Happy Easter April Fools Day

Not much going on since the egg coloring party. Mainly, because it took two days of lying flat on my back, on the couch, to recover from spending three hours in the presence of young children. 

For a while there, I thought one of the kids had given me something, because I woke up the day after with a sore throat. My body went into recovery mode that day and, after breakfast, I sat on the couch, working on the needlepoint project, and next thing I knew I was waking up – still sitting up straight, needlepoint in one hand, needle poised mid-air in the other, waking up from having suddenly fallen asleep for I don’t know how long.

Realizing I was in no shape for needlepoint, or anything else that morning, I put everything aside, lay back on the couch and next thing I knew it was 3:30 in the afternoon.

The throat began feeling better late afternoon Friday, my energy returned, so it’s been business as usual since.

Activity Director is hosting an Easter Potluck this coming Tuesday. That’s two days after Easter and not necessarily as an April Fools gag, but because that’s how she rolls --- inept.

My buddy Apache keeps sending me images of Easter-themed deviled eggs, but in your dreams my friend. I’d actually planned not to attend at all, but being as how that's also Pizza Tuesday and I'm curious to see if pizzas have ended, and find out the latest on the pit bull -- as there was an incident yesterday, I’ll pick up ice cream as my contribution and head down for a bit.

License plates for the Jeep arrived earlier in the week. Even though I didn’t get around to putting them on until yesterday, I was happy to see them arrive, because now the car is not now so conspicuously new and I can stop being made to feel guilty about being fortunate when others here are not.

Of course, not everyone here is living with less. There are others way more fortunate than I but, for some reason, a new car in my spot garnered so much attention that it made me feel uncomfortable, embarrassed even that I could afford it.

One resident, who lives all the way on the opposite side of the complex, approached me in the Community Room one day and said, “I look at carports”.

“Huh?”, said I.

“I look at carports”.

Took me a second to compute what she was trying to say, but then it hit me. She meant she noticed a new car in my parking spot.

Wow! How did she even know which spot was mine?

Another resident, overhearing the conversation felt compelled to tell me, “I don’t make much money. I only get $700 a month”.

I’m assuming she meant social security, but Holy Smokes! How does she manage? And why did my good fortune prompt her to disclose her financials?

And a few days ago, the resident who lives upstairs, across the quad, next door to the new guy that’s battling cancer, she stuck her head out her patio sliding glass door and called my name as I was walking back to my unit. I turned, looked up to her voice, and saw she had her phone at her ear. She told whomever it was she was talking to on the phone to “Hold on”, then she asked me, “Did you get a new car?”

Seriously. She saw me walking by, rushed to the patio, and interrupted her conversation to ask about my having bought a new car.

It may be my imagination, but I’m even feeling shade and side-eye coming from next door neighbor.

At any rate, plates on, the car in need of wash, maybe the Jeep and I can blend back in.

Egg Coloring Party

Yesterday was our annual egg coloring party.

The Galaxy Eggs I’d intended to strive for turned into freewheeling it, as there was just too much going on for me to attempt such an endeavor.

We had children in the room. Lots of them. And somehow I ended up interacting with each in one way or another, from answering questions about painting wooden eggs, to helping paint one or two.

Apache’s helper brought her two girls, The Baker brought her two Great Granddaughters and Great Grandson, and The Seer brought her Granddaughter, Great Granddaughter, Great Grandson.

All the children were very well-mannered, cute and distracting.

And here I really have to commend Dkzody for her ability to work with young children on a daily or almost daily basis and come out alive because, for me, even though it was fun and entertaining, it was also exhausting. After three hours, I was so drained I could barely make it back to my unit.

One adorable little boy sat down next to me and I opened a conversation with him by asking, “How old are you?”

So cute, instead of speaking, he held up five fingers, was quiet for a second and then began to tell me his whole life story.

“I have two houses, two moms and one dad. My dad doesn’t live in my mom’s house”.

Didn’t take me but a millisecond to process that information and understand he meant divorce and a stepmom, but WOW!

Do all 5-year olds just blurt out stuff like that?

It seemed like something he needed to talk about, so I said “Two houses, two moms. That’s a lot. Which mom do you like best?”

He looked very thoughtful as he pondered which he liked best for a little too long, so I surmised and said, “You like them both the same.”

“No. I like the mom at my house best”.

It was just about then that his Great Grandma retrieved him and took him to the kids' table to dye eggs, unaware he'd divulged family dynamics she’s never mentioned in the six years I’ve known her.

One little girl took such a liking to me that she was back and forth at my side, asked her GG to take a photo of us together and even presented me with a special Easter Basket she made.

She referred to her Great Grandma as “GG”, which is a term I’d never heard before and thought very clever.

This little girl seemed quite mature for her age, but confused me when she pointed out her much taller, looking much older sister and said they were two days apart.

“Two days apart, but different years. Right?”

“No same year, two days apart”.

“That’s not possible”, said I.

It was indeed possible. She and her sister, who looks nothing like her, is taller, looks years older, are twins.

Can you image her poor mother being in labor delivering twins two days apart.

My girls are five minutes apart.

At any rate, this little girl spent so much time at my side that late comers to the event would ask, “Is this your granddaughter?” (As you can see in the above photo, this is a little White child, but I imagine her being mine is within the realm of possibility).

“No. This is B___’s Great Granddaughter, but I’m going to adopt her. I want her?”

That seem to make an impact on the little girl that I’d said so because her GG later approached and actually said, “I want to thank you for making C___ so happy”.

Apache made an appearance. His plan was to once again dye eggs using a method he found on the internet. Last year, it was shaving cream. This year it was to be kool-aid, but he ended up not dyeing eggs. Instead, he was eating them. 

That guy I’ve not yet come up with a blog name for was in attendance. Of course, that was because The Seer was there and where she is he follows.

And I just thought of a pseudonym for him. Since his purpose in life seems to be The Seer's shadow, let’s call him that -- “The Shadow”.

The Shadow also did not dye eggs, just hovered around and watched.

The Church Lady was in attendance. (This is the woman who dresses sharp as a tack on a daily basis, and even sharper when headed to church. I imagine her unit looks like a Nordstrom’s Department Store – pearls, diamonds, hats, high-end dresses. The woman who, upon hearing Assistant Maintenance Guy was no longer an employee, announced “There’s more to this. Something is going on. I smell a rat. A big one”.)

At any rate, she cracked me up because, after dyeing her eggs, she went to the refrigerator, found mayonnaise, relish and turned her eggs into egg salad.

As good a use for them as I’ve ever seen, but the fact that she didn’t waste any time admiring her creations, before breaking them down and devouring them, is hilarious.

With so much going on, I only managed to get five eggs decorated.

Before

During

After

User Defect

Another chilly morning with me warm and cozy in that onesie as I was making coffee. 

I’m very surprised the little FlexBrew coffee maker I’d purchased from the market back in January is still working.

Not because the item is defective in any way, but because of a defect in the user. I’ve forgotten once to push the lever down when brewing, which lever in the down position is essential to operation. I’ve forgotten to put water in the tank at least four times and, once, I forgot to put a coffee cup under the drip spout, resulting in coffee all over the kitchen counter.

Oh well.

This morning’s post is coming to you courtesy of the HP. 

Yes, it’s back.  I picked her up Monday afternoon.

An estimated one month’s absence turned into two weeks, while damage done to the operating system and the keyboard, caused by those dreaded Windows updates, was repaired by the geeks.

That was fast.

The reload the geeks anticipated after the factory reset didn’t happen. They were able to auto recover all programs.

The geek assisting me laughingly validated my fears that I’d seriously doubted there will be what he termed “technical bliss” henceforth, because I fully expected future Windows updates would cause me grief. He indicated the frequent updates are due to the fact there will not be a Windows 11, 12 or 13. To which I replied “Thank God!”

However, he says, the down side to that is they just keep updating and “It’s only going to get worse”.

Oh well. It is what it is.

Getting around to removing the HP from the box yesterday afternoon, setting her back up on my worktable, plugging her in, booting her up, I found she no longer recognized the mouse.

I do not have the patience for that slide click-it thing, don’t see how anyone does, but fortunately I had another mouse that connected itself to “USB Receiver”.

Of course, no sooner than I had the HB all set up and ready to go, than a Windows Update popped up.

Jeesh!

On the topic of defective humans, a group of “kids” were spotted breaking into cars Monday night.

Head Maintenance Guy’s truck was broken into. His wife’s makeup line (Evidently, she sells makeup on the side) was stolen.

One of the residents who, like Apache, walks around odd hours of the early morning, keeping an eye on things, saw three/four boys and a girl, going through the truck, called the police, and the police never came.

That doesn’t surprise me. They don't care and are completely useless.

Head Maintenance Guy parks his truck next to my little horse (the Jeep) so, even though mine appears untouched, that does give me pause because I think he's being targeted. The shed where he keeps his tools was broken into two weeks ago.

I recall saying to someone, a month or two ago, when management brought in a lot of younger people to help with getting the place in order for the inspection, and chose the cheap (free) labor of guys doing community service, that it was likely to cause problems later. That the community service people would now know we are here, that we have no security and are easy pickings. Though I'm told I'm wrong, I believe that's where these seemingly targeted crimes are coming from. Like who else would know where he keeps tools locked up just before, after all these years, the shed is broken into? Who else would know about what he keeps in the back of his truck, as he shuttled the community service guys around?

At any rate, with all the homeless encampments in the area, the lack of jobs for young people, the use of community service folks, crimes against us seniors is another thing that’s likely to only get worse.

Validated

I think I’d blogged some time ago about how the nights had been so cold that I’d been sleeping in a hoodie, with a heavy quilt on top of me, another quilt I’d made some time ago on top of that one, and an afghan my daughter made for me on top of that.

Last night I slept all warm and snuggly like a baby, because I’d had the bright idea to purchase a onesie for the next cold snap, which was last night.

I’d looked at a couple onesies online and saw some really cute fuzzy animals, superheroes but, inasmuch as I’m into denim, camo and Americana, I opted for this one.

You can’t believe how good it felt and, waking up to a somewhat chilly unit, there was no need to run the heater.

I’m probably going to end up with a collection of onesies, some with feet in them.

With nothing better to do with my time today, I decided to head down to the Community Room and people watch this Pizza Tuesday.

Generally, so many pizzas and side dishes are donated that there’s leftovers -- even after folks take two or three each. This time there wasn’t enough to go around and the pizzas were fresh, not frozen.

Speculation is management is cutting off Pizza Tuesday, that this may be the last. Won’t know how true that is until next Tuesday, but a lot does seem to be going on as Corporate Boss Lady was on the premises and her being here is a sign something’s up.

And something definitely is up because the lights were off in Community Manager’s office. Word is she’s been suspended for 30 days.

Why I do not know, probably will never know except maybe the complex didn’t pass that inspection after all or passed with a lower rating than Corporate is willing to accept.

Either way, I hope she’s going to be okay. Though I’d like to see her return, I’m not sure working for this corporation is the best thing for her, so I’m just going to trust the Universe to do what’s best for her.

Remember when I’d blogged that The Seer was having visions of dominos falling?

First was Assistant Maintenance Guy, now it’s the Community Manager's suspension. On top of that, I’m told there’s a new rule coming into play when we pay our monthly rent.  When we turn in our checks and money orders, we are now required to sign a log. That sounds like Corporate is initiating a system whereby they can double check what management is reporting.

This you won’t believe but, leaving the Community Room, stopping at the mailbox on my way back to my unit, I ran into Handsome Guy.

“What did you do about your Dish situation?” asked I. (Management had notified him that he could not have his Dish attached to the patio rail and couldn’t have it at all without insurance).

“I’m getting insurance”, said he. Then he said, “What do you think of J____’s (The Seer’s) new boyfriend.

“OMG, you see it too ... the way he hovers around her, always in her space?”

“Yes, and there’s something wrong with him. He's mental”.

“I don't know about mental, but I’ve had that same feeling, that something is just not right”.

“You can see it in his eyes. Look at his face. He’s 51/50. You know what 51/50 is right?”

I knew 51/50 is generally used when referring to someone going off the deep end, but Handsome Guy explained it as “Crazy ... Mean. That guy is Mean. You can see it in his eyes”.

“I can’t tell by looking at his face. It’s just a feeling I have that something is not right. But what surprises me is that J_____ (The Seer) isn’t picking up on it as she's usually very intuitive.”

“That’s because she’s desperate. She told me herself that she wanted a man in her life. She won’t see it until something happens, until he shows his true self.”

So there you have it. My sense perception has been validated, and the fact that Handsome Guy is deep enough to have intuited it as well and, like me, is aware of why The Seer's vision is blocked, has elevated him in my eyes.

Before Handsome Guy and I went our way, I asked him, “He says he has a Purple Heart. Do you believe him?”

“No. He’s crazy. Be careful. You know where I am if you need me."

Once back in my unit, I logged into the National Purple Heart site, searched the guy’s name, and he was not listed.

In all fairness however, the site does say, “If you did not receive a search result for the person you entered, this likely means that the person has not been enrolled in the Roll of Honor. Enrollment is voluntary as there is no comprehensive list of Purple Heart recipients in existence."

Wooden Eggs and One-Eyed Willie

Nothing spectacular going on last few days or, if something spectacular has happened, it hasn’t reached my ears yet because I’ve been busy doing my own thing.

I conquered the S9, for the most part. Taking that giant leap from the S4 wasn’t as complicated as I’d initially thought, thanks to YouTube videos and a manual I found online. Only thing left to do is figure out how to change the ringtone to the one I had on the S4 – Drake’s Hotline Bling.

Other than that, I’m getting closer to completing that needlepoint project and then there’s planning for Wednesday’s egg coloring party here at the complex.

Last year, I worked with wooden eggs for the first time.

Antique Finish

Those came out great and make pretty year-round decorations. This year, I’m going wooden eggs again, but trying for this look, as seen on Pinterest.

Galaxy Finish

Along about 12:30 today, I opened email and learned a Pokémon GO Event was in progress. It was slightly chilly outside, but I needed Poké Balls and thought the event might also net me a character I didn’t already have, so I suited up and headed for the University.

As I drove through the gate, headed for the highway, who did I see standing out on the sidewalk smoking, gazing out into traffic, but the new guy that doesn’t want his face on Facebook because he’s got “enemies” and doesn’t want them to know he’s here.

The highway that runs in front of this complex is a main drag. Due to the university, market and freeway entrances, we get a lot of traffic, so standing out where anyone and everyone could see him didn’t seem like something someone who’s in hiding does.

My Spidey Sense is working overtime, telling me something is just not right with this guy. I’m surprised The Seer, who sees all, intuits all hasn’t also picked up something just not being right. But that may be because her instincts have been blocked by his charming her. Every time I see her sitting in the Community Room, he’s sitting next to her. Every time I see her walking across the complex, he’s walking with her. I’ve seen him coming from the direction of her unit a couple times and, at last week’s Pizza Tuesday, she showed me a sentimental greeting card he’d given her.

The Guy’s a fast worker. He’s only been here just shy of three weeks.

The Seer describes him strictly as being in the friend zone, but I’m not so sure about his intentions because -- also at last week’s Pizza Tuesday, he pulled out his cellphone and took a picture of her.

Why?

The Seer didn’t seem to mind or think it strange. In truth, I knew he'd taken a shine to her and also didn't think his wanting a photo of her on his phone to be strange either at the time. However, now, in retrospect, inasmuch as he doesn't want photos of himself being circulated, it now seems odd for him to be taking photos of her.

I’ve not said anything to her about my feeling something is not quite right, and I won’t.  That’s not my place. Even if I figure out what he's up to, I'll keep it to myself. 

The University was full of Pokémon GO players (technically called Trainers). There was young and old, fathers teaching their young sons, a mother teaching her young daughter, Trainers running in packs. 

It was so invigorating to be out in the fresh, albeit chilly, air that, upon returning to the complex, with 2 miles logged into my Fitbit, I jumped on the indoor bike, logged in a few biking miles, then decided to register for a virtual 5K I’d been thinking about coming up in June to celebrate Goonies Day.

The medal is shaped like One-Eyed Willie’s key.

Copperbones 5K

The New Guy

There I was, pulling into the parking lot of the office supply store yesterday, when the first sign of rain hit the windshield.

I’d better figure out how to work these windshield wipers, thought I.

I always keep the manual with me for just such situations and sitting in the car, motor running, looking for the wiper section, more drops of rain falling, all of a sudden the wipers swept across the front window.

WHAT?!

Turns out the wipers are moisture-sensitive and activate on their own.

Works for me.

I’m beginning to miss the Saturn less and less.

Heavy rains expected that day ("Storm" the weather folks said), I actually had no plans to be out on the road. However, in the middle of printing out an enlarged view of the pattern for the section of needlepoint I was working on, the printer stopped. It needed magenta ink.

Of course, I had cartridges in every color except magenta.

It wasn’t raining yet, so I headed to the office supply store in hopes I’d beat it.

Almost, but not quite, but so light a rain that the wipers didn’t have to work that hard.

Anyway, I picked up the cartridges and was headed home when I saw equipment loading huge containers of sand onto a truck.

Probably headed to the areas expecting the worst when the storm arrives. 

I don’t know which is worse – being in the Red Zone when it rains, which I’m not, or in the Red Zone when fires erupt on Little Mountain, which I am, but I imagine being in a traumatic situation while dry is preferable to being wet and muddy.

At any rate, I made it home before the rain got any heavier and the first thing I did when I arrived back was to scour the residents’ Facebook page and remove any images of one of the new guys. 

Not the new guy who moved into the upstairs unit across the quad -- he’s keeping a low profile, but the guy Lo0sey Goosey (our resident nymphomaniac) was chasing and, since I didn’t know he’d end up fodder for this blog, I haven’t given thought to a name for him yet.

I removed his images because, as I was leaving the complex, heading to the office store, he approached and said, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t put me on Facebook. I’ve got enemies and I’d rather they didn’t know I’m here.”

Inside I went WOW, but outside I said, “No one but us sees the page, and I find it hard to believe that you’ve got enemies. You’re a hero. But sure, I’ll take down any photos you’re in”. 

After I’d removed photos in which he appeared, I had a wait-a-minute moment.

Enemies???

Don’t want them to know I’m here???

Who talks like that?

A fugitive from justice maybe or someone in witness protection?

Probably not a fugitive, because the office has vetted him and, if a fugitive, he would not be here.

On the other hand, James Whitey Bulger -- on the FBI’s Most Wanted List for 17 years, was living in an apartment building in Santa Monica when another resident recognized him on the FBI’s website, turned him in and collected a two-million-dollar reward.

That’s $2,000,000!

I’m sure Bulger was vetted in one way or another by some leasing agent, yet there he was, hiding in plain sight, while probably not allowing his image to appear on Facebook.

So, fugitive is not totally out of the equation but, more likely, if he’s talking “enemies … don’t want them to know I’m here” witness protection is more likely.

Either way, it’s terribly interesting but I’m beginning to question everything he’s shared with us residents, like is A____ his real name, is he really a Purple Heart recipient (which is why I had referred to him as a “hero”).

We do have another resident who has asked me not to post her photo on our Facebook page, but she didn’t say anything as dramatic as having enemies/being in hiding. It was just a simple “Don’t put me on no Facebook”.