Word on the Street

The new Community Manager has failed to produce a calendar for this month, but word on the street is the seniors are celebrating Mother’s Day on the 7^th with, as you might expect, another potluck.

Bingo and Potlucks, Potlucks and Bingo, it’s monotonous, but that’s how they roll around here … exceedingly slow.

The 7^th is a Pain Cave training day for me, so I’ll arrive late and just to take pics for the residents’ facebook page.

On the other hand, if Trainer ends up having to rearrange the schedule that day, I’ll attend and bring a new item I’d seen advertised on the internet. It’s nothing I can eat but thought it looked very Mother’s Day and know the seniors will enjoy.

Also, word is the long talked about 50’s Dance Party will happen in June.

This is something that the Residents Volunteer Activity Committee has been talking about for three years.

I’ll believe it when I see it on the calendar — that is if the new guy ever gets around to putting a calendar of events out.

Thing is … I love stuff like this and normally would sew up a poodle skirt and go the whole nine yards, except … I’ve come to know the seniors as a bunch of fuddy duddies. They’ll come to a themed event like Halloween, but won’t wear a costume. They don’t want to look foolish, and only come for the food and to sit and watch the two/three of us that do wear costumes.

That’s why I always win the costume contest, but it’s no fun winning by default — because so few participate.

In fact, after last year, I promised myself that was the last time. I’ll not dress for Halloween this year and I’m thinking the 50’s Dance Party will be more of the same — the fuddy duddies won’t dress for the occasion, they won’t dance, they’ll eat, sit and watch those of us that do dress and dance.

So, I don’t know. I’ll wait to see what my gut tells me if it’s worth dressing 50’s style when I know for sure the event is scheduled.

Returning from today’s workout, I ran into Handsome Man. He was all excited about a 50’s Party, or so he said, and told me to put his number in my phone, call to remind him once the event is scheduled.

What am I … his mom?

I’m not sure what THAT was about, but I said “No. I'm not doing that”.

“But I don’t go to the Community Room to see what’s posted”, said he.

“You get the Calendar of Events and we’ve had this discussion before about you not reading it”.

At any rate, Handsome Man may or may not get a calendar with this new Community Manager, but Handsome obviously has a pipeline because he knows about the party being planned for June and, if all else fails, he’d better walk his behind to the Community Room and check the board once in a while.

Last word I heard today on the street was Apache is planning a party for his birthday on the 18^th — a BBQ, all are invited.

I don’t feel compelled to bring a gift this year — besides, he’s the guy who already has everything, but he’s a huge fan or the Orange Traitor, so I’ll look around and see if anything pops up.

It’s Nice to Be Wanted BUT ....

Another invite from Q ─ my millennial friend in the Beach area.

This time it’s for Easter Brunch on Sunday, April 21.

Knowing my food restrictions would be too challenging for me in the face of all the great dishes Q will surely make, I thanked him for the invite and declined.

Wouldn’t you know he’s made my life complicated by not taking no for an answer. “I'm happy to make something you can eat. Did you say you can eat plain vegetables and potatoes? That's really easy to make” says he.

It’s not just the food restrictions but how complicated it is to go anywhere now. First there’s booking myself into a hotel, and the having to take the Instant Pot with me and pre-made meals to heat in the pot. THEN, much as I enjoy keeping up with the goings and doings of my Gen X and Millennial friends on Facebook, we have too little in common ─ other than we use to work together, to make socializing in person interesting for me.

Q’s graciousness has me now struggling for a way to say no.

Thinking to find a good reason to work through the complications of a road trip just to socialize, I began looking around for what I could combine to make the trip worth the effort. Plenty of 5Ks in that area, but none during the time period I’d be in the area ─ evening of Friday the 19th through early morning Monday the 22nd.

Twin 1 would be thrilled if I joined her on Skid Row as she and her group fed the homeless Saturday, but I’m not sure I could handle the surrounding filth and squalor. I’m the person who won’t go to the movies because it’s dark, I don’t know what’s crawling around on the floor, and I feel icky sitting in seats that thousands of others have sat in.

Grandbaby, whom I’ve thankfully not heard from since I helped her get her car out of impound, pay tickets and get insurance, suddenly sent me a message last night saying she loves and misses me and would like me to visit “us” at “their” new apartment when next I’m in the area.

I suspect the timing of hearing from her, all of a sudden, out of the blue, not wanting anything is the Universe urging me to make the trip, attend Q’s event.

If I do, I’m not sure I’ll pop in on Grandbaby. The “us” she speaks of is her boyfriend (white, 5 years older, Mormon background). I met him Thanksgiving, got a good vibe from him and all, so I’m okay if she’s okay BUT their relationship has reached the point where both are posting about being "in love”. I’m old, hardened, awake, so the mushy gushiness makes me want to throw up in my mouth a little.

So, all in all, I don’t know but, until I make a decision, I’m considering what meals I can take that won’t be too much trouble for me through that weekend, what I can have Q cook for me that won’t be too much trouble for him, whether there is anything the GenX, Millennials and I can find to converse about since they all still work, are raising children and I’m retired, free of responsibilities, whether I should brave the drive on the Los Angeles freeways to join Twin 1 in feeding the homeless, drop by Grandbaby’s place and try not to toss my cookies at the mushy gushiness.

So much to think about, including getting back on Monday the 22^nd, in time for my noon workout with the trainer.

Decisions, decisions.

I am so happy, satisfied, content, grateful for the life and schedule I now have, that I get thrown for a loop every time I get an invite to deviate from that life/schedule.

It’s nice to be wanted, but I wish Q had taken no for an answer.

Today was my fourth session with the personal trainer, and I have to say the Pain Cave is money well spent.

After the initial session caused everything to hurt, the trainer assessed where my weaknesses lie and is working me on resistance equipment and that which will build overall stamina and strength in my weak areas ─ knees, upper body.

My most fun activity is when I balance on a huge tire, jump up and down.

My least fun activity is planking. I can’t do one single plank to save my life. I’ve always known and said I have no upper body strength, so no surprise there, but it’s hilarious when he tells me to lay face down, assume the position, then tells me to lift up. I lay there like a beached whale, flat on my belly, grunting away but unable to get off the ground.

The trainer and I have a long way to go with upper body, but his treadmill workouts have me back to 5K competition level already. He calls it “muscle memory” ─ that I’ve recovered so quickly after losing my stamina from all that time as a couch potato.

Weekend with Generation X and Millennials

I was looking forward to this coming weekend away from the old folks, hanging with a younger crowd, but now I’m not.

A kid I met on the job some 25 years ago, whom I’ve maintained a friendship with through my job changes and retirement, through his job changes and a relocation to Fargo North Dakota -- where he opened a restaurant, a bakery and ran a Farmers Market, is on the move again. This time, he’s back in California, living in a fancy high-rise in San Pedro, hosting a Fleet Week Roof Top BBQ, which rooftop has a view of activities associated with Fleet Week, including the sights and sounds of the Beach Boy Concert.

It appears, San Pedro has gone through a radical urban renewal because, when I was growing up in a nearby community, San Pedro was not the place to be because it was strictly a seaport and stomping ground for sailors on leave — full of bars and girls. Now it appears the area is fancy housing and activities for the Gen Xers and Millennials.

I first met Q back in 1993, when he came to the office from a temp agency to cover my desk while I was on vacation and, when hired back to do other tasks for the law firm, made a point of coming over to meet me saying he wanted to see who the person was that had made covering the desk so easy for him because I’d left a step-by-step manual of what duties I performed for each of my three attorneys.

Though he was in his mid-20’s, I in my 50’s at the time, we just clicked.

Q clicked with a lot of people. He’s just one of those humans who seem to be blessed beyond belief. He’s honest, decent, people instinctively like him, good things magically appear for him, every venture he touches turns to gold.

And so it was that, after coming to the firm as a temp to cover my desk, he became the most requested temp, eventually hired permanent, rose through the ranks and became my supervisor — with my full support because he became a buffer between myself and the difficult to deal with attorneys.

There were three of us subordinates under Q and he was the most fun I ever experienced in a job situation. There were weekend jaunts — like the time all four of us went to Catalina Island, karaoke parties after work, all kinds of fun parties and events until a merger came along a few years later and sent us our separate ways – he to another department in Los Angeles, me to San Diego.

Still, I’d make my way to L.A. to attend Q events, even once blew off my own family to spend Thanksgiving with him -- met some of his new friends, met his mom.

THEN, a further merger sent Q to San Diego to, believe it or not, the same floor I worked on, where it was on again – dinners and things, introducing Q to new coworker friends I’d met.

He charmed them all and made some lasting friendships, even though Q did not like San Diego, eventually quit and struck out successfully on his own, eventually landing in Fargo to open his own business, look after his ailing mom.

His mom passed away recently so, with no reason to live in frigid cold Fargo, Q sold his businesses and is now back in town, involved in another venture, and rounding up us former coworkers/now long-time friends from L.A. and San Diego.

How could I say no to the roof top gathering, especially when people were Facebook messaging they were looking forward to seeing me again, and the invite came with the offer that if the drive from the Inland Empire is too much, I could spend the night at Q’s place.

Q’s new apartment is only 7 miles from my favorite hotel, so I opted for that instead so I could kick about on my own.

At least that was the plan until, after saying I’d be there, I learned the event doesn’t start until 4:00 in the evening, ending 11:00 that night.

I guess that’s what the younger crowd does, but I’m more a start at 11:00 a.m. end at 4:00 p.m. age group, so these hours are going to be a challenge for me.

Then, I learned that parking is plentiful in the area, but is going to be a problem because of the Fleet Street goings on, not to mention I’m worried about my food restrictions.

I’ve been cooking and freezing meals to warm up in the Instant Pot, so hotel meals are covered. But Q’s rooftop menu has me worried — “BBQ Chicken, hamburgers, sausages (maybe some Galbi - Korean beef ribs), veggies and there will be a lot of other stuff. We will also have Smores to toast on the firepit!”

I can deal with the veggies, but only if there’s no season salt or anything other than olive oil on them, plus I can take my own special turkey burgers to add to the grill, but everything is getting so involved now that I’m feeling attending is becoming more trouble than it’s worth.

My initial excitement at getting up close and personal with old younger friends is weaning. I’m seriously looking for a way out and soon, so I can cancel the hotel without a penalty.

To Party or Not to Party

That was the question.

Though yesterday’s heavy downpour didn’t stop -- not for a second, the precipitation in my head cleared and I messaged my friend of 40+ years that I would not be driving down for her husband’s 70th birthday party.

Felt a little guilty when she messaged me back a sad face saying she was looking forward to seeing me but, oh well, I’ll get over the guilt of disappointing her. She’ll get over the disappointment.

In retrospect, I think it was her strong desire for me to make an appearance that caused my indecisiveness but, when all was said and done, the desire to do what would make ME happy, and a matter of economics, were the deciding factors.

I received notification of the Route 66 Virtual Challenge yesterday morning.

Still bummed out at having to opt out of the Citrus Run because the heel spur in my left foot is still giving me grief, I’ve been further bummed out at not being able to participate in other 5Ks coming up.

Seeing that I could indoor bike the Route 66 Challenge of 2,280 miles, the question then became do I waste time, energy and x number of dollars in hotel fees to party for one night or do I invest time energy and around the same x number of dollars in a Schwinn Upright Bike.

Answer was a no brainer. The Schwinn won hands down and arrives on Monday.

On tap for today is beating other residents of the complex down to the Laundry Room.

It’s 5:00 in the morning and looks like, after a week-long downpour, we’ve been given a break, which means – with 178 apartment homes, it’ll be a stampede of residents heading for one of the three laundry rooms on the premises.

I’m attempting to beat ‘em all by heading down at the crack of dawn, well ahead of posted laundry room hours.

The 52-Week Money Challenge is also today, at 10:00. Rain or shine, I plan to go down to the Community Room to see what that’s about.

Happy Friday the 13^th!

Unforeseen Circumstances

Every year I get all the Christmas decorations packed away and, a day or so later, find some little something I missed. Last year, it was the wreath on the door. This year it was this little guy that didn’t register until this morning.

It’s a candy dish, but I switch out the regular holder at Christmas with this Santa, and at Halloween with a spooky holder.

I have a feeling that if I pull the patio decorations out of storage for Christmas 2017, I’m going to find mold, mildew and rust, because it never got warm enough to dry everything out, so items were packed away damp. They were all outdoor decorations, but it had rained so often and so hard, that I saw rust forming on metal parts and whatever that fabric was on the drums needed some serious sunlight to dry out, which it didn’t get; also, I was so not careful pushing the three-tier tree into storage that the tiers became unhinged, which means the whatever controls the lights probably got disconnected and might not work next time.

Oh well, no biggie. I’m not even sure I’ll be in the Christmas Spirit end of year and if I am, I’ll toss out the old mold mildew rusted and bring in some new.

New neighbor’s furniture arrived today. She’s got good taste. Before I lost interest and went back to my needlepoint, I saw a Tiffany Lamp and ginormous flat screen appear.

Would you believe I did it again?

I rsvp’d “yes” to a party invitation when I know I don’t like parties and always immediately begin looking for a way out.

On the rare occasion I receive a party invitation, attending seems like such a good idea. Then I get to thinking … thinking about not fitting in because I don’t dance, except for line dancing, don’t drink, can’t eat most of what’s served, and usually don’t know anyone other than the host or hostess.

In this case, in attendance will be folks I worked with back in the 60’s, but I seriously doubt I’ll recognize or remember any of them. I never paid much attention to them in the first place and, unlike the friend who sent me the invite, haven’t stayed in touch with or thought about them over the years.

The hostess in this case is the woman I’ve been friends with for over 40 years -- this is the friend I’d blogged about in 2015 that invited me to a monthly luncheon she started up with those still living and retired from the group we worked with back-in-the-day.

Not sure if I mentioned, but she’d also called because an old male friend wanted to be put in contact with me – was asking for my telephone number.

I’d, of course, declined the monthly luncheon because I didn’t remember the others much and wasn’t interested in becoming reacquainted.

Same with the guy.

Though I’d been interested in becoming involved back in the day, we never got beyond the friend zone. Now, with so many years separating then from now, what could we possibly talk about? So no … tell him to add me as a Facebook friend, if he likes, but do not give him my telephone number.

The occasion this time is her husband’s 70^th Birthday, which actually sounded like it might be a good time until I began thinking about how I’d not fit in and don’t care to socialize on a party level.

So here I am again, wanting out of a commitment, except I was a little smarter this time in that I rsvp’d “Yes, barring unforeseen circumstances”, which gives me if not a door at least a window through which to escape.

Unforeseen circumstances can simply be my saying, “Sorry, but I won’t be driving down that way after all” with no further explanation -- except I’m not completely sure I don’t want to step out of my comfort zone and go.

I've already cancelled the hotel, but have not yet let my friend know I won’t be coming because every time I think about letting her know, my mind is like “Yes, No, Maybe, I Dunno”.

I can always re-book the hotel, even if it’s the day of.

I just need clarity as to a definite yes or no.

Straight Outta Compton

The fact that I didn’t crave sugar yesterday is a sign I’m slowly coming to terms with having to go through with this weekend’s road trip (unless a sudden rain storm yet appears) – though I was tempted by a facebook friend’s posting of homemade cashew brittle to the point where I looked up the recipe with the idea in mind of making my own.

The recipe looked like way too much trouble for someone like me, who doesn’t enjoy cooking all that much, so I passed and got through the day without a sugar product – even passing up the See’s Candy Store, within walking distance of the nail salon I visited yesterday.

Glad I am that’s over – the squashing down of uncomfortable emotions with sugar, but now begins the detox process all over again.

In examining WHY the switch from looking forward to the trip to dreading it, I’m now thinking … how bad can it be?

A small get together has turned into a huge party, but I can’t be the only one there who won’t fit in because she doesn’t drink, can’t dance (unless it’s country line dancing), has to be careful what she eats, and doesn’t like having a lot of children pawing all over her.

Besides, daughter and her partner will be in attendance. Her twin – my estranged daughter is not invited, having distanced those family members she claimed to “love” and “family is everything” by unleashing upon then that same vicious acid tongue that caused estrangement between she and her twin, between she and I.

My hotel is walking distance from her beachfront apartment but, unless the Universe has us bumping into each other on the street, there will be no reconciliation.

Not that I harbor ill feelings towards estranged daughter -- she's my baby and I'm always going to love her in spirit. It’s just that the last time she lied to and disrespected me was the last time I'd suffer in silence -- let her get away with it without an apology.

The fact that, in the six years since, she once/twice offered up a gesture other than an apology doesn’t cut it. She went too far, too deep that last time, and I won’t trust her with my time, my heart, not to repeat as she has so many times before, jeopardizing my peace of mind, sanity, financial well being until she reaches the level of consciousness where she can wake up and “see”, begin to accept responsibility for self, never to repeat and apologize.

So having got that off my chest and having come to terms with the road trip, I’m looking on tomorrow’s adventure as somewhat my Trip toBountiful experience.

I was born in Los Angeles, which makes of me a bonafide born angel, but I and my oldest brother, grew up in Compton -- yep, this bonafide angel, this redneck in a Black woman’s body is straight outta Compton, which is a hop skip and jump away from the hotel in Long Beach. Consequently, I’m thinking of checking out the house where sister and the other brothers were born, where I grew up, the elementary school we attended, the apartment a few miles away where I raised my children.

Here at the complex, this morning is bi-annual inspection day, where the smoke detector is checked, the a/c filter changed out. This afternoon is Movie Day – Christmas Vacation and tomorrow, unless I get that rain storm, I’m headed out.

See you when I return, with hopefully only good things to say.