Happy Monday

It was touch and go as to how happy my Monday was going to be.

Today started off well. I worked through the desire to be lazy, jumped on the indoor bike and logged in another six miles for the King Arthur Challenge – 9.9 miles to go.

After cool-down and yoga stretches, I settled in to work on the new needlepoint project as I watched television, then CLICK! There was a power outage.

Off went the television, off went the air conditioner and, from the kitchen, I heard a sound signaling the microwave had just died.

The a/c restarted in a matter of seconds. The microwave was signaling I could reset the clock. But the television didn’t come back. The receiver had been knocked out.

So, I go through the usual steps of disconnecting plugs, waiting a few minutes, reconnecting.

Nothing.

I logged onto the cable company’s website, utilize their remote services, hear clicking noises coming from the direction of the television/receiver, but still … the TV screen was black, there were no lights on the receiver.

Deciding I needed to walk away from it all, I took out the trash, picked up mail, visited the scale in the Game Room, headed to the Community Room to see if anything new was posted on the board.

There was.

The Residents Volunteer Activity Committee (the committee disbanded by the Community Manager, a month or so before Corporate gave her a 30-day suspension for what we do not know) has organized another community breakfast for this coming Wednesday.

So much for being disbanded. ROFLMAO!

Don’t know if I’ll bother attending. All depends on whether The Baker is making her famous biscuits and gravy.

Not that I can eat biscuits and gravy without having a serious gut episode, but because the breakfast events are so much more fun when she cooks. More residents come, more get involved. So, if she’s in, then I’m in, bringing with me a Starbucks Traveler.

Once back at my unit, I open the door and gasped …. because the receiver's lights were on.

Hoping that meant the television was back to normal, I grabbed the remote, pushed the on button and …. IT WAS A GO!

What a relief.

So far so good with the remainder of this day.

Tomorrow is Pizza Tuesday. I hadn’t planned to go down for my usual people watching and intel gathering, but the Community Room on Pizza Tuesday is where I can connect with and find out if The Baker is cooking Wednesday. Plus, my inquiring mind wants to know what’s up with The Shadow and The Seer.

Is he still shadowing her … sticking to her like glue, I'm not sure because, from my perch on the couch, I saw him pass through my quad several times last few days, and The Seer wasn’t with him.

I thought perhaps she was ill because I haven't seen her at all for days. I know she has a serious negative reaction when exposed to cigarette smoke, generally wears a little mask to protect herself. However, I’ve not seen her wearing her mask since connecting with The Shadow (vanity probably) and The Shadow smokes. Not in her presence, I’m sure, because smoking on the premises is a lease violation. However, smokers generally carry the smell of cigarettes with them. It’s on their clothes, seeps through their pores, and when you're  as sensitive to the smell of cigarettes as The Seer, that can't be boding too well with so much close contact between she and he.

Usually seeing them walk through my quad together on a daily basis, it was Tuesday of last week when I last saw them together, both in the Game Room – she on the computer, he playing pool. Everything seemed to be honkey dory at the time. In fact, when she asked him to do something, he’d responded, “Yes, my Queen”.

This isn't his first time at the rodeo (interracial dating). Someone taught him well, thought I.

For the record, I myself, prefer the country/western "Okay, darlin".

I passed The Shadow this morning, when I was dropping off the trash. He didn’t look very happy and was flat in his response when I greeted him, so to the Community Room I’ll go tomorrow to see if he’s still shadowing her and looks happier than he did this morning.

Redlining

It looks like I’m going to have to do all my shopping out of the area and online, because it appears we are being redlined.

Redlining is generally well-known as higher insurance rates in certain areas, but I came to be more familiar with it as lower-quality in goods and services provided to certain areas.

For instance, back in the day when I was dating my actor friend Jim (he played a priest in Richard Geer’s Primal Fear, had a bit part in one of the Jurassic Park movies, a recurring part as a bailiff in some law thing and parts in a couple other movies I can’t recall) and we both lived in Long Beach, he’d shop at the market three blocks from my apartment. I, on the other hand, trekked ten blocks in the other direction to shop at a different branch of the same market. When he asked me why, I pointed out the closer market was towards where the area went down –  where the very poor, alcoholics and drug-addicted lived, while the further market was near the rich part of town -- Sandra Bullock, married to Jesse James at the time, had a house in that area, overlooking the ocean.

I educated Jim that, if he looked at the produce in the poor area, he’d find tired looking produce, meats that smelled, and expiration dates already expired or due to expire within a day or so, while everything in the further market was fresh and beautiful, with expiration dates so far in the future that the produce would be consumed well before time ran out.

Lately, I’ve been noticing the same thing occurring at my local market.

Even though Bob’s Red Mill Almond Flour was a popular product, sold out as soon as they restocked, it hasn’t been in stock for so long that I’ve had to turn to Amazon as a source. And the Ambrosia apples I last bought were disappointing in flavor. They weren’t sweet. And when I shopped this morning, the Ambrosia apples were bruised and ugly. After picking through, I was able to find three I could live with, so hopefully they taste sweet as that’s my evening sweet fix.

Finding nice looking potatoes has been getting difficult to where sometimes I just pass on potatoes all together. And today, with an urge to make potato salad, I was able to pick through and dig out only five small potatoes. The same with zucchini – ugly, shriveled, bruised, so I passed. Not to mention, the cherry tomatoes I purchased last time went bad practically overnight.

I had to also pass on eggs, as I prefer Eggland's Best. They had only three cartons in stock but, when I saw the condition of the egg section, broken egg oozing from the Eggland's cartons, I got grossed out and walked away.

The okra finally looked nice and fresh today. Only, I wasn’t in the mood for okra. But of course, as soon as I got back to my unit I began thinking “I should have gotten the okra”, but I wasn’t about to head back to the market.

Plus, the market has reorganized things to what I can only assume is an anti-theft measure. Certain items are contained in a boxed-off area, in front of the meat counter, where the butchers can keep an eye out, plus there are now cameras in that area.

I felt watched and decidedly uncomfortable when I picked up toothpaste, deodorant and orajel.

Same when I was last at Walmart and wanted to try a product I’d seen advertised on television – Maybelline Tattoo Studio Brow Gel.

They had it in stock, but behind lock and key. I had to call someone over to unlock the case AND, after she’d taken it out of the case, she put a clear plastic lock box on it, which lock box was unlocked by the cashier when I later checked out.

Damn!

I can’t blame markets and retail stores for wanted to try to thwart thievery, but we’re not all shoplifters, druggies or so less than that we should be the dumping ground for undesirable produce. Produce that should be donated to the needy, rather than sold in the market.

At any rate, when I needed to replenish a different Maybelline product recently, instead of going to Walmart, putting myself through the locked case and lock box process, I ordered online.

And now dissatisfied with what I'm seeing in the local market, looks like I’ll be driving out-of-the area to Sprouts this week and probably planning to do all my grocery shopping there in future.

In the back of my mind, I remember seeing a sign for a Farmer’s Market at one of the malls. I may have to look that up and make it a weekly jaunt.

BTW, I recently looked up my formerly very handsome boyfriend Jim on Facebook, and he has really let himself go. He’s married, has a son in college, a teen daughter, a younger son, has earned himself three Masters Degrees, gotten fat, grown a beard and looks very much like Santa Claus.

Shocked at his appearance, I did not leave a message or friend him.

Weird how some of us change so much, while others get older but look fairly the same.

Ricard Geer still looks great.

Walking It Off

Another 2.19 miles shaved off the King Arthur Challenge, as I use meditation and exercise to burn off my upset, only instead of cycling today, I did a walkabout at the University Campus -- which accounts for fewer miles than logged in yesterday. Fewer miles, yes, but walking burned off three times as many calories than cycling, so it was worth it.

While on campus, I was also able to gather Poké Balls and complete Field Research, which is a new element added to Pokémon GO just this last week.

The Professor -- a character previously unseen, residing in the background as the person us trainers transferred Pokémon to in trade for candies necessary to evolve other Pokémon, has been brought to the front of the game.

Handsome, isn’t he?

What you’d call a Silver Fox.

At any rate, the Professor has been assigning Field Research to us players, tasks if you will.

Some tasks are easier than others, like “hatch 3 eggs” is a stretch. I’m going to have to do a whole lot more walking to complete that tasks. 

As for this latest family situation, I usually process my upsets rather quickly and move on, but this latest one is lingering. Family wonders why I’m so detached from them. Why I’ve opted to live the remainder of life as an outsider.

If they really want to know the answer to that, all they have to do is look in the mirror.

With meditation and exercise, the current upset is lessening and, as clarity is coming into focus, the facts are they are entitled to their resentments. Doesn’t mean their resentments are valid because, if they would stop looking out at what they perceive to be my parenting failures, and instead looked at how they were as children and young adults, and even now, they’d see they were all bloody awful at one time or another.  (Remember how daughter yelled at me on her wedding day, in front of others and I, hurt to the core, but not wanting to ruin her wedding sucked it up, then cried all the way home after? And remember how mean granddaughter was when I relocated to keep her from being homeless? She never blamed her mom for abandoning her, but took it out on me and her mom, instead of supporting me for stepping in to do her job for her, instead began sending me nasty emails about how I was so-called mistreating her daughter. In actuality, it was the other way around).  So, if my words, when I called it as I saw it, have stung ... then good. They were words that needed to be said. Too bad they didn’t “hear” correctly and wake up. So sorry, not sorry.

They have their resentments; I have my disappointments, so let’s just call it a wash and, once we’re done with this next contact – The Donut Run, let’s just go further our separate ways.

Reboot

Deciding I needed a break from the seniors, and the world in general, I’ve been devoting most of my time to meditating and, today, I rebooted my exercise regime, logging in 5.9 miles on the indoor bike to earn this cool t-shirt in the Virtual 23.2 Mile King Arthur Challenge.

A play on “Straight Outta Compton” isn’t it cute?

Of course, a medal is also earned.

I hadn’t planned to get really active again until after next month’s Donut Run 5K, but the t-shirt was calling my name.

I’m not looking as forward to the Donut Run as I had been because I think I made a mistake to invite my two daughters and granddaughter. I’ll get through it, but think I’d enjoy it more if I competed alone because I’m less and less comfortable around daughters and granddaughter. Especially since the daughter I’d recently reconnected with posted something on her Facebook page that I’m taking as a criticism of my parenting skills.

This from the woman who was verbally abusive, somewhat physically abusive and failed her children in every way possible, up to and including giving them to relatives to raise, and abandoning the one she couldn’t find anyone to take, which resulted in my relocating to Long Beach to keep the child (granddaughter) from being homeless.

Both daughters, in the rare moments of clarity, have thanked me for putting them first in life and, on the rare occasion, said something that sounded like appreciation for being the example that made them be the strong capable women they are. THEN, both will turn around, mentally blame me for the results of their own actions, and say something negative about my parenting skills or, like the latest, post something non-descript on a Facebook page.

I don’t need people like this in my life, daughters, granddaughters or no. Thus, why I’ve been spending so much time in meditation. Trying to stay calm and centered so I won’t react, tell all of them to go to hell, tell them none were a picnic to raise and, in the case of granddaughter, no picnic to try to help after her mom abandoned her. Meditating is what's keeping me from striking back by pointing out what they accuse me of is what I had to tolerate throughout their terrible teens, the way the daughter with children has spoken to her children, and the way daughter without children treats everyone in her life, including coworkers.

What really chaps my hide is, even though the daughter with children was like the worse parent ever, and I had hurt myself financially providing for the kids, when their mom chose to take care of herself and herself only, the grandkids absolutely love their mom and could give two shakes about me. That is with the exception of the one granddaughter who told here mom outright, "You ruined my life!" She so dislikes her mom that she's become a danger to her mom, resulting in her mom taking out a restraining order. And this is the woman who recently threw shade at MY parenting skills.

Through meditation and exercise, I’ll maintain and let the lot of them think/believe what they want, get through the Donut Run with them, and then I’m done.

They’ll be darn lucky if they ever see my face again.

Tuesday’s pizza delivery was, once again, a lot less than previous deliveries. So, it was first come, first serve, and not everyone was served.

No matter, because the seniors still were fed at the 1:00 belated Easter celebration.

The table decoration was cute.

And the little sandwiches and salads were very Spring like, which prompted me to think Activity Director should have titled the event “Spring Potluck” since Easter had passed.

Topic of conversation was Apache’s fight with the office over the pit bull.

Taking advantage of seeing Corporate Boss Lady (CBL) on the premises Tuesday of last week, Apache approached her about the pit bull. CBL’s position was the pit bull has papers certifying it as a companion dog. Apache’s argument is the dog has been aggressive on more than one occasion, which aggression trumps those papers as companion dogs can’t be aggressive.

Apache, and witnesses to the encounter, say CBL didn’t want to hear it, closed her door in Apache’s face, locked it and got on her cellphone.

Apache, upset about being disregarded thusly, called Animal Control, who arrived, checked the dog’s papers, pronounced them valid and left.

Apache, not to be thwarted, called his contact at the County. A representative was scheduled to arrive to assess the situation.

A representative did indeed arrive that same afternoon. The representative and Apache did not approach CBL. Instead, they went in to speak with Assistant Community Manager, whereupon CBL rushed out of her office, ran into Assistant Community Manager’s office and said, “You wanted to see me?”

Outcome of the meeting was that Apache would keep a record of incidents with the pit bull and that, after six incidents, CBL would take another look at the issue. The County Representative agreed, “Six. And if nothing is done after six, we’ll go over your head”.

Apache logged in three incidents before the end of that day and, four days later, there were eight, the latest being Saturday, when a resident had to lock herself and her dog in the pool area, because the pit was being walked, had tried to attack her dog, and the woman walking the pit thought it was funny, taunted the resident, and refused to remove the pit from the area so the resident could head back to her unit.

When informed, management’s position was, “They can walk that dog wherever and whenever they like”.

You can’t win ‘em all and, obviously, management is siding with the pit.  So, I say throw in the towel, learn to live with the pit bull and take measures to protect persons and pups should the pit break free of its weak wobbly owner. However, Apache is your typical Trump supporter – stubborn, bullheaded, doesn’t like to be wrong or to lose, so he is now in mortal combat with the pit bull, staff and CBL. CBL must also be a Trump supporter because she’s dug in her heels and doesn’t seem to care who, over her head, is called upon.

I’m going to miss Apache when he’s gone, because CBL is a force.

Making it Work

The morning when I forgot both to put water in the coffeemaker and to put a cup under the drip spout. Fortunately, I caught my senior moment right away, turned the coffeemaker off, fixed the situation and reset it.

On Sunday, at precisely 11:53 A.M., I put the last stitch in that needlepoint project begun in May of 2017.

I thought that project would never end. So many different colors. So many one stich one color here, one stitch a different color there. So many thread and rethread the needle.

It tested my patience at times, but I got her done and I’m ready to begin another.

Deciding to do something different with the finished project, by 9:00 Monday night I’d turned it into a decorative throw pillow.

Front

Back

I’ve made pillows before, but this is the first time I’ve turned one of my needlepoint projects into one, and mistakes were made.

Because I used denim for the pillow back, I chose a corresponding rope cord for the decorative edging.

Problem was, I didn’t realize I needed cording with some kind of edging on it, so I could sew that edging in with the needlepoint, muslin support and backing fabric. There was just no way I could properly attach this particular type of cord.

I considered making the pillow and hand sewing the rope around after, but decided it just wouldn’t look right.

I could have gone back to the craft store and opted for a different cording, but I really liked the blue rope, so I headed to Walmart and picked up double-fold bias tape, figuring I could fabric glue the cording onto the bias tape, which would give me an edging to work with and make the blue rope work.

Glue was a little messy and taking too long, and though fabric glue is supposedly meant to last, I knew it wouldn’t hold up over time.

Using the sewing machine to stitch the cord to the bias tape was working better. Plus, it was fast and neat.

The finished product, all in all, is not bad for my first needlepoint pillow. My corners suck, but that’s because the cording was so heavy, so thick to begin with, and once attached to the bias tape, became impossible to bend and miter at the corners. I probably could have taken some time and come up with a way to make it work better, but I didn’t. So it is what it is.

It’s not perfect, but I’m satisfied.

Will I make needlepoint pillows in future?

Absolutely. The pillow is fun to look at, and it’s a good alternative to framing and cluttering up the walls. Only now that I know what I’m doing, my next one will have perfect corners.

The April Activity Calendar was posted to our doors yesterday. The Community Manager, suspended for 30 Days, is still listed as Community Manager, so I guess that means Corporate Office is taking her back. I hope she wins the lottery so she can tell Corporate to kiss her where the sun doesn’t shine.

The calendar also shows pizza today, with wings and breadsticks, so I guess that’s still on, as well as the Activity Director's late Easter celebration.

Another pig out day for the seniors, as I content myself with butter coffee and raw veggies.

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.