So Much Drama

Whining, bitching, arguments, crying … so much crying, so many tears.

I’m not talking about the world of politics, nor am I referring to anything happening here on the complex. I’m referring to Food Network’s holiday competitions.

I don’t know if it’s the stress of the pandemic reaching over into the world of cakes and cookies, but there are behaviors on camera like I’ve never seen outside of one of those housewives’ or bachelor/bachelorette shows.

In last week’s episode of Holiday Wars, one team member was baking an egg-shaped pastry for the judges.

Explaining that she was unfamiliar with the altitude, she burned a batch, but quickly recovered, had the time, made another batch.

The camera pans over to a teammate who began throwing shade ….. “Why’s she even here? … She’s not doing any real work”.

“What? …. Me? .... I’m not doing anything?” asked the one making treats for the judges.

“Nothing but burning things”, said the teammate throwing shade.

The shade was totally unnecessary in my eyes, especially coming from someone on the same team.

Nothing further happened on camera, but I hope the one making treats called the other out on her unnecessary digs and gave her an in-your-face because that team won the challenge, and won mainly on the basis of the little egg-shaped pastries that the judges gushed about.

And speaking of the judges … There’s a new judge working alongside long-time judge Shinmin Li.

I don’t know who this new judge is, never heard of her, but she’s quite rude.

She and Shinmin are butting heads, making no effort to hide the fact they don't like working with each other.

There was a verbal catfight between the two on last week’s episode that had me clutching my imaginary pearls.

The word "war" in Holiday Wars is supposed to refer to one team battling another, not the judges fighting between themselves.

And the crying

Mostly from this one guy on a particular team, who can’t seem to hold it together and looks to have come to the competition already on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

He’s constantly looking worried, wringing his hands, weeping, so insecure about his skills as a cake artist that his team members have to take time from the competition to reassure him that he’s doing great (he isn’t).

Even the judges have been walking on eggshells, when critiquing his work, as he's obviously on the edge.

That cake artist is just not wrapped tight enough to handle the pressure of a competition, and previews of next week seem to indicate the meltdown happens. Clips show him shaking, crying, yelling at a team member that he doesn’t like the way she’s talking to him, possibly walking out.

I hope he does because there’s a reason for his insecurity, i.e., his work isn’t that good, and his histrionics over it is bringing the team down.

I know these shows have medics on duty, just in case a participant has a culinary accident. Me thinks they should also have a shrink on set.

On Monday’s holiday cookie competition, hosted by Food Network Star Winner Eddie Jackson and Pioneer Woman Rhea Drummond, one cookie maker referred to Rhea as Sandra Lee.

Sandra is the blonde chef who hosts Almost Homemade and looks nothing like Rhea.

Who knew there could be so much drama in cake and cookies.

There’s a new show based on a game called Candyland.

I’ve never heard of the game and though the premise of the show is interesting, I’m not all that sure I can continue to watch because the moderator has this high-pitched squeaky voice that is hard to listen to. Not to mention there’s a sugar artist in the competition that I’ve seen in other competitions.

She’s been the sugar artist on several Halloween competitions, and came across as mean, a bully. So much so that I, as a Black woman, was embarrassed because she too is Black.

Thankfully, I’ve not seen her on screen in last two years — probably, because of her behavior, no team would accept her.

When I saw her face pop up on Candyland, it was like OH NO! NOT YOU AGAIN!

So far, she’s keeping a smile on her face, but what she’s now presenting to the camera seems forced, fake.

She’s not a pretty woman, but nothing that a little make up can’t fix, and she needs to do something about her hair.

Speaking of hair, my locktician quit the business a few weeks ago.

She has a full-time job, is raising her niece’s daughter as her own and says that, with having to home-school the little girl AND a full-time job, she can no longer work in the braid salon.

Though she’s turned me over to another locktician, I’ve decided not to risk, in a pandemic, being that close to anyone else. Especially, since the locktician she turned me over to is the teenage daughter of the woman who owns the salon.

I’m sure the kid qualifies as a locktician, but I’d rather let my braids grown out, and go for whatever style I'm left with, than risk a teenager, or even another adult.

It’s a bright sunny day outside, the wind is down, so I finally got around to giving the severely weather damaged patio chair a makeover.

Before

After

It needs another coat or two, but is already looking better ready to be surrounded by Christmas decorations, which I hope to get to next week. Possibly on Thanksgiving Day.

Oh ... and by the way. In the process of painting the chair, I somehow managed to get paint in my hair and ruin a perfectly good tank top.

I think I'd look good with red hair. LOL.

Locked Up

No, I didn’t go to jail over the weekend. I’m referring to having kept my Sunday appointment with the Locktician to have new growth locked up.

Once again all tidy looking, I won’t have to risk that outing again for another 8/9 weeks.

Actually, though, the risk factor was nil, as the Locktician took her safety and the safety of her clients seriously.

Arriving a few minutes early for my appointment, I wasn’t allowed to enter the salon. Instead, I was asked to wait outside until she finished up the client ahead of me and then wait until that client had exited the salon. Whereupon, watching from the window, I saw the Locktician sanitize wipe the chair, her locking tool and then she motioned me to enter.

That was just the first hurtle, as I wasn’t allowed but a step or two inside before she whipped out a thingy, held it close to my forehead (not touching) and took my temperature. A sign at the desk said at a temperature of 99, you’d not be allowed to enter. I don’t know what mine was, I usually run hot, but it must have been okay because she then wrote my name down in a book and my temperature as “normal”.

Then I was ushered to her chair and offered a plastic wrap to cover my body, which I declined because I’d have sweated like crazy and been uncomfortable. I already had a mask on, as did she and the other Locktician and that Locktician’s customer, as the sign also said no mask no service, and covering my body in plastic with a mask on … I’d have had heat stroke and passed out.

All in all, the Locktician had it going on, covered all the right bases, and I didn’t mind any of it at all. Felt safe.

On Friday, management posted a notice to our doors that they were pleased to announce the pool area is now open (okay) … no guests, limited to residents (okay) … a maximum of four people (okay) … by reservation only (huh?) … new hours of 10AM to 3:30PM Monday through Friday with time slots of 1-1/2 hours, Closed Saturday, Closed Sunday (Well Damn! Why bother reopening at all).

Truth be told, management probably should NOT be reopening the pool, as even limiting to four at a time, seems to me it's still a petri dish.

Additionally, the notice repeated management's mantra — “Our office and maintenance teams will be wearing face coverings. In an effort to follow CDC recommendations, we ask that all residents and guests do the same”.

I’m calling bull sh_t on that one, as I’ve seen Head Maintenance Guy (HMG) walking around here with no mask on since I last posted having caught him doing so. On duty and off duty, the guy is following neither complex rules nor CDC recommendation.

In fact, Sunday afternoon, I saw him, his wife, his little girl walk through my quad — all mask less.

I went to grab my phone, take a picture for leverage — should I need to justify the reason why I’ll not be allowing HMG into my unit for future repairs or inspections.

HMG and his family moved too fast, I wasn’t able to get that photo, but next time, and the next and the next, so forth and so on.

Taking It One Day at a Time

Sleep was not disturbed by the sound of sirens and helicopters Monday night, so I assumed looters did not return to this area to hit the pharmacy and market. Just to be sure, on my way to the Pain Cave, I detoured through the strip mall’s parking lot to double check.

Everything was as it was with only the cellphone store boarded up from the previous night’s vandalism.

I can’t say the same for last night, as I did hear sirens around 9:30 p.m. Having no plans to go outside today, I won’t be able to check further vandalism until tomorrow.

We did end up with a citywide curfew, beginning at 6:00 Monday night.

So ironic in that first we had to quarantine, safer at home THEN just when things were opening up we get a curfew.

What’s next?

I shudder to think but, I did notice — when I made that market run on Monday, that folks were preparing for whatever was next — stocking up on water and the toilet paper/paper towels shelves were once again cleared out.

Back tracking to speaking of things opening up, I received an email from the optometrist that he’s open and it’s time for my annual eye exam, also a text message from the braid hairdresser (Locktician) that she can schedule me for the 14th.

Where I go and what I do henceforth is going to be very different from where I went and what I did pre-pandemic. Dawn calls it “Risk Assessment”. 

I won’t be scheduling any manicure/pedicure appointments anytime soon, and though my eyes are important, I can’t imagine my prescription has changed that much in a year, so I’ll hold off on that for as long as I can.

The Locktician is a much tougher call.

I’ve been growing and sporting sisterlocks since September of 1998 but, during the lockdown, I began thinking maybe I should just let the new growth have its way — not lock it in when the shop reopens, just let the braids grow out so I can dispense with having to risk salon appointments.

Though still not sure what I want to do, I accepted the appointment thinking I’ll show up, see if I feel safe in the salon, i.e., clients of the two/three other Lockticians are spaced out, no clients’ children in the salon and, if I arrive and see it’s not spaced out, too many people in at one time, I’ll just tell my Locktician I don’t feel safe, pay her for the appointment, leave and let the braids grow out.

I’ve not yet heard from the dentists, but no question I’ll take my chances, accept his appointment when his office does call, because I really need a cleaning.

I also have to figure out what I want to do about getting the jeep serviced.

Right about the time I should take it in for its next service is right about the time the second wave of Covid-19 is expected to hit, per Fauci’s calculations. So maybe I should take it in sooner … like now. However, with all that’s going on with crowds of protestors, crowds of looters, there may not be a second wave as the first wave may never end, so don’t worry about it — take the car in whenever.

The office is also reopening.

A notice was posted to our doors yesterday indicating the BBQ area will open immediately, the pool will open later this month as will the Community Room. Face coverings required when out on the property, and the Community Room is being set up to maintain social distancing.

I’ll never see the new setup, as I’ll not be visiting the Community Room. I’m happy with the status quo. See no reason to go back to socializing with other residents.

Risk Assessment and taking it one day at a time will be the order of the day going forward, and trying not to watch too much of the news coverage as it continues to bring up unpleasant experiences and the people involved. People who thought they were normal, nice, with not a racist bone in their body, and had no clue (though some did and were quite open about it) that their behavior towards a person of color was the very definition of racist.

Yes, CVM, I’m talking about you, coming across as Mother Theresa on facebook — I know you in real life. You too Bonnie, Henrietta, Joyce, Jane and the dental hygienist that didn’t want to work on me, to name a few. Plus, the security guard who followed me around everywhere I went at Best Buy last year.

As for you Bob and Durand. You two made no bones about how you felt about Black people. Wore your invisible white hoods like a badge of honor but, oddly enough, I appreciated that you were open about it, honest, didn’t pretend to be anything other than what you are.

Your openness gave me a leg up in that, though you had that little group (Danny, Chris, Jack, the girls in your office, et al) that followed your orders to make work life so difficult for me that I’d leave, since I never gave you a reason to fire me. The mistake you made was you thought everyone thought like you two did, and that you two had so much power that everyone would go along for fear of being turned on.

You were right, many were afraid, stayed out of it, but that didn’t mean they didn’t secretly hate what you were doing and supported me. You’d be surprised at how many let me know to be careful because you were planning this, that, the other. You’d be surprised to know how many were too afraid of becoming a target themselves if they befriended me, but met with me off premise for dinner, a movie. Even some in your own management team that didn’t go for what you were doing would tell the janitor to warn me, "Tell Shirley they’re planning this ... tell Shirley they said that".

You'd wonder why I didn't react the way you thought I would react. It's because I knew what you were planning and, calling on my spiritual strength, didn't react. Sometimes played dumb and stupid, as though I didn't understand what you were trying to do. Which, I'm told, frustrated you Durand and you Bob to utter, "Something's wrong with her". LOL.

I’m not a confrontational person by nature, though I’m beginning to loosen up and become more confrontational with age but, back in the day, dealing with racism and abuse of authority had to be tolerated. Keep your head down, grin and bear it at work. Out in the world, make adjustments to get away from it where possible. Stay out of certain neighborhoods and like the time, instead of confronting the new dental hygienist, I just changed my long-time dental office, and I was made to feel so uncomfortable by that security guard, so traumatized by his actions that I'm afraid to shop instore at Best Buy.

I don’t like to think about the bad experiences and the people that made the experiences bad, but these protests are bringing them up, so I’m going to have to step away from the news. Let sleeping dogs lie.

However, what I’m seeing has given me the courage to confront future incidents. I will speak up. Shame the perpetrator myself … "Are you seriously following me because I'm Black … Am I not allowed to shop in peace?" and/or report them, ask to speak with a supervisor.

As for No. 45, posing with a bible backwards, upside down — that’s what the antichrist does. Flips everything upside down, backwards. It’s his job. No. 45 is just doing his job, fulfilling the prophesy of the antichrist coming into power, causing division, chaos.

Your guess is as good as mine as to how it all is to end but, supposedly, the world is to be washed clean and new.

I don’t see it happening.

Like I said with Covid-19, that I don’t see it going away, we just have to learn how to survive in it. Same with racism. Though more are now waking up, there's always going to be hard core racists and those that don't know their behaviors are showing they are. We just have to learn how to survive in it.

So now that I’ve released my thoughts into the blogsphere, I’m off to see what I can come up with to join in on Debra’s Virtual Pride Parade.

This pride parade reminds me of a funny incident with Trainer.

In one of our sessions he asked, “You’re daughter’s a BLT?”

“A what ... BLT ... bacon lettuce and tomato?” was my response

“I saw she (Twin 2) commented on the Instagram photo I’d posted of you, followed her and saw a picture of her with her wife”.

“Oh”, I replied cracking up. “You mean LGB”.

Life Moving at the Speed of Light

Time got away from me this week.

Life is moving too fast.

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

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

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

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

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

“What meeting … when?” asked I.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bad Neighbor

Feeling guilty and very much the bad neighbor for receiving but not giving Christmas cards.

I’ve not been into sending out cards in more years than I can recall, and I’m accustomed to receiving only one – from one of my daughters.

This year, I was surprised to receive cards from three neighbors – and not even neighbors in my quad, but neighbors in other areas of the complex who thought of me, plus a card from a long-time friend now living in Minnesota.

I thought about rushing out and picking up cards for these nice folks but, at this late date, it seemed such a bother that didn’t do so and feel like a very bad neighbor/friend.

Oh well, it is what it is.

Heading to a different medical center location yesterday, to get that ear infection antibiotic prescription filled, I learned that location had also been struck with computer system failure on Friday.

Wondering if it had been a hack, I went to Google. Didn’t find any mention of hacking, only that the outage was system wide and due to “internal computer glitches”.

Hmmmmm.

At any rate, prescription filled, I read the side effects -- diarrhea, nausea, vomiting, upset stomach, oral thrush, yeast infection.

What the heck!

I thought the purpose of antibiotics was to help, not harm but, inasmuch as I already have gut issues, and this so-called cure is worse than the infection, there is absolutely no way I am going to use it.

So what to do about the ear infection?

It occurred to me to do what I should have done in the first place – research holistic cures.

I learned garlic oil works just as well as antibiotics, and there are no unpleasant side effects, so I made a batch. Only, instead of drops in the ear, I’m playing it safe by using Q-tips to swab the area.

Garlic oil came highly recommended by users on quite a few sites, and since I let the infection go on for such a long time, I imagine it will disappear into the ethers but take a few days.

So doctor out-of-the way, I was looking forward to getting the last thing taking me out of the apartment, out of the area off my list – my appointment with the locktician (beautician for braids), so I could just stay in my unit and veg out until the holidays are over.

So off I go this morning, driving 45 minutes, arriving for my appointment only to find the locktician not there.

“She’s at the hospital on baby watch”, I was told. “One of her sons (girlfriend/wife ???) had a baby yesterday, the other son (girlfriend/wife ???) is expecting a baby today. She said she texted clients scheduled for today to let them know she’d be rescheduling them”.

I’m sure she did as she’s very professional, but she probably texted my old telephone number.

Not in the least annoyed, I texted the locktician my new number (which I’m sure I’d texted her before) and headed back, with a stop by Starbucks as I’d decided against being petty by putting a lump of coal in Head Maintenance Guy’s stocking – which I very well could have done and found just the right lump on Amazon.

Instead, I decided to be petty by purchasing a Starbucks gift card to put in the stocking of all the other staffers, except his.

Judge me not because, two things I’ve learned in my journey is 1) Own your feelings, whether right or wrong and 2) Do not reward bad behavior. 

While at Starbucks, I ran across an ornament I’d not seen before, brought it home and added it to my collection.

It's a little french press

So cute.

Open Now

At least that’s what the sign said so, out and about Saturday, I popped in for a tour.

The tour consisted of being shown a video, set up to run on a computer, as to how the gym will look once construction is completed as “Open Now” consisted of one room, two desks and two guys pushing pre-sales.

And they pushed hard, offering all kinds of deals to sign up now.

No thanks. I’ll wait for the official opening in January, take a tour, decide then. I’m sure you’ll still be hungry enough for memberships to offer a deal. And no, I will not leave my contact info so you can bug me to join on a daily basis.

Sunday was an appointment with the locktician (braids beautician) to get my new growth braided in. While I was seated in the chair, the locktician shared she’d sent her friend to Lowe’s Black Friday Sale to purchase an artificial Christmas tree and they were sold out by the time the friend arrived.

Christmas selling out so soon?

This morning was the dentist. Coming back to the complex, I saw a guy wearing his Christmas Shirt and Hat already.

What’s going on? Why is everyone so eager when we’ve not yet had Thanksgiving?

This morning’s visit to the dentist was emotional. I’ve grown very close to my long-time hygienist, and this morning she announced this was our last visit together as she was retiring effective December 28. I told her how much I’d enjoyed our conversations over the years (actually she talked, I could only make sounds and get a word or two in when one tool was out of my mouth before another tool went in) and, as I was leaving, she gave me a hug, I wished her well in retirement and broke out in tears. Cried all the way back to the complex actually, and got emotional again as I typed out this paragraph.

Though she’s in a good financial position and is choosing to retire, rather than being forced out by age (She’s 68), I can’t help but think it does have something to do with another aspect of that Circle of Life, as I’ve watched the office staff morph from mature adult employees, to younger girls. The young pushing the old out.

Even the x-ray technician wasn’t the normal older woman I’m accustomed to. She was working the reception desk, while a younger girl did my x-rays. The former older x-ray technician, who is not in a good financial position and needs to continue at the dental office looked a bit frightened as she said, “I’m just happy to still be working”. THAT told me a lot.

My very handsome dentist, whom I’m nicknamed “Doctor Mc Dreamy” is probably the next to go. Fortunately, I’m not emotionally attached to his silver-haired handsome self.

The seniors had a Taco Dinner Fundraiser scheduled for 2:00 today. “Fundraiser” to finance other senior activities.

After I dried my eyes, pulled myself together, I headed down early (11:00) to take photos of members of the Residents Volunteer Activity Committee cooking and setting up for posting to the facebook page. Lo and behold, early birds were already seated and eating.

It looked and smelled so delicious but, after being ill last week from a little cheat, I wasn’t even tempted.

I just took a few photos, left and returned at 2:00 when the event was to have officially kicked off.

The room was full of happy eaters. Some who were eating at 11:00 were still eating, and had called relatives who came over purchase a $2.00 plate.

2 Tacos, Rice, Beans

That's a lot of food for $2.00, soda and dessert included.

Except the chocolate cake was part of the meal, the coconut cake $.50 a slice.

Tomorrow is Pizza Tuesday ...  more eating for the seniors.

I don’t have to cover that event for the facebook page, but I may head down for Arts & Crafts after.

The Cure For …

Though I did little more than the usual cook, clean, needlepoint, catch up on recorded television programs, the weekend flew by.

My adventure in cooking this time was organic Gluten Free Zero Carbs shirataki noodles.

I’d tried them seven or eight years ago, but abandoned that alternative to pasta because I didn’t like the taste and the texture was off-putting. Having since learned, the taste and texture is entirely different when prepared properly (drain in colander, rinse with cold water, add to boiling water, boil for approximately 1-2 minutes, remove and drain in colander), I thought to give them another go. In a veggie stir-fry, it was umm umm good. Next, I’ll try in a ground turkey bolognese.

I made contact with none of the residents this weekend, so the status of Jose the Dog’s mom is not yet known. I did, however, make it out of the unit, out of the complex, out of the area, but only because I was forced to do so to keep a standing Sunday appointment with the locktician (beautician who specializes in grooming Sisterlocks) in Rancho Cucamonga. Popping into Walmart on the way back, I thought to pick up nails to at long last hang those bedroom photos and put up my latest medal board.

Why tear up the wall with nails you ask, when hanging strips are an alternative and, upon moving out, there is a charge of $85 per hole?

Well, that’s because it gets hot up in here, the glue on the command strips melt/loosen over time and eventually I’ll hear a ripping sound, which tells me the strip has failed and whatever it is holding is falling or has fallen.

And that $85 per hole is not a typo, it’s not $8.50, it actually is a chargeback of $85 per 1x1 hole.

I imagine management will prorate for smaller holes, but I don’t know for sure.

Either way though, since I’m counting on living here for like forever, I’m going for it. If something unforeseen comes up and I do relocate, there’s always good old nail hole filler.

Back to Walmart … Once inside, I remembered a this I needed to restock up on, a that, picked up a new DVD and drove away with everything EXCEPT nails.

I hate when that happens.

The movie that called my name is A Cure for Wellness.

Billed as “a psychological thriller”, it sounds safe to offer up for Movie Night. However, I’ll have to watch it first to make sure it’s suspense rather than blood/gore, something that will give us all nightmares.

While standing in the home goods isle at Walmart, trying to decide which cutting board to select, to replace my old beat up board, a little lady pushed a cart in front of me and said, “This is the third time I’ve been down this isle”.

Thinking she might need help, I asked, “What are you looking for?”

“Nothing. I have no more husband, my children are grown so” and she shrugged her shoulders as if to indicate walking Walmart isles is what she now does with her time.

How sad is that?

She’s lonely.

Thinking out loud about how my cure for loneliness was to grab my six-month old twins and flee from my mentally, emotionally, physically abusive ex with the clothes we had on our backs, and how good it is to now have peace of mind, freedom of time and energy, I said, “Sometimes no husband is a good thing”.

Lonely as she seemed to be, she must have snapped out of it and flashed on a bad memory because, all of a sudden, she smiled, nodded in affirmation and said, “Sometimes”.

Today is not my day to pop into the Community Room but I’ll stop in for a bit to see if there’s news as to how Jose and his mom are doing.

The Plot Thickened

Actually, the plot not only thickened but worsened over the weekend as I set about getting a new cellphone number to resolve that spoofing issue.

I logged into my provider’s website but quickly became frustrated when the links and instructions led me in circles. Deciding to let an agent make the change, I clicked on “Chat Now”.

After typing in what I was trying to accomplish, the agent typed back, “Have you tried going online?”

I kid you not.

Now please keep in mind, I wasn’t talking to the agent on the telephone. I was type talking to the agent via the chat box …on the internet … online.

Me: “What? Seriously? I’m online now”.

Agent: “Okay, not a problem, I can have that changed for you”.

Agent comes back after a short time and says, “The new number will be xxx-xxx-xxxx”.

Only problem with that was, it happened to be my current cell phone number. The one I was trying to change.

Me: “That’s my number now ?????”

Agent: “Sorry about that wrong number a minute please.”

Me: “Never mind, you’re scaring me. I’ll go to the store.”

Agent: “I’m going to give you the correct number now one moment please.”

After agent gives me a supposedly new number, I disconnect.

However, I didn’t feel comfortable with what just happened. The conversation left me thinking perhaps I was still being spoofed, had not even been connected to an actual agent.

I logged back into my account to verify a number change and found a new number listed but not the one given me by the agent.

Hopefully, I get a follow-up survey, because I’ve got something to say about the chat box customer service.

It took a telephone call, a different agent and a reset before which was which was cleared up, and the problems the mix-up caused the phone were fixed, but all’s well that ends well. The number is changed, I won’t need to upgrade and hopefully the spoofing is resolved.

Other than that, not much happened over the weekend.

It was hot, a strange kind of hot that wasn’t so much heat but uncomfortably dry and intense.

So uncomfortable that, driving out to the locktician a few cities over on Sunday to get my braids retightened, I began to feel loopy and unusually drowsy.

So loopy that when I paid the locktician for her services with four $20 bills and two $5’s, she said, “Wait! What’s all this?” I looked over and saw I’d given her three $20 bills, two $5’s and one $100 bill.

I didn’t even know I had a $100 bill!

It’s a good thing she was honest and looked out for me.

A good thing also that she counted, because she usually just takes the cash and goes about her business.

Inasmuch as I never got around to making it to Trader Joe’s for supplies, I thought I’d stop by on the way back to the unit but, once again out driving in the hot air, I began to feel unusually drowsy to the point where I had to shake my head and slap myself to keep from what felt like falling asleep at the wheel.

Was I on the verge of passing out?

I skipped Trader Joe’s and headed straight home, where I literally passed out on the couch.

We’re not even into triple digits yet, and I can’t handle the heat. That makes me question, if relocation is in my future, how I’ll be able to handle living in Nevada, where it’s even hotter.

On tap for today is checking with the optometrist as to why it’s taking so long to get my new eye glasses? I’ve already received a thirteen-question survey from the Vision Essentials Coordinator.

Question No. 10 is “Were you satisfied with the time it took to make your eyeglasses”.

It’s been almost an entire month, and the survey reached me before the glasses have, so no. I’m not satisfied with the time at all.

I shouldn’t have to contact the optical department to find out what’s going on but, if I want my glasses, looks like I’ll have to hunt them down.

The universe is testing my patience with customer service people.

Happy Pokémon Day

Bet you didn’t know there is such a holiday.

Technically, it’s National Pokémon Day, associated with the day when the first Pokémon game launched in Japan back in 1996.

To celebrate, the game app is releasing a limited edition Pikachu wearing a party hat. The release began yesterday at 1:00 pm and lasts only until next Monday.

You'd think that with a week to catch one, it would be easy and time enough.

But noooooo.

So out of the area yesterday, getting my braids retightened in Rancho Cucamonga, I made sure to begin checking at 1:00 sharp.

No luck.

But, looking at the PokémonGo Inland Empire Facebook page, I see at least one person caught one yesterday ... and in the same Rancho Cucamonga area.

I guess it’s all about being in the precise right spot at the precise right time.

The right spot was not in my area because, once arriving back at the complex, I checked and still no luck.

Checked again when I woke up this morning.

Nothing.

But I was awake, checking the app at 3:23 a.m., so there’s still hope of finding one of the little guys by day’s end.

So that’s what’s on tap for today – party hat Pikachu and a 5 mile indoor bike ride to qualify for the “Mardi Gras 5 Miler”.

Tomorrow, in addition to being Pizza Tuesday is Fat Tuesday.

We’ve never celebrated Mardi Gras in the years I’ve lived here, but maybe I’ll lighten things up tomorrow by wearing beads and throwing some I collected while living in Long Beach, where Mardi Gras IS celebrated, out to the seniors.

We’ll see.

No Harm in Looking?

Yesterday’s weather was pretty perfect.

Expecting it not to be, I headed out to the locktician (hairdresser for braids) in winter wear – leggings, long sleeve top, boots, jean jacket, and got so hot that I dispensed with the jacket and rolled the sleeves up.

Just in case it rained this morning, I had the inclination, after leaving the locktician yesterday, to stop at Starbucks for a cup and a pound, but passed because I wasn’t craving coffee.

I shoulda paid attention to that inclination, because I woke up to a cats and dogs downpour this morning. Along about noon, it slowed down and was off/on, so I bundled up, headed out and finally stocked up.

It’s been so long since I purchased beans that I couldn’t remember what grind to request, so I said “For a percolator” and, just like last time I went through a DIY period, the young barista didn’t know what a percolator was. I ended up requesting “Not as coarse as french press”, so we’ll see how it goes.

Just to make sure I don’t end up with grinds in the coffee, I’ll use the pour over method suggested by Dkzody’s husband.

At any rate, what I did instead of Starbucks yesterday was to stop by a market I probably shouldn’t mention by name, but which wasn’t Sprouts and it wasn’t Whole Foods, and observed something that’s been bothering me ever since because I failed to report it for fear I’d be perceived as over reacting.

The guy on his knees, stocking the eggs, was acting like an out of control pervert. Instead of focusing on his stacking, he was not so surreptitiously looking left and right and, when a female customer turned the corner, he’d stare at her lower extremity.

I don’t recall seeing anyone in a dress or skirt, so he wasn’t able to look up, but when a young girl walked through in shorts, the way he leered was unconscionable.

I know all guys check out females, but the way this guy was doing so, and where he was looking was disgusting. He struck me as the kind of guy to hide video equipment in the women’s bathroom.

In reaching for eggs and milk, I was positioned dangerously close to him and he turned and looked directly at my lower front extremity, so close that his face was almost in it and, when I began walking away, he turned to look at the back view.

A modest individual, when wearing leggings I usually have a sweat shirt tied around my waist. But because I’d dressed for winter, with that jean jacket, and then had taken the jean jacket off, and leggings hugging like a second skin, I felt fully exposed under his glare.

The guy was so creepy, and I so unnerved, that I actually put the milk back and walked away. I’d have put the eggs back as well, but didn’t want to give him another front view.

I so wanted to report what he was doing but, looking at all the guys behind the manager counter, I didn’t think they’d understand how inappropriate he was being and how uncomfortable it made me feel to not only experience it, but to see him doing it to unsuspecting others.

It’s been bothering me ever since that I did nothing and, after watching the courage of Meryl Streep as she schooled the orange guy, I will never let something like that go again. Should our paths cross again, and I hope they do so I can get this off my chest, you can be sure I’ll lodge a complaint because “There may be no harm in looking ... it may be that most guys do", but this guy was carrying it to the extreme when he should have been focusing on his duties. 

Or maybe I’ll just go for the jugular and shock the perpetrator out of it with, “What you’re doing is really creepy. You’re a pervert and need to get yourself some help”.

The Struggle Was Real

Woke up this morning feeling like absolute crap. My stomach was upset from having ingested dressing and gravy at the potluck made not with the safe for me garbanzo bean flour, cassava flour or almond meal flour.

I brought my own homemade cranberry sauce, and thus avoided the deadly high fructose corn syrup, but rolled the dice, lost and paid the price for giving into the delicious two types of stuffing and two types of gravy, plus my foot hurt like crazy.

Limping through the unit, feeling sorry for myself, the plan for today was to wallow in my misery. But after breakfast, a couple tablespoons Milk of Magnesium, a warm bath, finding an old pair of sandals with soft cushiony padding to take the pressure off the foot, I was over it and ready to seize the sun-filled day – starting with a run by Starbucks and then tackling the Christmas stuff.

In order to get to the Christmas decorations, I had to first relocate storage cartons containing sewing/needlepoint supplies, scrapbooking supplies, cosplay outfits from the storage closet to the living room.

While those containers were cluttering up the living room, I decided to rest a little by going through and weeding out items no longer needed.

Wasn’t much, but I did manage to pare two sewing/needlepoint containers down to one.

Now able to get to Christmas supplies, back of the storage area, I began dragging the lighted gift boxes inside, assembling those.

Then, planning on adding the string lights to the patio railing before dragging out the Christmas Tree, I tackled the green container and what do you know … no lights.

Tossed them?

Gave then away?

I just don’t remember. It’s a mystery.

I do know Nurse Ratched was on a rampage last year about “affixing items to the patio railings” but I’d never been hassled with a lease violation for the Christmas lights. Perhaps I decided not to risk it another year and did decide to get rid of them.

However, inasmuch as Nurse Ratched is now in our rear view, I need to head to Walmart, Costco or Lowes for lights before I can go any further with the patio, but today is Black Friday and no way was I risking the crowds, the lines, the chaos for a couple strings of light.

So today I lived with the clutter.

Probably will be living with the clutter tomorrow as well, as I have an appointment with the locktician to have my braids retightened on Saturday. After which I’ll shop for that birthday money card and lights, arriving back at the complex too late to finish the patio.

The clutter will be around until Monday, but at least I’m halfway there.

With nothing else to be done today, I took a nice long nap, awoke with the foot no longer hurting, stomach settled, glad I didn’t waste the day wallowing.