I’m Not Built for This

It’s not raining outside, it’s not snowing, but it’s too icy to be outside walking without risk of catching cold.

I’m not built for this kind of weather.

That one day of snow was tons of fun and I wouldn’t mind more snow but, truth be told, I am a warm weather California type, not built for this depth of cold.

Just the few minutes I've been outside in the last week or so, has left me with the sniffles, coughing, sore throat and an earache.

If I’m not mistaken, coughing and a sore throat are signs of Covid. So, of course, I freaked out a little until I realized I haven’t lost my sense of taste.

At any rate, not wanting to risk getting full blown sick, I’ll be spending the weekend indoors.

On Monday, as I was getting dressed for that morning’s workout, checking to see how bad getting to the Pain Cave was going to be, I found outside was raining and snowing at the same time or had snowed during the night, and the rain was washing it away.

Leaving the Pain Cave, snow and rain turned to simultaneous hail and rain.

It's beginning to feel like the end of the world as we know it, but I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

Folks a few miles away in the Crestline and Big Bear area are in a dire situation — snowed in, running out of food and propane.

I heard one guy on the news say he made it out of the area (drove) to get his wife’s diabetic medicine, but now can’t get back up the mountain.

My Dr. Spock common sense logic thought him a stupid arse, because ... able to finally make it down the mountain, why did he not take that as an opportunity to evacuate the area with his wife in tow.

People get attached to material things, don’t want to leave their home and possessions behind and, looking at the "Help" sign some residents stranded on the mountain have written in the snow, I can’t but wonder why they don’t just hike outta there for the time being?

BTW, the patio in the first video — the one that the rain had not yet washed away its snow, is the bad energy unit the new tenant just moved into.

First impression is that inasmuch as the new guy is keeping a low profile, has not been out and about since he moved in, he's the quiet introverted type, not going to be providing much blog fodder.

On the other hand, perhaps he's not been seen out and about because whatever is in that unit has already dragged him into whatever portal it comes from.

He’s Heeeeeere

It was a downpour yesterday afternoon when the new resident of that bad energy unit moved in.

The new tenant is not at all the "big guy" Head Maintenance Guy described. Instead, he’s average height, average weight, but does appear healthy — walks quickly, no visible physical challenges.

I’d say his moving in during a rainstorm is a bad omen as to how things are going to go in that unit, except it was exactly like the day when I moved in eleven years ago.

It was impossible for my movers to work in those conditions, so they struck a deal to set up a bed for me in the bedroom, come back the next day when the weather was expected to cooperate, and I’d not get charged for an extra day.

So, that night, after going to the drugstore on the corner to buy towels so I could bathe in the morning, toothpaste, toothbrush and a sleepshirt; and after a friend I had in the area took me to dinner that night, I was snug as a bug in bed and it was all good.

Fortunately, I’d transported the makeup kit in the car with me. So, no problem making myself presentable that next morning.

As for the downpour that day back in 2012, I’d not seen it as a bad omen. Instead, I saw it as a new beginning, a washing away of all the bad stuff I’d experienced the year before moving in.

New guy persisted with his move yesterday, horrible weather be damned.

He and his helpers brought in boxes that looked wet by the time they reached the stairs and items wrapped in black plastic bags.

The truck was parked for over three hours at the end of the drive.

At least now, when Red Light hears footsteps overhead, she can convince herself it’s the new tenant and not something spooky — even if she hears footsteps when he’s not at home.

In other news, that blackity black black tee I’m looking forward to purchasing for next year was so popular that the seller restocked in my size. So, even though Black History Month is over tomorrow, I’ll have the tee. 

In addition, I also ordered one that simply says, "I’m Black All the Time" that I can wear all-year long and tease trainer with.

When I didn’t get off the bike and make it to the slam ball bench fast enough in Monday’s session, Trainer said, "Not fast enough" and reiterated the rule is 5 seconds to transition from one to the other.

I snapped back with "It’s still Black History Month. I don’t have to follow rules". To which he replied, "Okay, but come Wednesday your arse is mine".

My walking in wearing the "Black All the Time" top will make for a great comeback when I need one. 

March 12th is our 4-Year Anniversary. Trainer has lasted longer than any man in my life.

Alas Poor Olaf

The above is all that was left of Olaf (named after the snowman in Frozen) when I woke up yesterday.

Saturday’s snow was replaced by the return of rain later that afternoon, washed away all our lovely snow, and what was once my little snowman Olaf was just ribbon and a sliver of ice on Sunday.

I don’t know what happened to his little carrot nose. Maybe the rain washed it away.

There was a break in the rain early yesterday, so I was able to make it to the mall, pick up my orders.

Because our mail carriers can’t be trusted to put the key to the package lockbox in the correct mail slot, when items ordered offer the option to "mail to or pick up" and it's possible to get to the location, I've been opting for pick up.

With orders I can't possibly get to the location, I pay extra for a delivery service to leave at my door, bypass the postal service completely, and sometimes that goes awry as well.

Pick up can be kind of a pain, but mail delivery has gotten so bad, since our regular mail lady went missing on us (new route or quit ???), that some residents have not only complained to the main post office — to no avail, but complained directly to the mail carriers, also to no avail.

Some have requested the post office "hold" packages for them to pick up at the main post office, so the carrier can’t get his/her hands on the packages, screw delivery up.

So, anyway, I took advantage of the brief respite from the rain, drove to the mall.

Those store designers are some smart cookies. The pickup counter was positioned way in the back of the store.

I had to walk pass clothes, shoes, jewelry.

My daily uniform is tees and leggings, Birkenstocks and Asics athletic shoes, so the store designers' manipulation didn't get me.

That is until I spotted jewelry — 50% off.

I ended up with two new pair of earrings before reaching the pickup counter where ... what did I see right next to the line but this display.

Genius placement, but how did they know I have a new great grandbaby?

Which one do you think I bought?

I’ll have to find a reason to travel to Long Beach, give the baby his shirt before he’s walking, talking, heading to college — grown too big for the tee.

Heading out of the mall, seeing the See’s Candy store sign, of course I popped in.

Walking out of See's, bag of candy in hand, I looked up and saw a shop that looked interesting.

"May I help you", asks the lady in the shop when she sees me looking at medieval pocketknives.

"No thanks. I'm just browsing".

"Are you interested in knives?"

"Not really, but the knives did make me think about the dogs that just attacked and killed a man out walking".

"You might be interested in this if you're thinking about protecting yourself from bad dogs" and she showed me a stylish looking walking stick.

Priced at $55, I wasn't interested. Not even when she said she could do $30 on it, but then she pulled off the tip and exposed a sharp tool for protection from bad boys and bad dogs.

Tip On

Tip Off

This stick won't get me up the Devil's Canyon Road incline. For that I will need the trekking poles. However, this stick will make me feel safer so that I can go back to the walks I used to take around the neighborhood until knife guy scared me off that route.

I don't think I'll be facing any bad boys or bad dogs on Devil's Canyon Road, but I've got pepper spray and a taser just in case.

So many weapons ... in the unit, in the car, in my fanny pack, in my jacket pocket, even in my hand while walking to the mailbox or car but, if you're paying attention, listening to or reading the news, bad things are happening everywhere to those who are going about their daily business unprepared, seemingly unaware that the world is no longer a safe place.

The elderly and mothers getting in/out of their cars, distracted with small children in tow, seem to be the current targets.

We were just in the news two weeks ago for a stabbing unaliving at the gas station on the corner, followed by a carjacking by the perp and a hot two-day pursuit.

I stayed inside, so no photos for you, but Trainer said the gas station had been corded off with that tape they use and, from inside my unit, it sounded like every cop car in the world was racing up/down the street.

So, one has to be on his/her toes, take nothing and no one for granted. Be aware of surroundings, walk cautiously and, in my case, carry a big stick, pepper spray and a taser.

This has been a public service announcement.

On the way out of the mall, I paused too long in front of Bath & Body Works, got lured in and walked out with a Strawberry Daiquiri scented candle.

The cashier said it’s the kind of scent that I could relax with a glass of wine, the lights down low and before she could finish, I added "With my Magic Mike DVD playing".

She cracked up.

So now, after a weekend of rain, snow, rain, shopping, though it's dry outside for the moment, on we go to another week of expected rain and the end to Black History month.

I didn't have a special shirt for Black History Month, as I do for Pride and St. Patrick's Day, but I’ve picked out the shirt I want for next year.

I’d buy it now, but they’ve sold out in my size. So, I’ll just have to keep an eye out for next year.

Bucket List

Not the adventurous type, there's not a lot I want to experience in this life that I've not already done so.

I'm content to just take adventures as they occur.

Consequently, I've never had a bucket list per se, but have thought I'd like to see and experience snow before I die.

I guess the end is near because I opened the blinds this morning — looking to see if there’d been a break in the rain so I could head to the mall and found this …………….

I won't bore you further with my excitement at experiencing snow for the first time, or overload your computer capabilities, any more than I already have, with all the other videos I've taken of this momentous occasion.

After carefully walking around the complex so as to not slip and fall, visiting the Baker, waking up Red Light so she could see the snow, with slush seeping through the bottom of my boots, socks beginning to feel wet, I headed back upstairs to dump the snow off my umbrella and make a teeny tiny snowman on the patio.

Believe it or not, I tried to set the phone to video tape me making a snow angel on the patio, but it didn't work.

The end result didn't look much like a snow angel anyway, LOL.

OR did it?

Bad Medicine and Ghost Stories

Knowing the heavy rain would keep some from attending this afternoon’s bingo, I bundled up, braved the weather and went down to the Community Room.

The Baker was present.

Having not seen her around for a while, I’d been worried and assumed her absence on the walkways had something to do with her ailing husband.

It did.

Because of the sorry state of health care these days — long waits to get an appointment with one’s doctor, being rushed through and given inadequate service when one does get to see the doctor, a problem her husband had with a growth near his eye has worsened. An operation is in his future but there’s a snag because the Baker is dissatisfied with the Dermatologist.

She had an issue with the dermatologist's staff asking, "Does your husband have a power of attorney" and, when she replied "yes" they then insisted, and not in a polite way she said, that they would have to see a copy of that power of attorney.

Why?

Who knows.

Luckily, she had the paperwork on her, produced it and office staff then came up with "You can’t be in the room when your husband sees the doctor".

Well the Baker was having none of that.

As she is her husband’s everything, she said "No", that her husband cannot advocate for himself; consequently, she goes where he goes and was not about to let him out of her sight.

Things got ugly with office staff after that, so the Baker wheeled her husband outta there.

When she said the name of the dermatologist’s office, I said "I know that place. It has terrible Yelp reviews".

It was the office my doctor tried to send me to last year when I had an allergic reaction to something — the place that never followed up on scheduling me as my doctor had ordered, and no one ever answered the phone when I called to find out what was going on.

After reading their Yelp reviews, I was glad they didn’t follow up — reviews along the lines of "Horrible Service!! ... Calls are outsourced to a call center … Office staff is rude and inefficient! … Go to a different Doctor!! … I would not recommend this office … My experience with this dermatology doctor is very bad. If I had to give negative or zero, I would definitely give him zero" yada yada yada.

No surprise the Baker had the experience she did with this office. She dodged a bullet by walking out before they did something bad to her husband.

So there’s that.

Even with a little more than half of the regulars not braving the weather to show up at bingo today — which improved my chances of winning, I came close multiple times, but never won a single game.

No matter because though I’ve come to enjoy bingo and like to win, it’s the tea spilling from the grapevine that I enjoy even more.

Nothing earth shattering was spilled, but I did hear Red Light discussing the upstairs unit across the quad, the bad energy unit that is above hers.

The new tenant has not yet moved in, but I heard Red Light say that ever since the last tenant moved out, she’s been hearing footsteps, someone walking around inside the unit. "I know the sounds are not coming from the unit behind me. It’s directly overhead" said she.

"Ghosts" said I — surprised that I’d let that out because I generally keep my knowings to myself, don’t trust people to accept or understand there are many things beyond our basic limited senses.

Red Light laughed and said, "Ghosts is what (I didn’t catch the name) said when I mentioned it to her".

"No, seriously" said I and filled her in on how I’d come to the conclusion there is bad energy in that unit because everyone who has ever lived there had their lives fall apart.

Red Light knows me well enough to listen intently when I went through what I’ve observed. After which she said, "That kind of stuff scares me … I can’t even watch scary movies … but some people believe in it."

"I believe in it because I know what I and others in my family have experienced. I once moved because of it, but I won’t talk about those experiences right now".

I won’t talk about those experiences ever. I didn’t mean to be having this current conversation, the words just came out, so I have to believe for a reason.

At any rate, when the new tenant moves in, I bet Red Light will be watching him just as closely as I will, to see how things go for him.

I also bet that Red Light will think twice, and probably be a little spooked out, when next she hears footsteps overhead.

Another Winter Storm

With a weather forecast of heavy rain — which started today, through next Wednesday, it’s not looking good for plans to tackle Devil’s Canyon Road this weekend.

I do have makeup refills to pick up at the mall this weekend, before the orders gets cancelled. So, hopefully there’s a lull long enough to let me venture out.

The good news is, I made a fortuitous mistake and placed the order with a store in a mall other than my preferred location. The mall I mistakenly placed the orders with is one I can reach by street travel, no traversing the freeway in a storm required and I’ll be able to put in some walking miles as this mall is covered, while my preferred mall is not.

The fact this fortunate mistake was made kind of takes me out of the "Trouble Trouble Boil and Bubble" worrying frame of mind and into thinking that "All Things Work Together for Good" — that what looks bad on the surface, a mistake, may be a step in the right direction.

At any rate, curious as to how Devil’s Canyon Road got it’s name, I did a little research and learned a man by the name of Daniel Sexton, who arrived here in 1841, was working for a Colonel Isaac Williams on Williams’ Chino Ranch.

Now Williams had been an Indian Fighter. He fought as a Captain under General Andrew Jackson "Old Hickory", along with Davy Crockett and Sam Houston in the Creek War, involving the Muscogee, the Choctaw (my people), Cherokee Nations, and Lower Creeks faction of the Muscogee — whoever they were.

The "hostilities" ended in 1814 with the signing of the treaty of Ford Jackson when Andrew Jackson "forced" the Creeks to "surrender" more than 21 million acres in what is now southern Georgia and central Alabama.

Stolen land, which has nothing to do with how Devil’s Canyon Road got its name, but was so interesting that I thought I’d add it in.

Back to Daniel Sexton working for Colonel Williams ...... one day Williams told Sexton he was tired of eating meat, and craved vegetables. He sent Sexton and two of "his Indians" (slaves???) to survey a road so that they might get up to timber lands, and there cut trees for fencing, so that he (Williams) could keep cattle out of a vegetable garden.

Sexton had not gone far when one of the Indians was bitten by a rattlesnake and died.

Sexton and the remaining Indian continued up the canyon, found a feasible route for the proposed road and, as they returned, the second Indian was also fatally bitten by another snake.

The Indian yelled "El Diablo" as he died, and so the Canyon received the name Devil’s Canyon and the path, from the college to the top, Devil’s Canyon Road.

At least that’s Sexton’s story as to why he started off with two Indians, then there were none.

I personally don’t believe him.

My spidey sense is telling me Sexton did something dastardly to the Indians and the yelling of "El Diablo" was that Indian's dying words towards Sexton — calling him the devil for having murdered the first Indian and now him, the second.

So other than exposing Sexton as an 18th Century serial killer, I’ve been a bit of a bookworm.

After sitting on the Faun of Grey Gardens for months, I started reading it early last week — around the 10th. Such an engrossing read that I couldn’t put it down. Finished reading a few days later … on the 17th.

Due to her many cruelties to Jerry, I ended up not liking Little Edie very much.

Yet another example of how it so often is that "No good deed goes unpunished". I never could or would have extended to Little Edie the patience and kindness Jerry did.

I also couldn’t believe Jerry gave a shoutout to his parents in the Acknowledgment — parents who did nothing for him besides giving birth and a terrible childhood.

At any rate, investigating online, I see the house still stands — though looking at photos of the renovation, it looks nothing like the house formerly inhabited by the Beales.

Little Edie passed away in 2002, while Jerry is pretty much all that’s left of that interesting saga.

Looking at Jerry’s Instagram page, I see that he just had (on February 6th) an event with the book’s co-author Tony Maietta. So, with his stoneware business, continuing book sales and related events, it all came together in good for Jerry.

Judging by the book title, this life of George Dawson — the grandson of slaves, turns out well. But the start of the book is so triggering that I don’t think I’ll get far enough to get to the good part.

First few pages begin with an incident much like the unaliving of Emmet Till — a crowd of angry Whites dragging an innocent Black man through the streets to the hanging tree because of a lie.

A young White girl, pregnant by her White boyfriend, lies and says the teenage Black farmhand is the father of the child.

Why?

Who knows. Especially since, when the child is born, everyone will see it’s a White baby, no color in it.

Which is exactly what happened. A White baby was born and there was not a care the girl had lied and caused the torture and death of an innocent young Black man.

The book, thus far, is too disturbing. So, I think I’ll get rid of it — drop it off at the Library.

It’s banned it some states, so I’ll drop it in the slot and let the Library do as they will with it, if it's banned here as well.

I’m not without reading material because Walter Mosley's latest book, which I preordered months ago, arrived in yesterday’s mail.

Most all of Mosley’s book are page turners, this one will be especially so as it's a continuation of Mosley's earlier novel — Down the River Unto the Sea, and solves the mystery of who it was that framed former NYPD Investigator Joe King Oliver for rape of a White woman, sending Oliver to Rikers prison.

Art imitating life, but this one isn't triggering because Joe King survived Rikers, became a Private Detective and is now about to take names, kick some arse.