How Insane Is It …

That we’re afraid of what a President of the United States is going to do to us because we did not elect him to a second term?

Just think about the insanity of that for a minute.

Of all the things I’ve feared in my life — my ex-husband, being broke, extreme poverty, racism and abuse of authority in the work place, being caught off guard and becoming a crime victim, it never ever occurred to me that, as a private citizen, I’d be afraid of what a President of the United States was going to do that would cause me/us personal grief.

But here we are … celebrating but keeping one eye open, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

On another note, isn’t it interesting and heartwarming that the world is celebrating with us.

EuroNews gave us a “Welcome back, America”.

There were fireworks and church bells in London.

Congratulatory posts from John in Wales, and Debra in Canada. Thank you both for sympathizing with our plight and enjoying our now joy. There are probably other bloggers, I've not seen, congratulating us from outside the USA. Thanks to those boggers as well.

So many conflicting emotions all at the same time — relieved, happy, scared, worried.

At any rate, we survived four years of insanity. We’ll somehow get though the next 72 days.

Other than that, it’s business as usual around here, except it’s cold, wet, dreary.

Thunder, lightning, rain stopped, but it was so cold that you’d have thought I was heading out in a snow storm if you’d seen the way I had dressed to pick up mail — socks, boots, leggings, long sleeve workout top, a Batman zipper jacket over that, a jean jacket over those two, topped off with a knit infinity scarf ... and I was still cold.

The End Is Near

Or at least I hope so.

I initially thought the end was near when No. 45 was impeached, but noooooo.

That was a swing and a miss.

Impeachment changed not a thing, which I still don’t understand how an impeached guy can continue to govern.

At any rate, that depressing premonitory dream I had a few days ago is looking more and more like not coming into fruition, I’m happy to say. Which probably means the part about friend’s husband may also not.

It’s still odd, however, that either of them popped up in my psyche because I don’t generally think of him or her, so it must mean something.

Though I’m beginning to think the end is near for real this time, there’s still a lot of damage that can be done, and probably will be done, before 45 slinks off into the sunset.

On the topic of lessons to learn, I wonder how much, if any, 45 is absorbing as to what’s gotten him to being on the brink of becoming a one-term president.

How his voter suppression tactics, failure to decry hate groups, response to Covid, and what I’ll never forget he did to those federal workers — ruining them financially, holding their pay hostage to getting what he wanted for his wall, backfired and mobilized voters in drove. Caused many of whom, like myself, to vote for the first time.

One commenter wrote that 45 has shown he not only doesn’t believe in science but now, looking at his statement of not planning to concede, doesn’t believe in math.

Though some are saying Anderson Cooper was wrong to attack 45’s physicality by describing his current efforts to stay in power as being “like an obese turtle on his back, flailing in the hot sun, realizing his time is over”, I say pffffff, because 45 has said far worse than "obese" about the physicality of others.

In the last analysis, what you put out into the universe at one time or another, one lifetime or another, will catch up and come back at you.

On the light side, I’ll finish with a facebook comment by a friend that her 3-year-old daughter asked her mom when she will stop watching the “map show”.

Plan for today was to head out to the mall, log in some miles, but it’s cold and rainy outside, and now there's  thunder and lightning so, instead, I’ll perform my normal morning ritual, including makeup, put on a warm comfortable onesie, then it’s television (unless the power goes out) and needlepoint.

Do you find it strange that, even on the days I never leave the unit, my face is made up, I’m wearing earrings and smelling of perfume?

Fingers Crossed

If you know who, and his minions, don't succeed in stopping the count, there's a chance his reign of terror will be coming to an end.

My fingers are crossed.

Premonitions

I kinda sorta knew which way the wind would blow when I woke up crying yesterday.

Having been trained through the years to remain stoic, accept the pain of whatever slings and arrows come my way, keep it all inside, maintain my spiritual integrity, I never ever cry, but I woke up crying yesterday morning and burst into tears ─ for no reason, off/on all day.

I assumed it was a portent to four more years of having to see you know who’s ugly mug, and his band of home-grown terrorists, flashing across the television screen, popping up in my news feeds.

Then later this song began to play in my head.

Still later in the day, the route to picking up a package took me through the area the Archeologist had posted to avoid last week, due to an active protest over a shooting death.

Once I passed through that intersection, a chill came over my whole body and my hands began to shake so bad after that, after picking up the package, I was afraid to do any further driving.

I drove straight back home, did not pass go, did not collect $200 dollars, and stayed there.

THEN, I dreamt last night that a friend’s husband was shot and killed in a hunting accident.

The friend being the one of 40+ years I’ve blogged about as constantly inviting me to events, even though I continually decline, and being “a nice enough woman, but I outgrew her 20 years ago and she won’t let go — always keeps up with where I am, what I’m doing, calls and bends my ears for hours, all the while saying nothing — talking about people, places, I don't remember, things I’ve no interest in.”

At any rate, I dreamt last night that her husband died in that accident and he doesn’t hunt .... that is unless you count his hunting for liaisons outside his marriage.

I never cared for him because of that proclivity of his, but that was between him and her and if she’s chosen to turn a blind eye ─ which she did, even when some of the women he was fooling around with told her what was going on, and stay with him for 51 years, that’s her choice.

So there’s that. And waking up this morning, with no clear resolution as to whether we're saddled with four more years of hate and home-grown terrorists, and with you know who finagling to make certain no further votes are counted, I’m all out of tears, hope, sympathy, prepared and ready for which of the two ─ death of America or death of friend's husband, or both, come to fruition.

Halloween 2020

That jack-o-lantern looks frightened.

I feel its fright.

Three days until Election Day and, as bad as this year has been, we’ve no idea if No 45, in a fit of anger, will push the red button to screw us over if he loses and/or how much worse things will get if he wins.

Many are on edge. Myself included.

Instead of training on Thursday of this week, I trained on Friday and would have worn a Halloween costume. Last year, I trained in my 2019 Batman 5k costume. However, because I’d planned to stop by the grocery store after, I dressed in regular workout gear, with the exception that I wore the top I plan to wear every time I go to the market.

No one said anything, but I caught a few amused understanding smiling eyes.

All I needed from the market was potatoes, spinach, tomatoes, gluten free pasta, ground turkey. But, when I saw others with overflowing carts, realizing they were preparing for the worst, I began to wonder if I shouldn’t also panic and prepare for the worst.

But I didn’t because, whichever way the wind blows, I don’t think things will go back to those first few months of the pandemic, when supplies were scarce and hard to get.

If I’m wrong, then oh well. At least I’ve got potatoes, spinach, tomatoes, gluten free pasta, ground turkey. LOL.

Though there hasn’t been much Halloween spirit around here, I’m not ready to put Halloween to bed at the stroke of midnight tonight.

I’m redoing my candy corn nails today and won’t be removing the candy corn doormat and door wreath until after Thanksgiving, when it’s time to put the Christmas stuff out.

After having enjoyed a month of old horror movies like Joan Crawford’s Berserk, The Bat, Wasp Woman, Billy the Kid vs. Dracula, Frankenstein, Frankenstein’s Revenge etc., I’ll now have to find something else to occupy my tv viewing time other than those dreaded holiday movies.

I actually love all the Food Network Holiday Competitions, but those sickly sweet Hallmark type movies make me ill, especially James Stewart’s “It’s a Wonderful Life”.

Billy the Kid vs. Dracula was a hoot!

The network really dug into the archives to pull out that 1966 “horror/western” starring John Carradine Sr.

Bless his heart, Carradine was so old and feeble that, when he stooped over to kidnap the girl from her bed, he almost dropped her.

And, instead of quickly fleeing, cape flying in the wind, girl in his arms, he drove off with her in a horse drawn buggy.

The part that really killed me was when bullets, of course, failed to stop Dracula, how Billy the Kid came up with the most ridiculous way of ending Dracula's reign of terror. So funny, though not meant to be funny, that you've got to see it.

 

That Gray Area

It took two days for management to clean up all the mess caused by the heavy winds and sand storm.

We had tree limbs breaking off, and all kinds of debris finding its way onto the property from everywhere and anywhere, including tumbleweeds.

As to where all that dirt and sand came from, I hadn’t noticed previously, but it looks like all the foliage in the vacant lot across the street had been removed, in preparation for constructing whatever it is that’s being built on that property.

 

That left all that dirt/sand/top soil coming directly at us from force of wind.

Quite a lot of that dirt and debris landed in the pool which, in turn, turned the clear blue water into a muddy swamp.

 

The poor pool cleaner was doing his best to remove the gunk to where one can now tell it’s water, not mud, but there is still quite a lot of mess at the bottom.

 

Enough mess, hopefully, to turn the homeless visitors away from climbing the fence to swim late at night, early morning.

Checking on the mailbox situation, it does indeed look like someone made good headway into breaking into the outgoing mail slot.

 

I don’t think Carol’s son has returned to camping out on the hillside, coming down to plague us. He’s been long gone from the area. So it’s probably someone new targeting us. Hopefully they’ll stop at the outgoing slot, leave the actual mailboxes alone so we can continue to, at least, receive mail.

It’s not an imposition for me to drop off my outgoing at the UPS Store, because the store is three doors down from the market. But other less mobile seniors may have to take their chances with using the slot and having their outgoing mail pinched, as I don’t think management is going to do much about repairing the slot, or weld the damaged area to make it safe to use again.

And speaking of management, remember that new senior complex I’d watched go up behind the new shopping center near Sprouts? I’d signed up as interested, so I could get an invite to the open house.

Covid put an end to the idea of an open house, but I did periodically receive updates and lost interest once the building was completed because the building looked like a Plantation House, and didn’t appear to have open air access which, with Covid being airborne, living in a box with an elevator, doors opening up into a hallway isn't for me. I’d also deduced, from updates, the building was for the very very poor, that I was probably over income.

I’m in what I call a Gray Area.

Over income for most “affordable” living situations, but not so flush that I’m willing to pay the exorbitant sums being charged elsewhere. The only reason I have this unit is because I was just shy of the Gray Area when I moved in and, having now crossed over into it, I'm grandfather in so long as I don't get very much further into the Gray.

At any rate, having lost interest in that new building, I wasn’t disappointed when the update I received two months ago was that occupants were moving in — 500 were on the list, 250 were chosen and I wasn’t among the 250.

Then, yesterday, I get a call from management that they have a one-bedroom unit for me, $846 a month, that I had to have a guaranteed income of at least $1262 coming in, can I come to their office at 2:00.

I would have loved to go, just to see what the units look like inside, but didn’t want to waste the woman’s time. So, instead of saying I was no longer interested, I told her I was over income and that was that.

But think of what a struggle is must be for seniors below the Gray Area, those who — though rent at $846 is low by comparison, it doesn’t leave much room for the necessities in life when one just barely meets the required income of $1262.

Gray area or not, I’m feeling very blessed.