When the Cats Away

Us seniors have been a whole week without a Complex Manager and, thus far, we’ve been doing just fine.

Residents, feeling less threatened, are beginning to speak out, express how glad they are to see the Tyrant gone.

One resident, who lives just a little aways, down the walkway, was saying that, on the Tyrant’s last day, the Tyrant approached him saying "Your dog barks too much and I have video to prove it".

That sounds about right, as the Tyrant did concern himself with things that didn’t matter, like freaking out over the painted rocks, instead of focusing on requested repairs.

The resident’s dog does bark but, unlike the dog overlooking the grassy knoll, which dog is a rescue with issues and barks all day from early AM to late night at anything that moves, this resident’s dog only barks when someone stands in front of his family’s patio. He’s territorial.

The resident’s response to the Tyrant saying, "I have video to prove your dog barks too much" asked, "Where were you standing when you took the video?"

Of course, he was standing in front of that resident’s patio, which caused the dog to bark.

Case closed.

I think that must have been the day I caught video of the Tyrant himself, out in the wild, walking back down the walkway from that direction, looking all pompous and triumphant.

I hope he’s not in a position of authority in his new job, where he can threaten and intimidate others.

There had been rumblings on the Grapevine that the Tyrant had also told Handsome Man, because of what his son had done, he (Handsome Man) was responsible for several lease violations and can no longer remain a resident.

I’d been expecting that, but it wasn’t confirmed until I ran into Apache on Wednesday, who said he’d recently spoken to Handsome Man about his being told he has to move.

Out of curiosity, I reviewed my lease and Handsome Man’s situation fall under Section 18 — Conduct and Compliance with Agreement, Laws and Rules (You are responsible for your own actions and the actions of your Related Parties). Also, Section 21 — Crime Free Community (You and your Related Parties: May not engage in criminal activity on or near your Residence or the Property). That section goes on in detail to describe what "Criminal Activity" consists of, one of which is sexual offices as supported by quotes from two sections of the Penal Code.

It’s a pretty comprehensive lease, leaves little to chance. Too bad I never read it before because I learned I myself am in violation of Section E.9 Appliances — turn on cold water before starting the garbage disposal.

Oopsie, I always turn on hot water.

Have you ever heard of this cold instead of hot water thing? 

Do you know why cold?

Thinking about Drum Major's comment that she hoped I didn't get kicked out for being scantily dressed the day I was seminude on the front porch, I scanned the lease and find nudity to be a gray area. Something they can use as a Conduct violation had management seen me and wanted to make an issue to get rid of me, though not specifically spelled out. The closest specificity is Section 49 — Pool/Spa (Don't wear excessively revealing clothing).

Handsome Man is so embarrassed by it all that he’s been keeping a low profile. Thus, he'd not learned the Tyrant is no longer in charge here.

I don’t know what deadline he’d been given — it’s already been over a month since his son did what he did and, generally, once a person has been asked to leave, they only have 30 days, but he’s still here.

Apache is now encouraging him to try to sweet talk Assistant Manager into giving him grace — rescinding the Tyrant’s decree.

Doubtful that will happen, but worth a try.

She Who Hesitates

The landscapers are here today.

It's a good thing they were not here yesterday or they, along with anyone walking down the walkway and any of the neighbors across the way, who happened to be looking out their windows around 11:30, would have caught me nearly naked on the front porch.

I’d slept in late that morning and, after breakfast, a bubble bath and painting my face, thought I’d heard someone calling my name.

I’d assumed it was Apache and not being fully clothed, I hid my body behind the door as I opened it and stuck my head out.

It was Red Light District (RLD) — across the quad downstairs, corner unit neighbor.

She appeared to be in difficulty.

Evidently, she had tried to make it up the stairs to attach something to my door, couldn’t quite make it past the third step, was knees down on the step, holding onto the rail.

As I was not yet fully dressed, I say, "Wait a sec" and quick looked around for something to throw on so I could step outside help her up and back down.

Seeing a swatch of torn fabric on the couch, that I’d used as a laptop cushion, I grabbed it to cover my front and, using one hand to hold fabric as front cover, not worrying about side and rear coverage, used the other hand to help her back down the stairs, take what she had for me out of her hands.

Once back down on solid ground, seeing me in bra and panties, trying to cover myself with a swatch of fabric, she began giggling like crazy at my outfit. "I’m giving our neighbors a show today", said I.

Between giggles, she indicated one of what she’d given me was for Next Door Neighbor (NDN), asked that I attach to her door.

I needed both hands to do the attaching but, since one hand was holding onto that swatch of fabric, I used the other hand to knock on NDN’s door.

It took a bit of time for NDN to respond to my knocking, whereupon I tell RLD, "She’s probably naked too", which sent RLD into another spurt of giggles.

When NDN finally opened the door, she was fully dressed but didn’t have her teeth in.

So that was what yesterday looked like — me half naked on the front porch, NDN with no teeth, and RLD cracking up at the sight.

This is what RLD had for the two of us.

Greeting Card and Candy Bar

I have such nice neighbors in my quad, that is except for the crazy unfriendly girl who lives beneath my unit but, insofar as I know, she's no longer a problem. She keeps to herself, and we all let her. 

RLD appears to be deteriorating rapidly. She was able to make it up the stairs to surprise NDN and I with Christmas Cards and Candy attached to our doors, but two months later can no longer do stairs.

Big Friendly Guy is on a walker now and even NDN said that she feels as though she’s deteriorated since moving here — "gone down" is how she describes it.

I haven't seen the resident living downstairs across the quad, next door to RLD since February of 2020 — the resident who was first hit by a car requiring hip surgery, recovering, then breaking an arm due to a fall in her unit.

She gets her groceries delivered now and, sofar as I've been told, is doing okay with just her and a cat, but I'm not so sure as I keep thinking about her. Ordinarly, thinking about someone is a good sign, but my constant thinking about a particular individual tends to be a harbinger of doom — they are soon to pass or I learn they just did, so ......

At any rate, yesterday's fiasco reminded me of a situation when I was nearly nude on a public street.

After divorcing my ex, my babies and I were living in an apartment along side a busy highway.

Late one night I heard a loud commotion and someone yelling "FIRE!"

Turned out a neighbor had a dispute with someone who’d revenged themselves by setting fire to that neighbor’s car in the wooden carport.

The fire was spreading, placing all our cars in danger.

Bedtime. I was nude, but no time to waste.

I grabbed a sheet from the bed, wrapped it around my body like a toga and out I went. Jumped in the car, drove it away from the carport, parked it across the street, and crossed a busy Artesia Blvd to get back, barefoot, wrapped in a sheet.

By the time the fire department arrived, the carport was ablaze, as were other cars parked nearby.

She who hesitates is lost.

My car was unscathed.

I guess others took the time to make themselves presentable — throw on clothes/shoes.

The Reality Is

Going to be a rough day today. I’m running on empty because I woke up way too early and, instead of going back to sleep, I logged onto the bedroom laptop, read blogs, news, looked at what TikTok had to offer.

One of the things TikTok had to offer was the video, that's been circulating on the news, showing the Minneapolis PD No-Nock Murder of Amir Locke.

Of course, the video focused on Locke with a gun in his hand and, the more privileged individuals commented on that being a reason for murdering him.

Common sense wanted to ask those privileged individuals what would you do if you were suddenly awakened by the noise of your door being knocked down, no idea of what’s going on, no time to focus, not hearing anyone announcing "police"? You'd reach for whatever you have nearby to defend yourself ... amiright?

And I refer to those making excuses for the police as "privileged" because their lives must be nice, safe, nothing bad ever happened for them to not understand why someone would sleep with a weapon nearby.

The reality is that some of us, for one reason or another, are forced to live I’d not say in fear, but in a state of readiness.

I myself put a burglar bar on the patio window every night before I go to bed. I also put one on the front door. On the nightstand next to the bed is a taser, pepper spray and a knife. Not to mention two katanas as wall décor that I can quickly retrieve and go all Walking Dead Michonne on an intruder.

I know what I’d do if I were awakened by the sound of the door being knocked down. I’d reach for one or all of my many tools.

There has been a time or two when I was awakened by a noise that didn’t seem right, whereupon you can bet I picked up one of those tools and searched to make sure I was alone in the unit.

The fact that Locke had a gun nearby isn’t at all strange for those of us who’ve experienced various aspects of trauma; and had they announced, rather than shot, he'd at least have had the opportunity to quickly grasped it was not intruders and dropped it.

No excuse. It was the usually shoddy police work — wrong address, wrong person, too quick to shoot, no drugs found in the apartment after-the-fact to try to justify bad police work.

I don’t know what everyone else does around here, except I do know Casino Lady’s sister keeps a weapon at the ready and The Baker says she keeps a few something somethings on her nightstand as well.

Hansome man has a side security business, is licensed to carry, so I'm sure he keeps weapons in his unit.

My readiness doesn't end when I step outside.

I always keep a taser in my hand, pepper spray in my pocket. If one fails, I've always got a backup.

Also, there's a larger taser under the seat of the car, and a screwdriver in the armrest, just in case of an attempted carjacking.

It pays to be prepared. Too bad it didn’t work out for Locke, but I understand why he was prepared.

A Touch of Normal

With no plans to go anywhere or do anything outside the unit this weekend, plans changed when I ran out of a floss color.

Checking with the local craft store — make sure they had the color in stock so as to not waste a trip, color me a bit peeved upon arriving to find they were out, but I quickly reverted to my philosophy that there is a cosmic reason for everything.

The next nearest craft store was 10 miles away, but inasmuch as I didn’t want to be out and about in the first place, I thought to go back to the complex, order the floss online. But then, headed towards the return freeway entrance, I found myself hanging a right in the other direction to get the floss color quicker.

In and out of that craft store in record time, floss in hand, I headed out and ran into a blockade that looked like something to explore.

It was a farmer’s market with all kinds of produce and vendors, not to mention every kind of street food and sweet stands imaginable that I cannot eat.

It was at that moment I realized that most everything fun we do is based on food, and how these events are so not worth attending for us that can’t indulge ourselves.

EXCEPT, it felt semi-normal to feel sun on my masked face, listen to Bluegrass music.

An interesting thing I learned at the craft store … I don’t know if this is done to everyone, in all areas, or if it’s only when people of color present $20, $50, or $100 bills, but it makes me feel uneasy, somewhat like a criminal when the cashier holds the bill up to the light, checking to see if it’s counterfeit or legit.

At the craft store, they now have some kind of machine to denote legit from counterfeit and, as it is with most new machines, the cashier had trouble getting it to work. I knew it was a legit bill I’d given the cashier, he indicated he knew it was legit as well as he struggled to get the machine to verify, so I didn't think he was checking because he felt I was a criminal.

The machine did eventually do what it was intended to do but, in the interim, I said to the cashier, "Why don’t you do like I’ve seen others do? They hold it up to the light. I don’t know what they’re looking for, or if they just pretend to be looking for something".

The cashier said, "What they’re looking for is the same president on both sides of the bill, and sometimes they can tell when a $10 bill is doctored to look like a $50".

Interesting and good to know just in case someone tries to pass counterfeit on to me.

Speaking of people of color being viewed as criminals …. It’s Black History Month. We’re supposed to be on vacation for 28 days from having to deal with BLM stuff, but there they are in Minneapolis having to protest yet another no-knock warrant killing, and then there’s the situation of Chase Bank denying an account to a Black doctor presenting them with a $16,000 check — even after she presented proper ID, a business card and the medical center she was employed at verifying her employment.

Can we not be subjected to further murders and indignities for the mere twenty-three days remaining?

Is that too much to ask?

What's In a Name?

It’s looking like the day I caught the Tyrant out walking in the wild was his last day. I’ve not seen his car parked out front since that day, and the area of the Activity Calendar for this month, where the name of our Community Manager appears, has been left blank.

Funny, but a few days before I learned he’d quit, I’d been questioning, to myself, why we even needed a Community Manager. The one we had didn’t seem to do anything, wasn’t serving a purpose.

Before he arrived, we’d been without a Community Manager for an entire year. Someone had been hired during that period, was in-training at Corporate, but quit before ever stepping foot on the property.

As far as us residents were concerned, during that solo year, things were working out fine. The only one who didn’t like it was Assistant Manager, who complained to Corporate about being over worked. Corporate responded in typical corporate fashion, that if she couldn’t handle the job, they’d get someone else.

She’s still here, does her job and often it was she whom we had to go to for a workorder because the Tyrant was busy ignoring us. Inasmuch as us residents have no complaints about her and, with free rent, plus medical for herself and her once ailing husband — who seems to have recovered from whatever that on death’s doorstep ailment it was he had, she ain’t going anywhere.

Perhaps they should just bump up her salary and forget about hiring another Community Manager.

So, that’s my two cents on that.

Caught news about Tom Brady’s retirement this morning, which means absolutely nothing to me because I don’t follow sports. What did seem interesting was his giving credit for his longevity to his "Body Coach" of 17 years.

That was the first time I'd heard the term "Body Coach" and wondered what's the difference between a Personal Trainer and a Body Coach.

Either Brady or someone else on the news said, "A Body Coach helps you do what you do longer", which seems to fit my situation.

There’s not much I can do at 78 years of age. The high impact of jumping rope, running, and pounding the boxing bags jolts every bone in my body, which isn't good; but thanks to the routine Trainer has developed with the treadmill, weights and ropes and pullies, it’s looking like I'm stronger, faster, fitter, and what I can do, I can do well for however long I have left.

Sounds like a "body coach" to me.

I’ve notices that others at the Pain Cave never called Trainer by his name, as I do. They call him "Coach".

Research online indicated "Fitness (body) coaches build a personal relationship with you, work to reach goals surrounding all aspects of mental, physical, and social health, and provide support in order to reach those goals. A personal trainer provides training whereas fitness (body) coaches provide coaching", which cleared up the titles NOT ONE IOTA.

Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg was with her trainer for 20 years before her death and referred to him as her "Personal Trainer".

So, I dunno.

I do like the name "Body Coach" better than "Personal Trainer", but what’s good enough for Justice Ruth, is good enough for me — "Trainer" it remains.

Besides, as Juliet said to Romeo, "What's in a name? That which we call a rose/ By any other name would smell as sweet" — a name is nothing but a name and it is hence a convention with no meaning behind it.

At this morning's workout, I brough up what Brady said.

Trainer's view was that "body coach" was just a more professional name for "personal trainer".

Just for fun, I asked which title he preferred. 

Trainer's sun sign is Leo the Lion so, inasmuch as how he's a jokester with an ego, I was expecting "His lordship ... His Highness ... King", but his suggestions were "Big Guy ... Big Poppa Pump ... Big Hoody Daddy ... Super Mega Destroyer".

In his dreams. LOL.

Where’s The Meat?

Popped into the corner market after yesterday’s workout and, though the market I blogged about previously had no meat, the corner market is well stocked to the brim.

Tons of Fried Chicken

How does that happen that one market has none, but another — different chain, is overflowing with product.

At any rate, I got my uncured bacon and, just in case, purchased two pounds of ground turkey. So, I’m good.

Waking up this morning with a rare burst of energy, I suited up and headed out around 9:30 to log in a few miles at the college campus.

There is this fun thing on TikTok where a content creator says, "Tell me you are (this, that, the other) without telling me", and others post a video depicting the thing that tells without words.

So, let’s assume you’ve asked me to tell you how cold I was without telling you it was freezing outside, and I was cold.

I had one in each hand to keep my fingers from freezing up and did very well considering I’ve had such a long hiatus from walking — logged in 5,000 steps.