Is My Face Red

Yesterday …… realizing I’d not received this month’s Activity Calendar, I headed for the office to pick one up, detouring by the big bin to toss trash.

Seems the car that parks near the dumpster – the one that had its windows smashed all to heck, was not out for repairs after all. Instead, the owner has replaced it/parking a little white car instead.

Not bringing the original vehicle back, now parking a different one, only deepens the mystery of why that particular car was targeted in the first place.

Kinda reminds me of when my girls were around 10-years old and we were living in an apartment in Compton. The next-door neighbor had a dispute with the landlord, decided not to pay rent.

The landlord did not serve her with eviction papers, did not take her to court. Instead, he had his "boys" sneak into the parking area one night, smash ALL the windows to her car out.

She couldn't prove landlord had anything to do with the vandalism, but we all knew their dispute was related and feeling unsafe, next-door neighbor promptly moved out.

Next time I run into the Talker, I’ll have to remember to ask what she knows about this current situation of windows smashed/different car.

So, anyway, there were two things I’d not realized before I stepped out of my unit, headed towards the office yesterday.

The first thing was that the time was 4:30 in the afternoon. The office closed at 4:00. The building was locked up tight.

The second thing I did not realize was that outside was 105◦, with a heat warning in effect.

So there I was, having trekked across the desert to a locked building.

Not wanting my suffering to have been in vain, I retreated, walked back through the gate, hung a right and a right again, headed for the mailroom to check mail.

Nothing but useless ads inside to be tossed; but something told me to stoop down look towards the back of the box.

Inside is a deep black hole built into the wall. I saw nothing.

Then something told me to stick my arm all the way to the back and feel around.

I did and touched something hard. Something that that felt like what a key to one of the parcel lockers would feel like.

After my rant about the mail carriers depositing parcel locker keys in the wrong mailbox, and residents lucking up on packages that don’t belong to them, you have a good idea where this discovery is heading.

My intention here was to post photos. Photos to show you how deep the mailbox is/how far back I had to reach into the cavern by posting a pic of how deep my arm had to reach in, and a photo of the box and its contents (the two sheets of scrapbook paper) that came out of the parcel locker; but Blogger be trippin. Won't let me post photos. And, for a split second this morning, Blogger would not let me reply to comments …… a message popped up that I needed to log into Google. So don't be surprised if my ability to reply to comments doesn't happen again, and for longer than a split second.

All in all, let me just say …… IS MY FACE RED.

The parcel locker key was there all along, pushed all the way to the back AND, it was the only key at the back of that deep dark cavern. Indicating all the other packages I’d miss had truly been misdirected and kept …… Fortunately for me, just not this shipment.

At any rate, I’m back to completing that layout.

Heading back to my unit, I ran into my next-door White-Haired Neighbor, returning from her son’s house, looking as drained from the excessive temp as I was.

She asked if I’d gotten a notice posted to my door about an Inspection this Friday.

I had …… on Tuesday, the day after I’d shampooed the carpets, which meant two or three people (the Maintenance Guys and Manager or Assistant Manager) would be dirtying up my freshly Monday-shampooed carpets on Friday.

Neighbor said she was worried about the inspection because, where she moved from, after 35 years, the manager hated her, retaliated against her because she’d reported him for animal cruelty. He would pull frequent inspections, go through her closets, open her cupboards, told her he can come in when he wants, go through whatever he wanted.

I told her not to worry. That management inspections here are a precursor to when the State and Federal inspectors come in. They just want to make sure the units are clean and everything is in working order, so they won’t get dinged by the agency inspectors.

She said she was on the County and that the County inspected where she lived before only every two years.

That surprised me … that she is on the County and, consequently, must have been placed here through the program and on the program the entire 35 years she lived at the other place.

How does someone get 35+ years of County assistance?

No judgment. I just really want to know as she seems so able-bodied, well put together, and mentally all there.

The conversation ended with my telling her that though management pre-inspects every unit, that the Federal and State inspections are random. Her unit might get inspected, might not, depends on what the agency inspectors want to do.

She said, "But I just moved in".

"Doesn’t matter", said I and told her that I had an agency inspection right after I moved in back in 2012 and did not get another agency inspection until last year. It’s all luck of the draw, and not to worry about Friday because management just wants to make sure the place is relatively clean, no hoarding, and everything works which, in the past has worked in our favor in getting management to make repairs we'd previously requested but they had been dicking around with, because they didn't want us to point the problem out to the agency inspector.

I don't know why she seemed so worried about Friday's inspection, but it makes me curious to one day get a look inside her unit.

I opened the door and showed her mine, which isn't all that fabulous. Maybe one day, she'll show me hers.

Never in My Life

Finishing up the backlog of photos going into my personal Creative Memories scrapbook this morning, I heard myself say to myself "Never in my life did I ever think I’d be adding photos like this to the Memory book".

It was hella hard finishing up that layout, and then the Legacy LA Pride photos, but I got through it.

I’ve said it before; I’ll say it again … The circle of life is incredibly cruel.

No news yet as to whether the Feces Felon has struck again, but I did hear we’ve a new resident on the complex that’s wearing an ankle bracelet.

When I say ankle bracelet, I’m not talking about this …

I’m talking about this …

Not wanting to automatically judge the new resident as being a danger to society, assume that management is leasing to criminals, I went to ChatGPT and asked, "What kind of people require police ankle bracelets?" and got "Police and courts use electronic ankle bracelets to track individuals awaiting trial, serving probation or parole, or placed under house arrest. They are assigned based on risk level, specific offenses like domestic violence or repeat DUI, and as an alternative to jail time."

"Awaiting trial!!!!!! … on Parole!!!!!!! … Risk Level!!!!!"

WTF!!!

Is management running a Halfway House?

I'm now on the lookout for who this new neighbor might be and, actually, a few days ago — before I heard about an ankle bracelet resident, passed a woman I didn't recognize on the walkway. I looked in the eyes, smiled, said "good morning" but now, in retrospect, I'm thinking she looked hard, like someone who could be wearing an ankle bracelet.

At any rate, I'll now be passing, smiling, greeting, looking at ankles, rather than eyes, saying "good morning".

The Week that Was

We had a bit of a weather cooldown on Tuesday. It was still hot, but bearable, so I was able to log in a mile around the complex.

Saw that a unit, which had recently been vacated — the resident located elsewhere on the complex, has an obvious new resident. Obvious because the previous resident wasn’t this kind of decorative.

Elsewhere on the complex was this creatively decorated patio.

I'm guessing this is where those people relocated to.

While sitting on the patio, I’ve often grabbed the phone to take a pic of my favorite sight — my two elderly boys on the walkway but, slow walking as they are, I've not been able to get to the phone quick enough to capture a photo … that is until on my walk that day.

The boys, who look like they could be twins, do not live together. At the end of the walkway, one hangs a right, the other a left. So, I don’t know how they came to be such seemingly close friends …… always together.

I may have to one day come up with an excuse to approach, while the two are sitting outside the gate, engaged in their favorite activity of watching traffic go by, start a conversation, find out what their story is.

I bet drivers passing by, seeing not only the two boys but often other residents, sitting on walkers, with nothing better to do than watch traffic go by see it as sad.

I, on the other hand, think us residents to be content, at peace. Don't need a lot of what those driving by have and do to make us happy, feeling blessed just to be able to sit and watch the world roll by.

Wednesday was another day of bearable weather.

I’d planned to watch the eclipse that day, eclipse glasses at the ready.

Then learned, California would experience no visible eclipse activity as the path was restricted to far northern regions — Alaska, Canada. So, I decided instead to join the Usual Suspects in the Community Room for crafts but took the long way around …… twice around the complex to log in another mile.

Told myself this was doable …… that I could, at the very least get up and out, manage one mile a day, so long as the weather cooperated.

That motivation lasted about as long as you readers probably expected, as today is Saturday and I’ve not been out walking since Wednesday.

Oh well.

I didn’t participate in Wednesday’s craft session, just watched, took photos for the residents’ facebook page, as they made picture frames using stencils, plexiglass, cardboard.

As for what I’ve been doing locked in my unit, other than watching Korean and Chinese Dramas on TikTok and Facebook, lusting after the handsome young Asian men I see on the screen, I’ve been finishing up yet another scrapbook …… one I started in '23, which chronicles my own personal activities, got sidelined due to the birth of great grandkids, making books chronicling their activities.

Once my '23 book is finished, the plan is to do one more, that will cover my activities between then and now, which I sense will be the last chronicling my own personal activities.

The hardest part of scrapbooking is coming up with a title page. I've come up with a system where I sometimes make the title page look like magazine covers, like this one ……

Since this next book will be the last of my personal activities, I'm thinking of doing something with one of the few photos I have of my toddler years, titling it HOW IT STARTED.

In addition to scrapbooking, I've also been throwing together tropical wear for the Resident’s End of Summer Event.

Not finding, in storage, the grass skirt I’d previously made, I grabbed raffia when I was at the craft store purchasing that Venus Flytrap and, in between scrapbooking and lusting after young Asian men in K/Cdramas, building a skirt.

Also, while at the craft store, I looked for blocks and letters to arrange in 8647, but didn't find anything usable.

The fact is, I tried, LOL.

So, anyway, as I was saying …… in addition to scrapbooking supplies, there's currently grass-colored raffia everywhere.

Still not sure I’ll actually have the guts to wear the skirt … won’t know until the day of; but if I don’t wear it, it will turn into Skelly the Skeleton’s outfit for this year’s Halloween patio display.

Room With a View

Last few days have been quiet — no weird dreams, no disturbing text messages, no contact with neighbors.

With the blinds being stuck to where I couldn’t open them up to let sunlight in, I hadn't even able to indulge in sitting on the couch, spotting neighbors on the walkway.

That changed on Wednesday, when Assistant Maintenance Guy finally showed up with a new track for the blinds to slide on.

Now I’m back to having a room with a view, and actually spotted the new Next-Door Neighbor arriving today, not with furniture yet, just to spend about 20 minutes inside …… checking out the place, I guess.

It’s an elderly female; so quiet, safe.

From the quick glimpse I saw of her, she’s nowhere near as old as I …… maybe late 60’s, and she looks stern, severe, boring, like Mother Superior at the Nunnery, white hair and all.

Won’t be any tea coming from or about her, and she’s probably even less into decorating for Halloween than former Next-Door Neighbor.

Though quiet, the last few days haven’t been exactly idle, as I’ve been a whirling dervish scrapbooking fool, getting the latest batch of photos into the Great Grands Creative Memory Book No. 12.

I'd been creatively stuck in neutral for a bit then, last few days, layouts began whirling through my head at rapid pace — pages and pages and pages were completed; layouts for other pages were documented so I’d not forget the ideas that had come to mind while I wait for supplies to come in.

At last Friday’s BBQ, a few of the residents asked for a print of the photo I’d taken of them at the photo booth. I’d sent those photos for processing to my usual 1-hour photo Lab and was surprised to get a ready in three days’ notice.

Maybe the photo lab was closed for the Memorial Day Holiday weekend, thought I, and patiently waited.

Three days later, on Wednesday, I get notified the order had been cancelled …… no reason.

Unusual, but giving the Lab benefit of the doubt, I thought perhaps they’d been so backlogged over the Holiday that cancelling orders had been necessary.

I resubmitted the order, only to receive another three-days to process notice.

WTF? People are waiting for their pics. It wasn't a huge order, just a handful of photos; and there was nothing naughty in the photos that would warrant cancellation, but whatever. That Lab is a favorite, but not the only in the area.

I submitted the order to a Lab at a drug store over by the college, and they were ready in 1-hour.

I picked the order up same day/yesterday, but didn’t get around to opening until this morning and found not only my photos, but people I didn’t recognize on an outing to San Diego Zoo.

Knowing how valuable my photos are to me, assuming this other family's photos to be just as important, I pondered the best way to ensure they got their pics.

For sure, I didn't trust returning to the Lab, putting the onus on them.

Fortunately, along with that family’s photos was the order sheet including the name, telephone number of the person ordering.

I ran the name through Facebook, but nothing came up.

I then thought calling the telephone number listed would be the most effective way of ensuring the family got their photos, but that calling the person could go very wrong for me because "no good deed goes unpunished".

I took a chance, called anyway, and she answered.

I gotta tell you, had that been me, I would not have accepted a call from a number I didn't recognize, but she answered.

I introduced myself, said "You don’t know me, but I yesterday picked up photos from the Photo Lab, and found your San Diego Zoo pics mixed in".

Fortunately, she didn’t think I was scamming or crank calling. Instead, she laughed, wondered how the Lab could make such an error.

Turns out she lives very close by, immediately jumped in the car, drove over to pick the photos up, saying they were important because were photos of her son, nephew, grandbabies.

She seemed a fun lady …… talkative. Said she wasn't too surprised about the mix-up, because she had questions about the woman she'd dealt with at the Lab when placing the order. Said the woman didn't seem very bright, LOL.

I didn't say so, but I was thinking I must have dealt with that same person when I picked up my order, because she kept asking my name, couldn't find the order until I pulled up the confirmation on my phone to show her the number and she realized she'd been looking through packages, not photos.

Interesting how the whole thing played out … how my regular Lab let me down, I had to switch Labs, and the mix-up got me involved in what followed.

Tell Me Anything

Still waiting for the picture frame to arrive. Tracking indicates still in transit, even though the notice indicates it was scheduled to be delivered Friday.

I’m holding my breath this is not a repeat of the craft lamp I’d ordered that was delivered, but not to me, not even to my building, just disappeared into the ethers.

I’ve just about got the hundred or so photos of the Great Grandbabies (backed up since last December) organized so I can began placing them into the Creative Memory album, and because my brain is in creative mode — individual photos are speaking to me telling me what background paper would work well and layouts are swimming in my head, last few days have been constant motion ……… Up, down, around, up down around for hours, in one room to search through my paper stash, to the table to organize photos, to the couch to document ideas into a document on the laptop, bending, stooping, lifting. If I’d worn my tracker, I’m sure I would have clocked in at least three miles per day and my route would look something like this, with occasional detours to the kitchen.

Needless to say, I haven’t had the time or inclination to socialize with the seniors. My only contact has been a text message from Talker saying "You’re coming to Thanksgiving on the 21st aren’t you?"

"I am" was my reply.

It’s an eating event and, because I have to control was ingredients are in the foods I eat, I generally do not attend eating events. However, the Baker had already told me she was roasting a turkey and, because she’s doing the cooking, I’m comfortable with the hygiene and that there won’t be any seasonings added that will cause my sensitive gut to rebel.

BTW, at the Halloween event, I saw the Baker and MAGA standing at the open refrigerator and spotted two turkeys.

Baker tells me Dream Lover supplied the turkeys.

Who needs Management and an Activity Director when we can pull together to do for ourselves.

And an additional BTW, management told us they withhold money from Kesha so they can use the funds to give us parties at Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Thanksgiving is 16 days away and there has been no mention of management hosting the usual Thanksgiving event, and I'm not holding my breath for Christmas.

Where's the money going?

Baker also indicated there will be sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce and other sides.

I can eat sweet potatoes, have to pass on the cranberry sauce, and will make my own gluten free/fodmap dressing, gravy and hope Upstairs Lady and the MAGA around the corner don’t irritate me into tossing my cookies or walking out to keep from yelling at them.

Late Thursday afternoon, I stepped outside to take trash to the dumpster, saw MAGA turn a corner off in the distance, waved hello, dropped the trash in the bin, began walking back to my unit when she called for me to wait up.

Looking harried and a bit disheveled she said, "Can I tell you something".

Puzzled, I said "sure".

She went into this soliloquy about having words with someone she would not name, other than to say the individual is a bully.

HA! So is she. She just doesn’t know it.

"I’m not going to tell you what the argument was about, but I defended myself. Now that person is going around telling others stuff about me, and I just want to ask that if you hear anything, you take into consideration there are two sides to every story".

"Not to worry", said I. "I’m an independent thinker, not easily manipulated; besides, people around here generally don’t tell me stuff like that".

She kept going on about it and, because my brain was in creative mode, I didn’t retain more of what she said except, at one point, she was talking about other people this person supposedly had bullied, so I guessed it was Upstairs Lady.

"No. It’s L" (the Talker) she said.

Well, that was a surprise. MAGA is beefing with Talker.

I don’t really care one way or another. My name is Bennett and I’m not in it.

However, though MAGA didn’t tell me what the argument was about, I can guess that, per usual, control freak that she is, MAGA opened her mouth, got into conversations that were none of her business — like she did at last week’s Halloween event that so annoyed me, tried to control what others should think, say, feel in front of Talker and, as I’m sure it wasn’t MAGA’s first time to do so in front of Talker, only this time Talker had had enough, yelled and told MAGA off like I’d wanted but restrained myself from doing last week, and MAGA verbally fought back.

That must have been quite something to see and, because MAGA still seemed upset about words having been said and Talker now badmouthing her, I’m sure it’s not over.

My head will be on swivel at the Thanksgiving event to see if it spills over, LOL.

The very next day, getting out of the car in the market parking lot, I heard a man’s agitated voice off in the distance say, "I know her! She’s a friend of my wife!"

I looked around, didn’t see anything but, before I stepped away from the car, here comes this man looking enraged. He stopped in front of me (I didn’t feel the least bit threatened, his energy wasn’t that) and told me the story.

Evidently, he was having a conversation with a woman on the lot. A female store employee approached, asked the woman he was speaking with "Are you okay, ma'am?".

Whereupon he’d uttered those words I’d heard about knowing the woman, that she was a friend of his wife.

Seeing him upset/offended, the store employee had then said, "I have to check".

He was highly insulted, told me, "I work for a living. I’m not a threatening person; it was none of her business. We were talking. My voice was not raised" yada yada yada.

"I’m sorry that happened to you", said I, "But in all fairness to the store employee, one never knows these days".

He wasn’t having it and continued to rant until he got it out of his system; whereupon I said, "Don’t let it ruin your day" and continued on into the market.

My week in a nutshell the few times I left my sanctuary, ventured into the outside world ………

A Week Without Monday

I’ve been so preoccupied with whatnots that I not only missed the time change, I missed Monday.

Upon receiving a text at 5:30 pm on Sunday that started with "Hey beautiful", asking me to post photos to the Residents’ facebook page of the day’s Craft session, I questioned why Crafts was on Sunday then realized the day was not Sunday, it had to be Monday.

Later, while reading blogs, I saw mention of "falling back".

My taking no notice of either the day of the week or time change is somewhat understandable because, as a retiree …… who cares. Unless there are doctor appointments or a gym schedule to adhere to, the weeks, days, times are pretty much moot, one does what one does when one does it, on a daily basis.

It used to be I could tell days of the week by which of my TV show was on, but now that I’ve discovered Chinese Dramas, I pretty much let the VCR record things like Food Network Competitions, Survivor, Amazing Race for later viewing.

So anyway, as of today, I’m current on which day of the week this is …… Crafts Wednesday, and the microwave is set to display the correct time.

Though Crafty Lady continues to address me as "Hey, beautiful", I don’t think there’s anything in her mind other than business. I can sense she’s taken a giant step back and is now a little less salty about having to do so.

That doesn’t mean I’ll be comfortable enough with her to go down to Crafts today or ever again.

Besides, now that the never ending needlepoint canvas has been completed (I’m waiting for the frame to arrive before I do a big reveal), I’ve crafts enough with catching up on scrapbooking the great grandkids photos, backed up since last December.

Crafty Lady has made no more mention of my hosting Scrapbook Classes for the seniors, which I had no intention of doing. However, it hit me that 1) the seniors don’t take sufficient or any pictures at all to justify scrapbooking and 2) it’s an expensive hobby, a hobby they probably can’t afford to waste money on considering the rising cost of food, medication, and rent increases. So, if she ever revisits that idea, those points are viable shutdowns if my simple "no" doesn't satisfy her.

Weekend Update

We have a new neighbor in the quad.

As I was heading out to Friday’s workout, I saw a moving company truck parked at the end of the walkway. A little lady, whom I took to be the new neighbor, hurriedly passed me on the walkway.

She seeming so rushed, I didn’t get to greet her other than to say "hello". She responded "hello" and was gone in a flash.

Just as I was making my way around the moving van bringing her in; simultaneously, one of those self-moving vans was driving by, exited the gate, moving someone out.

It’s like a revolving door around here. A lot of newbies, very few of us long-timers still around.

My guess is us long-timers are still here because we’re in that gray area — over income for most "affordable" living situations, but not so flush that we’re willing to pay the exorbitant sums being charged elsewhere.

Long story short, we will follow the path of other long timers who did leave .... they left because they died.

So, anyway, the new neighbor doesn’t look like she’s going to provide any blog fodder. She reads as quiet, no drama.

It's nice to look out in the morning, see a window free of debris, a patio not cluttered with a dresser drawer and miscellaneous items, but real patio furniture and cute decorations.

Saturday was a milestone for me because of this ……

Any guesses as to what that is and what it signifies?

I’ll wait.

Spoiler: If you thought it signifies my reaching the bottom of that never ending needlepoint project, you would be correct.

After 4 years, an estimated 3,630 hours, I finally touched bottom and, over the weekend, I managed to fill in the corner, left of that one bottom row.

Now working my way across, rather than down, looks like I may complete this project around this time next year; then I can get rid of the frame, put an exercise bike in its place, and have time to read books again.

Over the weekend, I also managed to put in some scrapbooking time. I’m very far behind on that craft, with last year’s Disneyland visit and the Mission Inn’s Christmas Festival of Lights to be scrapped into the Places book.

I was going to fit in doing my nails up for the holiday, but between scrapbooking and the needlepoint project, I somehow managed to break both pinky fingernails down to the nub.

There will be no fancy nails until the two grow back.

I didn't get around to posting yesterday and had two Funnies for you; so, here's a late Sunday Funnies.

Calm Before the Storm

This past weekend was eerie quiet. The only signs of life were seeing the new resident walking through the quad a time or two and Painted Rock Lady dropping new rocks along the walkway.

Other than that, I didn’t see or hear the voice of a single other resident.

Not that I’m complaining. I enjoy the calm. I’m just suspicious as to WHY. It can’t be that everyone suddenly turned into me, opting to stay inside all weekend. Nope, my spidey sense is saying something’s in the wind.

Perhaps it’s anxiety over the ice cream social Management has planned for tomorrow.

Last time they did a fun event for us ─ the Summer Social, it was to soften the blow of the rent increase posted to our doors the very next day. So, justifiably, I’m now wondering what’s behind the ice cream social, and I’m sure others are suspicious as well.

I’ll go down to the Community Room tomorrow, check it out, but won’t be surprised if no one else shows up.

Nothing new on Black Bikini.

Though I wasn’t outside over the weekend, I did keep an eye out for her hanging around the pool all of last week, but no sighting.

At this point, I’m now beginning to think she may not have been a new resident but perhaps visiting a resident for a few days.

With no distractions and staying indoors all weekend, I’m at last caught up with getting those almost 200 photos into the Creative Memory album. Actually, it was albums — plural, because the photos took up all the space in not one but two new albums.

With not much planned through the end of the year — except maybe the Mission Inn 5K, few photos will be coming in and I can devote my attention to that never ending needlepoint project.

Spending time on Tik Tok last night I ran across "Michael Cohen Reacts".

You remember Cohen don’t you … one of the many who lost their careers as a result of their involvement in No. 45’s shenanigans.

Well, it seems that prison time served as an awakening to having been used and tossed aside. So now he’s out for revenge by spilling the tea and reacting to current shenanigans ─ the Hearings, the raid and it’s all so hilarious.

His latest reaction is about No. 45’s desperate search for the mole — who the informant in his close circle is that told where to look for specific documents. Cohen is certain it’s Jarod.

Wow. Wouldn’t that be a kick in the head if it turns out to be.

I Was Expecting More

Now that the Tyrant (No. 8 manager) is long gone, and there is no longer anyone in management to claim our old Resident's Activity Facebook site as their own (something else he tried to steal from us, claim as his and say Apache wasn't allowed to post to) and since we have a group of women (Red Light, the Talker, Jan, the Baker) trying to kickstart activities, taking a lot of photos, I allowed myself to be talked into restarting our old site.

Sorting through photos the women had taken at the last three bingo sessions took up most of yesterday, but I got 'er done.

One of the photos given me for posting was one taken at Friday's bingo, where I'd worn a favorite shirt of mine.

The lettering that indicates I've got "All original parts" isn't exactly true, as I don't still have my appendix, but the ladies loved the shirt, had fun with my being out and proud about my age, inasmuch as there are women here who would rather die than disclose their age.

They also made a point to bring attention to the fact that the way the letters "spread" made it easy to read, unlike some whose shirts just hang, causing the letters to fall together and be unreadable. LOL.

What with crafting, various social medias, working out, television and now the resident's photo page, I don't have a lot of time for reading.

When Walter Mosley has a new book out, I’ll make time but, ordinarily, the only time I have to read is during downtime — while waiting for the dentist, the dermatologist, the car to be serviced, etc. Thus, because I've not had all that much downtime, I’ve not made much progress on that hilarious read I began back in August of last year Everyone in this Room Will Someday be Dead.

Even though I’ve still around 30 pages to go in finishing that book, and no downtime in sight, when I saw Randy Rainbow had an autobiography out, I put in an order.

Received my copy on Friday.

Inasmuch as I’d paid extra for an autographed copy, I immediately opened to see what Randy had written.

I expected more.

Is that even Randy’s autograph or did some little assistant scribble it for him?

When Twin 2 attended a reading by Walter Mosley, mentioned it was me, her mom, who’d gotten her hooked on his books, Mosley signed a copy of the book he was promoting — a book she’d purchased for me.

Not my favorite Mosley book, but the autograph mentioning me by name makes it a treasured keepsake.

Also a treasure, as mentioned in a previous post, is the book autographed by the Official Witch of Los Angeles when I caught up with her back in 1969 on a book tour.

I haven’t a clue what the symbols mean, would like to know but whatever the symbols are saying has brought me good luck because the book is now considered rare and worth a nice chunk of change ... used. I imagine a used copy, with the author's signature, would bring in an even nicer chunk of change, though I've no plans to ever sell.

I guess the trick in getting more than a perfunctory autograph is to have the book signed in person. So, I’ll have to hope for a Randy Rainbow book tour close enough for me to get to, so I can get a proper autograph.

For those of you who may not have heard of Randy Rainbow (which I’ll find hard to believe), he’s an entertainer popular for his humorous parodies of No. 45 and other GQP politicians.

Oh No! Monday Again?

Another weekend where there just wasn’t enough weekend in the weekend. In fact, I woke up yesterday thinking it was Saturday.

Color me disappointed, when I realized yesterday was Sunday, and that another Monday (today) was coming … way too soon.

At least it was a productive weekend. I got the Creative Memories scrapbook up-to-date, got laundry out of the way, as well as grocery shopping and away from home meal planning done. Having pretty much organized myself that all I have to do before heading out of town on Wednesday, is to gas up the car, give myself another manicure/pedicure. I even started work on the baby quilt.

News this morning, other than that huge flash mob robbery in San Francisco, was that a car, on purpose, drove straight through a Christmas Parade, killing and harming others.

After thinking about what kind of person would do such a thing my mind went to Wait, What, A Christmas Parade in November? We haven’t even had the Turkey Trots.

Am I wrong? Is that not unusual timing for a Christmas parade?

Next news item was that the other high-profile trial, the Murder of the Black Jogger, is now into closing arguments.

Inasmuch as the trial judge is NOT leading the jurors in this trial, I expect the perps will be found guilty …. If not of First-Degree Murder, guilty of something. They won’t walk free.

Seeing the video of Aubrey being chased after the three saw him walk into and out of the open area of a house under construction before they grabbed their guns and took chase, reminded me of what I’ve said and blogged about previously. That, as a person of color, one has to ALWAYS be aware of and consider the optics.

The hotel I’ve booked for this latest trip has a stove top and microwave, which will make it easier to feed myself than a hotel with no means of warming up or cooking meals that won’t set off a gut episode.

The little kitchen area also provides guests with cooking utensils — pots, pans, plates, etc.

Being the finicky type, I won’t be using the provided cookware, I’m taking my own coffeepot, a little skillet, paper plates, utensils.

I’m sure some guests, like those that steal away with hotel towels, have taken advantage of what’s been provided, stuffed what they wanted in their suitcase as they checked out. I, as a person of color, fully expecting to be suspicious just because of the color of my skin, am considering those optics and photographing the cookware I’m taking with me in their natural habitat — my kitchen at home.

No guarantee I won’t yet and still be profiled, accused of thievery if cookware is heard rattling around in my bag, but it does give me protection if accused.

Persons of color cannot just walk into and out of the open area of a house under construction.

In fact, last month, month before, there were optics involved which caused cops to be called, guns to be drawn, handcuffs to be placed on the people seen entering an empty house. It was a realtor, showing a house to a client and the client's son. No surprise that all three were Black.

It's not right and it's not fun, but us persons of color are always at the mercy of the erroneous concepts of persons not of color and have to find ways to work around, protective ourselves, from the optics.

I don't need to go grocery shopping today, but I'm accustomed to receiving a message from Trainer to "Abort Mission" (the Security Guard is at his post in the market) or "He’s not here".

No such message received so far this morning. Probably because Trainer told me on Friday that he and that Security Guard are bonding.

Whereas the Security Guard used to glare at Trainer and not speak, when Trainer walked in on Friday, the Security Guard greeted him with, "Hey Big Dog. How’s it going".

Trainer said he responded, he and Security Guard had a brief conversation, and "He’s really a nice guy".

"So was Ted Bundy", said I.

Perhaps Trainer bonding with Security Guard will work to my advantage, so I can return to the market — which I must do after Thanksgiving because “Find Your Hometown Elf” will be back, and I don’t plan to let Security Guard spoil my annual fun.