Fresh Hell

At the dental office on Thursday, I saw no signs of guilt coming from the receptionist I suspected of hacking my credit card. Maybe because time has passed and she forgot, maybe because she’s hacked so many customer cards that she can’t remember who, and maybe because she’s not guilty.

Who knows, but I did pay cash for the cleaning and will henceforth pay by cash or check to err on the safe side.

Stopping by the market after Friday’s workout, I picked up carrots to make carrot dogs for the 4th.

There must be a plethora of folks in the area with gut issues, because this market carries a complete line of gluten-free products.

Word to the wise …. Not everything labeled "gluten free" is actually 100% gluten free. It pays to read labels, as there's always a triggering ingredient, but sometimes the ingredient is so minimal as to be worth the risk.

At any rate, heading for the gluten-free hot dog buns, which buns are still problematic but worth it to get the taste and feel of a real hot dog, I found they were sold out.

Not wanting to drive out of the area, search other markets, I found a recipe for buns which I’m trying out today.

So far, I'm on my third try at a batter that "clumps" like the recipe says.

If this third batter doesn't work out, then I'm done and will settle for oven baked chicken and potato salad tomorrow.

Heading out to do laundry on Saturday, I paused at the door when I saw a big green iridescent bug hoovering in the open area around the stairs.

What fresh hell is this, thought I to myself as I waited by the door for it to fly away. However, instead of flying away it began flying towards me — probably attracted by my perfume.

I didn’t panic or scream this time. I was calm as I quickly assessed what I had in my hands to defend myself — a laundry basket full of clothes and Shout laundry stain remover.

So, I tried to spray it away with the Shout but, much like that lizard I tried to spray off the patio with water, the bug seemed to enjoy the spray and kept flying towards me, at which point I got mad, and I got serious.

Fortunately, I’d not yet locked the door, so I retreated back inside and grabbed the bug spray. Ordinarily, I don’t bother lizards, bugs, ants outside — outside is their world but, when they come after me, won’t leave me alone, then it’s war. So, stepping outside once again trying to make it to the Laundry Room, locked and loaded with bug spray in hand, I was prepared to do some serious harm; but the flying bug had, fortunately for it, disappeared.

Not to be caught unawares, I held onto the bug spray while going back/forth doing laundry that day.

So, it’s not enough I have to watch for lizards on the stairs, now I have to carry bug spray around to ward off flying bugs — which I’ve research iridescent flying bugs and determined was a June Bug.

On one of my trips to the Laundry Room, I happened to see Karen’s Dream Lover picking up mail.

Lucky for him Karen wasn’t outside, doing her usual picking stuff off the ground. Too bad for her that she wasn’t — missed an opportunity to chase him down.

So that’s my holiday weekend so far — fresh hell, hot dog buns, Dream Lover but no Karen.

Senior Drivers

Realizing today is the start of the 4th of July weekend, it occurred to me I probably shouldn’t drive out of the area as people will be driving fast, furious, inebriated today through Monday.

My plan was to play it safe — stay within the two-block range encompassing the Pain Cave and the Market and, in fact, it crossed my mind I should probably walk to this morning’s workout.

Too bad I didn’t.

In the car heading for the Pain Cave, I looked in my rearview mirror and began slowly backing out of my parking space, careful to crank my head over my shoulder and look to the right, left, right again because cars come around the corner of the building and also through the gate pretty quick.

I’m not 100% certain if I looked at the backup camera but, no worries if I didn’t because the backup camera beeps when there’s an object close behind me.

Only this morning it didn’t … beep that is.

All of a sudden, I felt a bump and heard a thud, like I’d hit something. Pulling forward, I looked in the rearview mirror and saw I’d hit an SUV.

"Where did THAT come from?" though I; and "Why didn't the backup camera give me an alert?"

Exiting the car, I saw the two occupants of the SUV step out and it was the Talker — my friend/neighbor who parks right next to me. Only she hadn’t pulled into her parking space. Instead, she’d stopped crosswise behind me.

"What are you doing there?" asked I.

"I stopped to drop off my nephew and felt a thump", said she.

Fortunately, there was no damage to her SUV and a barely noticeable indentation on my bumper.

I thought perhaps that waffle looking decorative piece had been broken, but Trainer tells me the break is too straight, too perfect to have been caused by the accident, that it "Must have been like that all along".

I’m not so sure, but it’s nothing a little duct tape can’t fix.

At any rate, it’s a good thing I was pulling out so slow that there was barely a tap.

Next time I have the thought I should probably walk, I’ll be walking.

In fact, the Pain Cave is open until noon on Monday, 4th of July. That means, since my workout is scheduled for 11:30, it’s not a day off for me. I’ll be leaving the car in the carport and walking that day.

Pick a Color and Tiny Hands

I came thisclose yesterday, to removing my feet from the spa chair tub, drying them, walking out.

Arriving at the nail salon at 10:55 for my 11:00 appointment I was greeted by one of the managers by name. How he knew who I was became clear when I saw my pedicurist just starting a manicure on another client.

The guys who manage the salon run it like a sweat shop. They hoover in around and over the women, silently intimidating them, ordering them about in their language. The women keep their heads down, keep quiet, do what they have to do to keep their job.

Having my own self been there done that for many years — head down, kept quiet, did what I had to do to survive in toxic work environments, I recognize the signs — not to mention my pedicurists, though she would not dare speak up, she makes facial expressions to me and rolls her eyes to let me know how she feels about whatever is going on at any given time.

So, putting two and two together, I deduced the manager knew my name because, when he ordered my pedicurist to do a manicure on this other client, she would have said something to the effect that her regular, me, had an appointment, would be walking through the door any moment.

Obviously, he didn’t care.

It took some 45 minutes for my pedicurists to get to me.

At the 30-minute mark, I was seriously considering drying my feet, walking out; but I really needed a pedicure and having invested 30 minutes already in waiting, figuring I didn’t have much longer to wait, that I might as well stick it out.

I did, however, make a bargain with myself to skip the manicure because I can do that myself.

When my pedicurist finally made it over to me, she brought the manicurist with her, so I settled in for what I’d requested and had scheduled for 45 minutes earlier.

Asking my pedicurist what was going on, she whispered something to me I couldn’t make out, because she was talking low, careful not to be heard by the manager or any kiss ass coworker who’d rat her out, but her face and the way she rolled her eyes towards the male managers told it all.

There’s a high turnover with the younger girls. They probably say to heck with these guys and go work at the mall, but the two older ladies (my pedicurist and one other) are kinda stuck, so they are the only constant.

This new thing of young people no longer willing to tolerate toxic working conditions, leaving fast food establishments scrambling or closing their doors altogether, appears to have caught up with the salon. They were very short staffed. That’s why my pedicurist had been told to do a manicure. That’s also why one of the male managers himself was jumping in, working on clients.

I was observing all this while the manicurist had almost finished my hands, was just starting to paint one of my nails when, all of a sudden, the manager I’d seen removing fake nails from a client, suddenly appeared hoovering over and startling my manicurist, quickly whispered something in her ear which caused her to immediately stop painting and jump up so quick that she smeared polish around the nail she had begun painting.

Then POOF, she was gone, later to be seen working on another client.

I guess he ordered her to stop painting me, service this other client who'd just been seated. BTW, this newly seated client was White, as was the client my pedicurist had been ordered to service. I noticed it was just I and one other Black lady that were made to wait. Everyone not Black got seated and serviced immediately— even if the manager himself had to step in.

I was left befuddled for a few minutes by the loss of the manicurist, after which that manager returned, picked up the bottle of polish and looked to begin painting my nails.

"What happened to my manicurist?" asked I.

"Nothing, nothing happened to her", he said in a so what tone.

"Well, obviously something happened to her, because a moment ago, she looked like a woman. Now, she looks like a man, she looka like a man". (I repeated and reverted to speaking like Ms. Swan of MadTV).

My pedicurist cracked up hearing what I’d said, as did the girls working within ear shot.

I hope they don’t get punished for laughing at his expense.

So, anyway, I’m loyal to my pedicurist. As long as she’s working there, I’ll keep coming back.

As for Tiny Hands, some fun memes popped up as a result of Cassidy Hutchinson’s testimony before the Jan 6 committee.

Hot Monday, Ugh!

There just is not enough weekend in the weekend, especially when today meant I had to leave my air-conditioned unit and face the wall of heat outside; but at least this week looks to be a lot less chaotic than last week — fewer must-dos to make me venture out.

Other than the MWF workouts, I’m only locked into a manicure/pedicure on Tuesday and dental cleaning on Thursday.

Since I suspect the dental office receptionist as being the person who’d hacked my credit card, charging $18 at Overstock, $13 at some Motor Club (thank the Lord it was timid small bites), I’ll be looking for signs of guilt — like not being able to look me in the eyes. I’ll also be paying cash. She how she reacts to that.

Activity Director has a Summer Craft class scheduled for Tuesday, which I’ll miss because the time conflicts with my mani/pedi but, if she stays true to form, the craft class was going to be cancelled at the last minute without notice anyway.

With no Bingo this coming Friday, and my heading out of town the Friday after — for the three-day Long Beach Pride Festival, doubt I’ll have any updates on the Karen/Dream Lover saga for a couple weeks.

Speaking of Pride, during the week I was reminded of how I used to take granddaughter to the Pride Festivals and Parades when she called to ask if I had possession of the book with the photo of her at Pride.

I do not. It’s one her mom has, but I’ll look for it while I’m in Long Beach.

Granddaughter was asking because, now that she’s a new mom, she wanted something to commemorate the baby’s First Pride — have a tee made with a photo of her as a baby at Pride alongside a photo of her baby at Pride.

Cute idea and the fact that she wanted something to commemorate the baby’s First Pride manifested itself because, when walking into a store to pick up a package the other day, stopping at the Pride display to see if they had anything that interested me, I lucked up on this.

Dumpster Diving

Heading to yesterday’s workout, I saw the Maintenance guys were back at clearing out Bonita’s unit.

The furniture the guys piled up at the dumpster looked like the old-fashioned well-built stuff. Too difficult to smash up to fit inside the dumpster, they left it out for pick-up but, in the interim, I was expecting the seniors to cart pieces off to their unit.

Returning from the Pain Cave, with about an hour to spare before Bingo, I saw a couple seniors perusing the offerings.

Painted Rock Lady was zealously guarding a center table.

Her next-door neighbor, the guy who pulled Bonita’s memorabilia from the dumpster — let’s call him He-Man … you’ll find out why as you read on, was busy pulling an end table from the dumpster.

Seeing him dumpster diving had me silently hoping he didn’t find any more photos, because it had been a bit of work tracking down someone to take that first batch.

At any rate, asking Painted Rock Lady (PRL) how she planned to get that heavy table to her unit, she said the one I now call He-Man, her next-door neighbor, would figure it out.

Just then, Big Friendly Guy passed by with a dolly. When asked if he could help, it was excuse after excuse after excuse, even though he had a dolly.

Funny how it is that the big strong looking guys around here turn out to be oatmeal, like now with Big Friendly Guy and like a while back when I asked a tall not bad looking strong appearing guy to help me get a microwave up the stairs.

"You know I’ve got a bad back" said he, when how could I know that since I didn’t even know his name.

He did begrudgingly help me after which he immediately diminished in my eyes — looks not so tall now, less better looking and definitely no longer fits the illusion I had of him being strong when I see him in the market or out on the premises.

So, anyway, turns out Big Friendly Guy and his dolly weren’t needed after all as He-Man, little as he is, managed to perform a feat I’d not have believed had I not seen it for myself.

Amazing, isn't it.

Later that afternoon, seeing other residents having talked Big Friendly Guy out of the dolly and using it to move furniture down the walkway, I was surprised this morning to see quite a few pieces remaining, including an ottoman and vacuum cleaner.

As for the residents who feel they've gotten a bargain, they may have gotten more than they'd bargained for.

I don't know about having things belonging to a deceased person in your unit. That's how discarnate beings/ghosts come into your life — when someone takes possession of an item the deceased person was attached to in life and can't let go of even in spirit.

That's why I was so happy to hear from the mom of the Joling boys and so quickly shipped Bonita's memorabilia off.

Of course, had Bonita been hanging around, she would have understood what I was doing with her stuff, would have been encouraging me on and like commenter Abby said, when all was said and done, Bonita would have been "Smiling at you and clapping" and then moved on.

Day the Room Went Still

There was a surprise birthday party for Red Light at today’s Bingo event.

Surprised not only Red Light but me as well because no one told me. Had they done so, I would have contributed to the cake and ice cream or bought Red Light a present.

The Baker provided the cake made of cupcakes but, busy with doctor appointments as a result of her fall, she purchased the cake instead of baking it herself.

The usual suspects attended, plus there were a few additions — Not Dead Nancy joined us, as did the woman who had been hospitalized with Covid and then kept "forgetting" to wear her mask when recovered and was out and about on the property. Let's call her Caftan lady because she always wears a Caftan.

In addition, Talker brought her disabled brother.

Conspicuously absent was the guy Karen has been stalking — let’s call him Dream Lover (DL), because that’s what he is to her.

Word travels fast, everyone knows about Karen stalking DL, so I asked around if his absence had anything to do with her.

No one knew the answer, why he was not there. The two women he generally sits with said they didn't know where he was.

After attendees sang Happy Birthday to Red Light, had cake and ice cream, the games were about to start when through the door comes Karen.

The room went still, all the air went out and I heard myself say out loud, "UT OH!"

My table mate Genie, feeling the energy in the room change, hearing my utterance and seeing the look on my face said "What? ... Who is that?"

"That’s her" whispered I. "She’s probably looking for M_____ (Dream Lover), so it’s a good thing he’s not here today".

My other table mate, our Painted Rock Lady (PRL), said "No. I invited her".

"You what!? ... Why? ... You know she’s not right".

"I was trying to be a good Christian lady".

Bull crap thought I.

PRL is well aware of all the problems with Karen, in fact, it was she who warned Talker in the first place to be careful of Karen, because of things Karen was saying about Talker, trying to turn neighbors against her.

In addition, PRL knew that Talker would be in attendance, that Dream Lover usually attends and this time we had Talker’s brother — the one Karen had bullied at the gate. So, to tell me she invited her because she was trying to be a good Christian Lady is bull crap.

While these conversations were going on, Karen had been standing, looking around as to where to sit and saw the one who invited her — PRL, who had her head down, trying to be invisible.

Oh sure, she invites her and then tries to hide from her.

"If she joins our table, I’m leaving," said I.

Something about the look in my eyes must have warned Karen off, because she sat with Not Dead Nancy and the Seer. After which, PRL, afraid to turn around and look, head still down, whispered "Where is she?".

"Right behind you, facing my way".

Karen seemed to gel well with the ladies at her table and, because of where she was seated, our eyes frequently locked.

Crazy people are not stupid. They know who to mess with, who to avoid and something about the way I looked at her when our eyes met kept her away from me. Even when she later walked around trying to be nice, even had a conversation with Talker who looked shit faced uncomfortable as she held in her disgust with her being present and anger at PRL for inviting her.

I didn’t wear my lucky shirt, so no surprise when I came close several times to winning a game but did not. Then, Game 9 came through for me and I selected a toolbox from the prize table.

There are no tools in the box and I don’t plan to use it for tools, but to house some of my crafting equipment.

So that’s the tea of how Bingo went today — Karen is in, causing Dream Lover to now have to opt out — maybe Talker too.

And get this ….. Sitting straight in front of me, at the other table, I kept trying to get a photo of Karen, as this was the first time I've been close enough to see her face, but my camera kept malfunctioning — the images kept pulsating, fading in going dark, fading out, which I took to be her bad energy causing a disturbance in the force, in the operation of the light rays.

After several tries, even restarting the phone, I finally managed to snap a clear pic in-between the malfunctions.

She’s looking at her phone. I wonder if she’s trying to get a pic of me too, for purposes of performing some kind of voodoo ritual. ROFLMAO!