It felt good to walk into the closet this morning, look towards
the rack of clothing to decide what color leggings to wear today, glance to
my left and see what had been an empty space ever since my favorite belt was
pilfered, empty no longer.
Yep, the mailman is now two for two lately on getting deliveries
right.
The buckle arrived on the 1st and, when I opened the
mailbox late Saturday and found a key to the lock box, I knew the recently
ordered belt had also been delivered correctly.
I’m satisfied with the buckle/belt combo, but not completely
happy.
Since retiring, I keep it simple with a basic two looks. The
first is daily wear: leggings, long sleeve, short sleeve, no sleeve athletic
top (depending on the weather), sandals or athletic shoes. The second look is
for special occasions -- a rare party or dinner out and for when I go to hoity
toity areas and have to look like I am somebody so as not to appear
out-of-place, suspicious, or a hooker because I’m Black.
And yes, such places still do exist; and, yes, even at my
advantaged age, I still do run into situations of being obviously and deliberately followed by security in
malls, at craft shows, and viewed suspiciously as a hooker, propositioned by some perv, or mistaken as the help at the fancy hotels the
meditation group selects for its weekend retreats.
I had to laugh, on one occasion at a fancy hotel in San Diego,
when I was dressed appropriately as a guest, not as a maid, yet and still an
elderly woman approached asking, “Honey, do you work here?”
At any rate, the second look is pretty much the same as the
first: leggings, athletic top, except I add a blazer, boots and, with my
favorite flag belt, it all comes together as upscale looking ... expensive, though
it’s not.
This new belt is Justin, soft leather -- and that’s not Justin
as in Bieber, the singer, but as in the family of H.J. Justin, the boots
craftsmen. I prefer the hard leather of the original belt, but this will do for
now until I run across harder leather on my travels.
On tap for today?
I’m trying to work myself up to heading out to Redlands for last
week’s doctor-ordered blood pressure check. The doctor’s office called saying
she’d not seen me in a while, wanted me to set up an appointment and, in the
interim, stop in at any facility for a blood pressure check.
The reason she’d not seen me for a while is because I’ve been
blessed with not suffering any serious injury/illness, so I don’t see the
problem with not checking in because I don’t need to check in, so I'll pass on the appointment.
I do "try" to comply
with the occasional blood pressure check and fasting blood thingie she
requires. The blood pressure check didn’t happen last week, and
I feel in my bones it’s not gonna happen today either -- maybe not even this
week. She may have to resort to holding my blood pressure medication hostage,
as she did last time. Lol.
I'm still feeling quiet, reflective, not wanting to be around people, but perhaps I’ll work myself up to getting out for groceries today,
Starbucks and a trip to the craft store for a smaller loom, to facilitate
corner work on that cross stitch project.
There was a fun quiz posted to my facebook page last night.
Most came up with … Star.
I got it within two seconds with, of course … Sugar.
It’s been about 19 days since I last had sugar, which may
account for how I’ve been feeling lately … tired, sluggish, unmotivated, not
wanting to leave the unit unless I absolutely must, sitting on the couch
watching television and cross stitching all day and half the night; not to
mention experiencing a sense of hard-heartedness and impatience with what I see
going on in the world insofar as what people think, say, do, expect.
Not wanting to be around people, I’ve passed on several 5Ks and
have even been dreading Mothers’ Day coming up, because daughter usually takes
me out for manicure/pedicure/lunch. I’ve been so dreading it that I’ve even
considered lying, saying I’d be out of town while hiding out in my unit. But
then I figured daughter would just choose another day to “honor” me, plus lying
doesn’t come easily for me. After torturing myself over the possibility of telling
a lie, I decided to just speak the truth … that I appreciate the thought, the gesture, but would really rather not. No further explanation required or given.
I did receive notice of a weekend Meditation Session coming up
in May, in Venice – that’s Venice California, not Venice Italy, so I signed up.
I think that’s just what I need right now.
Instead of sitting in front of the
television, ingesting its negativity, man’s stupidity and inhumanity to his
brother man/woman/animals, just like I detoxed sugar from my system, I’ll be
detoxing from the world -- sitting quietly in a room full of
enlightened beings, soaking up an atmosphere of gentleness, kindness,
understanding, peace.
The session schedule looks tight and, for the first time,
includes lunch with the group because the teacher wants us to maintain the
atmosphere created by the class.
Lunch is going to be a challenge for me because, even when I’m
in weekend sessions with like-minded individuals, I prefer aloneness. Lunch is
usually walking around the area, listening to myself think, so I dunno.
Especially since the Venice Boardwalk is a hop, skip, jump from the meeting
location. Having been living in the Southern California area for as long as I’ve
been alive -- 72 years, I’ve never been to the world famous Venice Boardwalk. Not wanting to miss
this opportunity to walk around and explore, unless the lunch menu is
spectacular, I’ll take my chances that I can maintain the atmosphere, think only good thoughts, as I sight-see and people watch along the
beach front.
When the Assistant Manager puts together the monthly Event
Calendar, she should add the disclaimer that events listed are subject to
change without prior notice because, once again, an event on the calendar did
not materialize.
Cancelled?
Rescheduled?
Who knows, because management long ago dispensed with notifying
residents of changes. We’re sort of on a word-of-mouth system around here, and
if you don’t get out and happen to catch the word, then you’re out of the loop.
I haven’t been out of the unit much lately, so I guess I missed
whatever was going around about the Meet and Greet with the new Activity
Director because, when I walked by the Community Room at the scheduled time yesterday,
the place was empty and eerily quiet–no management personnel, no residents.
Even the giant plasma, which is on 24/7 was off. “No signal” on the screen.
And no kidding about 24/7.
Management in its infinite wisdom has seen fit to control the Community
Room television from Nurse Ratched’s office. It’s stuck on one channel, the Get TV Station, that runs old musicals --
unless someone convinces her to change and, when the office is closed, when the
Community Room is locked up tight, when we’re all in our beds fast asleep, the
television is still on.
Since everything is controlled from Nurse Ratched’s office,
perhaps running 24/7 is some sort of anti-theft mechanism.
The fact that the television was off yesterday may account for
why no residents were in the Community Room. The fact that management personnel
made no appearance for a scheduled event is par for the course.
The calendar also shows Arts and Crafts on the 29th, "Design Your Own Coffee Mug".
Being crafty, I’m kinda looking forward to the event. However,
being a realist, I won’t be surprised or disappointed if it too does not materialize.
After weeks of sleeping late, waking just before 8:00 -- which
is highly unusual for me, it was back to my normal wide awake at 3:30 this
morning. While waiting for the neighbors to wake up, so I could start making
noise, it occurred to me there’s an advantage to the downstairs neighbor moving
out. With her leaving, the entire bottom floor will be vacant. Noise doesn’t
travel across to my next door neighbor, so I’ll be able to turn on the
television at ungodly hours. It even means unless and until new tenants move
in, I’ll be free to pull out my zumba and Leslie Sansone walking tapes, get in
some exercise in the comfort of my own domicile.
There appears to be a whole lot more goings, than comings -- downstairs neighbor will be gone in two weeks and, just this morning, Casino
Lady told me she’s planning a move to Desert Hot Springs. The only coming I'm aware of is …
according to the monthly event calendar, we’ve got a new Activity Director.
That was a quick hire. Probably because a recently retired Event
Coordinator moved into the complex a few months ago and, when our Activity
Director left a few weeks ago, this resident went to Corporate and applied for
the job. Inasmuch as she is more than qualified and has our support, I guess
Corporate felt they’d better rush and put someone of their own choosing in the
position.
No matter, our resident will get another opportunity to apply soon,
as Activity Directors don’t last long around here. This is like the third, maybe
the fourth, since this management group took over. The ladies usually burn out
in under a year, and not because of us -- the residents. Unless they’ve been
pulling our legs, which I don’t think they were, the feedback we’ve been given during
their tenure was they liked us, found us to be the nicest, most appreciative,
most helpful out of all the other senior communities they rotate through, but
that “there are just so many restrictions” as to what they can and cannot do
for seniors at this location. “Restrictions” that do not exist at the other communities.
I recall blogging that the clock was ticking when the last
Activity Director came on board end of August. So now, we’re resetting
the clock on this latest hire.
Tick tick tick.
There’s a Meet and Greet scheduled for her this coming Thursday. Residents
appear to be so depressed, demoralized, so into not caring, that I’ll be
surprised if more than a handful shows up. I don’t want to witness her first
introduction being such a dismal affair, so I’ll just walk by, peek in and, if
it looks empty, I’ll keep walking.
When downstairs neighbor stopped me yesterday, as I was on the
way to purchase that belt, asking if I knew anyone who’d be interested in her couch,
sofa, nightstands, bed, table, hutch … all for free, no cost, as the new complex
is completely furnished. I asked around and ended up putting neighbor and older
sister together.
Ordinarily, I would have referred downstairs neighbor to
Salvation Army, but she’s a very clean person and has quality furnishings one
would rather see not go that route. Older
sister just relocated from a one bedroom on the property to a two bedroom, so
she was happy to take the items and appreciative of the hookup.
It's interesting that the new complex is furnished, prompting those moving in to get rid of what they own. If I were neighbor, I would have put my things in storage just in case the new complex doesn't work out, so I wouldn't have to start all over again accumulating.
Also, yesterday, I was thinking that when I got back to the
complex from shopping, though I didn’t want to, I’d better crack those colored
eggs and turn them into deviled eggs before they go bad. But, when I was walking around checking
to see if anyone wanted or knew anyone who’d want the furniture, I ran into a
resident babysitting her granddaughter.
“Can I give your granddaughter something I have from Easter?” asked I.
“Sure, says she.”
So that’s off my hands. The decision to crack or keep now rests
with the little girl.
Those are my two good deeds, though I wasn’t counting and didn’t
even see them as anything other than par for the course until I did something
bad today and needed to show it's not my normal.
After returning yesterday’s purchase, I first stopped at
Starbucks this morning where I saw a family sitting on the curb.
The father smiled at me, waved, held up a sign ... “I have 4 Kids. No job. No food”.
I looked at him, he looked at me, my heart hardened and I heard
myself think to myself, “You shouldn’t have had all those damn kids.”
I feel guilty I feel that way, but I own the guilt, can live with the guilt, because that is and has always been a pet peeve of mine -- people having a passel
of kids, especially children they can’t care for. It’s not fair to the children and is one of the reasons I'm no longer close to various relatives.
After being heartless, giving no money, refusing to even look in
his direction again, I stopped at the UPS store on the corner next to the
market to see about obtaining a post office box with an address for deliveries -- what they
termed Delivery of Mail through Agent, after which I popped into the market
deli to pick up something for lunch.
On the way back to the car from the deli, what did I see parked
in front of the UPS Store?
That was close.
Another few minutes in the UPS Store and I’d have been busted by
the mail carrier himself.
I’ve no doubt he’ll hear about the customer looking to be
serviced because she’d lost confidence in him because, it being a slow day,
with no one else in the establishment, the guy in the back moseyed over to the
counter where I was asking questions of the female clerk about size of the box,
and we got into a conversation as to where I lived and why I needed a box.
When I said, “Right over there, at the senior complex”, the guy
looked surprised and said, “That’s Paul. He’s pretty good. He takes a lot of
vacation, so it’s probably his replacements messing up.”
“No”, says I. “He was tracked as the courier on the deliveries I
didn’t receive. He’s fast, appears to be professional, but I think sometimes
he’s too fast and makes an honest mistake -- though he says he doesn’t make
mistakes, and the recipient of his mistakes isn’t an honest person.”
At any rate, when I saw the price list and realized a year’s
service would run $204, I told them to let me think about this and decided to weight
out how much it’s costing me in misdirected packages against the cost of a box.
Thus far it’s been a loss of $101.94. However, the vendors have
been understanding in that all but one have replaced the items at no further
cost to me. That one vendor offered to sell me another 12x12 album, but not
replace. I declined, saying I didn’t want to take the chance on a second misdelivery. So, out of
$101.94, I’m out only $23.24, to date.
The risks outweigh cost of box, so I’ll just continue with the
mail carrier and try to cut back ordering online.
Today is April Fools’ Day, but felt more like Friday the 13th ... a comedy of errors.
I was holding my breath that the belt buckle I’d ordered would
make it to my mailbox. It arrived yesterday. Whew!
Even though the mail carrier got it right this time, I still
have plans to open a post office box for deliveries because I went shopping for
a belt today, exhausted myself driving in heavy traffic and arrived home with a
headache.
This is why I prefer online shopping.
The belt I previously had was western style, so I did my due
diligence last night, looking up the nearest Boot Barn. What came up was an
address only 6 miles away, a 20 minute drive.
That 20 minute drive turned into a couple hours of chaos and
confusion. First with the heavy traffic in that direction, only to finally
arrive at the destination to find no such establishment at that location.
Businesses really need to keep their locations current on the
internet, because this happens more times than not with in-store shopping. I’ll
look up an address, arrive and find whatever was there before to be long gone.
Next was to set the GPS to ignore the address -- just take me to
the nearest Boot Barn, which turned into more heavy traffic for another 6 miles
and no establishment where the GPS announced “You have reached your destination.”
However, I knew the business was somewhere in the area, because
I’d seen the sign from the freeway. So for a time, Mr. GPS played me the April
Fool -- continuing to give me instructions to turn around and go in the direction
where there was no such place, effectively sending me in circles. After a bit, I
ignored the prompts, chose to drive in the opposite direction, look for the
sign and finally located the building.
I don’t shop well when I’m tired and frustrated and, by then, I
was tired, frustrated and hungry.
Once inside, I found they had the belt I was looking for but, of
course, not in my size, so I settled -- which is never a good thing.
As soon as I drove away, I felt buyer's remorse,
and knew I’d probably bring the belt back tomorrow.
Sure enough. After arriving back at the complex, pulling myself
together, I went online, found and ordered an exact replica of the belt I had before.
Tomorrow, I’ll be returning today's purchase; but at least now I know where the
place is.
So here I am once again holding my breath the mail carrier gets
it right.
To top it off, I saw a notation during checkout that the place I ordered the belt from does not ship to post office boxes. Assuming other businesses also protect themselves by shipping to addresses only, a box isn't going to be worth the expense.
