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.

Spoofing

This is a new word for me ... "spoofing".

Learned it just yesterday shortly after receiving a call from a young woman who said she was calling me back, because my number showed up twice as calling her phone. When I said I’d not called her, she was nice about it – not like the woman who’d called a few months ago and insisted I was lying because my number was right there on her phone, and the only way that could happen was that I or someone using my phone had called her.

I had no idea what she was talking about, how it could have happened, did not appreciate her attitude but whatever.

Now that a different individual was saying my phone called her, I became curious enough to type in a search “Calls saying my phone called them” and the result came up as “call spoofing … a not uncommon practice wherein technically savvy people can place a call and make it seem to come from any number they like, and is usually done for malicious purposes".

That’s pretty scary because what happens if my is number is used to harass someone?

Do I get a restraining order filed against me?

Do police show up at my door?

And why was my number chosen?

How did someone even get my number?

Maybe it’s time for a new phone, and a new number.

Have you ever been spoofed?

At least I now know what to tell people if it happens again, but I’m serious about a new number.

Friday afternoon’s Bingo was a waste of my time. I didn’t win, never do, and the prizes weren’t that great – soap, shampoo, toothpaste, items the hosting organization appropriately feels seniors would need, but not my brand of soap, shampoo or toothpaste so, even if I had won, would not have wanted the prize.

While we were playing, Fire and Rescue pulled up right in front of the Community Room entry doors. The guys walked through a side door to an area just outside the pool.

Of course, we halted in mid play to see what had happened and to whom.

All I saw was an elderly resident on the ground. Don’t know if she fell or passed out from the heat, but she was cognizant.

Apache informed me, “That’s the resident who escaped”.

“What do you mean escaped?”

“She approached two residents a few weeks ago and said she was escaping her unit because she was being abused.”

“By whom?”

“She said her daughter.”

“The residents called the police. They came and talked to her, but she told them she wasn’t being abused.”

I’m thinking it might be dementia.

I remember as a kid, when my grandmother was no longer able to care for herself, mom went to Texas, closed grandma’s house and brought her to live with us in Los Angeles. Grandma tried to run away from mom during the journey, telling anyone who would listen she was being kidnapped. Mom said of course people would stop stare decide if they should intervene but, when they saw my mom and grandma looked so much alike they decided mom wasn’t a kidnapper and tried to comfort grandma that this is your daughter, you’re okay.

Looking at the resident being attended to by Fire and Rescue, she seemed to be enjoying the attention, so who knows what’s really going on. She was taken away on a gurney and, in situations such as this, Social Services is called in. Once she returns to the complex, she’ll be getting checked up on.

That’s one thing that enticed me to the Inland Empire. I’d heard, “It’s a county that takes good care of its old people”, and they do.

Usual Suspects

It’s been an unusually quiet few days here at the senior complex.

On Thursday, the pot house down the street, next to the vacant field, celebrated 4/20 High Holiday (“A day when college students gather in clouds of smoke on campus quads and when pot shops in legal weed states thank their customers with discounts”) with some sort of outside activity. Outside but within their gates.

Taking that photo, seeing the burned palm tree so close to the pot house, I gave myself the giggles thinking how much more interesting it would have been if the embers, instead of setting our carport on fire, had set the pot house ablaze, sending fumes to give the whole neighborhood a contact high.

At any rate, I’d expected the usual suspects -- Big Linda and her neighbor friend, the two who complained and police called the previous pot house out of existence but who now have no control over the new one because the law has changed, to once again be up in arms and complain about the pot house’s 4/20 Event at Thursday afternoon’s Residents/Management meeting, as if management has any control over the business. Oddly enough, it never came up.

Instead, just before the meeting began, Big Linda and another outspoken resident got into a debate as to whether Aaron Hernandez committed suicide or was murdered.

I don’t know, both are possibilities, but I know better than to get in between Big Linda’s opinionated self with anyone about anything, so I kept my mouth shut and out of the debate, as did everyone else present while we waited for the debate to spiral out-of-control and for Big Linda to begin yelling. She didn't. It ended peacefully with the other woman just giving up.

Both are nice women, but Big Linda is not one to spar with when she's not on her meds.

Since I'd become so annoyed by the braggadocios performances of two neighbors at the last meeting, I’d deliberately seated myself as close to the exit door as possible so, if I felt a headache coming on, I could ease on out and head back to the peace and calm of my unit.

I did have to ease out early, but not for the reason you think as the meeting was a snooze fest, with the biggest issue being a petty complaint about people not cleaning the laundry room lint trap.

I left early because, just prior to the meeting start, management set up an ice cream sundae bar and, though I probably would have been okay with ice cream alone, I indulged myself with chocolate sauce, whipped cream, nuts – things I knew I shouldn’t have because of my sensitivity to anything containing high fructose corn syrup but thought I could get away with because it was such a tiny amount.

Tiny delicious amount or not, my gut began to react about half an hour later and I had to ease out to lay down until the episode passed.

Now that residents seem relatively happy with management, and there’s no new information coming out of the meetings, I’ll likely not bother to attend another.

That Chicken Curry with Lentils recipe I tried, unlike last month’s loser Chicken Cacciatore, came out a winner.

However, the Chicken Cacciatore wasn’t a total loss because, inasmuch as I had gluten free masa meal and corn husks on hand, I drained the liquid and turned the dish into tamales, which tamales are always a good idea, no matter what you use as filling, and provides meals for day.

On tap for today?

Was planning on heading out to Trader Joe's for supplies, but the Activity Calendar indicates Bingo at 2:00. Supplies can wait until tomorrow.

Exercise With a Purpose

Last few days have been spent cycling around London without leaving my unit.

I’d been rather lax with my indoor cycling since Fat Tuesday’s Mardi Gras 5 Miler. No reason other than the bling being offered wasn’t sufficient to motivate me into activity. That is until I received email on the 14^th with the subject line “Your Favorite Detective is Here! Sherlock Holmes Race is Live” and I saw the medal.

Couldn’t register fast enough, and it was a good thing I reacted so quickly because the race sold out within a day or two.

I’ve never seen a virtual sell out before.

I guess Sherlock IS everyone’s favorite detective.

The race was a quickie, only 22.1 miles. Not a great distance. A distance that can be completed in one day, one ride … but not by me. Not wanting to overtax and kill myself, I broke it up into four days, four rides. Finished this morning, logged it in, so another medal for the board should be arriving soon.

In a way, completing in days rather than in one shot is better because participants receive Photographic Mile Markers to reflect which landmark was reached at that day’s login point, had the participant actually been cycling around in reality. Completing in one shot, you’d only see your start, finish, and miss the interesting sights in between -- like my Day 2 Mile Marker.

“A statue of Sherlock Holmes by the sculptor John Doubleday stands near the supposed site of 221B Baker Street, the fictional detective's address in London.”

Though I’ll probably spend time on the indoor bike, to burn calories between now and then, my next actual race isn’t until June – the Never Say Die 5K (walk 3.1 miles) and Pedal for the Medal (cycle 20 miles).

On tap for remainder of the day is to try my hands at a new recipe – Chicken Curry with Lentils.

Tomorrow is the Residents/Management meeting. No one has any issues that I know of so, unlike when mean incompetent Nurse Ratched was the Community Manager and the natives were out for blood, this should be a quick and civilized session.

Then and Now

Switching out the cordless screwdriver with the correct tool -- a cordless drill, made all the difference.

Finished the medal board yesterday without additional nuts, bolts, didn’t even have to use the screwdriver, just the drill, plyers and elbow grease.

Unaccustomed to manual labor, I did wreck my fingernails and started up a blister or two, but such a feeling of accomplishment as you would not believe.

Medal Display THEN

Medal Display NOW

Flip Side Credits

Felt like a glass of champagne was in order upon project completion but, since I don’t drink, I settled for ice cream.

Will I ever make another?

For sure.

Now that I know what I’m doing, and have the proper tool, I’m already envisioning the next board, only I’ll wear work gloves next time.

Happy Easter

The plan for today was to head to the university to take advantage of PokémonGo’s “eggstravagnza”; which promised to be “A wider variety of Pokémon in eggs that require 2 kilometers of walking to hatch and additional candy to feed Pokémon than usual for hatching eggs”.

Instead, worn out by the week that was, I’m opting to focus on completing that medal board.

The email confirmations arrived Friday afternoon, and I’d driven to two different locations to pick up hardware yesterday. Actually, three different locations because, arriving at the second, I learned I had to drive miles out of my way to yet a third because I’d had the item shipped to the South Fontana store, rather than the much closer North Fontana store.

At any rate, when all was said and done, I arrived back at the complex, hardware in hand, ready to finish the medal board, only to realize I’m girlie girl creative (the decorative portion of the board looks great) but challenged insofar as the nuts, bolts, tool side of life.

You know that cordless drill I’d been trying to find a bit that fit, waiting for a bit that fit? After considerable trial, error, research, it finally hit me that it wasn’t working out because it is in fact a cordless screwdriver.

Live and learn.

I’m going to have to pick up an actual drill, maybe some screws and a wire cutter, use both the screwdriver and drill, figure out how to get er done.

Leaving the complex yesterday, headed out to pick up those items, I took a photo of that burned palm tree.

The two upstairs across the quad neighbors who’d informed me of the fire and heavy winds blowing embers onto the property, igniting the carport, believe it to be a deliberately set fire.

I on the other hand, believe it just too coincidental that a crew was digging trenches, laying cable along the stretch of road directly in front of the palm tree and, when they finished the job, poured asphalt and were done, the tree caught fire. Logic dictates that whatever machinery they used, to restore the roadway to normal, sent sparks that caused the palm to smolder, and the smoldering eventually worked itself into a blaze after the crew left.

At any rate, I had an aha moment shortly after posting I’d not heard a thing evening of the fire, and realized I did heard the commotion. I just didn’t know what I was hearing.

I recall the loud voices of the two neighbors, I recall hearing the sirens but, as it is not unusual to hear the two outside talking in the evening, I didn’t think anything of it. As far as the sirens, fire and rescue comes in/out of here so often to attend to seniors that I’ve become desensitized.

I also remember being annoyed one morning, because I’d washed the car the day before, and the car was now covered with muck. I had to wash the windows just to see to get out of the carport.

At the time, I’d blamed the landscapers, thinking they used a blower in the area. I now realize it must have been the morning after the fire and the muck on the car was ash.

I’ve often wondered, when residents inform me of different happenings, why it is I miss everything. Now I know. It’s not that I’ve missed, it’s that I wasn’t paying attention.

Lastly, I forgot to mention in the Spring BBQ post that Greedy Grabby was in attendance, but I was too busy taking photos, videos, chatting with my table mates to pay her any mind, even when she moved from a table at the opposite end of the Community Room to the table next to mine.

Remember the deeply religious elderly woman -- the one who said she would not be attending because of “lent … we’re not supposed to eat”, then became offended when I said I would be attending, that I was not catholic? Well, she also was in attendance … and she was eating … and it was Good Friday.

Just sayin.