Money Just Falling Out of the Sky

Waking up this morning ……… checking my fingers and toes, I found they were all still there and nothing like gangrene looked to be setting in. So, as long as I continue with antiseptics, don’t wear any polish until my nails recuperate from the trauma done to them by the old ladies at the nail salon, I think I’m okay.

After this morning’s workout, I went on a hunt for eggs.

I had a feeling my regular market wasn’t going to have Eggland’s Best in stock, so I didn’t even bother. I drove to a different market, where I’ve been having good luck finding them.

That market had plenty of eggs available but, surprisingly, none were Eggland’s Best, so I pivoted back to my regular market and scored a 18-count carton.

When Trainer was a young man just starting off in the world, he actually worked for that market, knows a lot of people there, and since I often shop directly after working out, still wearing my Pain Cave shirt, those people know I’m a client and are extra friendly with me ……… ask about my workouts, complain about their jobs.

One of those is the guy who stocks the eggs.

After responding to his query about this morning’s workout, I thought to capitalize on my knowing him, get a leg up on Eggland’s Organic eggs, so I asked if he could tell me which day would be best to come in to make sure I get my hands on Egglands.

The way he explained it is that he puts in a request, they come when they come, but "you have to get here early" because they go as quickly as they come in.

That wasn’t much help, so now I’m thinking that, if those eggs get any harder to find, I’ll press my knowing him as a friend of Trainer's ……… ask him to call Trainer, tell Trainer to let his client (me) know when the eggs are in.

At any rate, I go through 3 eggs a day (two whites, one whole egg most if not every morning for breakfast), so I’m good for at least the next six days.

Weird thing about that 18-count carton is that, just last week, I’d paid $9.99 for a carton of 12 and today paid the same …… $9.99 for 18.

Did the cashier make a mistake, ring me up incorrectly?

I don’t know, but I didn't look a gift horse in the mouth and question it.

Speaking of gifts …… though I didn’t find eggs at that first market, made no other purchase there, I walked away $20 richer than when I entered because, walking down an isle, I saw something that looked like folded green paper on the floor.

Curious, I reached down, picked it up, unfolded and …… It was a $20 bill.

There was no one in the isle for me to ask if they’d dropped it, so it’s free money. However, I don’t feel right about keeping it. So, I put it in the visor of the car and will pull it out, donate to the next panhandler that asks for money.

When pivoting back to my regular market, I stopped along the way for gas and, as I stepped out of the car, spotted a dime at my foot.

Money just falling out of the sky, thought I.

Long time readers might recall that, just before my sister passed, she’d told family members she’d leave quarters to let us know she was around.

After she passed, I’d find quarters in front of See’s Candy Store, at my feet when I stepped out of the car — wherever I was, inside the Pain Cave under equipment I'd just worked on, falling out of the dryer of the complex when I opened the door to put my clothes in, just quarters everywhere.

When the Great Granddaughter was born, looking very much like my sister ……… in the same hospital where sister passed away, the quarters stopped.

I've not seen a single quarter in the two years since the baby was born.

At any rate, no one told me to look for dimes. So, since I didn’t know who this soul/spirit was, I didn’t pick it up ……… it might be my ex husband or an old boyfriend. I left it for the next person to come along, take the chance.

What Could Go Wrong?

It was so annoying this morning when, watching a program where the cops had the serial killer in the interrogation room, gotten him to confess to unaliving three women and he was about to tell the investigators what he’d done with the bodies that the power, without any prior notice, no warning, went out.

Unless and until I catch a repeat of whatever program that was, I’ll never know where the bodies were hidden.

The previous day had been such a warm day that I’d had to run the A/C and, just before the power went out, I was planning to run the A/C again because the unit was hot from my having used the oven to cook breakfast and the heat of the sun coming in through the patio window.

With now no TV to watch and working on that never ending needlepoint project out of the question in an uncomfortably hot unit, no A/C, I began thinking of options to get away until power was restored.

I could head to the mall — walk/train for an upcoming 5K, pop into Macy’s to replenish my Estee Lauder Cinnabar perfume and stop by See’s Candy to replace the candy I’d lost during those last outages, one a weeklong outage.

Another option was to walk around the complex or drive to the University, walk/train there for that upcoming 5K.

My last option was, inasmuch as I’d removed the polish from my nails earlier that morning, saw that my nails could do with professional conditioning, I could drive to that nail salon that takes walk-ins, get a manicure/pedicure.

Not wanting anyone to see my unconditioned, no polish nails, I decided against the Mall, passed on training, headed to the nail salon.

This would be the nail salon that did such a terrible polish job back in April.

That salon had done a satisfactory job on shaping and conditioning but, heading back to the complex I’d noticed the polish already coming off the tip of the thumb nail, the child-like polish job around the bed of every single nail as well with polish painted over onto my skin ……… nails and toes.

I really would have liked to have called Nora at the other salon in the area. However, Nora does gel and her prices, though worth her good work, are too costly, so I decided to give the bad paint job salon a second try. Only this time, I’d request no-polish, just a $38 trim, shape, cuticle trimming, condition, sea salt exfoliation.

What could go wrong?

There were no other clients when I walked into what looked like Senior Citizen’s Day. The receptionist and the five nail technicians all looked to be in their 60’s and over.

What could go wrong?

Well for one, the two old ladies that worked simultaneously on the mani/pedi, both nicked me with their instruments …… more than once. I’d wince, say "Ouch, be careful" and am now wisely treating the areas with antiseptics.

Also, when all was said and done, $38 ended up $60 — not unusual, though I never can figure out how these places always quote one price and, once the work is done, it’s never the price quoted; plus, I always tip $10 to manicurist $10 to pedicurist because work is work, even when it's a bad job or you've hurt me with your instruments; so $80 total.

And, lastly ……

I actually am surprised this salon is still in business. Senior nail technicians are heavy handed …… give good pedicure, and the pedicure, except for geting nicked a time or two was fine, it’s just that senior techicians are not good at manicures.

Next time, I’ll call Nora, pay whatever the cost if she can give me a regular mani/pedi, no gel.

At least power had been restored by the time I returned to the complex.

Happy Birthday America

Insofar as I know, there’s not a lot going on around here in terms of celebrating, and it’s going to be too hot for me to step outside, check the pool area to see if I'm wrong.

I do know the pool has been busy this week, not only with little Knock Knock’s family, but I saw a couple other groups — children accompanied by adults I've not seen around before, going to/from the pool.

So much for the new pool rule — "residents only and only two guests per resident".

No matter to me the rule is not being followed, because I don’t live over the pool to be disturbed by the hoop and holler of kids. If I did live over the pool, it still would be no matter to me, as I like the sound of kids enjoying themselves.

On Tuesday, I found an Activity Calendar for this month attached to the door.

I didn’t notice it until 10:30 a.m., glanced at it briefly and saw there was a 4th of July event scheduled for the Community Room THAT MORNING — "Social 4th of July celebration: Come celebrate 4th of July in the Community Room and enjoy a donut! 10:00 am – 11:30 am".

Really? A whole donut? Golly gee wow, management went all out, bared no expense.

With such late notice, I figured few, if any, had seen the Calendar posted to their doors: ergo, few would show up. So, I quickly threw on my summer outfit, headed down to check things out.

I was correct — few were in attendance, actually three ladies, one being the Baker.

The one box of store-bought donuts was festive though. Had red/white/blue sprinkles on them, LOL.

It was there, in the Community Room, I learned why we’d had no Activity Calendar posted to our doors last month ………… we didn’t have an Activity Director last month, she’d quit. We now have a new AD.

I do not have high hopes of the new AD getting things up and moving around here insofar as activities for us seniors, not just because though money is budgeted for activities but not always provided to the AD, but because, according to her, she has no experience, doesn’t know what is generally or usually done as an AD.

The Baker has taken it upon herself to work with this new AD, make suggestions. So, we’ll see how it goes because folks around here really need something to do with their time.

This became apparent to me when Little Knock Knock knocked knocked knocked on the door yesterday, and I went downstairs to gossip chat with Grandma Talker.

Hearing voices, Next Door Neighbor actually walked out onto her patio to listen. Didn't say anything, just looked/listened.

I don't know who lives in the upstairs unit across the quad directly adjacent to mine, because in all these years, I've never seen that person open their blinds.

However, not only did NDN come out, as Talker and I were chatting, but I saw the blinds AND window open on that unit.

When all one has is to jump up, run to the patio and/or open the window to see who's talking, what's being said, they really need something to do with their time.

The month of June has come/gone and still no sign of the usual rent increase.

It’s too much to hope that means we’ll not get an increase this year, it will come but, inasmuch as 30-days’ notice has to be given, the longer they delay the bad news is to our benefit of an additional month at the current rate.

The lady that moved into Red Light’s unit continues to get special care by the County, which makes me think she might be ill.

Looks can be deceiving, one never knows what another is challenged with, so though she doesn’t look ill, just appears very fragile, something is amiss because first there was her being personally moved in by the County, with what looked to be new furniture provided by the County and now, a day or so ago I saw a woman in a County car bring her a cart full of groceries.

Compton and I continue to avoid each other, but that means there’s no chance of my getting a photo for you to marvel at ………… him???? that scrawny kid???? all he did was bring in a box, it wasn't like he gave you a kidney, what did he think that was worth in return???

So, anyway, I'll be celebrating the 4th with my usual daily activities of needlepoint, catching up on recorded TV shows, and I'll round the day off with a Carrot Dog, maybe two.

I did, over the weekend, give myself a patriotic mani/pedi.

I leave you with Little Edie’s (Grey Gardens) tribute to the day.

I never get tired of Little Edie's dance and the story/history of Grey Gardens.

Hanky Panky?

Preparing to do my nails today. I removed my polish last night, saw that my nails needed smoothing and conditioning by a professional.

After having to give up my long-time pedicurist, because the male owners of the salon kept screwing up my appointments, last time I had professional work done was September of last year when one of Trainer’s female fighters recommended the "older, short, fat one" at a nearby salon and I ended up with Nora at 11:00.

Nora did a great job, it was worth the half hour I had to wait for my 11:00 appointment, but Nora was incredibly expensive ……… $100, plus I tipped $20 which I later calculated should have been $15.

At Nora’s prices, no way was I going to try to get an appointment with her today ……… would not have been able to anyway, as Nora is booked up weeks in advance.

I decided to try a salon over by the University that I knew took walk-ins.

Preparing to head out, I saw what I assumed was Next Door Neighbor’s son entering her unit, followed by a female.

Hmmmmm, what hanky panky is this?, thought I.

My mind went to hanky panky because out of the vault popped the memory of when my ex-husband’s married uncle would sometimes use our apartment during the day, when we were at work, with ex’s permission, for a hookup with his girlfriend.

Returning from the nail salon with a satisfactory shaping and conditioning, but less than satisfactory $60 paint job, plus $10 tip for manicurist, $10 tip for pedicurist, I could smell cigarette smoke coming from NDN’s unit as I walked up the stairs, saw the kitchen blinds were open and what appeared to be cooking going on.

It appears someone is now living in NDN’s unit for the time being.

NDN is not gonna like her unit smelling like cigarettes when she returns.

As for that less than perfect paint job …. when I sat down in the chair the Deluxe 1 was quoted as $38. I must have sat in the chair way longer than I thought because, once the work was done, the price of goods (nail polish) and services (manicurist/pedicurist) increased to $60.

It is what it is, so I didn’t make a big deal of the price increase — that’s not my style. I tipped, headed back to the complex and, on the way, noticed the paint already coming off the tip of the thumb nail and child-like paint job around the bed of the nail.

The manicurist's child-like paint job is repeated in the nail bed of every single nail.

Once upstairs, taking a good look at work done by the pedicurists, it's amateur ville there as well with paint on my skin.

I really don't want to have to pay Nora at 11:00's prices but, next time I need professional work done, I may have to.

Everything Everywhere All at Once

Season 45 of Survivor begins tomorrow.

I’ve never missed a season, don’t plan on missing this one, but the thing is Big Brother has yet to conclude (I’m rooting for Matt to win) and Amazing Race is waiting in the wings ready to jump into the lineup.

What with Halloween Wars, the Halloween Baking Competition, Cookie Challenge, Outrageous Pumpkins, et al., it’s everything everywhere all at once.

The seniors had yet another food fest hosted by Activity Director today — a Welcome Fall Luncheon.

I wasn’t planning on attending, could not have attended even if I had wanted to because I was scheduled with Nora at 11:00.

Inasmuch as the seniors were being encouraged to "Wear your favorite football team to show who you’re rooting for this football season", had I gone, I’d have worn my Twilight Team Jacob tee, cause that’s the only team shirt I own.

Eleven o’clock with Nora almost didn’t happen.

I’m a punctual person. Actually, always early so as to not inconvenience others. So, arriving 10:50, I checked in, took a seat, and it really chapped my hide when eleven o’clock came and went.

I don’t know if the client she was working on was late, which pushed into my 11:00 but, along about 11:20, I had this urge to just get up and walk out.

Shame to do so, thought I, because I really liked the vibe of the salon, and loved this sign on the salon wall.

I knew that, had I walked out, it would be another salon I can never return to so, desperately in need of a mani/pedi, I forced myself to be patient but, making the decision to be patient only for so long, set the alarm on the phone to 11:30 and, if not called to Nora’s station when the alarm went off, I’d get up, walk out, no explanation.

She called me up at 11:28.

Happy with the work she did, the vibe of the salon, I told myself to not be so annoyed if it happened again which, looking at the popularity of the salon, it will. So, I’ll be prepared for a wait next time with a book to read, because the work she did was worth the wait.

As you can see, done waiting for October 1 — the First of Halloween to get here, I decided yesterday was close enough and put up the front door decorations, and a new header this afternoon.

I’ll probably string the candy corn lights on the patio railing before I take off for the weekend, and return on Monday with only having spider webs and Skully the skeleton to put in place.

BTW, Nori isn’t any older than the other girls in the salon. They’re all about the same age, and are Swifties — fans of Taylor.

It’s a good thing I’m a bit of a Swiftie myself because, along with my favorite country music, they played quite a lot of Taylor in the salon, while speculating she is in fact dating that football player.

All in all, looks like I’ve at last found a nail salon and no longer have to do my own mani/pedis.

The thought did occur to me that, inasmuch as I now know Nora will likely always be running late, that I should arrive late.

Thing with that is, it would be just my luck she'd be running on time the day I showed up late.

I once did just that with a hairdresser who would stay home until I arrived ... on time, have someone from the shop call her to say your client has arrived then, after having me wait, she would leave home, arrive at the shop acting all important and stuff.

Why?

I've no idea, except it pleased her to do so.

When I decided to not play this game with her again, to not book her or return to that salon in the future, I pranced myself in very late.

She was in the salon waiting and looked shitfaced when I walked in saying I was late because I knew she wouldn't be there anyway, would have made me wait.

Too stunned to react, and embarrassed — because the other stylists were smirking at her (they knew what I'd done, why, and enjoyed the drama), she nevertheless did my hair, and that was the last of us.

I bet she learned her lesson, and never tried to play that game again with another client.

Nora at 11:00

The mani/pedi I gave myself last weekend didn’t last as long as I would have liked. Probably because I tried a new product — OPI Chip Skip … a prep coat which supposedly is to prevent chipping.

It did not.

If anything, it caused last week’s polish to begin chipping sooner, the very next day in fact. So yesterday, I took the polish off, prepared to give myself a fresh mani/pedi.

But then I thought, since I’ve a road trip planned for next weekend, it would be a good idea to let the professionals do the work, so polish will last, and I can just do a touchup if needed.

Having gotten the name of the salon where the "older, short, fat one" works, I checked their work online. No names of the various stylists, but their work looked to be first class designer nails, so I suited up headed for the salon.

I almost laughed out loud at the audacity of my walking in on a Saturday (busiest day of the week for a nail salon) thinking they could fit in a simple mani/pedi, when I saw every chair, every station had a client being worked on and customers waiting their turn.

At any rate, a woman I assumed was the owner, paused her work on a customer, asked if she could help me.

"I was wondering if you had an opening for a regular mani/pedi, but I can see you’re full up", said I.

"Let me check the book" said she and, as she stood up, walked away from her customer, I quickly looked around to see if I could spot the "older, short, fat one".

Every girl working there was a cute little Size 1 so, bless her heart, standing out like a sore thumb, she was easy to spot.

She didn’t appear to be "old" per se. Just older than the other girls.

As the woman I assumed to be the owner was checking the book, to see who could fit me in that day, I said, "Do you see the girl with the flower in her hair, wearing a white blouse? She came recommended. I’d like to book with her".

Being told she was working on the last client she planned on taking that day, I booked an appointment for my next free day — Tuesday at 11:00 with Nora.

I’m not accustomed to going without polish, so I’ll be feeling conspicuous next few days, hoping no one notices my unpolished hands and toes.

It will be nice to relax in a spa chair, as next week looks to be cra cra with Friday being bingo, driving to Long Beach on Saturday to attend Sunday’s baby shower for the great granddaughter expected to arrive soon, returning on Monday, Day 2 of Halloween when I can at last begin decorating the patio.

Needless to say, I will not be working out this coming Friday or the following Monday, as I've travel prep work to do (what to eat so I won't get sick, what to wear that will piss off White Grandma) and will be driving back on Monday's workout day with Halloween decorating to be done.

As for why I want to piss off White Grandma .... she's a jealous old judgmental Karen/Boebert biddy that makes my skin crawl.

I've only met her once in person, and that was at the Thanksgiving meet and greet just after the kids were married and expecting the Great Grandson to me, Grandson to her.

White Grandpa was a delight, while White Grandma looked at me with cold dark eyes. I could tell she was upset because I didn't look like what she'd expected a Black Great Grandma to look like, while she herself, just a grandma, looked like 30 miles of dirt road.

She was oozing with jealousy and tried unsuccessfully to either impress me with talk of owning property, having tenants or tried to make me jealous she has so much and I'm poor.

She even bragged about having a quilt made for the baby.

It was just too obvious that she was disturbed and jealous of my looks and how White Grandpa and I jelled.

At any rate, that was the one and only time we've met in person and since then a sort of rivalry has developed, and I can sense her feelings.

While she was having that quilt made for the baby, I was in the process of making one, which was later presented at the baby's shower, that I did not attend.

I have it that, when White Grandma saw the quilt I'd made, she was soooo jealous that she took her's back to make it "better" and did produce a crochet quilt that, in my estimatation, was nice but still didn't match my quilt.

"I win", said I to granddaughter.

Can't wait to see what she's going to try to upstage the quilt I'm presenting at Sunday's baby shower. Maybe gift the new baby with one of her properties. LOL.

At any rate, having since learned how critical and judgmental White Grandma is of others, when I saw her pop up as following my Instagram, I blocked her arse.

Now knowing how jealous she is without reason, I want to piss White Grandma/Karen/Boebert off just because I do ..... and without even trying.

Hot, Muggy, Drama Free

This past weekend went well. I had no contact with, nor did I observe any of the Usual Suspects so, if there was any drama afoot, I did not hear about it.

Notwithstanding today being a sad reminder of 9/11, the week started off well with my getting a promising referral to a nail salon from Trainer’s primo female fighter.

She didn’t know the name of the nail technician. Just said she’s the "older, short, fat one" and really good on pedicures.

Older ladies do tend to give the best pedicures as they deep clean and scrub to the point of almost taking the skin off your bones. However, the younger girls give better manicures. So sounds like it will be a tradeoff — great pedicure, iffy manicure, but we shall see.

I did my own mani/pedi over the weekend, so it will be some time before I check out the salon, but I’ve got a good feeling about this referral.

Of course, I can’t walk in, ask for the "older short fat one" so, when the time comes, hopefully I’ll get eyes on her and can just point, say "that one", LOL.

Tomorrow is the beginning of a massive inspection.

Not the usual local housing department inspection, where management kept the inspectors away from units they didn’t want the inspectors to see, and led them to vacant units in tip top condition.

This time it's the independent body that monitors compliance in order for Corporate, and the complex, to continue to receive whatever State tax deductions they receive.

Supposedly, management has no control over which units are inspected, the inspectors decide, and the inspectors are mostly only here to see that "fixtures" operate properly.

It’s a good thing Assistant Maintenance Guy corrected all the shoddy work Head Maintenance Guy did with my kitchen and bathroom faucets and, with no other problems in this unit, it’s a no problem pass for management if this unit is chosen.

Considering all the problems I’ve heard others have in their units, I’m not so sure. But management is skirring around, covering their arses with notices posted to our doors to "Please confirm that all fixtures are in proper working condition, notify management immediately of any concerns".

So NOW they care.

This sudden caring that fixtures are working properly will last only as long as the inspection and it’s a long inspection — from the 12th through the 20th, 9 Days

No telling what the inspectors will find from hanging around here that long.

The bad thing is that if management loses any tax benefits, they’ll pass their financial loss off onto us with higher rents.

Going to be an interesting nine days.

You See … What Had Happened Was

You can’t believe how happy I am for this week to come to an end. Way too much has been going on.

Actually, thinking back, too much has been going on for some time … period. I’ve consistently had something to blog about, haven’t had an "I’ve got nothing" post since November of 2022.

I really need things to slow down, be less interesting for a while.

Icing on the cake for the end of this week is that today is a no-bingo Friday. I can take a little break, lock myself away from the world until Monday, and if Red Light doesn’t hold a seance underneath my window, have nothing interesting to post for a while.

Looking at the jeep’s instrument panel, on my way to this morning’s workout, checking the psi show, I’m fairly convinced I’m being paranoid about losing pressure in the passenger side rear tire.

I’m a little traumatized by Tuesday's blowout, not expecting the paranoia to go away anytime soon, so I’ll continue to check in on that psi show.

Arriving for my 12:15 appointment at the tire place yesterday, being told the process would take about 45 minutes, I thought to spend the time getting a mani/pedi at the salon I spied two buildings down.

Sticking my head inside the salon door, I saw a young lady working on a customer. "May I help you?", said she.

"Do you take walk-ins?"

"Yes. Have a seat at the chair on the end".

I settle down in the chair, take my toe rings off, so they won’t get washed away in the warm soapy foot spa water — as they have in the past, and put them away for safe keeping.

After a minute or two or three went by, I could hear a noise coming from the back room. It sounded like I’d arrived while the manicurist was eating her lunch, so I patiently waited another few minutes.

You see, what happened was … When the curtain to the back room finally opened, out came this old grandfatherly looking guy — and yes, I said old, because in his case it fit, while the shoe did not fit when tossed towards me.

When I saw him go to fill the manicure bowl, realized he was the manicurist, my eyes got wide, my spirit whispered "No", so I got up, began walking towards the exit door.

Behind me, I could hear grandpa manicurist say something. I didn’t make out what he said, but replied "No" just the same and fled the salon, no explanation.

I’m not proud of how I reacted — panicking, running out, and I’m sorry if I hurt grandpa’s feelings, but my reaction seemed the necessary thing to do at the time as I could not fanthom the idea of grandpa rubbing my feet, my arms, legs, touching me …… period.

In retrospect, grandpa was probably the owner, down a few manicurists, a skilled manicurist himself, and probably not as old as he looked, younger than I even, but still …………

At any rate, even if I see tons of manicurists working in the salon, next time in the area, I can’t show my face there again.

Trainer tells me he had the same thing happen to him, back when he was working as a physical therapist — only HE was the one to walk out.

When he entered the treatment room, the client took one look at him, said "NO!", so he immediately turned around, walked out, went to the front desk, explained what had just happened, and a physical therapists to the client’s liking was arranged for.

Trainer said he didn’t take it personal so, hopefully, grandpa isn’t too hurt by my running from him.

Wrong Again

Arriving at the nail salon, I could see more bulbs have burned out on the sign.

It now reads “acial waxing”.

Which is an improvement on the “racial waxing” it previously displayed.

Arriving on time, I was immediately seated, and the pedicure began in a timely manner this time, but the guy receptionist/manager still got it wrong.

He once again failed to book a manicurist.

Just as Kim was finishing the pedicure, she asked, "Are you going to get the same color on your nails?"

"I’d planned on it but, since no one has started on the nails, let’s take that off the bill".

"I’ll do it for you" says she.

As I mentioned the last time that guy got it wrong back in March, and Kim had to step in and do both, she’s an older woman who can do wonders on a pedi, but makes for a lousy manicurist.

I had to ask her to correct areas where nails she’d shaped appeared lopsided and, once back at the complex, I had to do 911 with an emery board, to smooth jagged edges. Not to mention the paint job didn’t last two days.

Inasmuch as I can do a better job on my own nails, I declined her stepping in this time. However, not wanting to hurt her feelings I made out like I didn’t have any more time to spend in the salon.

The guy who screwed it up again and who runs the place like a plantation, ever watchful on what the girls are doing — working or talking, came out of nowhere to see what was going on.

Speaking to him in their language, she must have told him there’d been confusion as to who was doing the manicure.

He turned to me and said, "I thought you said Kim was going to do it".

Knowing him to be a screwup, trying to avoid another mishap when I'd booked the session, I'd attempted to lock in the name of the manicurist by asking him "Who is going to do the manicure?".

"Whoever is available" was his cocky answer so, at that time, he knew I was looking for a manicurist and should have written it down next to the appointment.

Lucky for hin, while seated in the chair having the pedicure done, I’d been plugged into the Apple iPod, and was listening to a medication tape.

The speaker has just said the secret to a harmonious existence is to not react to appearances of discord, stay calm. So, all mellowed out, I just calmly said, "No" held up two fingers, continued with "and this is your second time" then slowly shook my head as if to say you poor pathetic fool.

He kept apologizing.

I did not say don’t worry, it’s okay, because it wasn’t. I just gave him that I'm disappointed in you look and shook my head.

Maybe if he paid more attention to what he himself is doing, rather than keeping an eye on the girls, working them like slaves, he’d not make so many mistakes.

So, anyway, I stopped off at Ulta Beauty on the way back to the complex, purchased a color to match the toes and will do my own mani some time tomorrow.

The trip to Floor & Décor was enlightening. The business should be called Floor & Walls, because that’s all I saw and nothing I’d classify as décor.

Fortunately, construction on the next-door Home Store had been completed and the store was open.

Looking for a new patio chair, I was drawn to one of the Egg-Shaped chairs and will probably go that way if I can find a store that delivers a fully assembled chair.

Walking through the front door of the store, this is what I saw.

They ready.

Of course, I had to browse the Halloween Isle. Captured a few photos of gnomes to show Debra (She Who Seeks).

Couldn’t resist buying this little guy for myself.

I'm seriously thinking about going back and getting this spooky tree.

I don't imagine we'll have a Halloween Patio Contest, as that was a one-time deal concocted by Manager No. 9, and he's gone. But I always decorate for Halloween anyway, so why not.

FRI-DAY!!!

I do love my Fridays, and not because it’s bingo around here, but because it’s the last workout of the week and I can sit on my behind and veg out for two days in a row.

That is unless it’s a 5K weekend, which it won’t be until October when I once again do the Mission Inn 5K — the race with the daunting hills.

Bingo was no wins for me this time around. I didn’t wear my lucky shirt.

However, inasmuch as I won last time not wearing the shirt, but wearing a leopard face mask, I tried Debra’s (She Who Seeks) theory that maybe the mask is my new lucky attire and wore it today.

Nope.

Maybe because I didn’t wear the matching leggings.

So, next time I’ll put the two together, see if they make me lucky because I’ve got my eye on winning the soup cup I saw on the prize table.

Younger Sister joined us today.

Addicted to soap operas, Younger Sister generally passes on all activities and is glued to the tube during the day.

Seeing her walk through the doors, sit at my table, I said, "Does this mean the TV is not working?"

She laughed and said she just needed to do something different today.

Younger Sister hasn’t been mentioned in the blog for years because …… soap operas, though I have run into her at the market a time or two where she says she’s picking up "snacks" to munch on when she gets back to the soaps.

Her backstory is — moving in at age 49, she did not qualify to live here. However, having never worked, never lived independent of a family member — mother, brother, she somehow got signed on as caregiver to her Older Sister, who did meet the age requirement.

That was 7 years ago, so she now meets the age qualification and doesn’t have to pretend to be caregiving a sister who is in better shape than she is.

Still a relatively young woman, because she’s always been sheltered by a relative, she’s missed out on a lot of life saying, "I want to experience being married, having children, a place of my own", was always saying what she’s going to do towards those goals but, these years later, never gets much further than her bedroom, watching soap operas.

Older Sister says the family has "spoiled" Younger Sister. Sounds more like they’ve "ruined" her. Enabled her to the point where she never grew in life.

So, anyway, she said something to me at bingo that threw me for a loop.

Pointing out the Talker, asking me who she was and if she lived here, I filled her in on how long Talker has lived here, which building she lives in and mentioned Talker has a Karen.

"A what?" says Younger Sister.

"A Karen".

"What’s that?"

Younger Sister has lived and is still living way too sheltered a life.

On tap for tomorrow is a mani/pedi.

I don’t really need one but, looking to replace the patio’s Adirondack chair — which has seen better days, not finding anything online that moved me, I thought about checking out the new Floor & Décor that opened up in that shopping center. So, since I’ll be in the area, why not treat myself to a mani/pedi.

I don’t think I’ll be experiencing what I experienced last time because I told the person setting up the appointment, "I want a time when Kim is absolutely free. I don’t want it to be a double-booking session like last time when you made me wait an entire hour".

The person stumbled on his words, then assured me "No … No … No double booking".

You and I both know it had nothing to do with double booking, but was prioritizing based on skin color. Nevertheless, I’ve no problem with walking out and heading to Floor & Décor if they try that crap again.

Pick a Color and Tiny Hands

I came thisclose yesterday, to removing my feet from the spa chair tub, drying them, walking out.

Arriving at the nail salon at 10:55 for my 11:00 appointment I was greeted by one of the managers by name. How he knew who I was became clear when I saw my pedicurist just starting a manicure on another client.

The guys who manage the salon run it like a sweat shop. They hoover in around and over the women, silently intimidating them, ordering them about in their language. The women keep their heads down, keep quiet, do what they have to do to keep their job.

Having my own self been there done that for many years — head down, kept quiet, did what I had to do to survive in toxic work environments, I recognize the signs — not to mention my pedicurists, though she would not dare speak up, she makes facial expressions to me and rolls her eyes to let me know how she feels about whatever is going on at any given time.

So, putting two and two together, I deduced the manager knew my name because, when he ordered my pedicurist to do a manicure on this other client, she would have said something to the effect that her regular, me, had an appointment, would be walking through the door any moment.

Obviously, he didn’t care.

It took some 45 minutes for my pedicurists to get to me.

At the 30-minute mark, I was seriously considering drying my feet, walking out; but I really needed a pedicure and having invested 30 minutes already in waiting, figuring I didn’t have much longer to wait, that I might as well stick it out.

I did, however, make a bargain with myself to skip the manicure because I can do that myself.

When my pedicurist finally made it over to me, she brought the manicurist with her, so I settled in for what I’d requested and had scheduled for 45 minutes earlier.

Asking my pedicurist what was going on, she whispered something to me I couldn’t make out, because she was talking low, careful not to be heard by the manager or any kiss ass coworker who’d rat her out, but her face and the way she rolled her eyes towards the male managers told it all.

There’s a high turnover with the younger girls. They probably say to heck with these guys and go work at the mall, but the two older ladies (my pedicurist and one other) are kinda stuck, so they are the only constant.

This new thing of young people no longer willing to tolerate toxic working conditions, leaving fast food establishments scrambling or closing their doors altogether, appears to have caught up with the salon. They were very short staffed. That’s why my pedicurist had been told to do a manicure. That’s also why one of the male managers himself was jumping in, working on clients.

I was observing all this while the manicurist had almost finished my hands, was just starting to paint one of my nails when, all of a sudden, the manager I’d seen removing fake nails from a client, suddenly appeared hoovering over and startling my manicurist, quickly whispered something in her ear which caused her to immediately stop painting and jump up so quick that she smeared polish around the nail she had begun painting.

Then POOF, she was gone, later to be seen working on another client.

I guess he ordered her to stop painting me, service this other client who'd just been seated. BTW, this newly seated client was White, as was the client my pedicurist had been ordered to service. I noticed it was just I and one other Black lady that were made to wait. Everyone not Black got seated and serviced immediately— even if the manager himself had to step in.

I was left befuddled for a few minutes by the loss of the manicurist, after which that manager returned, picked up the bottle of polish and looked to begin painting my nails.

"What happened to my manicurist?" asked I.

"Nothing, nothing happened to her", he said in a so what tone.

"Well, obviously something happened to her, because a moment ago, she looked like a woman. Now, she looks like a man, she looka like a man". (I repeated and reverted to speaking like Ms. Swan of MadTV).

My pedicurist cracked up hearing what I’d said, as did the girls working within ear shot.

I hope they don’t get punished for laughing at his expense.

So, anyway, I’m loyal to my pedicurist. As long as she’s working there, I’ll keep coming back.

As for Tiny Hands, some fun memes popped up as a result of Cassidy Hutchinson’s testimony before the Jan 6 committee.

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.