Global Running Day

It’s that time again ─ first Wednesday of June, designated as Global Running Day.

Running not in my DNA and no walking activities scheduled for today in my area, I pledged on the organization’s website to do 6 Miles on the indoor bike. So that’s my contribution to celebrating the sport of running, while also complying with homework assigned by Trainer.

I’m looking forward to World Sauntering Day ─ Wednesday the 19th ─ a day set aside to remind people to slow down and enjoy life as opposed to rushing through it.

I’ll be letting the dog eat my activity homework that day, and I don’t even have a dog.

That unsuccessful search for a run/walk activity for today wasn't entirely fruitless, as I did run across and register for two up comings:

The Sunrise Stampede is within my driving radius, but Batman will require travel and an overnight stay.

No matter, I’m all over that one ─ even if it is an evening run and through the somewhat icky streets of Downtown Los Angeles.

Los Angeles has been getting a very bad rap in the news lately, because of the homeless population.

Cause and Effect.

If Los Angeles would put a halt to the burgeoning prices being charged renters for apartments, the working poor wouldn’t be forced to live in their cars and on the street.

Did you see the news article about rats invading City Hall?

The folks brought in to eradicate the rats, unsuccessfully thus far, say the invasion is a result of the mess left on the streets by the homeless encampments surrounding City Hall.

Karma.

Impose rent restrictions so folks can afford housing.

Crash Bing Bam Boom!

That’s the noise I heard outside my door shortly after returning from this morning’s workout.

I opened the door to check not because I was being nosey, but because I was concerned next door neighbor had finally fallen down the stairs. And I say finally because it’s been a long-standing fear of mine that her habit of, instead of parking her grocery cart at the bottom of the stairs, taking her packages out, walking them up the stairs into her unit, she takes the shortcut of walking backwards, dragging the loaded cart thumpity bump bump up the stairs.

I’ve described the process in previous posts as an accident waiting to happen.

Thankfully, it wasn’t she falling backwards or down the stairs but she, preparing to head out, dropping the empty cart down the stairs.

Even though my door faces hers, we don’t see each other very often, so she stopped to ask what I’ve been doing with myself. I asked how she was and then I thought to ask her thoughts on the lease increasing $49 a month.

“That doesn’t include us Section 8’s. They know better than to mess with the government”.

Color me surprised. Not because there are Section 8 residents in the complex ─ I knew that. Corporate gets a huge tax break for reserving a certain number of units for folks referred to them by the County under Section 8. 

No ... color me surprised because I had no idea SHE is a Section 8 tenant. Especially after all the hoopla, when she moved in January of 2015, about the high place she came from, what she’s accustomed to, and how depressing and demoralized she was here because we’re just simple folks, having simple activities, rather than the glitz and glamour she enjoyed as first, a military officer’s wife, travelling the world, having servants and, after leaving her husband, a career as a State Commissioner of Education.

To use her words back then, it was all “I can’t live like this”.

It took years for her to get over being depressed, demoralized, and settle in. She seems happy enough now, but she still doesn’t pop into the Community Room or involve herself in any of our activities. That is except for that one time she came out of her funk and made an attempt to assimilate. 

Long-time readers will recall she saw an opportunity to regain her former glory of being large and in charge by volunteering to take over duties as President of the Volunteer Activity Committee. But because she treated everyone else on the Committee as servants, ordered them around, she quickly riled folks and got herself impeached.

At any rate, the fact that she went through all that looking down her nose at us, while being a government-assisted resident, was a surprise.

The fact she’s now not hiding that fact is a sign of growth, but not only am I not nosey, I’m also not a busy body, so I’ll not be mentioning it to anyone else. That’s neighbor’s business.

While we’re on the subject of rent increases ... Trainer lives about 4 miles away. His rent went up $100 a month, and he doesn’t have a Starbucks on the corner.

The Starbucks Effect

It appears Corporate had advanced information about a Starbucks being built just steps from the property because, when I returned to the complex from yesterday’s workout, a notice had been posted to doors indicating an increase in rent.

Our rents haven’t increased in three years, so it’s a safe bet this increase is the result of The Starbucks Effect (Starbucks moves in, property values go up, building owners charge more).

It’s only an additional $49 per month which, after not having an increase in such a long time, is not going to kill anyone but, I’ll bet dollars to donuts this Starbucks Effect is going to cause increases to now be an annual thing.

With 178 apartment homes on the property, Corporate is going to gain big time without actually having to do any work or improvements on the property to justify the increase.

Looking at the paragraph that says “We hope you will continue to see the value of your apartment home and we look forward to your continued residency”, Corporate must be expecting some residents will not be happy with the increase and end up moving, because the increase is based solely on The Starbucks Effect, while management is failing to make improvements some have requested, i.e., new paint job, new carpet.

Corporate must also be thinking some residents will cause trouble by taking the issue to housing authorities, because of the wording in the paragraph which goes ... “Should you wish to discuss the rent increase or let us know of any concerns you may have, we urge you to reach out to us rather than the local City/County/State government agencies as they are not responsible for the rent increase”.

Interesting wording, is it not.

I’ve never in my life seen such words accompanying a rate increase.

At any rate, I’m good with the changes coming as a result of The Starbucks Effect, even if it means the owner of the property, where the Pain Cave is located, increases Trainer’s rent, which causes Trainer to eventually increase his rates. However, I will have an issue if the increases, here on the complex, come more frequently than annually ─  i.e., every six months as some properties have taken to doing.

On another note, there is an old guy living in that heretofore vacant lot.

He doesn’t have a tent, just lies in the field, on padding, with his belongings around him.

When I saw the area had been fenced in the other day, I thought old guy might be gone already. But, coming back from yesterday’s workout, I spotted him on the corner and realized the area where he lives is just outside the fenced in area.

He’s good for now, but eventually that area will also be taken up ─ maybe for parking.

Here Comes the Neighborhood

Heading out for Tuesday’s workout at the Pain Cave, I noticed the vacant lot on the corner had been fenced in.

There was construction going on.

I mentioned to Trainer that the lot had been sold only a few months ago, and work has already begun, whereas the lot directly across the street from the complex had been sold well over a year ago and nothing. In fact, the weeds on the lot have been allowed to grow so high that I wouldn’t be surprised if there was not a dead body in there.

Trainer is a young man with an old soul and a great sense of humor. He gets me, no judgments, so his reply was not shock, nor the "don’t say/think/feel things like that" I sometimes get from neighbors and family. Instead, it was “You’d smell it”.

LOL.

“It’s too far across the street for that”, said I. “Besides, we’ve had residents die in their units and no one has mentioned a smell, and sometimes the person has been dead for days”.

I went on to say the fact death sometimes goes unnoticed around here in the complex causes me to sometimes worry about how long it will be, should something happen, before anyone notices and calls for a welfare check.

“Monday, Tuesday, Thursday” said he. “If you don't show up and haven’t called to cancel or reschedule on a Monday, Tuesday or Thursday, I’ll know somethings wrong”.

ROFLMAO!

At least Trainer’s got my back.

So, anyway, there was a knock on the door as I was getting dressed for this morning’s workout.

It was Apache saying, “Guess what’s going in at the corner”.

Before I could guess, he blurted out “Starbucks!”

That’s huge news.

When the marijuana dispensary opened up a few doors down, the residents went crazy out of their minds ...“There goes the neighborhood”. 

None of the awful things residents thought the business would bring into the neighborhood happened, but no one was unhappy when the business was raided and shut down.

With Starbucks going in at the corner, I expect it’s going to be more like "Here comes the neighborhood".

Perhaps it will urge the corner market to up it’s game with fresh produce.

The market was open Memorial Day ... the day I was desperate for veggies. In fact, the place was packed, doing a brisk business ─ mostly at the deli.

I wish I could have done something as simple as deli potato salad and fried chicken. Instead, I browsed the veggies, passed on mushrooms, cauliflower, broccoli ─ pretty much the entire row until I came across nice looking carrots, zucchini, a couple sweet potatoes, ambrosia apples. I ended up going with those items and frozen cauliflower rice, frozen broccoli, to get me through until tomorrow, when I’ll be out of the area and can load up on veggies at the same market chain, but in a location where the customers are more highly valued.

National Day of Remembrance

Except for the office being closed and no mail delivery, there are no signs of today being Memorial Day, even though several vets live on the complex.

I haven't seen hide nor hair of any of the residents since Apache's birthday party, so no news as to whether that watch is burning his wrist. (Get it? Hot. LOL.)

With no activity slated for here at the complex, my schedule for today is Monday business as usual, starting with a workout in the Pain Cave.

At the completion of Thursday’s workout, I expected Trainer to say he’d be closing for the holiday and would have to reschedule.

He didn’t’ say that. So, as I was leaving, I said, “I’ll see you Monday, unless I hear otherwise”.

Can’t recall his exact reply, but it was a confirmation of our usual day and time.

Having run completely out of veggies yesterday, and Sunday’s heavy downpour preventing me from driving out-of-the area for supplies, looks like I’ll have to scrounge around in the corner market ─ which is still redlining us with that which is least fresh, for what veggies don’t look too gnarly on my way back from the Cave.

That is if the market isn't closed for the holiday.

If the market isn't open, then I guess it’s a repeat of yesterday’s whatever I can find around here ... eggs, avocados, grain free bagel, black beans.

I knew I was running out of veggies, but made the choice on Saturday ─ when we had a nice weather day, to head for the college campus to test out a pair of those new shoes and hunt Pokémon instead of laundry and marketing.

After all, thought I, I’d get to those chores tomorrow (Sunday). Then came Sunday's rain storm.

Oh well, at least Saturday’s walkabout was fruitful.

The weather was perfect and I practically had the whole campus to myself ─ except for the occasional graduating student being photographed in cap and gown.

Seeing those young people just starting out in life/in careers, I found myself feeling somewhat sorry for what they are about to face ... life in general: the grind of a 9 to 5, bosses ─ some good, some functionally insane, getting married ─ some couplings working out, some not, the kids, the dogs/cats, mortgage, successes, disappointments, failures, mistakes, the constant striving to have, to do, to become. Not all will make it through the trauma of living a life unscathed to reach the other side ... this level of peace, contentment, just being.

At any rate, the first pair of shoes recommended by sales kid are a dream to walk in.

Guess he did know what he was talking about. Consequently, I expect the second pair will also wear well (700 miles he said). And, by the way, the restricted caller finally gave up trying to get through and, in my mind's eye, I keep seeing that BWG. I just know it was he.

While on campus, I managed to fill my virtual backpack with Pokéballs and not only observed grads having photos taken but walked up on trees beautifully decorated as Salutes to the Troops.

Try Try Again

The athletic shoes I purchased, a few months ago from Macy’s, didn’t work out because, although the needed cushioning against impact was good, the way the shoes were built began causing my hips to rotate out of alignment.

Money down the drain – considerable monies down the drain because supposedly great athletic shoes don’t come cheap, and I’m not talking about fancy name brands. Just plain old everyday supportive athletic shoes.

More money down the drain when I ordered two more pair from a vendor I’d previously had good luck ordering shoes from. Only this time, the fit wasn’t good. One pair was too loose front to back, the second pair was too wide, looked like clown shoes.

At that point, I remembered hearing about a place that uses something called “a five-point inspection” to fit you to the right shoe. I did my due diligence research on yelp and made an appointment, even though the location was halfway around the world from here.

Of course, my appointment fell on yesterday, when it was drab dreary wet outside.

I came thisclose to cancelling, but wanting athletic shoes off my to-do list, I headed out and was lucky in that the drive up was manageable drops of rain. The heavy downpour did not start until I was on the return journey, close to the complex.

At any rate, upon arriving for the appointment, I immediately felt like I was in the wrong place.

No one working there appeared to be over the age of 21 and what can kids this young tell me about anything, thought I.

I started to turn around and head back to the complex. However, on the other hand, these kids probably do marathons and triathlons, so maybe they do know something.

My sales kid appeared to sound knowledgeable, talked a good game, the shoes I purchased (two pair) felt good in the store, but they always do feel good in store.

I won’t know if I got snookered hoodwinked bamboozled until the weather changes, and I can get out and test said shoes on concrete and asphalt.

So there’s that.

Another thing is, as I was walking to the door of the store, coming down the walkway, in my direction, was a big guy (BWG) that didn’t look quite right. I got such a bad “danger danger will robinson” feel coming from him that I got ready for any shenanigans he might bring my way before I could get in the door.

I got inside no problem, he walked on by.

A few minutes later, as I was browsing the store’s goods, waiting for my sales kid to get to me, I noticed BWG was in the store, appearing to also be browsing.

He looked very out of place, but took a number so, though my gut was telling me he was someone to beware of, I put my suspicions aside and pretty much forgot about him.

This morning, my phone rang from a “restricted” number and, just like that, BWG flashed through my mind and something told me it was he.

I get robocalls all the time, never answer the phone unless it’s a recognized number, but this is the first time I’ve ever received a call from a restricted number.

Where was BWG in the store when sales kid was ringing up my purchases, asked for my address and telephone number for the database, and I blurted my number out loud enough for anyone close by to hear.

Thus far, that restricted number has tried reaching me several more times. However, the last two came up as “blocked” because, after the second try, unable to shake the feeling it's he, up to no good, I changed the settings to no calls from unrecognized numbers.

Make that the last three came up “blocked” because caller is still trying to get through.

I don't know what shows up at the other end. Maybe unrestricted doesn't realize he's blocked.

At any rate, thank goodness for technology. It's not like the old days when women had to change their telephone number and go unlisted in the telephone book to stop unknown unwanted strange telephone calls.

Nothing on my calendar remainder of week, and expecting nothing but rain next few days, it’s reading, needlepoint, television and indoor biking for me.

And by the way, Head Maintenance Guy (HMG) showed up Tuesday afternoon with a battery for the smoke detector.

“I was hoping you’d forget”, said I.

“Why?”, said he.

“Because I’m tired of that thing going off when no one is around.”

Remembering Barbaracomment about a system that doesn’t require batteries, I asked HMG if he’d ever heard of such a system.

“Yes, but those have a 10-year battery”, said he.

“I’m 75, and will probably be dead in ten years, so it would work for me”.