner who hates Biden, loves No. 45 "because he’s not a politician".

No accounting for taste.

So, anyway, she said she enjoyed the brunch, that around 30 residents attended, but the energy in the room was a drag because of residents complaining …… complained about so many men attending — and not because they qualified as both father and mother to their children. “They came for the food”, she said.

Then there was dissatisfaction with the food being tiny foods — little sandwiches, cheese and deli meat platter, bagels, etc. In other words, brunch food.

I guess they were expecting brunch to be a full meal or a repeat of the big juicy crucifixion burgers, like that served at Easter.

Stopping by the mailbox before heading back to my unit, I observed a pool party going on — I counted about 7 adults, 6 children, didn’t recognize anyone until I saw Head Maintenance Guy enter the pool area to join them and realized it was his wife, daughter, two sons. The others must have been miscellaneous family members.

Since residents seem to be in a complaining mood, I’m wondering who will take offense to HMG hosting, what looked to be, a family Mother’s Day pool party, call corporate to complain.

Hope he doesn’t think it was me calling corporate, because I found it odd that as soon as I arrived to pick up mail, HMG ordered everyone out of the pool and inside. Sort of like the man, woman and little black puppy moving out of TinTin’s unit the afternoon of the same day I’d petted the black puppy, learned of the passing of the white one.

If I’m generating some kind of energy that makes people up and leave when I appear, perhaps I should show up at No. 45’s trial, cause him to "leave".

There was an interesting conversation on Facebook a few days ago when someone posted "For the love of God, please make him just go away" and there was the comment "Could we dress him up in a dog suit and send him into the woods with Kristi Noem?"

Further Adventures in Motherhood

Another Mother’s Day has come and gone — my 55th, and it was awright.

I received the obligatory texts from the usual suspects — Granddaughter, who is celebrating her 1st Mother’s Day; Twin 1, whose pain I could feel at this being Mother’s Day with undoubtedly no well wishes from her own brood because they’re all mad at her for one reason or another. Even Red Light took a moment out of celebrating with her own son to text me a Happy Mother’s Day.

Then, shortly after the text, Red Light called to tell me that the two alcoholic sons of the resident living in my building, but around the corner, were out front of the property, in a fist fight with each other.

Did you get the part where I said Red Light was out celebrating with her own son when she first texted and now was calling?

She was miles away at the Ontario Mills Mall, having breakfast and planning on a movie with her son, but knew of a fight in progress here.

Us old people have the best grapevine.

I had not yet bathed nor dressed, so I couldn’t go outside to see the fight, but how embarrassing for the resident whose husband passed away last year, and now is subjected to her sons visiting on Mother’s Day, humiliating her in front of her neighbors with a drunken brawl.

At least my family settles our differences peacefully, by keeping away from each other. LOL.

Twin 2 got a jump on Mother's Day and texted yesterday, with something that broke through my hard exterior and brought me to tears — which I’ll share with you end of this post so as to not turn you into a puddle as it did me. All in all, it was a satisfying Mother’s Day for me.

Even though she didn’t say so in her text, I know the day was difficult for Twin 1.

She made a lot of mistakes in her role as a mom — birthed more children than the law should allow, became overwhelmed, checked out in ways that emotionally damaged her children.

To her credit, however, she woke up, owned up to and apologized to the kids over and over and over and over for her previously poor choices, has tried to make amends with little success because some of her brood have grown up to be hateful, selfish adults that think the world and their mom owes them a living.

They've put a price tag on forgiving, forgetting, starting from now. That price tag being fund their lifestyle so they don’t have to work, pay their bills, their rent, put gas in their car or, after crashing two other cars, let me use your car.

Long story short, Twin 1 is pretty much done dealing with being racked over the coals by guilt, regret, her kids, has retreated into herself and working at assuaging that guilt/regret by devoting her time and energy to the work she does for the unhoused on skid row — do for others that which she failed to do in the past for her own.

It’s not easy for her though.

So, anyway, I seriously doubt any one of her brood texted her a Happy Mother’ Day. Not even granddaughter, who recently had a dispute with her mom and unwisely stuck a dagger in her heart with — stay away from me and the grandbaby.

Say goodbye to a Thanksgiving Family get-together this year, because we were barely hanging on as a unit when Twin 2 was pushed away, for reasons I don't understand as she stepped up and did so much for the kids when their mom had checked out, was in her prodigal experience. Now without either of my girls, it can't be much of a family or a get-together.

It is what it is.

My position on all this is that I understand it’s hard to forgive and forget, but there are far worse crimes a mom can make beyond checking out and being self-involved.

I wasn’t too happy with the mom life gave me either, but I never sassed or disrespected her. I managed to get through the early years, later lived my own adult life with no expectations from her and, where she failed as a mother she more than made up for as a grandmother to my girls.

In all honesty, I don’t think I’d be the person I am today had she not been my mom, because I learned from her what NOT to do as a mom, as a friend, as a person. Not to mention, the superpowers I developed as a result of her being my mom that got me through, and continues to get me through, the hard times — adaptability, self-reliance, listening to the spirit within rather than what she and the world had to say.

There’s a reason for everything.

Twin 1's brood are all adults now, fully capable of providing and accepting responsibility for themselves, rather than still be expecting mommy to take care of them, pay for past mistakes by enabling them now, resenting her for not doing so.

For many years, I felt misunderstood, misjudged, could do nothing right insofar as my own girls were concerned. They too had unreasonable expectations as to how I, as a mother should be and do; and, when the girls made dubious choices, blame was projected onto me when things didn’t work out.

It’s just in the last few years when the blinders fell off their eyes and they’ve been able to understand and appreciate how I'd put them first, wanted the best for them, continued to be there for them with an assist when needed. So even though Twin 1's brood didn't get the best start, a day may come when they can see value in what they've experienced with her and can appreciate the rough start.

So, anyway, Twin 2's message to me for Mother's Day was …………… "With Mother's Day coming up I've been waxing nostalgic. Thinking of all the things you unconsciously gave me. You used to listen to this radio program. The start of it was the Gordon McRae opening song from Oklahoma. 'Oh what a beautiful morning. Oh what a beautiful day. I've got a beautiful feeling everything's going my way'. I wake up often with that on my heart. Our home always smelled like fresh coffee. You made your breakfast every morning and would eat in the yellow Volkswagen, or Brown Babe. A boiled egg and toast. Always suited and booted. On the weekends you'd paint our nails and we'd go somewhere, but after you cleaned the house. If a gift was involved you gave thee best and most thoughtful gift. You were always in school. Trying to improve yourself or earning potential. I loved when we went to work with you. I was so proud. I often channel how you presented professionally. You enjoyed life. Men, parties, pot, vacations. But you never neglected us. You were present. You showed me what responsibility looked like. Don't ever think that you failed somehow. You did the best you could with what you had. I paid attention. You grew up with a narcissistic parent that gave you too much responsibility over your siblings. Nana was wonderful to us, but I saw her avoidance with her kids. No hugs. No kisses. No affection. A codependent relationship with her boys. But she gave all she had as well. You did what you had to do to escape that. I was remembering how you raised us to be liberal in our thinking. Accepting of all things different. You gave us choices religiously. I cherish the memories of every single church we attended. I learned something. If I don't tell you enough, I love you with all of my heart. I'm grateful to be your daughter. In fact honored. I love who I am because of you."

In my defense, that reference to "Men, parties, pot" ... it was the 70's for god's sake, and I was the gay divorcee.

Still am, but minus the men, parties, and that other thing.

Mother's Day

T.G.I.F.

Awoke at 3 a.m. last two days.

That’s not good, as it generally signifies a disturbance in the force. Something unsettling going on within the family unit.

I don’t feel like it’s anything serious, just something unwise that’s going to cause me more worry than the worry family already causes.

I never did figure out why the song "Ding Dong the Witch is Dead" played over and over in my head a few months ago, and still occasionally does. I’ve had to deal with so many witches in the past that it’s hard to decipher which one, but I did research those that traumatized me and found nothing. Not on Facebook, not LinkedIn, nor the obits, so I’m assuming not everyone maintains a social media presence or gets a death notice published.

I know I never could find an obit for Jim.

As I was suiting up for this morning’s workout, I thought I heard the sound of paving trucks here to complete the job. (The sound you heard in that last video was not the pavers, they didn’t show up that day. It was the trash truck rolling through).

Alas, I was wrong because, heading out, I could see half of the front entrance and the opposite side of the building still undone and no crew in sight.

Oh well, that side of the complex doesn’t involve me, so I’m just happy the inconveniences to my side are over with.

At least I think they are because, when I showed Trainer the video I’d posted yesterday, he said not only was the paving a lousy job but part of the problem with the cracking — which btw, looks even worse today, was that no sealant was applied.

He doesn’t think the crew plans on coming back at a later date (but who can be sure), to do that sealing because sealant precedes striping and striping has been done. It quickly followed paving that day when the crew was hauling arse to try to make up for lost time.

So there’s that.

Today was Bingo Friday, so I hurried to switch out of workout clothes, hurried down to the Community Room to claim my preferred seat before Hell on Wheels got there first.

I beat her again.

It’s been a long dry spell for me insofar as a bingo win. I can’t even remember the last time I had a win. I’m usually one number short before someone else yells Bingo!, but it was a lively group of residents and I always have fun.

Red Light’s son donated roses to the group for Mother’s Day. We each received one red, one yellow.

The rose I received from the insurance agent on Tuesday is holding up well, so I added these to that same vase.

It's beginning to look a lot like Mother's Dayish up in here.

Hopefully, I get to sleep straight through tonight. If not, at least it’s the weekend, I have no place I must go, nothing I must do, so I can rest and try to catch up on sleep.

Shock and Awe

Waking up feeling crummy this morning — moving slow, feeling sluggish and loopy, I decided today was a good day to sit on my arse and do nothing but scrapbook, with the TV providing background noise.

I was pleasantly doing so when, all of a sudden around 11:00, everything went quiet, the power went out.

Taking it as a sign to go outside, get some fresh air, I suited up and started off with a slow stroll around the complex.

You could have knocked me over with a feather when, just as I’d predicted — that "My luck … now that I’ve taken the car out of storage, the crew will magically reappear", there they were, working on the back and right side of the complex.

Not only were they working but, still with a lot to do compared to what more needs to be done, they were working fast, picking up momentum.

Figuring that, at the pace they were paving and striping, they’d reach my side by tomorrow — that is if they show up, I later moved the car to one of the spot they’d managed to complete so it wouldn’t be in the way of wherever they next went.

The slow walk invigorated me. By the third time around, whatever had weighed me down in the morning was gone and I was moving at a pretty good clip.

Just as I was ready to head back upstairs, see if power had been restored, I ran into Red Light who said Activity Director had something going on in the Community Room — a Mother’s Day Luncheon, so I pivoted over to the event.

The room was packed. Even a few guys showed up, which is fair because just like I was both mother and father, some guys are both fathers and mothers.

The lunch was not the dainty little tea sandwiches one would expect for Mother’s Day, but instead were huge sub sandwiches from Jersey Mike, which I thought more appropriate for Father’s Day.

No matter to the residents. They will eat anything from anyone who makes free food available to them but, when I noticed Red Light and newer resident Homegirl, with whom I was seated, were not eating their sandwiches and inquired why. Red Light said it tasted funny. Homegirl just said she wasn’t hungry.

Interesting.

As with most things management arranges for us, there were strings. We didn’t have to listen to a lecture, but the luncheon was funded by a Medical Group that is setting up an office in one of the offices across the street.

Since it takes three months to get an appointment with my doctor, and nothing is done but her try to push pills, medications, expensive unnecessary procedures, I may do some due diligence and check the medical group out for emergencies.

There was also a woman promoting her Insurance Agency. She provided us with cookies and roses.

I don’t need an insurance agent, but accepted the rose.

Homegirl, being the open friendly type, previously shared with me that she’d been in property management and sees a lot of things wrong with how this complex is run — no surprise.

She’s also a very talented artist, attended art school and, besides painting, creates all manner of items that she sometimes sells at art fairs and cultural events.

She showed me photos of her work, but she does so much and so many different art forms that I can’t begin to tell you what I was shown, except that some is beadwork and painting on cups, designer water bottles.

This cup that I won at bingo last week is her work.

Though I didn't so much as win it as it was she gifted it to me.

Spotting it on the prize table when I walked in, I was immediately drawn to it, coveted it, hid it under a kitchen towel so no one else would see and win it before I did. Evidently Homegirl was watching and, when she won the first game, she took the cup as prize and gave it to me.

At any rate, conversation today was about trouble she was having with two of the guys. One — who she named/described but I can’t picture him, kept coming onto her, hung around outside her unit, came into the laundry room when he saw her there, which prompted her to hold her keys between her fingers to use as a weapon if need be.

The way she described how he hit on her, the guy sounded ignorant, uneducated and, when she got her keys ready and told him to buzz off, he dropped a note into her laundry basket that she didn’t see until later. The note saying, with misspellings, how is was that he wanted to get to know her.

I’m not clear on whether he’s given up the pursuit, whether she’s reported him to the office (as if that would do any good) but she said she’d had quite enough and went off on the other one.

Whereas the first guy came across as ignorant/uneducated, the other guy’s approach shocked me — and I don’t shock easily.

He’d been following her around, camping out on a bench in front of the Laundry Room across the quad, which is where he can spot her comings/goings, telling her how he’s a minister, a barber, does security work on the side.

"WAIT! I know this one", said I.

It’s Handsome Guy, the same guy I'd blogged about, just a few days ago, who had come onto me again.

Just to be certain it was the same guy, I told her his name and where he lived. Bingo! same guy.

Shock and Awe.

What shocked me was not so much his playing the odds, throwing feelers out for more than one of us hoping to reel someone in. What shocked me was how he’s always been polite and gentlemanly in his approach to me, but some of the things she shared about how he talked to her in his approach was pure sleaze, insulting, trying to be slick like a pimp.

He tried to talk himself into her unit by, after observing her young nephew often visiting, offering to come into her unit and cut the child’s hair for free.

When that didn’t produce, he somehow knew she’d be in the Community Room on Pizza Tuesday, or followed here there, and made a point of also being there.

Now Homegirl is a big girl, a really big girl — boobs, hips and whereas I dress to hide/downplay my features so as to not draw unwanted attention, there's no way to hide/downplay what she's got.

At any rate, she appears to be driving the men wild and, Handsome Guy is reading her as cheap, easy, on display, someone he can approach at a street level and, when he followed her to Pizza Tuesday, he said something so suggestive, looked her up/down with a nasty smirk while saying it, that she blew her top and began cursing at him in front of everyone — "loudly" said she.

What he said was .... when Activity Director was describing the pizza options — cheese, vegie, meat, Handsome Guy had replied, "Meat" turned looked up/down at Homegirl’s bodacious body and pointedly said, "Cause I like meat".

He’s a chameleon. Approaches me like a respectful man trying to date me, approaches her like a down and dirty sleezy scummy guy wanting to jump her bones.

Cursing him out in public seems to have worked. Got his feelings hurt and embarrassed, humiliated, publicly put in his place by a female, so he dare not show his face on Pizza Tuesday again, and she says he doesn’t even speak to her now when seeing her out and about.

As for me, now that I know he’s a chameleon — takes on different personas dependent on who and what is before him, even though he never had a snowball's chance in hell with me, I'm disgusted by the way he approached and talked to Homegirl.

You just do not talk to women that way so, if and when I see him out/about, I’m gonna take off in the opposite direction. I do not want to hear anything he has to say.

Returning to my unit, I found the power back on and an email from the power company with no explanation for the outage other than "analyzing problem".

Judging by news I just heard on TV, I’m going to need a new cup — "I Love When I Wake Up and No. 45 is Liable for SA and Defamation".

What a day this has been, as I also see the DOJ is after Santos. Next up is Clarence Thomas.

Stilettos in the Snow

I’ve been happily doing my own mani pedi since the nail salon screwed up my appointment back in March. They’d failed to book a manicurist, which left the pedicurist to do both. She did the usual bang-up job on the pedi but, bless her heart, manicures are not her thing. So, the job she did on my nails wasn’t up to snuff.

I wasn’t planning another spa day until a few days before a meditation retreat I’m booked to attend next month. In fact, Twin 2 had called on Sunday, suggested a spa day for Mother’s Day, and I’d said no — but only because I’m not feeling Mother’s Day this year. I don’t want to do anything, don’t want to go anywhere, just want to be left alone.

So, anyway, though I was not planning a spa day, had just turned down one, pain on the bottom of my feet dictated otherwise.

Returning from yesterday’s workout, kicking off my workout shoes, I found myself limping because my bare feet touching the floor was painful.

I dealt with it for a few hours but then decided I’d better call the spa before they closed for the evening, book an appointment for today.

I made sure the receptionist understood I was booking a manicurist AND my usual pedicurist, did not feel comfortable she’d gotten it right and was ready to be pissed this morning arriving to find they’d gotten it wrong again.

Woo Hoo! she'd gotten it right.

Pedicurist said pain on the balls of the feet is caused by the dry weather and suggested Eucerin Advanced Repair Foot Cream to keep the feet moisturized. So, I’ll pop into the drug store after tomorrow’s workout.

I was drawn to red polish today and seeing one called Stilettos in the Snow could not resist the color or the name.

Stilettos in the Snow is bold, sassy, makes me feel like doing something wild.

Mother’s Day 2021

Ordinarily, I’d be spending the day competing in a 5K with Twin 2, followed by being treated to a mani pedi.

The pandemic put an end to that tradition.

Having not made a trip to the spa in over a year, Lord knows I desperately need a spa mani pedi; but even though the spa is back in business, I’m not ready to risk that yet.

Made my first trip to the post office box yesterday, Mother’s Day Eve (Mother’s Day Eve should be a thing).

Worked out so well ─ even with an oversized package of scrapbooking paper being placed in a vault box, that I wondered why I’d never thought of a po box before.

Color me simple, but actually I find the entire process quite fascinating and would like to know how it works that, with so much mail coming to just this complex alone, the system knows to forward my mail to the po box.

Also fascinating me today is my Mother’s Day gift to myself.

I can’t say a salad spinner is any more effective than the paper towel method, to wash/dry kale, and other leafy greens, that I’m accustomed to. It’s just fancier, more elegant … bougie.

Problem Solved

I was feeling a little hurt on Sunday — like I no longer mattered, was not important to family when I didn’t get a Happy Mother’s Day text.

Felt better when, online later that evening, I saw Mother’s Day is not until next Sunday. LOL.

After this morning’s workout, I followed through on getting a post office box.

What a pain in the arse that was.

The initial application for a box was completed online, but then I had to drive to the post office to get the box “activated” ─ bring in a boatload of forms I’d printed out and filled in the blanks, show ID. A process I expected to take no longer than 5/10 minutes.

It didn’t.

The Supervising Clerk could not find my order in the system.

Fortunately, something prompted me to also bring along the confirmation page, which showed the box had been paid for and an order number.

With that proof, the Supervising Clerk had to solve the issue which, after an eternity of investigation ─ going to two different computers, disappearing into the back, she found my order in the system under a different telephone number ─ which, I assume is how the system tracks orders .. by telephone number.

”You put in a different number”, said she.

”I don’t have another number”.

”Maybe you made a mistake typing in”, said she.

Anything is possible, but inasmuch as the number was a Kansas area code, I doubt it.

It was amicable between us as the kinks were cleared up. She was patient and professional. I was calm.

At one point, just to make conversation, she asked, “Have you had a p o box before?”

I replied, no, and told her about the mailbox break-ins saying, “I don’t understand how it keeps happening when there's a camera recording and staff living right over the area”.

”Staff might be doing it”, said she.

Which made me laugh, even though I don’t think so, but my view is from the inside. The Supervising Clerk, and a comment from Dawn the Bohemian ─ about the possibility of staff being involved, are views from the outside looking in ─ so maybe it could be.

Stranger things have happened when people want to surreptitiously express how much they hate their job. Like the time I saw a hazmat team going into the men’s bathroom at the racist agency I retired from. Someone had covered the wall with feces.

True story.

At any rate, once the Supervising Clerk found my order in the system, it was on to completing paperwork, turning in a change of address and I was out ..... after a little over an hour.

The service I signed up for is pretty nifty. I have an actual street address, the change of address form I submitted is specific for the box ... requires the post office to forward any mail coming to my address, here at the complex, into the po box; and I don’t have to drive over and check for mail. The box will notify me, via email, when mail arrives.

So my issue, with the continuous break-ins, has been solved.

As for other residents, it might not be so easily solved. Many are not healthy enough to get to the post office, or do not have transportation. They’re stuck, in limbo, until something can be worked out.

When I stop to think about it, I myself didn’t necessarily need a post office box. I could have allowed myself to live in mail limbo forever, because all the important stuff is handled online, paperless. What I do receive is two or three monthly confirmations that retirement funds have been deposited, quarterly summary of medical costs, junk mail and catalogues.

Hopefully, the junk mail and catalogues don’t make it to the po box.

For others, mail is a lot more critical, because they receive and pay for bills by mail, and depend on monthly checks … disability and otherwise.

On the other hand, though I don’t have checks for the mail box thief to abscond with, the few items I do receive carry personal information I feel safer knowing is now going to a po box, rather than to the mailbox thief to sell.

On tap for tomorrow is Shot No. 1 Pfizer vaccine.

I’ve waited, watched, and something inside tells me it’s time.

Happy Self-Isolating Mother’s Day

There being no Mother’s Day celebrations here at the complex, management posted little candy packets to our doors over the weekend, along with a new thing they’ve instituted to take the place of actual activities — an Activity Packet.

The packet consists of 1) a color me page (no crayons or color pens/pencils though, lol); 2) a couple crossword pages; 3) word search page; and 4) a couple mazes.

I do enjoy crosswords, word search and mazes, but I’m far too busy with my needlepoint project. I don’t have time for any of it, but I do think some of the seniors will enjoy the packets.

Also in the packet is “Resident Activity Suggestions at Home” which suggests we take a stroll over to the Community Garden to “Enjoy the shade from beautiful mature trees and birds who are always singing. There are 3 benches spaced more than 6 feet apart where you can visit with neighbors safely if desired. Pease wear your Mask”.

No thanks. I’m good without visiting outside. Besides, the Community Garden ─ created by residents before this management group took over, saved from being razed by them ─ because it’s a Certified Wildlife Habitat, when management’s construction crew tried to plow it under, might have murder hornets in those mature trees. Lol.

Say What?

Neighbor in the opposite downstairs unit — beneath next door neighbor, has been missing since the shutdown began.

Her car was gone, so I’d assumed she was sheltering in place with relatives.

Today she stopped by briefly.

As I was leaving for the Pain Cave — water bottle in one hand, trash bag to toss in the dumpster in the other, a young man I’d never seen before came out of her unit.

Rough looking character wearing a 49ers jacket.

Had I not seen him come out of her unit, I’d have paused at the door and been on guard as to whether I should step all the way out. But the fact he was associated with her, a relative I assumed, I turned the key in the door, locking it, and prepared to head down the stairs.

Hearing me come out, he looked up and said “Do you want me to take your trash to the dumpster for you?” said he.

“Why yes, that’s very sweet of you”, said I.

He trotted all the way up the stairs to take the bag from me and, as he headed down, I said, “This is so nice of you”.

“No problem”, said he. “I always respect my elders”.

HIS WHAT?! thought I. ME … AN ELDER?

How funny is it that I, at 76 years of age, somehow don’t think of myself as elderly. And hearing it put thusly, was a little insulted.

At any rate, when I got to the bottom of the stairs, I looked over to check on that penny — which yesterday was in its 7th week. Lo and behold, it was gone.

So either the neighbor stopping by her unit picked it up, or the young man with her saw the penny, picked it up and will all the day have good luck.

It WAS nice of him to help me out, but when I thanked him, he could have just said, “You’re welcome” and left off that elderly thing. LOL.

Remainder of the week, coming up on Mother’s Day, would normally find me making preparations to participate in a Mother’s Day 5K with Twin 2, after which we’d have a relaxing spa manicure/pedicure.

Covid-19 having put a kibosh on those activities, I was expecting nothing this Sunday … maybe a Happy Mother’s Day text.

Instead, I stop by the mailbox, find a package, in which was this from Twin 2 ….

How funny, sad, ironic and iconic is this tee. Not going to wear it, going to frame it.