Half a Tank of Gas and a Traffic Ticket

Today was challenging.

Since it takes upwards of three months to get an appointment with doctors, the medical facility set up a system where if one needs immediate care, a Nurse Practitioner can be contacted by video or phone.

Still experiencing some difficulties after the morning I awoke with a BP of 173, I decided I’d better contact the medical center for a phone visit.

The Nurse Practitioner seemed knowledgeable, said she’d contact my primary that I needed an appointment sooner rather than later; and, in the interim, gave me a prescription for something or other to help relieve the symptoms until I see the doctor.

The medication is good for 56 days, no refill, so in my mind it’s a horse race ……… will the 56 days come and go before the doctor gets around to seeing me.

At any rate, I headed a few cities over to the medical center’s nearest off site pharmacy and, just as I exited the gate and was driving down the street, I saw my old buddy Apache walking down the street, appearing to be heading for the complex.

He waved for me to pull over, so I did.

I would have hugged him but, after hearing of Ruthie’s bed bugs, I’m leary of touching anyone.

I don’t know whose bed their boots have been under.

Apache was indeed heading for the complex, so I said, "I thought management had banned you".

"They did, but it’s Saturday, none of them are around; and besides, I’ve been there a lot lately. I helped (paraphrasing here because I don’t remember the names) so and so and so and so and even walked so and so’s rent check into the office the other day".

Apache says he’s looking to move from where he is, back into the complex.

That would be great, because Apache is a ton of fun, but there’s the issue of having been banned from the property.

Inasmuch as he says he’s been hanging around lately, it’s possible current manager is unaware of the ban.

We had a different manager back then — Jack the Tyrant.

We now have a different Maintenance Crew so, unless Apache has someone here that doesn’t like him and will snitch … bring the previous ban up to management — like the male resident he threatened harm to over jealousy of that resident talking to the female resident Apache was dating at the time (which threat got Apache banned) he just might be able to pull off a return to the complex as a resident.

EXCEPT, Apache says he’s been calling the office, "but they never answer the phone".

Well, isn't that interesting.

Office personnel doesn’t answer the phone, they want us to sign up for Rent Café so they don’t have to process rent checks, what do they actually do?

Another job for President Elon … send the office one of his questionnaires asking them to list five things they accomplished last week.

So anyway, after catching up with Apache, I was back on the road headed to the pharmacy which, when I arrived, saw no cars on the lot, learned they closed at noon — it was 12:45.

After calming down, I checked the phone for the hours at the pharmacy all the way back to where I started and over to a city in another part of town.

Now correct me if I’m wrong, but the first pharmacy’s door indicated, "closed at 12 noon", so when the second pharmacy’s website indicated "closed at 12 pm", that to me meant midnight.

Evidently, I was wrong because, after that long drive, they too were closed.

They’ll be no relief, no medication today. Tomorrow, I’ll have to drive all the way to the pharmacy at the main medical center, hope the website is correct in indicating "open on Sundays from 8:30 a.m. to 5:30 p.m." or suffer until Monday, when the first pharmacy I drove to reopens.

At any rate, driving back to the complex, I saw the freeway exit to Macy’s, where I had an order of makeup and perfume to pick up.

That particular Macy’s is only 7 miles from complex. So, after picking up my items, I took the streets back.

Who did I see but Bicycle Boy.

He bicycled right by my passenger side door, so I was sure I’d gotten a good shot of him on the plug and play dash came for you; BUT, I’d forgotten to plug.

By now, I’d been on the road way too long, used half a tank of gas driving from one end of town to another, was tired from driving, not feeling all that well, had forgotten to set the dash cam, and was coming up on a light flashing yellow. Something in me said fuck it, so I gunned the engine thinking I could make it before the light turned red.

I didn’t. I drove through the red.

I’m sure the traffic cam caught me and I’ll be getting my very first traffic ticket.

Hilarious

I had to post the above. It was too hilarious not to share.

A few days ago, Randy Rainbow issued a new parody — "The Lawyer or the Conman".

Loyal fan of Randy that I am, I have to say this latest parody is disappointing, I don’t like it. (Sorry Randy) but I couldn’t even bring myself to view to the end.

In all fairness, I don’t know if it’s me — because lately I’m finding a lot of things I formerly enjoyed I no longer enjoy or if the problem is with what Randy put out this time. So, if you wish to assess the video, decide for yourself, it can be found on YouTube, as I so dislike it that I don’t want to support it by posting here.

I ran across a funny conversation amongst friends on FB last night.

One of my friends (a former coworker) had evidently been watching the Olympics Closing, saw Tom Cruise fly off a tower and, being a fan posted a shoutout.

A meanspirited friend of my friend tried to ruin her fun by posting "Your chances of getting close to Tom Cruise are about as real as a car free LA in the next Olympics", to which my friend replied "Wanna bet" and went on to say she’d once seen Tom C when he visited our building on business.

Of course, naysayer didn’t believe her, whereupon another friend of my friend defended her with "I think if anybody has a chance of getting close to TC it's you. You're the best stalker I know".

That’s when I remembered that when I worked in the same office/different departments as my friend, her job had been in Media Relations. In fact, it was through her, I’d met TV personality Huell Howser, of the PBS Series California Gold, in person.

I was a fan, and Howser was just as warm and personable in person, as he appeared to be.

So, anyway, I remembered that, upon learning, through her contacts, that Tom C was in our building on business — nothing to do with our offices, my coworker friend had indeed stalked his movements through the building, managed to capture a photo of him on the steps as he was leaving, sent that photo to our squad of coworker friends.

I’ve never been a fan of Tom C, but once a secretary, always a secretary — meaning, I’m very organized, and was sure I’d posted that pic back when I was blogging under the name BlackandBlue.

Though the bulk of those posts were lost in a snafu, I was certain some of the assets (photos) had been saved to flash drives where I’d managed to capture bits and pieces of the before blog before all was lost and I re-restarted under BootsandBraids.

I checked and, sure enough, quickly found the photo.

1998

Friend was gleeful when I posted the photo to the thread, to dissuade naysayer of the notion Friend's chances of getting close to Tom C "are about as real as a car free LA in the next Olympics" as she'd already done so.

Naysayer capitulated with "What's he doing walking up the stairs like a normal human being??"

Nice of Tom C to have smiled for the intrusion.

Worth a Try

Seems we’re out of the woods insofar as rainstorms. Weather folks predict a few sprinkles Thursday and Saturday of next week, but the worst is over and done with.

Other than the annoying sound of water continuously falling from the sky, I didn’t mind the wet weather all that much. It’s the chill factor before the rain, after the rain, in fact this whole season, that’s causing difficulties for me.

In order not to catch pneumonia, I’ve been running central air heating during the day.

At night, even though I’ve tripled up on clothing — wear two night shirts, my camo onesie pajamas and the bed is covered with two quilts, I’m freezing. Consequently, I’ve been running a little bedroom heater at night.

All these measures to survive the Winter season has caused a jump in heating bill to $188 — double what it usually is this time of year.

I don’t know how you people who live in cold climates manage … how you can afford to stay warm.

At any rate, in between sit down squats last week, I was complaining about the high bill to Trainer, saying that I had to find a way to lower it.

The Universe was once again listening, manifesting my thoughts into things, because, having a moment to read this week’s Woman’s World magazine yesterday, what did I see but an article entitled "Easy Ways to slash your heating bill".

Here we go again with that superpower working for me, or finding myself in the 4th dimensional pocket where thoughts become reality, but why does the Universe not listen in when the conversation is about my desire to win millions in the Powerball, Mega or SuperLotto????

The only suggestion applicable to me, in the article, was to insulate the windows with bubble wrap.

"Bubble wrap creates a barrier between the glass and the warm air in your home, helping you retain 50% more heat … Simply cut a piece of wrap the same size of your window, spray water on the bubbly side and place it against the glass".

It just so happens that I have bubble wrap on hand, so worth a try.

I don’t recall seeing the part that said to wet the bubble side until I just now typed those instructions into this post. So, even though I screwed up and wet the smooth side, the wrap went up easy peasy.

So we’ll see how it goes until it looks like I may have to reverse sides.

It’s still a mystery as to why TinTin has that strip of tinfoil in her window. The article did say heat rises, that you can insulate your attic with foil and save $1000 on your heating bill, but said nothing about a strip of foil on a window.

As for me, should a neighbor inquire, I've a good explanation as to why I’ve bubble wrapped my bedroom window.

Once word gets around, more than a few will begin bubble wrapping their windows because more than a few have commented on how the cold cuts straight through at night.

We once had a Complex Manager that liked working with old people, was nice to us, tried to make living here better for us.

She was looking into getting double pane windows installed to protect us from the Winter cold/Summer heat.

It got her fired.

Corporate wants its managers to collect as much as they can, spend as little as possible. They didn't like that she was spending money on bettering our living situation with activities, events, repairs and when she wanted to spend even more money on double pane windows, they summarily dismissed her.

Corporate greed.

So, I double dog dare them to do an inspection and complain about the bubble wrapped window.

Go bother TinTin about her aluminum and the dresser drawer still on her patio, even though that "friendly reminder" was included in this month's calendar.

My friend Q posted a meme from a site called Modern Art last night that sent me down a rabbit hole. The artist puts an unusual spin on artwork and everyday photos. Lots of his work to enjoy, but these are the two that made me laugh the loudest.

Never Again

That Diane Von Furstenberg suitcase is back, safe and sound.

Costing me around 50 bucks back in the day, I’ve had it for so many decades that it’s become a treasured object. So much so that I immediately regretted loaning it to Red Light.

Thinking the airlines might screw up, lose it, I looked online to see about a replacement — should that become necessary and learned the suitcase is now considered vintage, worth a couple hundred dollars.

Glad to have it back and, having learned my lesson, never again will I risk lending it out.

Next Door Neighbor happened to be returning to her unit, as Red Light was returning the luggage and, inasmuch as both are supported by the county, began talking about a rent increase letter received today.

Seems management has notified county recipients their rent will increase a whopping $500 in January.

Jesus f__king Christ!!!!

All of a sudden, my next year’s projected increase of $110 doesn’t seem all that terrible …… that is, unless it gets increased to more, and I'm thinking it will.

But either way, they can’t saddle me with an increase in January, along with the others. I’ve already looked up the law and management has to wait until July to put the screws to me.

From conversations I’ve had with others, county recipients receive their increases in January, so no way around it; but many on the county roll are already having trouble making their 24% of the current rent.

I’m terrible at math, but I figure a $500 increase, means those residents will have to come up with an additional $125.

Red Light is already talking about her daughter finding her somewhere else to live, and Di — the resident who’d been a brilliant woman, employed in a high-functioning job, something to do with working in a lab, until an automobile accident left her brain damaged, prone to seizures, is really struggling to make the current rent and said she wants to just hurry up and die.

Di is still very close friends to my old buddy Apache. In fact, I’m told he’s been taking the bus over here, picks her up, they go to lunch.

So, maybe she and Apache can work something out, become roommates at where he's now living; except, Red Light is telling me Apache has been "using".

"I don’t believe it", said I.

"You can see the track marks on his arms", said she.

I won’t believe it until I see his arms myself or if the Baker, who is also still very close to Apache, confirms it.

Waking up at 1:50 this morning, because I felt a disturbance in the force, I could not get back to sleep, felt weak, drained of energy all day.

I'd thought the disturbance was coming from a family member, but perhaps it was my senses alerting me to what I was soon to learn about Apache and what the county residents are facing.

At any rate, things are really heating up around here. The complex is fast becoming NOT affordable low-income housing. Quite a few residents may, of necessity, be moving out come January or willing themselves to transition from this life.

My head is spinning trying to figure out the end game.

Is the county going to pony up an additional $375 per resident on their roll?

Is management's end game to weed out the poorest of poor ... those who cannot afford the rent and bring in those who can?

Has my buddy Apache become an addict and why?

All will be revealed in time.

Resting Itch Face

Yesterday it was Spring outside with birds chirping, those dreaded lizards crossing my path as I put in walking miles around the complex. I even saw a Road Runner — the second one spotted in recent days.

Today is cold, dark, gloomy, wet outside.

It’s a workout day, so I have no choice but to suit up, head out into it.

Oh well. I guess this is the new normal for us Californians.

The Activity Calendar indicates "Easter Crafts" for tomorrow, but tomorrow is Arraignment Day and I’m going to be glued to the tube, watching No. 45 get finger printed, mug shot, and his supporters having hissy fits.

Heading back to the complex after dropping off those items at the donation center on Saturday, I passed a Target, decided to stop in, pick up a few sundries.

The checkout line was insanely long because there was only one line, one cashier on duty. The line was halfway down the length of the store.

With nothing else to do, I was patient, watched the lone cashier admirably handle the stress, all the while just knowing another line would open as soon as I reached the cashier.

Murphy’s Law … It did.

Finally reaching the cashier, I commented on her handling of being a Lone Ranger. She smiled, seemed friendly enough ..... that is until her eyes went to my tee shirt.

Of course, I’ve been wearing it every time I’m out and about, as a subliminal suggestion being implanted in the universal subconscious mind to lock him up.

Evidently, the cashier is a supporter. Did not get the message, did not appreciate it because her jawline got tight, and her friendly open manner was replaced with angry resting itch face.

"You can’t put someone in jail because you don’t like him!", snapped she between clinched teeth.

Highly amused, I replied "You can if he commits a crime” — (Crimes, plural, in this guy’s case).

Man did THAT comeback ruin her day.

If her big arse could have jumped the counter, she’d have gone all crazy Karen on me, but she held it together with "I’m at work, so don’t get me started!"

"We’ll see how it plays out and I’ll check with you next time I’m in here" said I as I walked away with a smile.

The anger on her face must have been readily apparent to the customer behind me, because I heard that customer say something to the effect, "What was that about?" and I heard the cashier say, "Her tee-shirt" then couldn't make out the rest as she continued to vent.

That was fun, so you can bet I will go out of my way to revisit that specific Target, wear that shirt.

Actually, my heart bleeds a little for the cashier because, being a member of the MAGA (Making Attorneys Get Attorneys) group, it must be torture that she works at a Target in a predominately Hispanic area. People of color coming through her line all day, not many or any who would dare come through wearing one of those red hats.

I haven't seen nor heard from my buddy Apache since, banned from entering, he was last lurking around at the gate a few months ago; but I can imagine, being the ardent supporter he is, that he's somewhere out there foaming at the mouth.

BTW, if 45 does land in jail, will his secret service detail go with him?

Asking for a friend.

Time is Relative

I had the bright idea last night, when there was nothing worth watching on television and the lighting was not bright enough (inspite of the LED magnifier) to work on the never-ending needlepoint project, to put together the gingerbread house I purchased in December ………… December of Last Year but never could fit into my schedule until now.

Didn’t take long to become frustrated with the royal icing included in the kit.

It wasn’t dry, just wasn’t of a smooth enough consistency to spread and wasn’t holding the walls together.

I was ready to quit when the first structure collapsed.

Remembering a hack I saw on TikTok of using sugar glue instead, I set about boiling sugar.

Takes a long time to melt sugar down into glue and I came too close to burning my fingers when dipping gingerbread pieces into the hot glue, not to mention it got sloppy at times with the glue leaving strings. I even dropped an entire gingerbread wall into the glue at one point.

Before I even got the walls of the first structure together, I lost my patience, abandoned the project, tossed the kit into the trash, disposed of the glue down the garbage disposal, telling myself ain’t nobody got time for this!

How interesting is it that I’ve the patience to stab aida cloth thousands of times to create needlepoint works of art, but not the patience to spend an hour or so building a gingerbread house.

Time really is relative.

I’ve been working on the never-ending needlepoint project practically every day since January of 2021, logging in upwards of 1,116 hours thus far and though not even halfway through have no problem with spending more hours, days, weeks, months, years to completion while I was pretty much over the gingerbread build in the first 15 minutes.

Inspired by Food Network’s Gingerbread Showdown, I still want to do a gingerbread house this season, so I’ll pick up something after this morning’s workout, maybe make my own royal icing and try again.

As for progress on the needlepoint project, though nowhere near completion I’m at least seeing a face appear.

Though my first gingerbread build of the season was an epic fail, I’ve been having great luck in finding My Hometown Elf in the market.

In previous years, our Hometown Elf was Cindy. This year it’s Zippy and he’s pictured holding a candy cane across his body.

I actually spotted what looked like it could be Zippy pretty quick. He was on a ledge nestled in with other holiday items but, inasmuch as there was no candy cane, I couldn’t be sure.

To make certain it wasn’t a decoy, I searched the store, saw nothing elsewhere and correctly announced to the cashier I’d found Zippy nestled and tucked away in a Christmas stocking.

I declined the little Candy Cane reward. I just enjoyed announcing I’d found it.

Next time at the market, I found Zippy with a fishing line hovering over the seafood station.

That was a cute and clever spot, obviously visible thought I.

Running into a 5K friend coming in to hunt as I was leaving, I didn't spoil her fun by telling her where the elf was located.

She later posted to facebook that she couldn't find it.

HOW could she have missed it?

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

The return to normal everyday life started off with a notice posted to the door, by the office, alerting us to the fact a resident has tested positive for Covid and is self-isolating.

Insofar as I know, Bingo Fridays is still on, as is the July 26 Summer Social Luncheon with "property management and Activity Director" but, for sure, we’ll be required to mask up again.

It's two steps forward, one step back with this thing, but Fauci said as long as we keep up with vaccinations, we should be okay.

We'll see.

"Property Management" still consists of the two maintenance guys and Assistant Manager, as there have been no takers for the position of a 10th Community Manager for us.

My buddy Apache got himself in trouble while I was gone.

The Assistant Manager called this afternoon, said she was calling all of Apache's friends to let them know he was no longer allowed to visit any of us on the property, visits would have to be off-site as he’s been told the police will be called on him should he henceforth be seen on the property.

Asking what he’d done to get himself completely banned, she said there were a group of residents out on the front lawn, Apache had approached and came close to getting into a physical fight with one of them.

I didn’t have to ask who because I knew the only people Apache did not get along with was management and Bicycle Boy. He and Bicycle Boy have this alpha male thing going, came close to blows on many occasions and, at one time, had restraining orders on each other.

So, anyway, if Apache wants to communicate with me, he'll have to catch me at the Pain Cave, but I’ve no doubt Apache will push the envelope, creep his way onto the property when management is not around.

THEN, Red Light calls a little while ago to tell me that shortly after 10 p.m. last night, Talker made a noise when a tray of CD’s fell from her hands onto the floor, whereupon Karen promptly called Security on her.

Security are the two guys hired to drive through here nightly, check that everything is okay, which doesn’t seem effective to me to just ride around the complex, ride out, but Security did respond, knocked on Talker’s door.

Now get this …. Talker’s brother is ill. Talker said he’s showing signs of Covid, but won’t let her test him, so she’s staying locked up inside just in case. (She’s not the one mentioned in the notice posted to our doors. That’s someone else we don’t know who).

So, when Security shows up, they tell her to open the door, they need to speak with her about a noise complaint. She says, "I can’t open the door. We possibly have Covid".

I guess the guys decided they don’t get paid enough to catch Covid, so they said "Okay, ma’am. Thank you" and left.

Karen has been warned about further complaints, so I wonder if management will finally get off their butts and carry through on what they said they’d do if she complained again. They certainly had no problem moving on my Buddy Apache.

There’s also the situation with my downstairs neighbor across the quad, the Smoker. She’s still smoking.

It also turns out she’s had Covid and has been suffering with Long Covid since. (They say long covid, but I think it might be the smoking). The office won’t let her near them, not even to pay rent, so she’s been giving her check to my Next-Door Neighbor (NDN) who has been dropping it off for her.

While I was away, she asked NDN to pick up medication for her at the pharmacy and also to purchase liquor.

NDN picked up the prescription but failed to bring back liquor, whereupon the Smoker was so upset that she threw something at NDN.

She then called an Uber, had the driver take her to the liquor store, thereby jeopardizing the driver's health if she does have long-covid.

Long-covid aside, it seems she has no problem getting out and about to get liquor, but not to pick up medication or smoke outside like the other smokers. 

I don’t think NDN is going to help her again.

While Red Light was telling me all this about the Smoker, I remarked that I’d not seen the food delivery truck drop off her meals in a while, that I wasn’t sure she was eating and suggested we contact someone to check on her.

Red Light said she’ll called Protective Services, that I am to expect to see people coming to the Smoker’s door.

I hope they wear masks and I hope she answers and lets someone help her.

A lot happened in the short time I was away and during reentry.

Loose Ends

Thus far, the only things I've done this weekend, besides try to beat the intense heat, is to have tied up a few loose ends.

Remember that coffee mug I wanted to buy, but didn’t trust the vendor as my card had been hacked last time I’d ordered off that site?

Figuring the mug would eventually show up on a site I trust, it finally did and arrived in yesterday’s mail.

The purchase doesn’t mean I believe Johnny's side of the story, I just think the quote is hilarious and a great souvenir of the latest Trial of the Century.

I need another coffee mug like I need a hole in the head. I don’t even have sufficient space for the mugs I currently own — mostly Starbucks mugs, but who know if some or all will be worth something in future.

My blog friend Dawn recently did a post saying mugs are top sellers at the Antique Mall where she buys, sells, works. That "people have a penchant for mugs and cups to drink out of or display", so my mug collection might be of some little value in future.

This is where life took me yesterday …

Get Your Kicks

The song says to "Get your kicks on Route 66", but I didn’t get any kicks while driving down the 66 Corridor as it runs through a neighboring city while on the way to pick up a needlepoint floss color I’d run out of and was not available locally. I did, however, pass a Barnes & Noble.

Remembering the need to check Randy Rainbow’s autograph to see how it appears in other books, I pulled in.

Unfortunately, this is one loose end that cannot be so easily solved, because the bookstore only had unsigned copies.

My buddy Apache stopped by Friday afternoon, and I finally remembered to ask him about his sister’s stolen truck and how he got into his apartment that day.

If you will recall, it was Friday the 13th when his sister took him to the casino to celebrate his birthday and, while inside, sister’s truck was stolen from the casino’s parking lot.

Inside the truck were the keys to Apache's apartment. His manager did not have a duplicate set and his social worker, who did have a duplicate set, was in Mexico.

I suggested a locksmith, but Apache’s plan was to burglarize his own apartment — break in with a crowbar.

So how did he get in you ask?

He took my advice, called a locksmith.

Sister’s truck was eventually recovered, but it was totaled from having been in an accident.

It's sad how people, who obviously can’t drive, should not be driving, steal an automobile from someone else, go on a joy ride, wreck it, walk away scott free, leaving the automobile's owner high and dry.

I had that happen to me years ago, when I was still a relatively young mother raising teen daughters.

The girls were both in high school and each had an after school work experience job.

Driving a Toyota back then, I’d dropped Twin 2 off at her mall job. When it was time to pick her up, I walked outside and no Toyota — it had been stolen.

The police later spotted it, and there was a car chase that ended with the Toyota being totaled.

I never heard what happened to the guys caught with the car — probably not as much as I’d like to have had happen to them but I did get a call to come to the yard, sign off on the car.

Sad as it was to see my ride banged up/totaled out, I considered myself lucky, because the guy on the lot said the wrecked car next to mine had been stolen along with its female driver, who was later found raped and murdered.

It was a good 15 years before I could afford to buy another car/take on car payments again, or even wanted to own a car or drive. In the interim, it was buses, cabs, and you wouldn’t believe the horrible traumatic experiences I’ve had on those modes of transportation.

The Lost Weekend

That booster shot turned into a knockout pill. I ended up sleeping the entire weekend away.

After losing the weekend to hypersomnia, I woke up well rested this morning, and it was back to the regular grind.

No problem keeping up in the Pain Cave, not even when Trainer increased the incline.

While changing out of workout gear in the bedroom, I happened to see the Talker’s Karen neighbor come storming out of her unit, stop beneath Trainer’s unit, look up and stare.

Oh oh. She’s mad about something, thought I.

I’ll have to catch up with Talker, ask what she did to annoy Karen around 1:30 this afternoon. LOL.

Tomorrow is Activity Director’s turn at bringing Bingo back.

I’m not really interested, but I’ll go just to see if anyone shows up for her.

I'm hoping not any, because she's really pissed me off.

Activity Director has changed a lot over the years — and not in a good way.

Hanging onto her job through 7 of our 9-1/2 managers, she’s become somewhat of a butt hole — occasionally taking her obvious frustrations with her life out on the seniors by speaking to them in a disrespectful manner and, lately, sticking her nose in where it doesn’t belong.

She happened to see my Buddy Apache visiting last week, ran and told 9-1/2 (the temp manager from corporate) that there had been problems with Apache in the past, he’d been evicted and wasn’t allowed to be on the premises.

Now what business was that of hers?

Where in her job description is “troublemaker” listed?

At any rate, 9-1/2 took Activity Director at her word, ran outside, confronted Apache, told him to leave.

This ain’t Apache's first time at the rodeo. He said he laughed in her face, told her — legally speaking, she did not have the right to tell him to leave as, just like any other person visiting a resident, he’s allowed to be on the premises.

9-1/2 backed down, said, "You’re right" and hopefully it blew up in Activity Director’s face that she put 9-1/2 in that position of being embarrassed, schooled on what she can and cannot do.

At any rate, I’ll be checking in on Activity Director’s event just to see.

Nothing new to report on finding Bonita’s family. If there is no response to the Seth letter by end of week, I’ll move on to the other brother — Gabriel or Seth’s new wife.

Reconnaissance

Heading towards this afternoon’s bingo, I heard a lot of loud talking coming from that unit with the black box on the rails — and yes, the box is still there. Not only was there a lot of noise, but quite a lot of people going in and out of the unit.

Hmmmmmm? thought I as I continued on to the Community Room.

Waking into the Community Room for bingo shortly before 1:00, more for purposes of reconnaissance than bingo, I observed the Baker’s daughter and a teenage girl standing in the room.

The teenager began to walk towards with me while, simultaneously, the Baker said, "Somebody wants to say hello".

It was then I recognized the girl to be my little friend, the Baker’s great granddaughter.

She’s grown so much since I last saw her about 3 years ago, that I’d not recognized her.

2018

2019

2022

She’s almost as tall as I now, is a cheerleader, plays violin in the school band and a whole bunch of other stuff I can’t remember that keeps her busy.

After I hugged her, got a photo and a quick catching up, she was off — had only hung around for however long it was, waiting to see me …… Ahhhhhhh.

First order of business was to find out what’s happening with the smoking resident.

Turns out I misunderstood when Red Light said the yelling smoker lived behind her. It was the woman living behind her, a woman with lupus, who’d made the complaint. The yelling smoker is none other than my neighbor across the quad, downstairs, next door to Red Light — the resident I’d spoken of as having declined considerably since moving in due to bad luck and whiskey.

First, while in a crosswalk, she was hit by a car making a turn. That turned into hip surgery, recovering, then breaking an arm due to a fall in her unit.

She’s pretty much given up as other ailments have beset her, hasn’t come out of her unit since February of 2020.

She used to have a cat, but I haven’t seen the cat at the window since about the same time I last saw her two years ago.

How did I miss hearing the yelling when it was so close?

Asking Red Light if yelling neighbor is still smoking, the answer was "Yes. I can smell it", but she keeps her windows and blinds shut now.

Trying to keep the smell from wafting out and around, I suppose.

Good luck with that.

At any rate, yelling neighbor been given a warning that if she doesn’t stop smoking inside, she will be evicted. To which she was heard to reply, "I was homeless before moving in here, you’re going to make me homeless again".

No mercy from Red Light, who tells me, "It’s not management making her homeless, it’s her, because she won’t listen".

It hurts my heart to think she might end up on the streets in her condition, which I think by now might be depression and mental health related, but she can't continue to do what she wants to do.

It's not looking good.

So, anyway, before bingo began, the Baker asked for a moment of silence for the children slain and families suffering in Uvalde. Whereupon the resident in the wheelchair, that I'd posted singing a few posts back, began sobbing. Turns out the husband who died of a heart attack because he was so distressed his teacher wife had been killed, are both relatives of hers.

Bingo started off on a somber note.

Thinking it would bring me luck, I sat in the same spot as last time.

It didn’t bring me luck, because I didn’t wear the same shirt. It took until Game 7 before I got a win, but I was lucky in that the upstairs neighbor of that unit where the Marshals went in sat with me.

She said she’d heard about the Marshals going in and was just as puzzled as I but clarified that the invalid lady did not move out. She was gone for a while (don’t know why, don’t know where), but is there now — at that very moment; AND all that noise and people I saw are relatives of her coming all the way from Texas and Louisiana to visit her.

So, I guess there’s no more to be seen there.

Because I’d not had a win by the break, after Game 5, I ended up sitting through to the end of Game 10/Blackout (2 1/2 hours).

As previously mentioned, I did win at Game 7 and, oddly enough, I yelled BINGO! at the exact same time as three others.

THAT never happened before — four winners, simultaneously shouting out BINGO!, and we all got to pick a prize.

I selected a book light.

There was, of course, food during the break — sandwiches, chips, sodas.

A resident I don’t care for (I shun her because she earned it) made some sort of sandwich spread — tuna or chicken salad, and Red Light turned the spread into sandwiches.

The sandwiches went quick, because some people will eat anybody’s food. Not me, not even if I could, because I don’t know how clean she keeps her kitchen, her unit, or herself.

Bingo's somber beginning turned into a party by the break, as Red Light put on a line dance instruction tape and tried to get residents involved.

Most just watched.

Cha Cha Roll

Hokey Pokey

And For My Next Mission Part 2

After yesterday’s workout, I had all kinds of out-of-the-area errands I needed to take care of. THEN, thanks to Debra at She Who Seeks’ post alerting me to it being Friday the 13th, I played it safe by switching those errands to today, stayed in my unit remainder of the day.

I only ventured out late afternoon, when I saw one of the upstairs residents of the building, mentioned in Part 1, out and about.

Asking if that downstairs unit was vacant, she replied "Oh no. That’s L’s unit".

"So she’s in there?" asked I.

"Oh yes, her family comes every day to take care of her".

"The reason I ask is because I saw the Marshalls searching that unit a little after 3:00 a.m. this morning, and it didn’t appear anyone was there".

"Maybe she’s in the hospital, but someone from her family is usually there. She has six sons. One was staying there taking care of her".

"Oooooh!", said I. "That may be who they were looking for, one of her sons".

"They don’t seem like that kind of people", said she.

"You can never tell anymore", said I.

After we parted, I saw her standing in front of the unit, peering in.

I’d already passed by there, saw that the patio shades were half open, and all one can see inside is dark.

So, anyway, that’s the scoop thus far, but I have a feeling the Marshalls will be back, because they left something behind — that thing they were looking at on the left side of the patio.

That's an unusual place for a lock. It's not serving a purpose being attached to the rails other than just a place to store it until they come back.

I just hope that, when they return, I’m deep in sleep because this waking up at 3:14 is for the birds.

While I was outside talking to this neighbor, my buddy Apache appeared. He’d been inside the unit of the nice old guy who lives next door to Karen, and was here to get a ride back to his place.

Apache said it was his birthday and, because it was Friday the 13th, everything had gone wrong.

His sister had taken him to the Casino to celebrate and, why they were inside, someone stole his sister’s truck.

Inside the truck were the keys to his apartment, his manager did not have a duplicate set and his social worker, who did have a duplicate set, was in Mexico.

I suggested a locksmith, but Apache said the nice old guy was going to drive him over to his apartment, and that he’d break in with a crowbar. He also said that, with the way his 13th Day was going, he’d probably get arrested for burglarizing his own apartment.

I wouldn't be at all surprised.

Also off my to-do list yesterday, besides completing that mission, was to Yelp review that dental office I left behind. I'd been holding off waiting for inspiration.

That duplicate bill that set off a rehashing of that experience, plus the rehashing causing me a sleepless night and a 3:14 a.m. wake up call was the inspiration I needed. This is what I wrote:

My first clue it was time to leave this dental office was when I could never get a straight answer as to why my regular long-time dentist was not available to treat me. My second clue was when the first dentist to examine me after a cleaning -- a dentist with which I had no prior history, without looking at the x-ray, came up with an area that looked like there'd been a filling, it had fallen out and needed a new filling. Thing is, there'd never been a filling in that area. Third clue was when, after a cleaning, I asked not to have that dentist again, asked for a different dentist and he too, having no prior history with me but at least did look at the x-ray, came up with thousands and thousands and thousands and thousands and thousands of dollars of work in a treatment plan using words to scare me like "decay". Inasmuch as I was experiencing no dental issues, had been cared for well by the former dentist for near 20 years -- who was considered one of the top three dentists in the Inland Empire Area, and he'd never come up with all these dental issues is when I should have awakened and got a second opinion but did not. I did, however, wake up after the first couple thousand dollars' worth of work, only to realize I probably had work done that did not need to be done, and consequently I am now left with a problem where there was none before -- painful to chew on that side. Not the same dental office it used to be. Don't believe what you're being told. Get a second opinion.