Second Wind

I’d been hoping for but not really thinking I’d get it -- a second wind, so I could get back to a daily walking routine and participating in 5Ks.

After a foot injury put me out of commission for a few months, I’d put together that Schwinn and turned to virtual biking events. Once the foot healed, I was feeling slow and sluggish and not able to keep up, so I turned to Virtual 5Ks until my strength, energy and balance began to fail me, from probably that ear infection I didn't know I had.

At any rate, I’ve actually not participated in activity of any kind since November, just sat on the couch watching TV and needlepointing.

Of course, I did notice, while on hiatus, that my back and hips began to hurt from all day sitting.

I remembered reading somewhere about inactivity leading to joints stiffening, locking actually, which is probably why so many here depend on canes and walkers.

I felt that beginning to happen to me, but still couldn’t get off the couch until that second wind hit me this past Sunday, when I found myself putting in a mile on the indoor bike. The following day, I put in a mile and a half. This morning I woke up, felt like my old self, put in 3 miles on the bike, then headed out and completed 1.5 miles around the neighborhood.

I’m back!!

This year, instead of being medal motivated, I’m just going to walk and bike to stay active.

That’s not to say that, if I see a medal I absolutely must add to my collection, I won’t register for the virtual. But the plan is to get back to fun outdoor events – hundreds of participants, no pressure races. And right now, that looks to be the Great Donut Run, which I participated in last year as a virtual.

I’m not planning to cosplay this event, but if I just happen to run into donut fabric, I might make a pair of leggings.

Whatever

I had to practically swim through the downpour, but I did make it to the Community Room for this afternoon’s celebration for residents born in the month of January.

It wasn’t too uncomfortable for me. Mainly because, when I walked in, The Baker and The Seer didn’t make a big to-do to single me out. They kept it on the down low that the event was because they wanted to celebrate me by whispering “Happy Belated Birthday” in my ear.

Two other January residents arrived for a cupcake, one came in quietly and replied “yes” when asked if this was her birthday month. The other danced through the door singing “Happy Birthday to me”. Not surprisingly, it was the woman I've described in this blog as projecting an attitude of entitlement.

Whatever.

Surprised I was to see Activity Director in attendance. Her schedule had her at this location last Tuesday, but she didn’t show. Her schedule showed her not at this location this Tuesday, and there she was.

Whatever.

Her schedule also indicated a crochet class last week, when she didn’t show, to make afghans (activity calendar spelled it “aphgan”) for the dialysis center – a good and worthy endeavor; but moving that class (unannounced) to today, what she was teaching the ladies was how to make cute little caps to be distributed to premature babies in the local rehab center – equally a good and worthy endeavor.

Because of my frustration at Activity Director’s habit of not showing up, as scheduled, for arts and craft sessions, I’m disengaging and won’t be looking to do any projects with her in future.

In chitchatting with residents, I learned the status of my smoking neighbor. She’s actually back in her unit, having been released a day or two after the EMTs took her away. It wasn’t a fall, or an accident of any kind. She just suddenly felt seriously ill.

Maybe that influenza confrontation that’s bringing so many to their knees.

At any rate, the hospital pumped her with antibiotics and, though I've not seen her, I’m told she’s fine now.

As for the gentleman thought to have liver damage. He’s back in his unit as well, and that’s all that was said – just that he’s been released and is back in his unit.

Hmmmmm.

Low Profile

Been keeping to myself, maintaining a low profile this last week, to give the seniors time to get Happy New Year’s hugs and thoughts of my birthday out of their system. 

Even the fact I was running out of food supplies didn’t get me up and out. I just got creative with what was available. Nor did the fact the Mega and Powerball were up there, over $400 million, calling my name, saying I needed to take a chance I might be the one because Granddaughter needs a better car and No. 3 Grandson needs a car period, also didn’t motivate me to get up and out.

What finally did motivate me to get out and make a run on Saturday was running out of a needlepoint floss color. So off I went to the craft store, with a stop by the market for groceries, and a stop to pick up a Powerball ticket, as the Mega was no longer up for grabs, then it was back to hibernating.

Having not made contact with anyone in the complex for days, I’m not sure what the status is of the resident rushed to the hospital with what is thought to be liver damage. Nor do I know what happened to one of the neighbors in my quad.

While watching Project Runway Thursday night, I head sirens and the sound of a truck engine stopping just at the end of my walkway.

Looking out the patio window, I watched as EMTs headed for the upstairs unit, across the quad, to the left, where lives the smoker.

This is a no-smoking community, folks are required to exit the gate and smoke somewhere outside, but folks don’t always follow the rules.

If it was impacting my life, I’d complain; but it’s not. She’s a nice lady, her unit is across the quad, the smoke doesn’t reach my windows, so not my problem.

At any rate, the EMT’s went into her unit and, after a time, neighbor was gently escorted down the stairs with an EMT assisting behind her, an EMT in front of her, and an EMT behind the guy in front of her as a safety precaution should anyone stumble he could block the fall. Every step Neighbor took looked painful for her, but they got her down to the gurney and took her away, at which time I said a prayer for her and went back to Project Runway.

No idea what could have happened, though falling in the unit seems to be the No. 1 cause of injury around here, but won’t know for sure until I come out of hibernation and get with the folks again, which looks like it will be tomorrow – Pizza Tuesday.

I actually wasn’t planning to go, but The Baker posted to our Facebook page that, after pizza delivery, there’s to be a cupcake party for January birthdays.

She’s not fooling me, I’m not stupid, I’m not a Republican. I know her baking cupcakes and arranging for this event is for me. The Seer -- the Baker’s BFF, was unable to ascertain my birthday, so the two of them came up with this workaround.

Last time anyone arranged a celebration for me against my wishes was when I retired from that job where the racist group had tried to run me out of the company because the CEO didn’t want a Black woman in a secretarial position. 

I worked myself through the situation by standing firm in my understanding that the Universe put me there because, as a spiritual student, I was strong enough in my faith to not react as they expected me to react, as the many others they had targeted had reacted (fled, quit), just stand firm and let the Universe fight the battle for me.

Though it was a painful episode, I saw the Universe at work in many things that happened to individuals in the racist group until eventually the worst of the worst retired or moved on to other companies, after which the remaining racists crawled back under their rock and ceased their openly racist behaviors. 

After my work was done, spiritually speaking, the Universe gave me an opportunity to retire. I took it.

Those in authority, including the remaining racists, wanted to arrange a retirement party for me.

I can’t be fake. Can’t eat or socialize with people I don't respect or who've been unkind to me.

Besides, the party was not for me, more like a show they were putting on to make themselves look good.

I did attend a luncheon with a group of work pals, but told the others that I wasn’t going to play that game with them, don’t arrange a party.

They did anyway, arranged for a party at the office -- three days before my retirement date so, staying true to myself, I called in sick that morning.

Of course, they ended up embarrassed, a laughing stock.

Did I care?

No.

Not even when the guy I referred to in posts during those difficult years as "The Weasly Klansman" had the nerves to say to me, when I recovered from my illness and returned to work the day after the party, "You shouldn't have done that".

Seriously? You treat me like crap all these many years and you expect me to help you save face, look like good guys and girls, by playing along with a retirement party organized by you?

This situation with The Baker and The Seer is a different scenario. Their wanting to do something for my birthday is a love offering.

I’m the person who is always there for others, doing for others, accustomed to receiving nothing in return. So unaccustomed to people wanting to do for me that it’s hard to accept when someone does something nice for me.

To repeat myself -- I can’t be fake, I’m a terrible liar, it’s hard for me to pretend but, in this case, I’m going to try my best to  play along -- go down to the Community Room and pretend I'm clueless, didn't know I'd been duped, act like a Republican.

Back to Normal

Life has returned to the norm here at the senior complex.

I got my Christmas decorations packed and back into storage promptly New Year’s Day, without exhausting or hurting myself. Even used the opportunity to organize other containers in the storage area better.

I was fairly well organized with costumes in one container, tutus in another, scrapbooking had two dedicated containers, but everything else was kinda lumped in so that, when I needed something, like say a needlepoint frame or a stylus, it was easier to just go buy one than move containers and go hunting.

Now it’s organized so that each specific craft has a dedicated container. In the process, I discovered I had seven needlepoint frames, two tubes of aida cloth I’d altogether forgotten I had and various other bits and pieces I’d looked for but could not find in the past.

Curious to know how much energy I’d expend by packing up and reorganizing, I’d worn the Fitbit.

Results indicate I’ve still got it and may be ready to start back with 5Ks.

After delivery of pizzas yesterday, was to be a class entitled “Reframing Your Perspective for 2018”.

Sounded intriguing. I planned to attend.

After the perspective class was to be a Crochet Class. “Learn how to crochet an afghan that will be donated to the Veterans’ Dialysis Center”.

A worthy endeavor for a worthy cause, but I’m all crochet out.

I did a lot of it in the 60’s, 70’s – caps, rugs, clothing -- even taught one of my daughters, who is now like a master at crochet and use to have an Etsy store, until she decided it was more fulfilling to gift items than to sell them.

I didn’t leave the other daughter out of being taught to sew, knit, crochet, it’s just that she didn’t want to learn, never took to crafting of any sort.

At any rate, I wasn’t interested in Tuesday’s Crochet Class, but other residents were.

Problem was, Activity Director was once again a no-show – no perspective class, no crochet class, but Head Maintenance Guy (HMG) took her place in picking up and delivering pizzas.

One of the residents commented on how HMG all of a sudden is moving around like he’s got a fire under his arse – going from unit to unit handling things, picking up pizzas, that buying donuts for residents at last month’s meeting with his own money, smiling and greeting residents.

What happened to bring about this change?

No one knows for sure, but rumor is one too many complaints and a scathing email to Corporate about his previous lack of motivation and poor attitude.

If that’s what happened and he consequently has been warned by Corporate to get in gear or look for a job elsewhere, I assure you – it wasn’t me. Well … yes, I’ve complained to other staff, but in a joking way – like when I told Complex Manager and Assistant Maintenance Guy that I was going to put a lump of coal in HMG’s stocking. And yes, I did put him on blast at the Residents/Management meeting in front of his Corporate Boss, but I didn’t send the email.

Whatever the reason for this change, I welcome the new him.

Roll Call

Today is Pizza Tuesday here at the complex. Missing from the herd will be the old guy that would open a box, touch the pizza, close the box, put it back in rotation on the table, then choose a different pizza. 

Of course, those handled pizzas were immediately taken out of rotation and tossed in the trash, the old guy was told not to open the box and touch, but he was stubborn, didn’t like women telling him what he could and could not do, and further didn’t seem to care that others were offended at his contaminating food until Activity Director put her foot down and one day literally shoved the pizza he’d touched back at him and made him take it.

After that, he’d still try to open and touch, but everyone in the room kept an eye on him, and saw to it that he was made to take what he handled.

At any rate, he passed away of a brain aneurysm between Christmas and New Year’s.

Also passing away during that same time period, (in addition to the lady I’d previously blogged about – who was fine one day, celebrating her 95^th Birthday, then, in rapid succession, was first in the hospital, then placed in convalescent home where she very quickly passed away), was the wheel-chaired gentleman whose daughter had put her life on hold and moved in to care for him.

In failing health and bed-ridden for the last year or so, he succumbed to a heart attack. The daughter is in the process of moving out, as she is too young to remain a resident.

On New Year’s Day, the companion of 30 years to one of our Community Room regulars became ill and, against his wishes, was taken to hospital. He’s hanging on, but word is liver damage due to alcoholism.

The downside of living in a senior community is we see a lot of death. Oddly enough, most occur during the holiday season and average about three/four around this time every single year. But, at any age, tomorrow is not promised.

The mystery of how The Seer knew this is my birthday month was solved when I noticed the names of all residents born in January was listed on this month’s Activity Calendar.

I’d forgotten the office does that, hadn’t really been paying attention to the listing, until my name jumped out at me. I do remember blogging, when management first began publishing names, that the then new practice was going to create a problem for those of us who do not wish to be recognized.

And so it looks like it is, creating problems that is.

Oh well.

Also worth mentioning -- the garlic oil appears to have cured that ear infection. It took the same length of time the doctor said the medication she gave me would take, around 7 days, and the garlic oil cured without the horrible side effects that would have come with the medication prescribed.

Now if I could just find a permanent holistic cure for my esophagus/gut issues.

Good Morning 2018

Please be gentle with us.

Please be kind to us.

From the photos posted to our Facebook page, by those in attendance, it appears the senior’s New Years Eve Party went well.

I began thinking perhaps those sparkling ciders might have been spiked with alcohol, and some seniors were tipsy, when I received two telephone calls in rapid succession. The first call was from The Seer, who said the woman I’d given those cookies for the soldiers wanted to talk to me. She put the woman on the phone who said she needed my unit number for a thank you card, but then couldn’t hear my response because she’s partially deaf. She put The Seer back on the phone, who then transmitted the info to the woman.

So why did the woman get on the phone in the first place if she couldn’t hear through the wires?

I was thinking they were having too much fun down there, and I could hear the raucousness in the background.

Then mere seconds after that call was terminated, The Seer called back to ask, “When is your birthday?”

Whaaaaaat!

Are you joking!

“It’s a secret" said I. "You know I don’t celebrate my birthday”.

“Well that’s okay. I think I’ve got it written down in one of my books. I’ll look it up”.

Whaaaaaat!

How’d she get that very private information?

Maybe she has a clue it's this month, as I'd sometimes attend the cake celebrations for residents born specific months. But after years of being feted, sometimes completely overlooked, I learned not to expect, which grew to not wanting. Preferring to keep that status quo, I don't post my birthday on Facebook or mention it around the seniors, which others here go out of their way to let you know in advance. I do put my age on blast, as I'm proud of living this long when so much in life has tried to kill me.

My daughters have been off celebrating their 50th Birthday last few days. Since turning 50 is a big deal, and turning 50 with a twin an even bigger deal, I gifted them with what they wanted – day at the spa and a week in a fancy hotel in San Diego.

Reasonable request, as they could have opted for some place exotic, like Hawaii.