Tell Me Anything

Still waiting for the picture frame to arrive. Tracking indicates still in transit, even though the notice indicates it was scheduled to be delivered Friday.

I’m holding my breath this is not a repeat of the craft lamp I’d ordered that was delivered, but not to me, not even to my building, just disappeared into the ethers.

I’ve just about got the hundred or so photos of the Great Grandbabies (backed up since last December) organized so I can began placing them into the Creative Memory album, and because my brain is in creative mode — individual photos are speaking to me telling me what background paper would work well and layouts are swimming in my head, last few days have been constant motion ……… Up, down, around, up down around for hours, in one room to search through my paper stash, to the table to organize photos, to the couch to document ideas into a document on the laptop, bending, stooping, lifting. If I’d worn my tracker, I’m sure I would have clocked in at least three miles per day and my route would look something like this, with occasional detours to the kitchen.

Needless to say, I haven’t had the time or inclination to socialize with the seniors. My only contact has been a text message from Talker saying "You’re coming to Thanksgiving on the 21st aren’t you?"

"I am" was my reply.

It’s an eating event and, because I have to control was ingredients are in the foods I eat, I generally do not attend eating events. However, the Baker had already told me she was roasting a turkey and, because she’s doing the cooking, I’m comfortable with the hygiene and that there won’t be any seasonings added that will cause my sensitive gut to rebel.

BTW, at the Halloween event, I saw the Baker and MAGA standing at the open refrigerator and spotted two turkeys.

Baker tells me Dream Lover supplied the turkeys.

Who needs Management and an Activity Director when we can pull together to do for ourselves.

And an additional BTW, management told us they withhold money from Kesha so they can use the funds to give us parties at Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Thanksgiving is 16 days away and there has been no mention of management hosting the usual Thanksgiving event, and I'm not holding my breath for Christmas.

Where's the money going?

Baker also indicated there will be sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce and other sides.

I can eat sweet potatoes, have to pass on the cranberry sauce, and will make my own gluten free/fodmap dressing, gravy and hope Upstairs Lady and the MAGA around the corner don’t irritate me into tossing my cookies or walking out to keep from yelling at them.

Late Thursday afternoon, I stepped outside to take trash to the dumpster, saw MAGA turn a corner off in the distance, waved hello, dropped the trash in the bin, began walking back to my unit when she called for me to wait up.

Looking harried and a bit disheveled she said, "Can I tell you something".

Puzzled, I said "sure".

She went into this soliloquy about having words with someone she would not name, other than to say the individual is a bully.

HA! So is she. She just doesn’t know it.

"I’m not going to tell you what the argument was about, but I defended myself. Now that person is going around telling others stuff about me, and I just want to ask that if you hear anything, you take into consideration there are two sides to every story".

"Not to worry", said I. "I’m an independent thinker, not easily manipulated; besides, people around here generally don’t tell me stuff like that".

She kept going on about it and, because my brain was in creative mode, I didn’t retain more of what she said except, at one point, she was talking about other people this person supposedly had bullied, so I guessed it was Upstairs Lady.

"No. It’s L" (the Talker) she said.

Well, that was a surprise. MAGA is beefing with Talker.

I don’t really care one way or another. My name is Bennett and I’m not in it.

However, though MAGA didn’t tell me what the argument was about, I can guess that, per usual, control freak that she is, MAGA opened her mouth, got into conversations that were none of her business — like she did at last week’s Halloween event that so annoyed me, tried to control what others should think, say, feel in front of Talker and, as I’m sure it wasn’t MAGA’s first time to do so in front of Talker, only this time Talker had had enough, yelled and told MAGA off like I’d wanted but restrained myself from doing last week, and MAGA verbally fought back.

That must have been quite something to see and, because MAGA still seemed upset about words having been said and Talker now badmouthing her, I’m sure it’s not over.

My head will be on swivel at the Thanksgiving event to see if it spills over, LOL.

The very next day, getting out of the car in the market parking lot, I heard a man’s agitated voice off in the distance say, "I know her! She’s a friend of my wife!"

I looked around, didn’t see anything but, before I stepped away from the car, here comes this man looking enraged. He stopped in front of me (I didn’t feel the least bit threatened, his energy wasn’t that) and told me the story.

Evidently, he was having a conversation with a woman on the lot. A female store employee approached, asked the woman he was speaking with "Are you okay, ma'am?".

Whereupon he’d uttered those words I’d heard about knowing the woman, that she was a friend of his wife.

Seeing him upset/offended, the store employee had then said, "I have to check".

He was highly insulted, told me, "I work for a living. I’m not a threatening person; it was none of her business. We were talking. My voice was not raised" yada yada yada.

"I’m sorry that happened to you", said I, "But in all fairness to the store employee, one never knows these days".

He wasn’t having it and continued to rant until he got it out of his system; whereupon I said, "Don’t let it ruin your day" and continued on into the market.

My week in a nutshell the few times I left my sanctuary, ventured into the outside world ………

Out and About

Snow on the surrounding mountains made for a cold yesterday, but it was a dry day, the sun was shinning, so I headed out of the area to replenish my needlepoint floss stash.

I’ve been getting low on colors needed to complete the never-ending needlepoint project — a project now 3 years, 3,350 hours into the making with no end in sight, and couldn’t run to one of the local craft stores (Michaels or JoAnn’s) because they’d both surprisingly gone out of business.

The only craft store still in business, a few cities over but within driving distance, is the craft store with the mission "to honor God by operating in a way that follows Biblical principles". Translation: racist, homophobic, rethuglican Orange Menace supportive.

It’s the only game in town, so I drove over, got the colors needed, made it out alive.

Heading back to the car, hearing music and seeing the top of white tents off in the distance, I suddenly remembered this is the area where there’s a Farmer’s Market on Saturdays.

Sprouts has no eggs available to sell, none, not a one, and store management can't say when the shortage will end.

No such shortage at this farmer's market.

The 18-count at $17 comes to $0.67 per egg but one doesn't know where these eggs come from, what conditions the chicken that laid the eggs are being kept in, what feed they've been given.

The 12-count is $1 per egg, but same problem with not knowing whether the eggs will make one ill.

Plus, I don't care for diversity inclusion equity in my eggs ... prefer all brown or all white, not a mixture of the two.

These are supposedly Organic, but who knows, and I can't make out the price.

At any rate, I still have a few Eggland's Best Organic (12 count at $8.79 comes to something like $0.73 per egg), so looks like I'm getting the best and safest deal at my local supermarket ..... for now.

No thanks!

Empanadas and Oxtails WTF

I probably have food issues today due to what I ate as a child, because my mom was from the country, cooked slave food country like her mom, and I didn't know any better .... thought it was normal to eat, what I now see as horrendous concoctions, like brains and eggs for breakfast, oxtails, chitlins, hog head cheese.

The fact that I've not continued that tradition, have not eaten that way, may be why I, the oldest of my mother's children, am still alive while everyone else .... brothers, sister, all died long ago.

And p.s. ... I never fed my children any of that goop, but others seemed to enjoy it as the line was long for either the Empanadas, the Oxtails or both, so whatever.

The Farmer's Market was a good place to recharge — put in some walking steps, breath in fresh air, get some sunshine, listen to music.

It was a nice afternoon. Too bad the day did not end as well .....

Yep! We had another quake, but at least it was tiny one.

From My Mouth to God’s Ears

I’d just this morning, commented on Mike’s post, about eggs being the new gold, that I’d not been able to purchase organic eggs since first of the year.

Lo and behold, I pop into the market after today’s workout for eggs and Eggland’s Best Organic are back on the shelf.

The price of $9.99 is reasonable, and worth it to settle my stomach, as it suddenly occurred to me, after an entire month of Cage Free eggs, as Organic was not available, this might be why my gut has been giving me issues for an entire month.

Cage Free Eggs come from chickens not kept in cages, probably fed things my gut is allergic to, while Organic Eggs comes from chickens kept not in cages and fed organic feed.

And trust me …… my stomach knows when I’ve eaten something with an ingredient or substance that it’s allergic to, as a gut episode soon follows.

So, anyway, since today seemed to be from my mouth to God’s ears …… desires are being granted, let me say I’m still looking for that multi-million-dollar bingo win.

Detouring through the mailroom on my way back to my unit, I ran into the Baker.

She looked worried.

Asking if the bingo thing had calmed down, she said "No". That Red Light is still upset because the Baker won’t tell her who it was that made the complaint that got her kicked out of bingo.

Baker said, "I can’t tell her. I don’t want to cause trouble for someone else, so now her son is calling".

"OH! HE’S DANGEROUS", said I.

"Yes, I know", said she.

I didn’t ask how she found out the son is dangerous, but I found out when Red Light and Talker had that falling out that I mentioned in my February 1 post — the falling out that prompted Red Light’s first meltdown on Facebook.

The son had gotten involved, told Talker "I’ll throw you in the pool, put my foot on your neck, hold you down until you drown".

That seemed extreme, a little too Dexter Morgan, so Talker and I branded the son as dangerous to be thinking that way, talking that way.

I subsequently researched him online, to see if he was wanted for anything, but could find no info about him …… nothing at all.

So now, the son is on a mission to find out, for his mom, who it was that made the complaint.

Baker said the son is calling and harassing others his mom suspects of being the one …… residents not initially named in her Facebook meltdown.

I don’t answer my phone for numbers I don’t recognize. So, I checked my call list to see if any of the numbers I ignored looked like they could have come from the son.

Didn’t find anything other than out of state so, evidently, I’m not on Dexter’s and Ma Barker’s list.

Inasmuch as the son is considered dangerous, I asked Baker what she was going to do.

"One of my son-in-laws is a Deputy Sheriff. He’s going to look into what’s the best course to follow".

I'd like to see the look on Red Light's and her son's face when the cops show up.

I repeat …… all this over bingo.

It’s Only Money

That’s what I told myself when, in trying to balance my unbalance able budget, that it’s only money.

"Unbalance able" not only because I can no longer get by on all the cheap things that previously were my grocery list — like canned soup, crackers, peanut butter, ramen noodles, frozen dinners, Baker’s turkey burger and fries, Panda Express Chinese food, deli fried chicken and potato salad, but now have to purchase specific quality items (by quality, I mean expensive) and cook them myself, but also unbalance able because, last few weeks, I've had to replace kitchen appliances and this morning learned, at the dental office, I’m going to need a crown.

First to go was the standing mixer. It conked out while I was using it to massage kale.

BTW, did you know you don’t have to massage kale by hand? The paddle in the stand mixer works just as well, if not better.

After replacing the mixer, just in time to mix masa for tamales, the Instant Pot died in the middle of steaming the tamales.

At least replacing the Instant Pot with an Instant Pot Duo gives me more counter space, because I can get rid of the big air fryer taking up space as the Duo is both a crock pot and air fryer.

So now comes an expensive crown, because one of the decades old metal fillings is disintegrating.

Having seen the x-rays, I’m certain this is not a money grab on the part of the dentist, but a legitimately necessary procedure — not like the shyster dental office that took over the practice of my long-time silver-haired blue-eyed dentist Dr. McDreamy and tried to scam me into unnecessary work.

When things conk out or go wrong, it's usually in threes, so Mixer, Instant Pot, Dentist, makes for the three that should announce the end of unexpected expenditures.

That’s probably why I was spared when, on the freeway returning to the complex, two rather sizeable rock came out of nowhere, flew up from seemingly the edge of the freeway, maybe fell out of the open bed of the truck ahead of me, then BAM!!!, hit the car but did not shatter the windshield, causing yet another expenditure, but instead hit the car where I heard CLANG!!!, like metal being pounded on.

Upon inspection, once I reached the complex, I found minor paint damage — no dent, no damaged headlight.

As for the other three, it’s only money.

On second thought, additional expenditures might not be over. There's still a utility bill looming over my head — the result of running the A/C almost 24/7 to combat the excessive heat.

Nope!

View from the window yesterday was all sunshine, birds tweeting, residents hanging out.

Though the bubble wrap on the window to keep the cold out was effective in reducing my Edison bill from $187.14 last month to $63.26 this month, it's nice to have the frigid cold weather over, bubble wrap retired, have my machan/blind spot back, so I can keep an eye on the comings, goings, sittings.

The elderly lady wearing the black and white sun visor is the woman my old buddy Apache was so jealous over that it caused him to be banned from the property.

She doesn't speak to me. Actually, avoids me, puts her head down to keep from looking me in the eyes when she can't avoid me because she can see in my eyes that I know who and what she is.

Not a victim, not as innocent as she has convinced others she is, but a little conniver.

She was just as jealous of Apache talking to his female friends on the complex, including me, as he was of her ...... would give us dirty looks to chase us away from Apache.

Her now avoidance and inability to look me in the eyes seems like guilt, but whatever ...... I don't care. However, if my mere presence makes her uncomfortable, well then good, that's revenge and justice for Apache.

As nice as the weather was yesterday, this morning has us dealing with another rainy weekend.

There will be no putting in extra cardio, soaking up sun, listening to music on the iPod as I walk the complex, because it’s raining today, to rain tomorrow AND Monday.

At least I was able to put in a few good walks this week, on one of which I did a quick pivot around a building when I spotted one of the residents of a downstairs unit trying too hard to appear to be nonchalantly leaning on and slightly over his patio railing in such a manner as I’d be walking mere inches away from where he’d positioned himself.

I’m sure his intent was nothing more than, having seen me walk by countless times, saw me walk by on my first loop this time, knowing I’d soon loop back around, take this opportunity to say "Good morning", get me to say "Good morning" back, thereby opening a door.

I didn’t even have a chance to get a good look at the guy, see if it was someone I’d previously seen around on the complex, when I heard my spirit said "Nope!".

No hesitation. Spirit speaks, I listen so, as I was about to pass his patio, I took a right down the walkway that separates his building from the building before his, took a left behind his building, another left to come up on the other side of his building, then a right to get back on my regular route — which meant I bypassed walking by his patio.

My route around the complex begins at the red star, loops around and through (black lines), with Lap No. 1 ending up at the red arrow, where I repeat around and through five more times for a total of 3 miles.

This is what the route became when I spotted him (the blue spot).

Obviously, I didn’t have to come back around on the other side of his building, rub it in his face when he’d be sure to see me back on the regular route and know I’d looped around to avoid him, but I wanted to make sure he knew I’d done so, wouldn’t waste his time trying the ploy next time I came around.

He didn’t.

If he were smart, instead of hanging out to get my attention, he should have put on his walking shoes and got out and about, as us walkers always acknowledge, wave, sometimes chat up other walkers.

After having lamented in my last post that the Susan of whom "Lazy Susan" was named remains an unknown entity, odd it was that a Lazy Susan showed up in last night’s Drag Race.

Ru losing his mind was Hilarious!

Less hilarious — in fact, not funny at all is that Sapphira Cristál almost went home.

Fortunately, she made it through by the skin of her lip sync but, looking at previews of next week’s episode, it’s not looking good for Sapphira.

Today’s weather putting the brakes on my extra cardio routine and the rain giving me the munchies, I think I’ll satisfy my cravings by, using the Gluten Free Canyon House Bagels, I have frozen in the freezer, to make a Bread Pudding recipe I've been itching to try.

Tons of sugar and calories in this recipe, but perhaps I’ll get to walk it off Tuesday, when rain is supposedly to end.

A Handful of Sugar

Walking out the door yesterday, heading for the morning’s workout, what did I see but management’s latest posting attached to the door.

Not a notice this time. Instead, it was a cute little candy filled Valentine’s Day card.

"Never look a gift horse in the mouth" it is said, but my first thought was this has something to do with that $500 rent increase that has so many moving out.

Every single day I’m seeing folks moving out in other quads — thus far, it’s been no one I know personally; but I can’t say for sure because, with no contact with others via bingo and no access to the view of the courtyard area, due to that window being covered with bubble wrap, I’m out of the loop.

However, in my comings and goings, I’ve observed that just as quickly as someone moves out, just as quickly new people move in.

It’s becoming like a residential inn around here. We no longer know who our neighbor are.

So anyway, to some degree, residents probably appreciate this gesture from management. However, inasmuchas the rent increase is essentially funding it — giving Corporate extra money to spend, I'm sure residents would have rather no increase in rent instead.

After that morning’s workout, I dutifully checked the ingredients in the packet of sugary candies and found, sure enough, not edible as they contained three of the many ingredients my sensitive gut cannot handle — corn syrup, modified food starch, cornstarch.

Waste not Want not, so rationalizing it was just a handful, I took a chance and turned the handful into lunch with a cup of coffee.

No problems after, so it’s good to know the rare sugary cheat won’t hurt me, but I’d never buy jelly beans or gummies for anything other than gingerbread house decorations anyway, because I prefer chocolates.

I hope this sugary treat isn’t management setting us up for something else coming — leading us lambs to the slaughter so to speak.

Time will tell. It always does.

Shame about what happened in Kansas City Chiefs' parade.

Guess no place is safe — even with snipers on the roof and a kazillion cops on the ground; and to think, we'd just had that conversation about people carrying, unbeknownst to those around them.

On the 8th Day of Christmas

I awoke to a message that "High winds and dangerous fire conditions are forecast from Saturday morning through Sunday afternoon. We may have to shut off your power to decrease risk of dangerous wildfires".

Are you serious?

Especially when you’ve already notified us of a planned maintenance power outage scheduled for Wednesday.

This is a senior complex. We should be exempt from these.

Color me annoyed as I work out a backup plan for tomorrow morning’s ritual — the morning I’m planning to attend the local Breakfast with Santa event, should I awake to an outage.

Down to my last Canyon Bakehouse bagel, I yesterday put in another Walmart pick-up order and saw they’d learned from the day when the pick-up line extended out of the full parking lot, down the street to the corner of the intersection. The system now requires reservations. Customers pick the time they plan to pick up in hour increments.

I chose between 11 and noon, because it’ll coincide with this morning’s workout ending at 11:30.

Good system, and the fact Walmart came up with it ???? …… I’m impressed.

Needing nothing in particular from the market yesterday, but out and about passing, I pulled in to find the elf.

Whoever is in charge of hiding this year — probably a lazy manager, is making it too easy.

Sparkle was once again in plain sight as one walks through the market doors.

You’d have to be blind to miss her.

Lastly, have you seen the latest photograph of Kyle Rittenhouse and the thread going around on X, formerly known as Twitter about his appearance?

It appears his little pathetic crybaby pudgy self (and yes, that was a body shaming thing to say, and I don’t regret saying that about him) has exploded to twice its previous size.

My favorite comment on his appearance being "I am loving this for Kyle".

His turning to food for comfort reads to me as guilt.

He can pose as the poster boy for the Proud Boys, go on talk shows, write a book, enjoy the celebrity, enjoy and laugh about having evaded consequences, but that something inside that we all have — the voice of reason and conscious, will one way or another have its way with us.

Kyle's Karmic Consequences are showing, giving us an idea of the turmoil going on inside.

UPDATE: According to another blogger, and various other sources I see online, the photo is thought to be altered. Whoever altered it did a good job, and nice to think Kyle could one day ballon up like that out of guilt.

Black Friday at Walmart

Not as bad as you might think.

While a turkey leg was slow cooking in the crockpot yesterday — Thanksgiving/Stolen Land Day, I spent the day pulling Christmas decorations out of storage.

Testing the mini lights, seeing they were in perfect working order, I attached them to the patio rails, tested again and saw a great number of bulbs in one of two strings had suddenly blown out.

Nothing a quick trip to the local Walmart couldn’t resolve but, after googling closures, I learned Walmart was closed.

Having waited as long as I have, now anxious to get decorations up, I was willing, after this morning’s workout, to brave the day after crowd — Black Friday at Walmart.

In between then and now, I feasted on the usual turkey and dressing, only my dressing was a tried tested addictive gluten free, not made with bread but with tortilla chips recipe; and instead of cranberry sauce, it was homemade pico de Gallo, that I put on everything.

Towards the end of that day, granddaughter sent me a photo of what family showed up at her place.

As expected, it was my deceased sister’s boring husband and not one, but two of her brothers.

Nice photo, but Whew! dodged a bullet in not having to play nice with relatives I’m not all that fond of.

"Be well but be gone" as my blog friend Dawn the Bohemian would say.

At any rate, it was a surprisingly quick in and out at Walmart this afternoon.

The log jam appeared to be outside, at the Curbside Pickup side of the building.

That back lot was completely full, with cars 40+ deep on the roadway, all the way back to the end of the block, waiting to get in.

Unfortunately, I had two packages of a gluten free bagel product to pick up.

I’d recently discovered the bagels at the market, found no ingredients that would set off a gut episode, tried them, liked them, and then couldn’t find them back in stock at the market.

Having since discovered they’re sold at Walmart, knowing I’d be making a run today, I’d ordered them last night; but seeing the curbside pickup line was hours long, it was never mind, I’ll go inside for the patio lights, pick up the curbside order tomorrow.

Once inside, it was quick shopping and I was on my way out when I thought to check to see if I could pick up curbside inside, avoid that long line of cars and a return trip.

Approaching a woman I’ve seen working there for years, she said she didn’t know, but head to the back of the store and see if they’ll accommodate me.

They did.

A ton of sodium and carbs, but worth it.

At any rate, it appears the curse of this terrible week has come to an end, I’m batting a thousand because not only is DMV and the Covin Shot behind me, Walmart was easy peasy today, including pickup, Christmas decorations are now up to be enjoyed, complete with Skelly Claus.

AND ... I received an email from the medical provider's office saying, "You will be receiving a check for $139.99".

That’s right folks. Here I was gearing up for a fight and they folded in the first round.

Angry Black Woman

I did sense and say this week looked to be challenging, but I had no idea how challenging.

With first the fiasco in getting my license renewed, then the bozo at the gas station and now what happened at this morning’s pharmacy appointment, it’s taking all I have not to turn into the stereotypical Angry Black Woman.

Arriving five minutes early, checking in for the latest Covid vaccination was easy breezy.

Told the pharmacist would be with me in 15 minutes, I sat where I was told to sit and waited.

Then I waited and waited and waited well beyond 15 minutes until finally a pharmacy clerk walked over, paperwork in hand, said my medical provider was refusing to authorize the charge.

Why the refusal is unknown, especially since I couldn’t get the vaccination at the medical center because they only offer Pfizer and I do Moderna. But my provider failing me, and other patients, is now legendary, so I rolled with it, said "I’ll pay".

Then I waited and waited and waited and waited some more.

Beginning to get hot and bothered, I went back to the window asked, "Did you people forget I’m waiting for a shot?"

Guy at the window said, "Sit over there. The pharmacist will call you up shortly".

"That’s what I was told 30 minutes ago", said I.

I wasn’t loud, but my voice was at a tone and pitch that got his attention, the attention of all others working behind the counter, AND the attention of customers waiting for pharmacy orders.

A little aggression goes a long way because he got up, went over to whisper something to someone and, before I knew it, someone walked over, asked for my payment of $139.99 and the pharmacist called me in for the shot, and I was outta there in less than 7 minutes.

Is the Universe testing me?

Is it just that it’s my turn … my astrological moon is in manure?

Whichever it is, it appeared the test wasn’t quite yet over because, feeling the need for chocolate to calm down, clean eating went out the window and I used the cellphone to put in an online order at See’s Candy Store, knowing it would be ready for pickup by the time I arrived.

The order was ready and to make certain the correct person was picking up, the young lady asked for my name and the last four digits of my telephone number.

Of course, I knew my name, but my brain was still so raddled by the problems at the pharmacy that I scrambled the last four digits of the phone number.

She questioned it.

"Look! It’s me. No one is going to come in here and commit fraud for a box of chocolates" said I.

I left with my candy, no further questions, and a treat for my Little Knock Knock, as she’s sure to come knocking before the holidays are over.

Now back at the complex, chocolates and hot coffee having pulled me from the edge, and thinking clearly, you already know I'll be putting in a claim for the $139.99 with the provider on principal, which they probably will decline.

Another thing that occurs to me is that perhaps the pharmacy is in the wrong, because I also have medicare.

I don't know how those things work but, when the provider said no, could not the pharmacy have billed medicare?

They have a record of my number. Who did they bill when I had my other shots there?

As for why the provider refused to authorize the transaction, it's probably because so many of its members, tired of not being serviced in a timely manner, have been going off plan; but inasmuch as they could not give me Moderna, will be interesting to see the reason for declining when I request reimbursement.

Oy Vey! What a week, and it's not over yet.

So Far So Nothing

It’s been unusually quiet here on the complex.

The calm before a storm?

There is also not a lot of Halloween spirit on the place.

Except for a pumpkin on the patio of a resident across the grassy knoll, and an even smaller pumpkin on the patio of her next door neighbors — the couple that moved into the unit previously occupied by the Black Witch, my now decorated patio is the only other homage to the holiday thus far.

Skelly is in his Johnny Depp, Captain Jack Sparrow evolution — even has the requisite eye patch.

I really wanted to pose Skelly giving the bad finger; but alas, the fingers don’t have individual joints that can be posed.

The Smoker’s unit is ready for new tenants. I haven’t seen anyone come look at it yet, but seeing my dark side patio display may give them second thoughts about leasing a unit in this quad. LOL.

I imagine residents participating in patio decorating would be a different story if management hosted a decorating contest, which they did two years ago — the only time it was done in the 12 years I’ve lived here. The idea of winning a prize had residents decorating in droves but, with no incentive this year, there’s no motivation.

Halloween Day proper actually falls on a Tuesday. Perfect day for a costume party, pumpkin decorating, etc., because Tuesday is Activity Director’s day here.

But nooooo. Not even a mention other than the day blocked off with HALLOWEEN in big letters on the calendar.

What does that even mean?

Does it mean Activity Director is taking the day off?

A movie matinee has been added to the calendar — Friday, October 20, 1:00 - 3:00.

That’s suspiciously new, but there is no mention of what movie is being offered.

Who does that? … Arranges for a movie matinee but then give no information on the movie so folks can decide if it’s something they want to see.

Oh well, something is better than nothing to some of the residents, so they’ll show up. I myself refuse to play the game — prefer nothing, so I’ll pass.

Today was the first day I’ve been feeling like myself since returning from Long Beach. I was so stressed driving up and driving back, due to a now fear of driving long distances because of that tire blowout I experienced last month, that I’d been completely devoid of energy and off center since returning.

It didn’t help my energy level that I ended up with a gut episode that lasted for days because, even though I tried to be careful insofar as what I ate at the Sprinkle's brunch, I wasn’t careful enough and suffered the consequences.

I came back so not myself and so off center that I went through the whole entire of Wednesday thinking it was Friday and didn’t figure it out until 8 pm that night when Survivor came on.

Since when did Survivor move from Wednesday to Friday, thought I, when the show came on.

After pondering it for a bit is when it hit me — the day was not Friday.

I’d even walked out of the Pain Cave that day saying "See you Monday".

Trainer didn’t correct me, so I guess he didn’t hear my mistake.

Oh well. I’m back to myself today — worked out in the Pain Cave, stopped by the market after — where I found the young lady security guard gone, the hugging security guard (let’s call him Mr. Huggy) returned, shampooed the carpets and worked a little on clutter management.

It was a productive day.

BTW, I didn’t ask Mr. Huggy where he’d been or offer a friendly greeting, just kept it cool with "Hey dude". Whereupon he responded, "Hello ma’am". And that was that.

On tap for tomorrow is nothing. Since housework is done, I can just sit tomorrow and watch the world go by.

Not Even Close

Rough start to the day.

Waking up with the usual run through my head of what today’s plan was to be, I couldn’t figure out which day of the week this was.

I recalled yesterday was a workout day, so thought today might be Saturday. But then, I couldn’t remember viewing Friday Night Mystery last night.

Maybe I just forgot yesterday was Friday and missed viewing the show, thought I, ergo today must be Saturday, the night I watch Midsomer Murders.

But then I remembered the last thing I watched last night was a baking show, and the baking show doesn’t air on Friday.

Now thoroughly confused as to which day of the week this was, I got out of bed, turned on the TV, which the guide indicated today was Tuesday.

Good Grief!, I wasn’t even close. This week has barely started.

Oh well, onward and upwards.

Once I figured out this was a free day — no place I must go, nothing I had to do, I once again tackled the printer issues.

Took a little while but, after a few uninstall, reboot, install, reboot, uninstall, reboot, install, reboot the Smart app finally stop trying to connect to the old printer I’d deleted, began communicating with the new one, and the print, copy, scan functions finally began operating as they should.

Add tech support to my list of skills.

Checking on the patio plants, I see no signs of tomatoes or hot peppers, but decided to farm the bigger radishes to make room for the others in the pot to have room grow.

I’d planned for zucchini salad for lunch, would have included my two tiny radishes, but decided on a S’more and coffee for lunch instead.

S’mores are addictive.

While sitting on the couch, enjoying lunch, I saw a resident I early on called Loud Mouth in the blog, but then began referring to her by the name residents refer to her as — Big Linda.

She was being walked around by a caregiver.

So it’s come to that, thought I, a caregiver.

Long time readers may recall Big Linda as one of three bullies we had/have on the property. The other two being Little Linda (still here) and Ruthie (still here and almost made me lose it in bingo last week when she wouldn’t stop making rude and bullying comments).

Big Linda hasn’t been an issue around here since just before the Pandemic, when she fell, broke her back. Today was actually the first time I’ve seen her since her accident, learned she was still living here, still alive as no one ever speaks of her.

Prior to the accident slowing her down, she tried to drill sergeant everyone in and around the complex. Retired military, she was always yelling at folks as to what they could and could not do, attending events in the Community Room only to "hush" people because she must have thought the room should be run as a library and wanted quiet.

Sometimes, she’d just sit there and put her fingers in her ears to indicate how displeased she was with others talking.

In the process of trying to control everyone and everything, she’d made so many enemies in the complex that residents would spit on her car. The spitting got to be so bad that she found it necessary set up a camera facing the car, then posted a note to the car window … "Do not spit on this car. You are being watched".

It didn’t help her likeability when she ingratiated herself with that horrible terrible Nurse Ratched manager by acting as her Snitch.

When it became known Big Linda was a snitch, I recall saying it wouldn’t get her far because the devil eventually turns on its own minions. So it didn’t surprise me in the least when she went to her buddy Nurse Ratched for some issue she was having with Older Sister thinking that, because she was Ratched’s snitch, she’d have the upper hand. Instead, Ratched yelled "I’m too busy, don’t bother me with that!". Whereupon Big Linda came out of the office area whinning "There’s just no communication! They don’t communicate to each other, and they don’t communicate with us!"

Boo Hoo!

So, anyway, her little reign of terror is now a distant memory.

I feel for her caregiver. Working with Big Linda can’t be easy or fun. That is, unless the injury and so much time alone in her unit has given her time to reflect, changed her into a nicer human.

Talker has "postponed" her move to San Diego.

The two sisters — Big Sister and Little Sister have moved out under mysterious circumstances, saying each is going to live with a different relative.

I don’t see that working out, so maybe they’ll see it’s better with the two of them living together, helping each other, and move back.

Casino Lady, who was living with her sister, lost her sister a few weeks ago to a heart condition but, so far as I know, is showing no signs of leaving the complex.

The guy that moved into the bad energy unit hasn’t packed up and fled yet, so I guess everything is A-Okay inside or he’s just totally clueless to what others might recognize as strange.

That can happen. Some people are just immune, can't see what's happening right in front of their face, and he does appear to be kind of a geeky little fellow.

However, as I aways say .... time will tell.