Whatdoyaknow

Watching an episode of Dateline on Sunday, an episode I’d recorded earlier in the week, I looked away from the screen when a Honda commercial popped up.

THEN, hearing a voice that sounded familiar, I looked up and whatdoyaknow ......... it was Twin 1

Sitting in that infamous throne-like chair no less.

"Infamous" because the chair was the prized possession of my ex-husband — the girls’ dad.

The throne-like appearance of the chair really epitomizes how their dad viewed himself ... his personality.

During a period when I was struggling to provide for his daughters, a period when finances were so tight that we were living on pinto beans and hot water cornbread, no meat in the beans because I couldn’t afford meat, their dad made a point to tell the girls during one of their visits, knowing they'd tell me, that he was spending $5,000 on having this chair, his throne, refurbished.

He was so proud of that chair that he’d probably would have liked to be buried in it.

That didn’t happen, so the girls’ stepmom (Wife No. 4) gave the girls the throne when he died and, it’s been going back/forth between the girls ever since.

Last few years, Twin 1 seems to have taken permanent possession.

When visiting, I make a point to taunt their dad by planting my butt on his throne. I get such a kick out of imagining my doing so is probably causing him to roll over in his grave.

During one such visit, I think the girls’ dad got so riled up that he not only roll over in his grave, but jumped out of it and made his presence/displeasure known because, sitting on his throne, I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my lower back, which pain lasted a while, but didn’t encourage me to get up.

LOL.

Me on His Throne, Thanksgiving 2018

Smooth Operator

Returning from the Pain Cave yesterday, before heading upstairs to my unit, I looped around the path to pick up mail. Then, continuing the loop to get to my unit, I could see someone, off in the distance, sitting on the bench outside the farthest laundry room.

Inasmuch as I couldn’t see clearly who it was, I looked in another direction and pretended I didn’t notice the figure. But then the person, in an obvious attempt to get my attention, coughed.

I played along, looked over and, when the person waived, I waived back, by then pretty certain it was Handsome Man.

Since he'd gone to the trouble of, clearly, forcing a cough to be noticed, I walked over to chat him up.

It appears that, with the holidays coming, Handsome Man is either bored or lonely because he turned an otherwise innocuous conversation about this, that, the other, into trying to impress me with his resume — repeating a lot of what I already knew, having heard it from him before.

That he’s a Seventh Day Adventist, active in his church.

Has a side security business.

Is licensed to carry.

That he’s also a barber. Which, by the way, during this pandemic, he says he’s now cutting hair in people’s homes.

His resume is good … that is if I believe it.

I’m jaded, remember.

But with Handsome Man, I actually do believe what he’s been telling me for some time now. Problem is …. I'm not interested in his impressive resume, because I'm not hiring.

He’s nice. I like seeing him around ... you know, eye candy. I like talking to him. And I like that he, like my buddy Apache, looks out for me, but that’s all.

I'm way too old, too tired, too jaded, way too content with the status quo to throw a monkey wrench into my peaceful, quiet existence with anything else ... anyone else.

Handsome Man, however, appears to be a lot less tired or content, because he's on the prowl.

He interjected, a few times into the conversation,  “I’m a single man ... I've been single for three years ... a single man needs a good woman”.

No way, no how, with his good looks and impressive working man's resume do I believe he's been single for three years. Perhaps I heard it wrong and it's three months.

At any rate, I'm quite sure he can have his pick from the ladies at his church.

He can have his pick around here as well.

In fact, when he first moved in, my Next Door Neighbor gave it a shot. Had him over to dinner and was gleefully jumping around when telling me she’d gotten his telephone number.

I guess that didn’t go anywhere, because she’s never said anything about him since, and he’s never mentioned her to me.

So anyway, along with repeating multiple times in the conversation that “I’m a single man … a single man needs a good woman”, he kept complimenting me on how I take care of myself by working out, how good I was looking in my leopard print mask and leopard leggings. THEN, he worked into the conversation something to the effect that a good woman would be an aid, that they could share and life would be easier.

RUH ROH!

Easier for who ... easier how?, thought I.

Was he shopping that old theory that "Two can live as cheap as one"? 

If so, this one is doing fine by herself, so I said, “I don’t think so. If you get a woman (meaning me ... not that he would or could get this woman, but just so he knows who he's dealing with), she's going to expect the onus to be on you. No halfsies, no sharing, no help a brother out, but you going all in".

Does that make me sound like a gold-digger?

I don’t think so, because I'm not the one shopping my resume around.

I like my life just as it is. If some guy wants to disrupt my flow, take up my time, it should be made worth it to me ─ wine, dine, flowers. Especially when it’s someone I’m not particularly interested in as anything other than a friend.

Handsome Man smiled and said "understood".

I think he enjoys that I'm such a hard case. That I sometimes talk to him so harshly, so bluntly.

We chatted a little while longer about this, that, the other, Thanksgiving plans and our conversation ended with his saying he hoped to run into me again ... before Christmas he said. So we'll see if he "understood".

Smooth Operator? … Not so much.

Speaking of wanting to get involved in my life, a short while later, back in my unit, I logged on and deleted that friend request from Friend’s Sister. She and I had little contact in the beginning of the 40+ years I’ve known her sister, and she’s had no contact or interest in me since I last saw her, some 30+ years ago, so pffff.

 

Friday the 13th

 That is all.

Fortuitous Fail

I’d made a batch of turkey chili a few days ago, and froze the results.

Also found in the refrigerator, when I was scrounging around for dinner last night was, as near as I could get to potato salad without mayo ─ which I don’t like, and pickles ─ which my gut doesn’t like, and also without Dijon mustard ─ also which my gut cannot tolerate. It was basically potatoes, olive oil, ground mustard spice and a chopped up boiled egg.

At any rate, putting the chili on the bottom of a cast iron skillet, potatoes on top, sticking it in the oven, I’d hoped to come out with a Shepherd’s Pie.

I didn’t.

Instead, it was a dry mixture of potatoes and chili, which looked like canned dog food, and tasted a lot like corned beef hash ─ which I luv, but can no longer have.

Thinking I’d failed my way into a mock corned beef hash recipe, I saved half for this morning’s breakfast.

It was DELICIOUS, topped with a fried egg.

A failure I’ll have to repeat next time I have a craving for corned beef hash.

On another note, I’ve been thinking about this for a while ─ long before I posted a comment on Dawn’s page this morning about interpreting an Old Lady she’d encountered not as sweet, but as devious, manipulative ... thinking for a while that, due to life experiences, I’ve become so jaded.

I do not look out through rose colored glasses. Nor do I look out through smut colored glasses. Instead, I look out through Three D’s, taking nothing for granted, stripping away the surface of everything and looking deep.

It’s not a bad thing. It’s an it is what it is thing, but I find more and more that my jadedness has carried over into the world of fantasy. I see danger in commercials others find heartwarming.

Case in point is Hobby Lobby’s newest commercial.

Nice, you probably think. Sweet that this old couple brought two young people together.

What I see is danger, danger.

That old couple don’t know that guy. He could be stone cold crazy wrapped up in a pretty package. And yes, so could the girl also be.

And then there’s this commerical.

My jadedness really comes up with this one, because I observed the child's dad did not go outside, stand at the bottom of the steps to make sure his daughter was safe.

Who is this Mr. Charles guy?

He’s obviously not a relative, not her granddad, because she referred to him as “Mr”.

He could have been some wacko neighbor who dragged her inside and harmed her in some manner so fast that her dad would not have realized she'd not returned until too late.

Don’t laugh.

It happens.

In fact, this particular commercial brought up a long buried memory of the Watch Commander at one of my early places of employment.

His teen daughter was going door-to-door, by herself, selling Girl Scout cookies.

A young man, at one of the doors she knocked on, dragged her inside and raped her.

It was back in the 60’s and, as far as I recall, he was some drugged-out druggie, quickly apprehended and put on trial.

The victim's dad ─ the Watch Commander, was so distraught that he smuggled a gun into the courtroom and shot the druggie dead.

Watch Commander had lots of support from inside the department, and from the general public for his actions. In fact, even druggie’s mom said her son got what he deserved.

My philosophy is that death is too easy. It's the living that's hard.

The guy was gone, he wouldn't suffer any consequences in this lifetime. Of course, there will be consequences on the other side of the veil and if/when he returns to another lifetime that crime has to be balanced out/paid for. So though I understood why Watch Commander did what he did, I thought it was a waste.

Druggie was obviously going to be convicted, so Watch Commander should just have let the process play through, but I guess it made him feel better to take action.

Watch Commander, of course, lost his job, but did no time. He was offered, and took, a position as Head of Security for a hotel chain.

So now I'm seeing this commercial of that little girl delivering dinner, and remembering what happened to Watch Commander’s daughter.

I’m so jaded because I’ve seen and experienced things that most of you only hear about or read about as having happened.

This is just one horror story from my repertoire of real life experience, but I'm not bitter, just distrusting ─ jaded.

For All Who Served

I have uncles, now all deceased, who served BUT none of my brothers, now also all deceased, served because my controlling mom wouldn’t allow it.

She turned my brothers into mama’s boys, dependent upon her, and taught them what to say and what to do to come off as unfit to serve should they be called up, thereby depriving them of the ability to learn there was more to life than the neighborhood, and grow into contributing members of society.

It did not go well for any of the boys later in life, but mom was content because none of the boys ever went far from home or made a move without consulting her first.

In fact, neither of the twins ever left home, period, (yes, I had twin brothers). They never learned how to handle any aspect of life ─ never owned a car, didn't even learn to drive, and were especially lacking in the area of financial know how because, as adults, mom made them turn their paychecks over to her.

I don't know for sure, but I'm assuming she gave them allowances as adults, because one of the twins, at one point, had an ATM card. 

He didn't know how to use it so he took my girls (his nieces) ─ then around ten years old, with him to the bank to show him how to use the ATM.

Twin 1 came close to serving when she graduated from high school, wondering what to do with the rest of her life. Dipping her toes in/out of taking a deep dive into her prodigal “lost” experience at that time, she was recruited, took the test (for which branch I don’t recall), passed, but then decided “I don’t like anyone telling me to do” and took that deep dive into the hard path through life, doing what she wanted, when she wanted, not listening to my advice nor her sister's, but blaming me later when the horse manure hit the fan and it all became too much for her.

Though now, seeing, reading and hearing about how some women were treated in the military ─ the rapes, I’m not so sure the hard path wasn’t the better choice. After all, it got her to where she is now ─ serving others in a different way.

Evidently at 76, it’s not too late for me to serve because, as a participant in the DC Batman Run, I received an email yesterday inviting me to “Become a member of one of the most specialized forces in the world. United States Air Force Special Warfare Airmen are the ones other special forces look to when the mission calls for their unique skills and fearless commitment. A job for the mentally tough and physically strong, these heroes go where others will not because they are trained to do what others cannot. They know how to reach their limits and go beyond the call of duty because other people’s lives depend on it. Special Warfare operators go anywhere in the world in combat and humanitarian situations, performing whatever is asked of them. They are willing to risk personal safety in order to accomplish the mission…every single time.”

Sounds like a worthy pursuit, but I don’t think my weak knees and sensitive stomach can handle such a commitment.

On another note, I find myself in an awkward position on facebook.

That friend of 40+ years ─ the friend I outgrew over 20 years ago, the friend whose invitations I always turn down, yet she still won’t let go, the friend whose husband I’m not too fond of ... that friend. Well, her sister sent me a friend request.

I don’t know her sister. Our paths did cross a time or two or three, some 30 years ago, so I do know her but I don’t KNOW her, have less in common with her than I do with my friend (her sister), so I want to deny the request, but don’t want to hurt or piss off my friend (her sister) any more than I already have by my lack of interest.

Something is definitely going on at a subconscious level with that family, because first I had that dream about friend’s husband and NOW her sister is sending me a friend request.

At any rate, until I find the courage to decline and face the consequences, I’m just going to lay low on facebook for a while ... lurk, but not post or like or comment on anything. In other words, hide like a coward. LOL.

That press conference 45's people held at Four Seasons Landscaping, not Four Seasons Hotel, is getting a lot of play on facebook with all kinds of hysterically funny memes.

These two are, so far, my favorites. 

Three Hundred and Six Days Later

The wind and sand storm, that tore through the complex on October 27, caused the planned “inspection and testing to ensure all smoke detectors are working properly and identifying whether your heating/air conditioning unit require a new air filter” by management to be rescheduled to this morning, between 9:00 and 11:00.

Not trusting myself to be civil with the guys, should they play stupid and ask me questions for which they already knew the answer, like ... why the smoke detector was hanging from the ceiling and how long it had been that way, I thought today would be a good day to get out, get away, head to the mall, log in some miles.

I was out the door and on the road at 9:00, with windows opened to air out the place, so the guys didn’t leave any cooties behind, and the smoke detector looking like this.
 

By the time I reached the mall, I decided to first stop by the bank in that center, grab some cash for the next few weeks, go next door to Starbucks, get a gift card for that nice mail carrier, then walk.

Color me surprised when I saw the bank boarded up, lock, stock, barrel, ATM machine.

That branch is now an abandoned building ─ due to Covid I’m assuming.

I’d have taken a photo for you, but some guy was sitting in the lot, eating his McDonald’s next-door breakfast, watching me circle the lot, looking at the building in amazement. He might have thought it was weird enough to call the cops if I’d started taking photos.

So, anyway, I had to do some backtracking to another branch. Fortunately, that branch ─ which had previously been closed, was now open for business and, luckily, there was a Starbucks two doors down.

By now, I was no longer thinking about logging in miles, but running other errands ─ like Sprouts, for those frozen organic fries I love so much and the Craft Store, for paint to bring my patio chair (damaged by sun, wind, rain) back to life.

Arriving at the craft store first, seeing the lot crowded, I went out of my way to drive all the way back to the furthest parking spot from the store, found a spot where there were no cars parked to the right of me, and no cars in the first two spots to my left.

I got out of the car, began walking across those empty spots, and here is where I almost died.

 

 Or at least almost became gravely injured by this car.
 

Because the female driver, busy running her mouth to her seatmate, actually looking AT her seatmate, came out of nowhere and began turning into the spot, coming straight at me.

I saw her as she began making the turn, but continuing to walk across the empty space, because I assumed she’d see me and let me clear.

She didn’t.

When I saw her not stopping, I froze, waiting for the hit, but her seatmate said something, whereupon she turned eyes forward and slammed on the brakes.

I didn’t say anything. Didn’t shake my head. Didn’t give her a dirty look. It was like an out-of-body, calm as a cucumber, detached moment as I continued on to the craft store, but I hope almost harming someone scared HER enough to be eyes forward in future.

I’m chalking up the incident as distracted driving, because I was in the parking lot of Michael’s Craft Store. However, if I’d been in the parking lot of No. 45 loving/Black Lives Don’t Matter Hobby Lobby, I’d have thought it was an intentional trying to run me down. LOL.

I took those photos after the fact, by the way, when I finished shopping and saw she’d parked a space over.
 

 While inside the craft store, I had a little impulse buy.
 

Outside

 

Inside

I need another coffee cup like I need a hole in the head, but the message of being "tired" so exemplified 2020 that I had to add it to my collection.

Arriving back at the complex around 12:15, I was met with the smoke detector looking like this.
 

It only took the guys 306 days AND, if it starts that infernal beeping again, I’ll pull it back out ... this time not on accident, but on purpose, because it worked better while hanging.