The Red Invitation

On Wednesday, I got through the last of the hard parts and finished the book written by the Great Granddaughter I never knew I had.

Available on Amazon

It ended on a high note, with her doing great things … a non-profit, podcasts, a goal of connecting with other adoptees/foster youths, create safe spaces.

How was I depicted in the book you ask?

"My GG (great grandma) does voodoo". LOL.

She’s not entirely correct, but she’s not entirely wrong.

Also on Wednesday, through the kitchen window, I noticed something red posted to White-Haired Neighbors' door.

If she had something posted to her door, it was likely I also had something. Opened the door, checked and sure enough … it was an invitation from management to attend "Let’s Give Thanks – join us for a Thanksgiving Lunch, Tuesday November 24th".

WHAT!? Now I’m getting scared.

First, management threw that Halloween Party on the 30th of last month, and now they’re hosting a Thanksgiving event just weeks later????. Like, why are they suddenly being so good to us?

No question, I won’t be attending because it’s a purely eating event, and I can’t eat anything they are likely to serve. Plus, and too, there’s likely to be that annoying bullshite ceremony where they go around the room, everyone says what they are thankful for.

That's a little too hokey for me. So, if photos are to be taken for posting to the Residents’ facebook page, one of the Usual Suspects will have to take them, forward to me for posting.

I had been considering heading to Long Beach for the Thanksgiving Holiday but then, I remembered how boring Long Beach had been during a former Thanksgiving visit. Not to mention, reviews on my favorite hotel in the downtown area, with a view of the Queen Mary, seems to indicate the hotel and area have gone down considerably, because the area has been taken over by the unhoused.

Confirming with granddaughter, she tells me it has gotten bad, for that reason … you can’t even safely walk in the area, the noxious smells, sidewalks littered with animal and human feces.

So, if I go, I’ll have to switch to a hotel she suggested that’s near the airport.

There’s also to consider that, if I go for Thanksgiving, I’m likely to run into White Grandma (whom the great grandbabies call "Pink Grandma" as opposed to Twin 1, whom they referred to as "Brown Grandma"). I’m just "GG", no color assigned, LOL.

I’m thinking, I’ll save the visit for closer to Christmas when I can do "Breakfast with Santa" with the toddlers at the Aquarium of the Pacific.

Lastly, on Wednesday … the day when she who shall henceforth remain nameless on this here blog because she told me there would no longer be crafts on Wednesdays, those days supposedly reserved for doctor appointments and then proceeded to have sessions nevertheless, leaving me out of the notification process, the seniors had crafts. They made decorative plates.

Stolen Land Eve

While the majority are planning for tomorrow’s feast, having finished conceptualizing covers for Twin 1’s bathroom accessory, my plan for tomorrow is to shampoo the carpets.

Can’t say that I’m happy with the second stab I made at making a cover, but soooooo over the project, I kinda hastily stitched up a teepee like cover, with an open flap that can be closed, just to be done with it.

It’s a lot more functional than the tube cover, but I don’t like it, am not proud of the finished product. However, so totally over this project, I just no longer care. Don’t even understand the need for a cover.

Talking to Twin 1 on the phone last night, where she said she'd just finished handing out 200 turkeys donated to her organization, I explained my reservations that Cover 1 would drive her nuts with the necessity to lift off/place back on, might not fit, and that Cover 2 was not to my liking.

She said she’d searched Etsy (online craft central for anything and everything), couldn’t find a cover, turned to me.

I appreciate that she had faith in my abilities to come up with something, but told her there’s a reason she couldn’t find a cover on Etsy. Reason being people don’t usually cover their standing holders.

After having read Tundra Bunny’s comment about his "metal giraffe", I looked that accessory up, saw how cute it is, how it would suit Twin 1’s Afrocentric ascetics, so I suggested she just replace what she has with a giraffe for TP and another for Paper Towels.

So, we’ll see how it goes — if she tests out my creations or purchases anew; but, however it goes, I’m done, over and out.

Through the patio window yesterday, I caught a glimpse of little Knock Knock on the walkway.

Is school out?

She’s older, more reserved, so I don’t expect she’ll be constantly knocking on my door; but, if she catches me outside, she will run up/give me a hug.

Next Door Neighbor knocked on the door yesterday to see if I was still alive, since she’d not heard or seen me coming/going for a while.

Things are all up in the air with her looking to move to a downstairs unit, due to a planned surgery that would have rendered her incapable of climbing stairs; and last we spoke, both the move and the surgery were on hold due to a new even worse medical diagnosis.

Inviting her in to view the finished 4 Years 4 Months 3,391 Hours artwork, she oohed aahed then asked if I’d had offers to buy it.

After saying I had no intention of working that hard for that long just to sell it, and further that family would be upset if I sold, that I expected they’d fight over it after I’m gone, I began thinking how weird that her mind somehow always thinks dollars/cents, the monetary value of things.

My mind went back to the time she was in my unit for something or other, how her eyes had roamed that time as well; she looked at various figurines, said "That’s probably worth money".

Who thinks that way?

As I was pondering that thought, her eyes began to take the room in. She asked about the cover on the yoga mat.

It was covered. How did she know there was a yoga mat under it?

Then it was, "Is that a sewing machine?"

It too was covered.

Then, "Is that a carpet shampooer?"

Damn lady.

She'd better not ask to borrow it.

Just before she moved to leave, it was "What’s that on the floor?"

It was my walking pad.

Inspecting and observing more than even the State Inspector did, I’m surprised she didn’t check the bathroom and the bedroom.

Weird, just weird.

Cuffing Season

Yesterday’s Thanksgiving Event, hosted for us by us, was an almost standing room only success. Every seat in the Community Room was taken, and the organizers had to turn one of the food serving tables into seating space in order to accommodate all who attended.

In order to get a good spot for taking photos, and capture photos of the organizers at work, I arrived about 40 minutes before start time.

I’d asked the organizers to pose like the Rockette …… you know, the famous knee lift.

At our age, all younger than I, this is the best they could do, LOL.

It’s cute though.

Evidently, my arriving early wasn’t early enough as there were seniors already seated at a table, waiting for the main event.

When residents began arriving in force, MAGA would sit at the table where I'd settled.

We get along well enough, but I nevertheless moved because she can sometimes be aggravating and I didn’t want to take the risk of being annoyed.

Turned out the move was from the frying pan into the fire because, as the room began to fill, and there was then no place to move to, I found myself surrounded at the table by the deadly trio — Dream Lover, Upstairs Lady, Lu. But at least Upstairs Lady didn’t set me off again by telling me to move, like she had done previously, so the three could sit side by side.

I was surprised at seeing the trio sitting at a regular table, as there was a High Table (reserved seating). Their names were not on it.

Interesting …… did one or all three fall out with the organizers?

Probably just Upstairs Lady, but the other two would not have wanted to be seated without her, so where I was seated was where they landed.

Lord be praised, everyone was on their best behavior, I got through it.

Of course, Ernie made an appearance. He didn’t stay for the event, just happened to walk by, opened the door, actually gasped upon seeing me seated, made a beeline to grab a hug, kiss on the cheek, now referring to me as "My love".

That started a few days ago, when I was headed out to run errands, had just gotten to the bottom of the stairs, turned to head down the walkway, saw Ernie, chatting and walking his dog with Ruben (the little man whose wife, when she was alive, was assulted by Cat Lady, when Cat Lady went cra cra, walked into their unit, accused them of killing cats, hit the wife, which got her evicted) walking his dog.

Ernie halted his conversation, said, "Hold up. I have to go hug my love".

His what?, thought I.

I don’t even know why Ernie is living here amongst us seniors, as he’s physically fit, looks nowhere near 55 or over even though I know he is.

What I do know is that, this period between Thanksgiving and the New Year is Cuffing Season — a time when singles are moved subliminally to seek a seasonal partner.

Ernie is likely caught up in/being controlled by that atmosphere, without even realizing it's having an effect on him, and will calm down once the season passes.

So, anyway, there were games for us seniors to play while the organizers were preparing dinner, like the following 2-player game where newspapers were taped together, placed on the ground, the goal being who can, using their feet, drag all the paper under the chair first. (The video came out kinda dark so I, dressed all in black, am virtually unrecognizable, appearing as a black blob).

Talker said not only did one leg begin to cramp, causing her to lose, but both legs cramped. Not funny that she couldn't handle those simple movements sitting down, but I nevertheless cracked up.

I won a prize …… Fannie May Chocolates which, of course, I can’t eat, but will use in this year’s gingerbread build.

Once dinner was served, the first to be called to the counter was office staff.

I resented the hell out of that.

We got potato chips while they got turkey with all the trimmings and dessert.

Had I been in charge, I’d not have called them in to be given a plate. If anything, I’d have given them a little bag of potato chips.

The good news is, surprisingly, Kesha didn’t show up to take credit.

Christmas is only 33 days away. I’m not holding my breath expecting management, in return, to do anything for us seniors in return or just because the money is in the budget and it's the right thing to do.

Pizza and Potato Chips

Yesterday’s "Thanksgiving Social and Tenant Council Meeting" did not disappoint in providing the disappointment I’d expected.

Scheduled for noon to 1:30, I was back in my unit by 12:15.

Arriving just before noon, with my notepad to document what management had to say in the meeting portion, I found only seven residents in the room, and all seven were of the Usual Suspects. (Talker was in attendance, MAGA was not, so no tea to report back).

There were no decorations, no coffee, no nothing prepared for us.

Kesha didn't know anything about a "Tenant Council Meeting", said she didn't know why the office even put that on the calendar. Then she began walking around, having us sign her attendance sheet, so she can get credit for hosting an event, as she gave out little bags of potato chips.

Adding insult to injury, they're not even turkey flavored.

I did hear Kesha order a pizza for the few attendees, but I didn’t stick around long enough to see it delivered. As stated above, I was outta there at 12:15, saying I had better things to do — like laundry while there’s a break in the rain and steam clean the bathroom (both of which is what I did with my time).

Painted Rock Lady laughed, said in a sarcastic tone, "I got up early for this".

Will I ever learn not to waste my time buying into management posting event on the activity calendar that rarely come to fruition.

Ernie did a walkthrough while I was in the room, saw me sitting at a table off to myself, said out loud to the room, "I have to go hug this beautiful lady". I didn’t stand up, so he bent over, hugged what he could, then kissed me on the cheek.

Hmmmmmm??????

Crafty Lady was in the room, seemed to have gotten over being salty towards me for ghosting her that day.

In fact, when the Baker was telling me we’d be doing something different for Christmas, that instead of a big party, she’ll make lasagna, salad, and we’ll be doing crafts and cookie decorating, Crafty Lady walked over to add she’d be teaching attendees how to turn something or other into another something or other involving jewelry, and that she’d picked out a witch for me to work on.

Hmmmmmm??????

Seems I'm taking up space in her head; she's thinking of me even when I'm not around which, ordinarily, would be nice but feels a little creepy coming from her. At any rate, I very much fear she's going to get her feelings hurt yet again, because my job at the Christmas event will be that of photographer. I'll be focusing on who's coming in, who's doing what, capturing memories for the Residents' FB page, with little time for crafting.

If by chance I do get a minute to participate in crafts and the choice is decorating cookies or participate in what she's doing with jewelry, you can probably guess I'll go for decorating cookies.

Next up is Friday’s Thanksgiving event that us residents are hosting for ourselves. We’ll probably get quite the turnout for that. MAGA might even show up, and I wouldn't be at all surprised to see Kesha walk in to take names/pics, give us candy so she can steal credit for the event.

This management group is soooooo tacky.

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 ………

Fish Story

Yesterday was Bingo Friday with the usual suspects.

The Community Room was decked out, by management, for the Holiday …… maybe in lieu of a tree this year, as I've seen none; but it's still early.

No way did Manager set this up. It's probably the work of the young Assistant Manager.

We were joined at bingo by one of the newer residents ─ the guy I’d had to school on etiquette …… told how rude he was being when he walked into the Community Room while we were in the middle of bingo, sat down in the big chair, opened his phone and began viewing some kind of program, open mic, no headphones. That guy.

The Baker said she talked him into joining us.

He looked reluctant to be there, so I’m not sure he enjoyed bingo; but time will tell if he shows up again.

Also talked by the Baker into joining us was Little Linda — a weird little resident who has been living here since long before I arrived on the complex.

The Baker really needs to stop with all this kumbaya crap, trying to bring everyone in the complex together as one big bingo family.

So, anyway, Little Linda jives very well with residents of lesser character, but doesn’t jive well with those of us who don’t fall into that category.

She quite literally turns her nose up at those of us not of her tribe, walks right by us without looking at or speaking to.

Consequently, when one of the regulars saw Little Linda taking a seat, she made a stinky face, looked at me, nodded her head in the direction of Little Linda, as if to say look look look at whose joining us.

Little Linda sat at the table behind me with people she’s friendly with — Di, Name Dropper and Hell on Wheels, and I caught her too many times sneaking glances at me.

Seeing me up close, watching me take photos, help winners at the prize table, the women at her table being friendly with me probably piqued her interest, but she blew her shot to get to know me many years ago when she rebuffed a friendly gesture made by me and has since given me the not of her tribe treatment.

Two can play that game, so catching her glances out the corner of my eyes, I in return refused to acknowledge her glances, did not look at or attempt to speak to her.

Of course, Di and Name Dropper being seated together was a mistake. The fact that Little Linda and Hell on Wheels were seated with them didn’t deter the two from getting in trouble. The two were quite literally yelled at, several times …… for talking.

One of the organizers would yell "HEY!" to quiet the two down so the Caller could hear the game winner verify the win by calling out their winning numbers.

Being yelled at didn’t bother them, not one bit. They seemed to enjoy it — looked at each other, giggle like naughty school children.

Paranormal John: You’ll be interested to know Hell on Wheels, who’d missed a few sessions, was escorted in by a caregiver I’d not seen before …… a male.

I guess she’s traumatized all the females the agency provided, so they are seeing if she’ll be less awful being cared for by a male caregiver.

And get this John, she now has 4 caregivers. They work in shifts.

Two are from an agency, two are relatives ─ one of which is her daughter, who comes on Sundays, cooks and leaves meals for the week.

All caregivers, relatives and agency people, are paid caregivers.

Once again, I didn’t win any of the 10 games, but I walked away with a poinsettia plant that, based on past experiences with poinsettias, I haven't a clue as how to keep alive.

A gift from the organizers as thanks for designing and printing bingo flyers, taking photos, managing the website.

The day before, while heading into the Laundry Room, I was approached by a fairly new resident who was upset, said "I don’t even want to live here anymore" because her unit had been burglarized …… several times.

She said her electronics disappeared during the burglaries, then her clothes and now, "I’ve got nothing left".

I suggested it might be the homeless a new resident who has been using her unit as a hostel — sneaking homeless people in at night, allowing to shower, spend the night …… for money we suspect.

We suspect for money because late one night there was a commotion outside TinTin’s unit. I was asleep, didn't hear it, but the noise woke up Next Door Neighbor, who tells me it was a couple, that looked homeless, banging on TinTin's door yelling, "Let us in, we paid, let us in".

There’s been no more of that from TinTin since that late night commotion outed her activities, but it did alert us to this side business some residents have going on.

And yes …… Next Door Neighbor reported TinTin’s commotion to management and a resident or residents in the quad, where this hostel is currently operating, reported to management.

So, when this resident was telling me about having been burglarized more than once, I suggested it might be the homeless being let in by the resident in her quad.

She said no, that it was a male resident around the corner. "He’s on drugs and he’s always walking over here and watching me".

Asking if the office knew of the burglaries, she said yes but the office told her they can’t do anything.

That didn’t surprise me, because that’s what they do in the office about everything …… nothing.

So then I ask, "Have you reported this to the police?", whereupon she hemmed and hawed, averted my eyes, managed not to answer the question.

My spidey sense went up.

I asked, “How are they getting into your unit?”.

It was well this, well that, hemmimg hawing again with no answer.

I left it with, "You’d better make a police report before they come in and kill you in your sleep" and walked away thinking I’d better get this story verified.

"She has problems, is not well", I’m told.

She’s told this story of being burglarized to several people and each time blames a different resident as the culprit.

Furthermore, her neighbors have security cameras ─ that’s how they know about the resident sneaking in homeless people at night.

Those security cameras are not showing anyone going into her unit, other than herself and her relatives.

So, the general consensus is that if …… as in IF this story of missing electronics/clothing is even true, it’s probably one of her own relatives.

And that’s the tea.

P.S. I learned the Thanksgiving Luncheon was not El Pollo chicken. Instead it was individual personal sized boxes of Kentucky Fried Chicken (KFC). They served the residents box lunches for Thanksgiving. Can't wait to see what management comes up with for the Christmas Party.

I may have to call off that morning's workout, go to the event, see for myself.

Home for the Holiday

Having decided not to pack up and hit the road for Thanksgiving with the dysfunctional family, I was thankful for having made that decision when the commentator on country station KFrog said that nearly 80 million Americans are expected to travel over Thanksgiving.

It’s been vewy vewy quiet here on the complex. I’ve not seen or spoken to anyone while out and about, so I don’t know if yesterday’s rescheduled Thanksgiving Luncheon took place or how thing went if it did, i.e., what was served, who went, did Manager comport herself appropriately.

Inasmuch as the patio decorations are already up, and I made enough chicken tamales on Tuesday to get me through to Christmas, Stolen Land Day is free to work on that never ending needlepoint project and perhaps work on this year’s gingerbread build.

Catching up on Creative Memory Scrapbooking is on hold until supplies come in.

That rainstorm we’d been threatened with last week, was a sprinkle. However, looking at the dark clouds overhead, that could change as early as tomorrow.

When the storm didn’t hit Friday night or Saturday morning, I made a quick trip to stock up on supplies at Sprouts, with a plan to stop by Starbucks, get Trainer a gift card for Thanksgiving.

However, seeing a Dutch Bros (DB) across from Sprouts, and remembering how excited Trainer was to tell me a DB has opened up in our area, I trotted on over to see if they have gift cards …… save myself having to drive to Starbucks — which is where I usually purchase gift cards.

They do …… have gift cards at DB that is, as I was told by the young man taking orders in the parking lot.

Opting for a $50 card, I pulled out a $100 bill and was told they don’t take $100’s, I’d have to use my card.

Inasmuch as the ATM on the same lot is giving out hundred dollar bills, that's just silly.

Dawn, over at Bohemianvalhalla recently did a post on how it’s getting harder and harder to pay cash, that shops and stores are pushing for our using cards.

Having had my card hacked three times, necessitating closing out accounts, I’m leery of cards, prefer cash, so I eked out $50 from my fanny pack in small bills.

The young man then tells me he can’t accept cash. I’d have to get in line, pay the cashier.

There was only one couple in front of me in the cashier's line and, of course, they were taking forever.

When I finally made it to the register, held cash out to the young cashier, she seemed thrown — froze for a bit, looked me in the eyes, looked at the cash I was holding out, looked me in the eyes again. It was like she didn't know what to do, then said, "Oh! You’re paying with cash?".

Duh!

A woman standing off to the side, who'd been observing since I had to dig out $50 in small bills when the young man said he couldn't take a $100 bill, started laughing and remarked on how complicated it was for me to get a simple gift card.

If this is the way it’s going to go — a cashless society, I may have to do all my shopping, groceries and otherwise, online. Though online has not been completely safe. I’ve ordered and paid for items that never arrived, and a small Etsy purchase from Missouri ended up with my card being hacked for $1500 from a metal manufacturing company and a second attempt at more when the first charge wasn’t immediately flagged.

So it’s six on one half a dozen on the other, still I prefer cash.

So, anyway, Trainer seemed excited this morning when I handed him a DB card, instead of the usual Starbucks and wished him a nice holiday tomorrow; but DB being a bit of a hassle, it will be back to his getting Starbucks for Christmas.

Wuh Oh!

Yesterday’s management sponsored Thanksgiving Luncheon for the residents did not happen.

Wuh Oh!

I don’t know what happened, but at least they didn’t leave the residents hanging. What they did was to post a notice to our doors, last minute day of, to say the luncheon is moved to next Tuesday.

Interesting.

Of course I won’t be in attendance, but I’ve asked Next Door Neighbor — who is planning on attending, to take notes for me. Let me know why the luncheon was rescheduled, and rescheduled last minute, plus keep an eye on Manager for another meltdown.

Other than that, Thanksgiving being my least favorite holiday, my plans are to lay low.

Running errands yesterday, I was on the freeway, looked over and saw a couple of apartment buildings, with patios facing the freeway, where the residents had already decorated their patios for Christmas.

I noticed just this afternoon, that some residents have their tree up and have decorated their patios as well.

Seems rushing it, and I’m tempted. However, with so much on my plate right now — catching up on scrapbooking, continuing to work on that never ending needlepoint project (going on 4 years now), trying to find time to squeeze in gingerbread house decorating, the plan is — if it’s not raining, to make decorating the patio my Thanksgiving Day project.

Back in 2018 I’d blogged that the mall boutique of fashion designer Kate Spade — of the ugly overpriced handbags that had people standing in line to purchase, with security standing by, had suddenly shut down. The shut down was shortly after she left this world, by her own hands — bipolar and mental illness was publicized as the cause for taking herself out.

Seems her legacy lives on because, walking into Macy’s yesterday, what I saw right up front was a section devoted to Kate Spade — same ugly over-priced handbags, women gathering around, oohing and ahhing, purchasing, but no security this time.

I must be missing something, because I don’t see myself spending $268 for this handbag.

I think it's supposed to be a sandwich

Or $258 or this one.

A fuzzy toaster perhaps?

I don’t think these two were the least expensive handbags being offered.

Later, popping into Walmart to pick up a gingerbread house kit. (I plan to do the one I won at bingo, but it's mini and basic. I'll do it for practice, but wanted something more challenging, which I found one I liked at Walmart).

While there I saw Martha Stewart on the Mantel and Snoop Dog on the Stoop being offered as options to Elf on The Shelf.

Cute and, if I had the space, I’d go for both of them.

When Next Door Neighbor and I were talking this morning, she said something I don't know if I should be insulted or not.

We usually chat while standing outside our doors but, it being kind of chilly outside, I invited her in.

Her eyes were darting here, there, checking out my unit as we talked about all the stuff going on about Manager's meltdown.

I've mentioned before that Next Door Neighbor has exquisite taste, probably the most beautifully decorated unit in the complex. Inside is literally breathtaking, like a museum, should be on the cover of Home Beautiful.

That’s who she is, except for the same old ugly arsed doormat that belies all the beauty inside.

My unit is more suitable for the cover of Mad Magazine — unconventional, functionally neat, a little southwest, a little feng shui, but it comes together in a collage that makes me feel good/comfortable/peaceful, and I think makes the few that enter feel comfortable as well.

So, we were standing inside as Next-Door Neighbor’s eyes roamed around the room, then she began following her eyes — still talking but walking around eying things in a manner that made me feel the need to apologize.

"I’m not fancy like you", said I.

She was smiling the whole time as she walked around, so that made me think I was not being insulted, she was not judging my tastes, just being interested and putting it together in her own mind as to who I am.

OR was she judging ....... because at the conclusion of looking around she said, "Your place makes me think of college kids".

I don’t feel judged, more like complimented, in a back handed sort of way, that my unit says that who I am is young, youthful.

Maybe she thought later about her college kids statement, thought I might be offended, because she later knocked on the door, gave me a gift.

Scented Candle

THEN, on this second visit, her eyes began to wander again.

She made a comment that the throw rug, wall hanging above the couch, and needlepoint all seemed southwest Indian inspired, asked if I was born in Texas.

"LOL, no, but my people came from Texas/Oklahoma, so I guess it's in the blood", said I.

Then her eyes landed on the Thai figurines Trainer passed on to me when he bought his business partner out of the studio and was getting rid of his partners left behind items.

"These look expensive. They might be worth a lot of money", said Next Door Neighbor.

And just when I was beginning to think for sure nothing she'd said was meant as an insult, that she's just material minded and my collage of "college kid" decor is just not something she's accustomed to seeing around here, or in our age category, she said, "It feels spiritual in here".

She got the vibes, felt the good energy of it all, kudos for that.

So, am I the youthful college kid, a red neck trapped in a Black woman's body, or a guru?

Maybe I'm like my unit, a collage, a mixture of all three.

The Invitation

Who wants to be my Plus One?

In addition to this prestigious??? event, management is hosting a Thanksgiving Luncheon for the seniors on the 19th.

Color me amazed and suspicious — two events in a row.

Complex Manager has made it clear that events for the seniors are not of her own volition, rather are bones Corporate tosses us just prior to a rent increase, to justify the increase.

We'll know on the 20th what that increase is to be this time around.

How do you like that for timing? .... two parties just prior, with the Luncheon one day before amount of the increase is to be announced.

I guess that's kinder than the year management hosted a Luau for us and, while we were occupied with the Luau, rent increase notices were attached to our doors.

But still …… just the fact that Manager has to do these events, and is expected to host, is obviously traumatizing for her.

Inasmuch as I won’t be able to eat whatever management serves, it’s not worth my time to sign up for the Thanksgiving event just to watch Manager have yet another meltdown. I’ll have to depend on the grapevine for feedback.

If Manager were smart, instead of hiding in her office so staff would have to host the event, she should just call in sick. Staff would still have to work the event without her, but the atmosphere wouldn't be as tense as at the last event, and the optics would fly better than sulking/crying in one’s office.

As for 45/47’s Inauguration, I'm sure I'll have better things to do that day, won’t be watching it on TV, let alone attending as a seat filler.

Black Friday at Walmart

Not as bad as you might think.

While a turkey leg was slow cooking in the crockpot yesterday — Thanksgiving/Stolen Land Day, I spent the day pulling Christmas decorations out of storage.

Testing the mini lights, seeing they were in perfect working order, I attached them to the patio rails, tested again and saw a great number of bulbs in one of two strings had suddenly blown out.

Nothing a quick trip to the local Walmart couldn’t resolve but, after googling closures, I learned Walmart was closed.

Having waited as long as I have, now anxious to get decorations up, I was willing, after this morning’s workout, to brave the day after crowd — Black Friday at Walmart.

In between then and now, I feasted on the usual turkey and dressing, only my dressing was a tried tested addictive gluten free, not made with bread but with tortilla chips recipe; and instead of cranberry sauce, it was homemade pico de Gallo, that I put on everything.

Towards the end of that day, granddaughter sent me a photo of what family showed up at her place.

As expected, it was my deceased sister’s boring husband and not one, but two of her brothers.

Nice photo, but Whew! dodged a bullet in not having to play nice with relatives I’m not all that fond of.

"Be well but be gone" as my blog friend Dawn the Bohemian would say.

At any rate, it was a surprisingly quick in and out at Walmart this afternoon.

The log jam appeared to be outside, at the Curbside Pickup side of the building.

That back lot was completely full, with cars 40+ deep on the roadway, all the way back to the end of the block, waiting to get in.

Unfortunately, I had two packages of a gluten free bagel product to pick up.

I’d recently discovered the bagels at the market, found no ingredients that would set off a gut episode, tried them, liked them, and then couldn’t find them back in stock at the market.

Having since discovered they’re sold at Walmart, knowing I’d be making a run today, I’d ordered them last night; but seeing the curbside pickup line was hours long, it was never mind, I’ll go inside for the patio lights, pick up the curbside order tomorrow.

Once inside, it was quick shopping and I was on my way out when I thought to check to see if I could pick up curbside inside, avoid that long line of cars and a return trip.

Approaching a woman I’ve seen working there for years, she said she didn’t know, but head to the back of the store and see if they’ll accommodate me.

They did.

A ton of sodium and carbs, but worth it.

At any rate, it appears the curse of this terrible week has come to an end, I’m batting a thousand because not only is DMV and the Covin Shot behind me, Walmart was easy peasy today, including pickup, Christmas decorations are now up to be enjoyed, complete with Skelly Claus.

AND ... I received an email from the medical provider's office saying, "You will be receiving a check for $139.99".

That’s right folks. Here I was gearing up for a fight and they folded in the first round.