Captured!

Getting out of the car at Starbucks this morning, I turned the game app on to see what was available in the area.

Party Hat Pikachu popped up on the car parked next to me and, after a fierce battle requiring Razz Berries, Nanab Berries, PokéBalls, Great Balls, Ultra Balls, she was eventually captured.

How do I know it’s a she?

I recently learned that if the tail has a straight cut, it’s a boy. The decorative cut on the end of the tail indicates this one is a girl.

So that’s one.

I was lucky to get it and consider my work done because, having put ice cream and Girl Scout cookies (i.e., sugar) back in my system, the blood flowing through my veins now feels like sludge. I’m achy, sluggish, queasy and just not up to much of anything right now.

The March Activity Calendar was posted to our doors today.

In addition to there not being many activities this month -- except for one Bingo day and a St. Patrick’s Day Ice Cream Sundae Social, there was also not the promised explanation as to purpose of Pizza Tuesday sign-in.

I was thinking of connecting with Activity Director, to suggest she now needs to address the situation in person with residents, because the issue came up again at the last Pizza Tuesday, when lo and behold she called me to verify I’d be policing the event next week.

Affirmative, said I and, when I advised the calendar did not have the promised explanation, she said it was her fault and she’ll have an addendum posted.

We’ll see.

Pizza and Mardi Gras Beads

Another orderly Pizza Tuesday.

Delivery was on time and no one bum rushed the guys.

Except for one remark, there were no problems getting folks to add their name and unit number to the event sign-in sheet.

The woman who always takes the most -- saying she’s taking for others, and was asked to therefore sign for the others, made a snarky remark about having to “sign for pizza”.

I told her what the Activity Director instructed I tell those who felt that way, until she can put out a bulletin explanation next month, that you’re not “signing for a pizza” … you’re signing to show the program that donations are going to residents, not employees.

Today, the woman who takes the most must have walked out with 8 pizzas and I don’t even know how many containers of chicken. Then … after saying she was taking those to others, she came back and bragged about freezing and eating pizza for breakfast, lunch and dinner all week long.

Whatever.

I was so glad I held onto that almost container full of Mardi Gras beads I started to toss last time I was weeding out, getting rid of everything I’d not used in years and that which didn't seem to serve a purpose, because tossing the beads to seniors as they came into the Community Room turned into a hoot, holler and was a much better way to thin out the container.

Here’s a group of us flashing our beads.

I even got folks to Mardi Gras roll play -- ask for beads by using the iconic phrase, “Throw me some beads!”

Even Fancy got beads.

That turned out to not be a good idea, as Fancy later tried to eat them.

No sign of a party hat Pikachu in the area yesterday, no sign of one today.

Perhaps tomorrow will be my lucky day.

Happy Pokémon Day

Bet you didn’t know there is such a holiday.

Technically, it’s National Pokémon Day, associated with the day when the first Pokémon game launched in Japan back in 1996.

To celebrate, the game app is releasing a limited edition Pikachu wearing a party hat. The release began yesterday at 1:00 pm and lasts only until next Monday.

You'd think that with a week to catch one, it would be easy and time enough.

But noooooo.

So out of the area yesterday, getting my braids retightened in Rancho Cucamonga, I made sure to begin checking at 1:00 sharp.

No luck.

But, looking at the PokémonGo Inland Empire Facebook page, I see at least one person caught one yesterday ... and in the same Rancho Cucamonga area.

I guess it’s all about being in the precise right spot at the precise right time.

The right spot was not in my area because, once arriving back at the complex, I checked and still no luck.

Checked again when I woke up this morning.

Nothing.

But I was awake, checking the app at 3:23 a.m., so there’s still hope of finding one of the little guys by day’s end.

So that’s what’s on tap for today – party hat Pikachu and a 5 mile indoor bike ride to qualify for the “Mardi Gras 5 Miler”.

Tomorrow, in addition to being Pizza Tuesday is Fat Tuesday.

We’ve never celebrated Mardi Gras in the years I’ve lived here, but maybe I’ll lighten things up tomorrow by wearing beads and throwing some I collected while living in Long Beach, where Mardi Gras IS celebrated, out to the seniors.

We’ll see.

Happy Hands

Aida cloth having arrived in yesterday’s mail, my hands are once again happily involved with a project.

My eyes, on the other hand, are not pleased with me at all.

The eyes have been angry for a long time because, due to budget constraints, I’ve been wearing prescription eyeglasses that are years and years and years outdated. First thing on my todo list, when that windfall kicks in, is to reward the eyes for hanging in there so long with a visit to optometry.

I’m looking at three pairs – one for the computer, one for reading/needlepoint, and progressive lenses for when outside (driving, walking, pokémon hunting).

Being unproductive for a few days hasn’t been too difficult an adjustment. I whittled down recorded television programs, watched the grass grow and listened to myself try to figure out do I put myself first, or do I once again put others first.

One would think that after so many years of hurting myself emotionally and financially by being there for others, who I know without a doubt I cannot count on to be there for me, I’d have learned my lesson and there would be no question as to who’s first.

It’s just so difficult to not step in when I become aware a family member is struggling.

All this thinking, as to whether to provide for my future, or dig a family member out from the hole created by their well-meant decision, has pushed me to sugar in the form of Girl Scout cookies and ice cream.

If I had an idea of how long I’m going to live, it would make the decision-making process so much easier. If I’m looking at less than five more years of life, I could cover the both of us, and even leave something behind for others. If it’s to be, God forbid, 10, 15 or, even worse, 20 years, with no one to count on, I'm going to have made smart choices for myself.

I need a glimpse into the future.

For years, I had a Shaman who could do just that.

He passed away in 2014.

I’m really missing him now.

Idle Hands

Popping up on my facebook page Wednesday -- two days after the holiday, the following sign was just too hilarious not to share.

Having suffered no after effects from Pizza Tuesday, it’s been business as normal, except no needlepoint as I wait for the aida cloth to arrive.

Apart from when I’m sitting in meditation, I become restless when I’m not doing something with my hands, so I've been getting back into ancestry to while away the time.

I signed up late last year and quickly lost interest after learning:

1)      In addition to Nigerian, Mali, Senegal and Congo, my Native Indian heritage is much lower than I was led to believe (only 2%).

2)     Also, contrary to family belief of Irish blood, there is 0% chance of that, BUT

3)     There’s 9% Scandinavian.

Inasmuch as my body has no tolerance for cold weather, I found THAT hard to believe, questioned accuracy of the test, and was done – even though Apache informed me only one eighteenth is necessary to qualify for Native American benefits.

Records are required to verify that lineage and, other than a photo shown to me the one time I came in contact with anyone from my father's side, even him -- at his funeral, of their Black Great Grandfather standing besides their Choctaw Cherokee Great Grandmother, that’s all the info I have, and had no interest in delving further into it.

So, after the initial thrill of the results, I was done with the site until, with nothing else to do, I logged in the other afternoon and saw a match had reached out to ask how we’re connected -- it’s from the father’s side, but difficult to pinpoint precisely who.

From there, just to keep myself busy, I've been giving tree building a try, found a population schedule listing my mom at 12 years of age, but building a tree is complicated, frustrating, and has the potential of becoming expensive – with monthly charges for access to this, monthly charges for access to that. So I think I’m over this ancestry thing and will just quietly sit here, catching up on recorded television programs, occasionally looking out the patio window, watching grass grow.

Into the Wild

Car started up right away yesterday, no cranking sound.

According to the manual, the car is equipped with “Battery Rundown Protection”, which means that when lights are left on, the system will automatically turn the lamp off after 20 minutes. So knowing the car did not sit for two days, lights on, draining the battery, I stopped worrying about getting to the dealer and will take my chances on making it to the next regular service.

Yesterday did dry up outside and was off/on fairly nice, but a little chilly when I made it out. So, instead of walking around the University, I drove to the PokéStops I depended upon before discovering the University. One such stop displayed a hilarious sign.

After this morning’s rituals (BBB, except I skipped the biking because I was going to need that energy elsewhere), I headed down into the wilderness the Community Room becomes on Pizza Day, arriving early at 9:45 for the 10:00 delivery.

Expecting feeding time at the zoo -- crazed wild beasts ready to attack, grab as soon as pizzas came through the door, I was met by only two residents – one of which was the guy who’d had a pizza snatched from his hands.

After telling him I was happy he was giving it a second chance, I began wondering -- did I scare everyone off last week?

Turns out not. Taking a cue from last week's late delivery, residents began trickling in around 10:30 -- minutes after the Activity Director herself delivered the pizzas.

She’d rearranged her schedule to handle the pickup/delivery because she’d heard so much from management and residents about the chaos that she wanted to “see it for myself”; plus she wanted the delivery to be on time.

Of course, this would be the day residents weren't already seated, at the ready, so Activity Director saw none of the behaviors she’d been advised of happening last week, the week before that, the week before that.

At any rate, as soon as she’d made the delivery and took off, here they came. But it was nice this time.

Pizzas, bread sticks, chicken were already on the table, there wasn't a mass of residents converging on the tables at one time so, after signing in, folks leisurely picked out what they wanted.

I didn’t even have to use my 1 Per Person labels.

Those who wanted one or two or three, saying they were picking up for someone else who supposedly could not come down, I asked they sign in FOR that person (name and unit number).

No one had a problem with it.

This morning was easy peasy … fun even.

The idea of Pizza Day had me craving since last week. So yesterday, following an almond meal crust recipe found in a Wheat Belly Cookbook, I sauced the crust with tomato puree, added a topping of roasted mushrooms, onions, cherry tomatoes, jalapeno, turkey pepperoni, and cane up with a pizza my sensitive stomach wouldn’t rebel at.

Satisfying and delicious it was.

Tasted even better when, at 12:15, I signed off wilderness duty, went back to my unit and reheated a slice for lunch.

On tap for remainder of the day?

Well, since there will be no needlepoint until I receive the aida in the mail, I'll take a little indoor bike ride, then work on my Ancestry tree.

I have to always be doing something, and I was so excited last night when I found a population schedule listing my mom when she was 12 years old. I've also heard from someone who thinks she might be a niece on my father's side -- the side I know little about.