Meet the Parents

Not my parents — my father (whom I’d never met but did get to see just before they closed the casket at his funeral) went on to his next life a long time ago, mom has gone on to hers as well.

The parents I’m speaking of are the parents of the soon to be baby birds nesting in the eaves over my head.

There has been much cooing, many flyovers and sightings last few days.

I’ve spotted the parents on the roof, caught a parent leaving poop on the patio wall and one day, as smaller birds were hoovering and flying by, I’d swear I was witnessing a baby shower.

Dental procedures off my mind, I was out of bed early this morning, feeling a new lease on life.

Hearing cooing, I opened the blinds, expecting to see the parents on the roof again. Instead, I caught them grocery shopping — the early bird catching the worm so to speak.

With the parents out shopping, the eggs or baby birds — whichever gestation period they’re in, are home alone.

The parents better not leave them alone too long because twice this week I’ve seen lizards climbing up the side of the wall by the stairs, making it all the way up to, over and onto the roof.

Is it because the lizards know the nest is up there? Are they after the eggs, the baby birds, or the food the parents are stockpiling?

I don’t know what lizards eat, but I suspect one item on their food list are crickets because, now that the complex is overrun with lizards, we no longer have a problem with crickets.

With two packages to pick up today, one near the Farmer’s Market ... which meant I’d likely end up there, drinking coffee, listening to music, I headed out.

First stop was the corner UPS Store — and not because I wanted to, but because I had to. A book I’d ordered was dropped off at that location rather than in my mailbox or on the doorstep.

As for why I avoid that location it's because the young girls who work there are slow and sooooooo friggin stupid. I mean honestly, not even funny stupid. They just grate on my last nerve and, looking at their Yelp reviews, it’s not just me.

One day, I was at the counter for 30 minutes as the cashier hunted around on her screen, pecked at this key that key, kept calling someone over to look at her screen, help her out. Once she figured it out, she wanted to charge me $200 for shipping.

I declined, drove to the post office, was in/out in 10 minutes @ $14.

After that time, I never again went in to ship anything out, but thought just buying a mailer now and then would go okay.

It didn't.

I walked in one day, picked up one of their mailers, walked up to the cashier, put it on the counter to pay for. She picked it up, looked at it, flipped it over to look at the other side, looked at me like she didn’t know what I was doing at the counter, then asked "Do you want to buy this?"

I was tempted to say, "No. I'm standing here because I want to steal it" but, stupid as she seemed to be, she'd have called the cops, reported a robbery in progress.

There’re three girls, all about the same age, so I figure one is the manager, two are friends she’s given a job to, and all are so stupid that, except for having no choice today, that was the last time I set foot in the store.

I walk in, say, "I have a pickup", give the girl the notice that says in big bold letters “Your Package is Ready for Pickup” and details the store’s address, also in big bold letters.

She looks at the notice, flips it over to look at the back side, then gives me a blank look and asked, "You want a copy?"

Honestly, there’s just no fixing stupid.

Remainder of the day went well. I picked up my other package, stopped by the Farmer’s Market for a few.

No music today, just a lot of delicious looking food and snacks I can't have.

Hood Corn isn't anything I'd eat, even if I could, but it must be good because there was a long line of folks waiting to buy.

No music, nothing I could eat, so I bailed and instead headed to Sprouts for a few gluten-free items.

There I heard music I could have listened to for hours.

The wording on his donation box said something to the effect "For food, for living" and indicated he’d take cash donations, Zelle or Cash App (money transfers).

How that would work for a street performer I do not know, but I thought it quite genius of him to think of it.

Old people are coming out of retirement to deliver pizzas, bag groceries, and this guy is working his musical talent, while young people fully capable of working are opting to steal, do street robberies or, like the one grandson I bitched about, pimp his grandma with that story of "Grandma, I’m trying to work, go to school, can you help me out". Which I did (@$1,800 to "catch up on bills"), only to later learn he was not working, not trying to go to school, and had the audacity to hit me up again two weeks later.

I'm No Karen ... Right?

After a week of upping my game by working out with trainer Monday, Wednesday, Friday and getting steps in Tuesday and Thursday at the university, the plan for Saturday and Sunday was to go nowhere, see no one, do absolutely nothing.

Life is just not fair. A woman my age should not have to work that hard to stay fit, or so I told trainer, who wasn't very sympathetic. LOL.

No such luck on going nowhere, seeing no one, doing absolutely nothing today.

The optometrist called. My new glasses were ready.

An email arrived from a merchandiser. My order arrived, was ready for pickup.

I didn’t remember ordering anything from that merchant, but okay. It’ll be a surprise.

So, today turned out to be a one and done day in that, since I had to go out, let’s get everything done so I’ll at least have Sunday to myself.

Picked up the glasses, picked up the package — which turned out to be a food organization system I saw on TikTok, advertised as keeping veggies fresher longer (I was surprised, pleasantly, because I was looking forward to trying it out, but then had totally forgotten I ordered it), and finished with a stop by Sprouts.

I don’t do designer wear. My favorite designers are Target, Walmart, Torrid … except for where eyewear is involved.

For some reason, only frames from designers like Dior, Prada, Armani draw my attention and, this time, I channeled Iris Apfel and left the optometrist’s office with three Celine’s — one for computer/tv, one for close up needlepoint work, the third a progressive pair for everyday wear.

Driving away from the optometrist, I spotted a business with my name on it, albeit spelled differently.

If I didn’t have trainer, a gym just for women would be something I’d consider. Only, this one is too far a drive.

I kinda sorta turned into a Karen at Sprouts.

I always check the dates on whatever foods I purchase, and I’m amazed at how many shoppers I see not checking dates.

Picking up a carton of Eggland’s Organic brown eggs, seeing the date of 10/14, I put it back, picked up another carton.

Ditto 10/14, put it back.

Pulled out another —10/12.

Seeing a young woman stocking the refrigerated section, I didn’t approach as a total Karen with “Let me see your manager”. Instead, I was a nice Karen, saying “Excuse me miss. Your eggs are dated 10/14 and 10/12. Today is 10/16. Can you help me find eggs that are not expired?”

She was quite nice, went to the back, pulled out two 10/30’s for me.

Still cutting it close to expire before I get to, but better.

I’m surprised at Sprouts pulling something like that — expired eggs, but I’ve no doubt those eggs will remain in the case, waiting for someone to come along, who will pull, walk away, pay for, without having checked the date.

The person won't die or get sick. Expired eggs are still okay to eat. For me, it's just the point that I'm paying for fresh.

Also at Sprouts, picking up red bell peppers, I spotted something I had to try — Striped Red Peppers.

I’ll roast them in olive oil and add to breakfast potatoes. Maybe eat some raw, to see if they taste differently than regular reds.

With everything done, I’m looking forward to at least being able to rest/relax tomorrow, Sunday, so I’ll have the energy to face another week of the same ol same ol come Monday.

Well, Now I’ve Seen Everything

“Oh no!! I am sorry to hear this”, was the reply I received yesterday to ratting out the unsanitary unsafe conditions at the craft store the day before. “The safety of our customers and staff is our number one priority. Please rest assured that your voice has been heard. I have directly addressed your concerns with the store leadership to ensure that they are aware of all the opportunities they may have to improve your experience going forward! Thank you for bringing this to our attention!”

I can’t believe the “store leadership” had to be told to sanitize the carts during a pandemic, as I’m sure “store leadership” must have observed how carts are cleaned for use between customers to avoid contamination in other shops/stores. I also can’t believe that, with all the long line of shoppers I’ve seen lined up to enter the craft store, these many months, that no one else brought up the issue.

Maybe they did ... in person and were ignored. It’s not so easy to ignore internet complaints that go beyond “store leadership”.

So that’s the end of that, but I’ll be sure to check on compliance next time I’m in that area ─ which won’t be for a while.

Under the category of  “now I’ve seen everything”, my friend the Archeologist commented yesterday on my facebook posting about Snoop Dogg’s wine ... “download the app so the label talks to you on your phone!”

What’s she talking about, a talking label? thought I, but okay, I’ll look into it.

Following her suggestion, I came away with just the coolest thing I’ve ever seen

So cool in fact that I went to the adult building next door and asked a friend of granddaughter’s, who works there, to record what was coming up on my phone so I could show you.

It’s augmented reality (AR). The phone scans the label and it comes alive ... talks to you.

The app indicates that every face on 19Crimes' bottles are real flesh and blood people. “Rebels and poets. And each was sentenced to punishment by transportation, banished to Australia for committing one of the 19Crimes. Download the experience to hear these historical convicts tell their incredible stories”.

Maybe it’s me, maybe I’m easily fascinated by such things but, next time I’m at Sprouts, I’ll have to check out the story behind two other faces I took photos of because they looked interesting and I'd wondered why they both looked so rough and what they'd done to earn a spot on the bottle.

Death by Chocolate

That trip out of the area to pick up a gift from Sprouts led me down an unhealthy side trip.

Remembering that, last time I checked to see if and when See’s Candy Store was to reopen, I learned it’s open already ─ but to online orders only.

Jonesing for See’s for some time, and since my trip back to the complex from Sprouts was going to take me within a block of See’s, I decided to see how online worked.

The way it worked was I couldn’t say give me two of this, two of that and end up with a small manageable bag of candies. Instead, in order to get the candies I prefer, I had to order a custom mix box, the smallest box being one pound.

Me with a one pound box of candy is suicide the hard way, but what the heck. My gut has been acting up for no reason at all. I might as well give it a reason. I placed my order and, while getting dressed to head out, wondered how long it would take to get notification ready for pick up.

Didn’t take long at all. Pick up notification came while I was still getting dressed.

First on my list of errands was to drive past the closest Sprouts to the furthest because that’s where I saw a bottle of Snoop Dogg’s 19 Crimes ─ a wine Snoop put out for the summer. They might have had it at the closest Sprouts as well, but I didn’t want to take a chance of aggravating myself if they did not, so I drove a few miles further out of the area to where I knew it was in stock.

It was the eye-catching photo on the label that grabbed my attention, but I didn’t think to purchase it as a gift for Twin 1 ─ the drinker in the family, until I was back at the complex. Thus, having to drive all the way back today, but I got it.

A bottle for Twin 1, a souvenir bottle for my non-drinking self.

Now I’ve got to go online and research the best way to preserve a bottle of wine because I won’t be delivering to Twin 1 until it’s safe for me to travel and be around people again, or safe for people to visit me.

Before stopping off at See’s to pick up that box, I gassed up the car and what a joy it was not to have long lines at the Costco gas pump now that so few of us have to gas up. Same with the craft store.

I’ve not been inside a craft store since the pandemic began but, when driving away from the gas station, I passed the craft store and saw no line outside, I parked and walked right in to pick up two floss colors that were getting low. There was a third color. They didn’t have it in stock, but I can easily order online from another source.

Though it was nice to be able to shop instore again ─ and there were only seven other customers, I felt icky and unsafe because staff did not sanitize the carts. A fact I realized after I began walking with the cart and noticed that as a customer exited, placed her cart back in place, the next person to enter would get that unsanitary cart ─ like I probably got the cart used by the last customer to place it there.

I thought of abandoning the cart, returning to the car and disinfecting my hands with the wipes I keep there, coming back in and wiping a cart down myself but decided it best not to walk in, shortly walk out, turn around and walk back in ... because of the optics.

When one is Black, one must ALWAYS be aware of the optics.

Having experienced store employees eye me suspiciously for no reason at all ─ just because I was me; that time a security guard went from leaning casually up against a wall to standing at attention when I walked into a clothing store, then glaring at me, never taking his eyes off me as I shopped; the time I spotted security up high on a staircase, looking down, watching me as I sat outside the store, looking through purchases; the time security followed me at a craft show; and multiple other instances of shopping while Black, including the security guard at Best Buy last year/year before. It’s maddening, it’s frustrating, insulting, but it’s something I’ve learned to live with and minimize, as best I can, by doing nothing to draw further attention to myself. I carry no bags inside, wear a fanny pack instead so it’s obvious I don’t have anything to stuff other things into, and I wear tight fitting clothing ─ leggings and athletic top, to make it also obvious I’ve no place to stash anything.

It doesn’t always help to avoid being profiled, still I’m conditioned to always being aware of the optics. To try not to do anything that looks remotely suspicious. Something I wish the younger generation would be more aware of instead of saying to hell with the optics, expecting Karens, Kens, stupid cops to change and, instead, getting themselves roughed up, shot, killed.

Like that fool walking around Walmart with a toy rifle he’d picked up from one of the shelves. A customer called the cops, thinking the rifle was real because ... you know ... Black guy. He ended up shot dead while shopping by responding cops.

I’m not saying getting killed was his fault ─ though Kahlil Gibran does say in The Prophet that “the murdered is not unaccountable for his own murder”, but it kinda was his fault because, as a person of color, you have to know when to hold ‘em, when to fold ‘em, when to put the toy rifle in a cart ─ take the optics into consideration, because you can’t change other people’s perceptions. One just has to be aware others do have these perceptions, be cautious of where one goes, and what one does once one gets there.

Walking in, walking out of the craft store to get wipes from the car, would have looked suspicious. So, I toughed out the icky feeling and cleaned up with wipes when I finished shopping and got to the car.

But don’t think for one minute that I didn’t go online, look up the store’s facebook page and put the unsanitary unsafe conditions on blast.

After the craft store, it was off to my last stop ─ See’s.

Nothing to complain about there. I didn’t have to fight the usual ton of traffic entering the shopping center, and was able to park up close to the entrance.

Access to the store was blocked off.

I stood at the roped off area, a worker came out, took my name, went back in and retrieved my order. Easy peasy.

It was coffee and candy for lunch and yes, I did get sick, but I’m still breathing. Probably because I didn’t scarf down the entire box. Ate just a few pieces and put the remainder in the freezer for when I next crave chocolate ... or for when I wake up the day after election to learn 45 did actually cheat his way into another four years. After which, I'll off myself by drinking that bottle of wine and ingesting all the remaining chocolates.

Outside

Thought I was imagining it when I heard what sounded like a lawnmower on the property as I was dressing for the day, but it was real.

Pain Cave is still closed, while the construction workers or the corner lot were only out for about four/five days, maybe only three/four, and the landscapers out only about a week and a half.

I’m surprised management has allowed them back on the property so soon.

Interesting what’s being allowed to continue on as usual, and what is ordered closed until who knows when. But whatever it takes for however long it takes.

Heard on the news last night that a healthy Black woman in this county, with no health issues, who worked out, died of Covid. Hey, thought I. I’m a healthy Black woman, I don’t have any serious health issues, and I work out. It gave me pause.

Following that was some big high mucky muck area politician stating the time has come when we should ALL in this area be wearing masks.

Those two newscasts in my head this morning, as I realized this morning’s breakfast used up the last of the frozen organic hash brown potatoes my sensitive stomach tolerates, made me reluctant to get out and replenish. Especially since the only place that sells them is Sprouts in Rancho Cucamonga, and that posh area is higher-risk than this area ─ for reasons I won’t elaborate upon because I’d sound like a racist.

But the sun was shining, I really needed to stock up on that item, plus I figured I could stop by the ATM for some extra cash. So, I decided to leave my safe/comfortable refuge and head outside, but I heeded the politician’s warning and suited up appropriately.

Inasmuch as this will probably be my outside look for the remainder of the year .. maybe forever, I’d like something a little more ME and, when I saw what Twin 1 was wearing, said to myself That’s It!

Twin 1 said she’d try to get the folks that made that one special for her to make one for me, but I seriously doubt it. She never does what she says she’s going to do when it relates to me, her mom. Only insofar as others are concerned does she follow through.

I know why this is, and it’s not personal against me. It’s a trait I saw in my sister, where sister was different/more giving, more fulfilling with promises, with people outside the family, while ignoring her own because, to her, how she was perceived by others was more important.

So anyway, I’ll manifest a more attractive functional mask in time.

Fortunately, Sprouts had what I needed, but the vibe in there was way different than the vibe at my area market.

The floor was marked for safe distancing at the checkout, which was a good thing because I’ve had to give people in line behind me the evil eye, or use my cart as a distancing barricade at the corner market, because some folks aren’t taking the distancing thing serious enough.

Sprouts is taking it VERY serious.

Also, Sprouts does not want your reusable bags on their counters. You can purchase new bags, or you can re-cart your groceries after payment and place into your reusable bags ─ but not inside the store. You do this back at your car, which is what I opted to do.

I ain’t mad at ‘em because ... whatever it takes.

Things must really be bad in that area because, not only is Sprouts taking extra extra extra precautions, but everyone I saw was wearing protection (masks/gloves for customers; just gloves for workers). Also, the bank was on shutdown ─ that included the ATM portion.

Notices were posted directing customers to ATMs in other areas.

Fortunately, I wasn’t desperate for cash (because I’d foreseen this might happen and had taken out enough cash to get me through well in advance). I just wanted to pick up additional just-in-case extra, since I was in the area; but not desperately needing it, and not wanting to spend further time in that weirdly vibing area driving to other locations, I high tailed it back to my safe comfortable refuge.

Bloom Where Planted

This morning was my scheduled visit to the locktician (braid stylist). She recently moved the location of her shop to an area where there must be a lot of old folks because, after getting off the freeway, I passed six senior complexes.

It’s a good area, big shopping center nearby, restaurants, shops, two walking trails.

In spite of the lack of activities and poor management, I like where I’m living. My unit is in a good location on the property, I feel safe and everything I need is nearby or a short drive. However, it pays to be aware so, on the drive back, I made note of the names of the complexes, so I could research them … just in case.

Two turned out to be Assisted Living.

The other four were Active Living and looked to be places I might consider in future if need be … that is, until I read the reviews.

Complex No. 1: “Thus far there have been 4 onsite managers and 2 mgmt companies and no consistency between any of them. Each complex is individually owned and under an association, but not all owners care about the upkeep of their properties the same way. Some just collect the rent and make no effort. All in all I'm happy with my apartment, but feel improvements should be made to ensure consistency and upkeep here.”

Sounds similar to my situation here, where I’m happy with my apartment but management is blah.

Complex No. 2: “I wouldn't live here for the amount of money they're charging. Whomever I spoke to about the property was very rude, and the establishment seemed very unprofessional. They tried to tell me they are the cheapest apartments in the area. That's because they don't have in home laundry and they have to have a sign on their pool that says to make sure you don't have diarrhea. No thanks.”

Complex No. 3: “You get what you pay for here. It may be cheaper than other places and if you move in you’ll see why. I’ve yet to hear a single resident say how great it is to live here. Staff is indifferent, maintenance is very slow at fixing things, and the atmosphere is very depressing. Much more I could say but I think you get the idea.”

Complex No. 4: “Place was horrible, staff didn’t care about anything but money. The residents were grouchy as hell. A black man threatened to kill my grandfather because the parking was compact and he claimed he parked too close. Lastly the staff called my grandparents’ Doctors trying to have their healthcare revoked cause they moved from there crappy shoe box apartments! Pathetic.”

It appears the various management companies are operating under the same playbook insofar as how seniors and senior complexes are to be handled … treat them like children, take away their toys, take their money, ignore their requests.

I even researched the senior complex I had to leave because a relative needed me to relocate to Long Beach. I was happy with neighbors at that complex, had a good relationship with management, and lived there seven years until I foolishly put the welfare of a relative before my own and relocated to Long Beach to provide a place for that relative to live so as to keep her from a shelter or the streets.

"No good deed goes unpunished", so that episode in life turned into a horrible nightmare … for me, which led me back to the Inland Empire area and this particular complex, which was like Paradise under property management in charge at the time.

At any rate, like I said, I researched the senior complex where I use to live and found a review indicating it too has turned to the dark side.

“Absolutely terrible place. My Mom used to live here, management has changed, and for the worse. They had a little sitting area where they would sit, they took it away. Some of the old folks would smoke, yes it's bad for you, but they are outside, and my goodness it was a social thing, and then they told all these little old people you can't even smoke outside anywhere, and you now have to go through the locked gate. The area isn't safe, and not to mention that you have young people housing in with the old folks who are not supposed to be there, being really rude to other tenants. They even took away their coffee and doughnut time. Not like these folks have a lot to look forward too. Sad, sad place.”

Looks like things could be worse, so I’m good where I am and will continue to bloom, stand in the light, despite the darkness around me.

Also on the way back, I stopped at Sprouts for supplies and saw something interesting.

Striped Bell Peppers

Could this be the result of genetic engineering … like what they’re doing with animals?

I can’t tell you how the striped bell peppers taste because, when I went to pick one out for purchase, they all felt soft. I like my peppers firm.