A Five Hug Kinda Day

I finally got off my butt and, spurred on by Dawn’s post about Christmas Tamales, instead of thinking I should carve out some time to make tamales, I actually made the time, got it done.

While the chicken filling was cooking away in the crockpot, I headed down to catch the lady mail carrier, give her a Starbucks holiday gift card.

It being Craft Monday, I saw folks in the Community Room making door decorations.

They had Christmas music blaring, and the room just felt so jolly that I stuck around, took photos for the FB page.

The Assistant Maintenance Man came in, gave everyone a hug.

That’s one.

Of course Ernie made his way down, gave me a hug.

That’s two.

With Ernie was a young man, around 19/20, whom he introduced as his son.

The son does TikTok and wanted to take a photo, for his page, in front of the Community Room’s Christmas tree.

Yes …… Management splurged, put up a tree.

I’m just as surprised as you.

Also surprising is the flyer Management posted to our doors this morning, indicating tomorrow, Kesha Tuesday, is going to be a big deal — "Delight in a warm feast and sweet treats … sip on coffee and cozy cocoa … games galore with fab prizes … bingo … name Santa’s Reindeer … Snowball count".

We’ll see but, if so, I’m a shoo-in for naming Santa’s Reindeers as the names Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen are permanently etched on my brain.

I used to know all the names of the Smurfs, but lost that data many moons ago, along with the names of the Seven Dwarfs.

I no longer kid speak, but Christmas speak I can still do.

So anyway, as Ernie’s son was setting up his camera, I engaged the kid in conversation, while his dad off/on took the opportunity to hover around where I was seated, hug me again.

That’s three.

When the kid was finished with what he was doing, Ernie and the kid got ready to leave, Ernie hugged me yet again.

That’s four.

Then the kid walked over, said "Look on TikTok for the photos I took", reached over, gave me a hug.

I wonder where the kid learned that from, LOL, and that makes five.

Back in my unit an hour or so later, it was time to wash/soak the corn husks, mix up the masa.

For some reason, today's masa was giving me grief …… didn't spread as easily as it should, even after adding more broth and oil; but, when all was said and done, I got er done, am set through the holidays and then some.

Bad for My Image

Having long enjoyed being considered the "Hot Girl" amongst us old folks, the new jewelry Twin 1 ordered is putting my image in serious jeopardy.

After looking into Will Jay’s suggestions to "design some jewelry or fiber art to hide/disguise the Life Alert device" and thus far drawing a blank, I thought maybe I’d just tuck it in.

But then Will Jay’s story about a friend’s mom setting off an accidental alert by tucking the device in her waistband got me to thinking how easily it would be for the device to get squeezed into an alert tucked in such a snug place, not to mention it sometimes gets hot in there and that alone might set off a false alarm.

Maybe I can just shorten the rope, turn the device into a choker, thought I.

Nope! That makes the device even more obvious.

I looked into exchanging the pendant for a bracelet or watch, but Life Alert only offers the option of a necklace pendant with its systems.

So, I dunno but, heading for the market today, I decided to give tucking a try.

Crossing the parking lot, I ran into Next Door Neighbor. The device, tucked inside, she never even noticed there was something attached to the rope as we chatted for a while about what a great job my boyfriend in my head Dark Gavin is doing ("Dark" because, taking a step from blog friend Dawn who, when pushed transforms into Dark Dawn, and now seeing my boyfriend transforming into a version of The Punisher, I've rewarded him with the superhero name of Dark Gavin).

I did have to be careful in placement of the car’s seat belt, because the normal position was right across the device, sure to put pressure on the button, set it off.

I had to position the belt above the device, across my throat.

I can't get a ticket for the awkward, probably unsafe, position as the law only says to wear it, and it's being worn.

While in the market, I did some bending, stooping, reaching. None of these motions seemed likely to result in an accidental alert. So, thus far, it seems tucking is the way to go.

One of the items on my marketing list was kale. I eat a lot of kale, I mean a lot, a lot and saw it today was selling $3 for two bunches, but who do they think they’re kidding.

Kale aficionado that I am, I noticed right away the price is not a bargain, that what used to be one healthy bunch at $2.50 is now selling as two slimmer bunches, i.e., the two smaller bunches at $3.00 is the same amount of kale in one bunch previously sold for $2.50, but disguised as 2 for $3.00 — $0.50 cents more.

No matter. I'll buy kale however bountiful or not the bunch, whatever price.

Not on my grocery list were these Aloha bell peppers, but they called my name. So wanting to see if they taste any different than regular bells, and because they’re pretty, I purchased two.

BTW, under the title of Work Smarter Not Harder, did you know you can dispense with hand massaging, and instead use the mixer to massage your kale.

The Thunder Rolls

I woke up this morning to rolling thunder followed by rain. A welcome relief from the unrelenting heat, generally already pushing 90 degrees in my unit by the time I wake up.

I had plans to do marketing today, but decided to make do with what’s in the house.

I did, during the week, make that run to the bank, transferred money from my regular account, deposited it into the Rent account. That done, I won’t have to think about that account for two/three months.

Even though having to physically walk into a bank is a pain, I do enjoy the bank’s riddle board.

I don’t know where they come up with the dorky riddles, but there’s a board with riddles like, "Why did the football coach go to the bank?".

The riddle on the board when I walked in on Wednesday was, "Why did the fish blush?".

I didn’t get either of those. In fact, since the board went up two years ago, I’ve only solved the puzzle once. I don’t recall what the puzzle was that day, but I guessed correctly the answer was "because the turkey had drumsticks".

So, anyway, that errand off my bucket list, the only thing remaining is to schedule an appointment at the medical center for Lab work the doctor ordered.

Twin 1 is still freaked out over the medical scare I had that sent me to the E.R. at midnight a few weeks ago. Now needing constant reassurance via text messages or telephone calls that I’ve not yet kicked the bucket, Twin 1 called Tuesday to say that in order to alleviate her worry, she’s gifting me with Life Alert, the "I’ve fallen, and I can’t get up" thing.

"Jesus! I’m not that kind of old", protested I.

However, inasmuch as she said it would make her feel less worried, I’ve agreed to accept the gift, walk around with a necklace that announces to the world I’ve crossed the threshold, am now considered an old lady.

The things we do for our kids.

Debra, over at She Who Seeks, today posted memes of our Governor mocking Donald Two Dolls.

I’m piling it on with two of my favorites thus far.

Oh, and in case you were wondering ...... Why did the football coach go to the bank?

To get his quarter back.

Why did the fish blush?

Because they saw the ocean’s bottom.

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.

Chocolate-dipped Corn Cob

A few days ago, Mitchell — over at Moving With, posted that while walking around his neighborhood, he ran across a churros kiosk that was selling Chocolate-dipped corn cob / Mazorca de maíz bañada en chocolate.

"Whoever heard of such a thing?" Mitchell queried.

I myself had never heard of it, but it sounded pretty tasty to me, so I gave it a try.

After salting the boiled cob, I spread melted chocolate on it and, as I’d expected, the taste was a delicious combination of salty and sweet.

Not something I’d make a habit of concocting. Melting and spreading chocolate was messy work.

In other news, the Elf is back.

At the market this past Saturday, I looked and looked and looked, but had no success in finding the Elf.

I overheard a conversation between a father and his little son …… "We didn’t give up and we found it". So rightly assuming they were talking about the Elf, I asked "Where?"

The father pointed over towards the Deli/Bakery side of the market, said "Over there, sipping a coke. They hid it pretty well. We looked for a long time".

Wanting to get a photo of Holly the Elf enjoying a coke, I walked over to that area, looked and looked and looked and looked. Never found the Elf that day.

I popped into the market after this morning’s workout, and found Holly pretty quick.

"I Don't Know Who's Happier, Me or Melania"

Whichever of us is happiest, I'm pretty damn happy the jurors had the good sense and guts to find him guilty, but I'm still scared.

Consequently, I’m holding off on uncorking my bottle of champagne, or taking down my voodoo altar, or stop wearing my Lock Him Up tee until he’s actually in jail, or off the ticket, or not reelected, or recalled by the Infinite Invisible so I can feel safe.

I can’t wait to see what Randy Rainbow does with this guilty verdict.

In other news, John over at Going Gently, a few days ago posted about "looking like a twat" while visiting the Museo National Centro de Arte Sofia after ripping his pant leg on the corner of a door when entering.

I’d responded that inasmuch as people here in California pay good money for ripped pants ……… knees, hips, etc., that his rip was more than likely viewed as a fashion statement.

John then queried, "How about a fat ankle?"

Oh for sure, and these hideous Huckleberry Finn looking jeans that popped up on my feed are a prime example.

I don’t wear jeans, I’m a leggings woman. However, if one is so inclined, they can own these unflattering to the female figure jeans for $65.90.

Watching the Next Baking Master Paris on Food Network, I did see a pair of ripped jeans that I would wear ……… that is if I were to ever wear jeans again.

So cute, and probably cost a small fortune.

Speaking of Next Baking Master Paris, are you watching?

If so, did you make the same connection I made when one of the bakers became ill and had to bow out of a challenge?

That connection being that, while at the shop of the Baking Bastards, learning how to make those very rich buttery and chocolate ganache filled Croffins, she shoved two into her mouth and practically swallowed them whole.

Croffin: Cross between croissant and muffin

You Have the Right to Remain Silent

Our friend the Catalyst has been posting AI images of himself in different roles — his fantasy lives.

My fantasy life would be that of an FBI Profiler.

I imagine that would be a difficult occupation for AI to image. So, I settled for a role where I got to ride a hog, carry handcuffs and give perps their Miranda rights.

"You Have the Right to Remain Silent"

The character in Game of Thrones I most admired, another fantasy life, would be the fierce Brienne.

Also not AI available, so I'd have to settle for a lesser fierce character, Daenerys Targaryen, The Mother of Dragons.

"Dracarys!!"

Other than playing around with AI this afternoon, I’m gagging over the February Activity Calendar, posted to our doors an hour or so ago.

I refer to it as the "Activity Calendar" even though actual activities are rarely mentioned.

There are quite a few interesting notation on the calendar. One being “Friendly reminder only outdoor furniture should be placed on your patio/balcony”.

There’s only one patio that has a dresser drawer on the patio, so no one has to think long and hard as to who this note is meant for.

Why they don’t just call TinTin and tell her to get the damn thing off the patio, I don’t know, but I’ll be on the lookout for if and when she complies.

There's also the notation "Clubhouse is temporarily closed for repairs".

Inasmuch as I didn’t see any repairs going on, just the smell of paint, my guess is Manager is probably stretching the closure out, dragging her heels in order to punish Red Light for so often challenging her and/or as revenge for whatever it was she’d overheard Red Light and Homegirl say about her, that time when she was watching them on video and listening in.

At any rate, Thank the Lord for Manager dragging her heels for whatever reason. Gives me more time to find my big girl panties.

There’s also mention of that intrusive survey — the one where I went rogue, tossed in the trash rather than fill out.

Evidently not everyone went rogue, because management is thanking those that "took the time to complete".

As to how many "took the time", could be just one resident for all I know.

Evidently, there was a bribe associated with completing the survey, because the thank you goes on to say "We would like to congradulate (sic) WD for being our winner!" … WD being the Nice Old Guy upstairs across the quad.

I’d like to take a big red marker, cross off "congradulate" correct it to "congratulate" and surreptitiously drop it off, if I didn’t think they’d surely go to the trouble of checking the document for prints, or recognize my handwriting, or catch me on video dropping it off, LOL.

At any rate, next time I see Nice Old Guy around, I’ll have to ask what he won. I’m guessing a $25 gift card for the corner market.

There’s also a note "Community meetings are coming soon! Dates to be announced".

Long time readers will recall the good old days when we had those meetings where residents could somewhat vent frustrations towards management.

It’s been years, so I can’t but wonder what brought this on but, once again a guess, this time it will probably be more of management going hard, telling us what they’re going to do, less residents venting.

Can’t wait to see how it goes.

On the 13th Day of Christmas

At 8:15 this morning, as a result of the planned maintenance power outage, the television turned off.

Based on Trainer’s wife saying the projected three hours extended to all day when her outage occurred, I’d duly planned for a day of quiet and cold foods.

Lo and Behold, an hour later, the television restarted.

Trainer called "bulls*&t" on our getting preferential treatment, probably because we’re a senior complex, when I informed him, at this morning’s session, that my outage had lasted only an hour.

"Age is entitled to some privileges" countered I.

I’ve three seasonal coffee cups to choose from.

Week before, I was centered and drinking from Cup No. 1.

Last week, I was dancing around, feeling like the middle cup.

This week, running out of steam, it's been Cup No. 3, which should have an additional check mark for "exhausted".

Exhausted before I even headed out for today's workout, I decided this morning was my last workout of the week.

Us seniors are having our Christmas Party at noon on Friday. I had planned to rush back from Friday’s workout, quickly change out of workout gear, head down to the Community Room. However, deciding not to further stress or exhaust myself, be too exhausted to enjoy the party, I gave Trainer and myself Friday off.

So essentially, having the next few days to myself — except for the time I spend in the Community Room at the Christmas party, instead of catching up on my reading, I think I’ll knock out a few tamales.

I ran across a recipe for Salmon Tamales. I do love salmon, so worth a try.

The recipe calls for diced raw salmon, but I think I'll cook it off a little.

Last time in the market, the Elf wasn’t front and center, just inside the door, in my face.

However, it wasn’t seconds later that I turned the first corner, saw Sparkle appearing to be playing basketball with a strawberry.

Better, but still not all that challenging, thought I.

After posting that find to Instagram, Twin 2 commented "I was just there and didn’t see jack diddly".

Debra over at She Who Seeks may have hit the nail on the head, when I complained about how easy it’s been to find the elf, commenting "maybe the market got complaints last year that the Elf was too hard to find" because, there she was in plain sight, and Twin 2 missed her.

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.

Listening

A few days ago, Dkzody did a post about listening to the voice within.

Whether you call it God, Spirit, Soul, the Infinite, Instinct or Gut Feeling there is something that speaks to us.

So, when I got ready to head out this morning to get grocery shopping out of the way before the rains started again, I felt or heard that I should mask up, so I did.

It was a good thing I listened because, two people coughed directly in my face — first the casher then, as I was leaving, one of the managers caught me in the face as I turned a corner.

I already have a runny nose and the sniffles from being caught in the rain yesterday. Had I not had my mask on, I’d be in a complete panic right now as to what might be coming next.

Neither tried to turn their head or cough in their arm.

Who raised them?

So, anyway, while I was dealing with DMV on Tuesday, Management was throwing a Thanksgiving Celebration for the seniors.

From the photo the Talker provided, it looks like chicken with all the trimmings from El Polo Loco, and pies that appear homemade (the best kind) rather than storebought for dessert.

That’s two events in a row — Movie night on the 31st, and now Thanksgiving on the 14th.

Why Management didn’t have this closer to Thanksgiving — next Tuesday, two days before Management takes off for a 4-Day Holiday weekend, is a mystery.

At any rate, I hope the County thinks these events are worth approving the $500 increase.

Upstairs Lady, the resident who has problems with her legs, manages to walk by propelling herself side to side, said that some time ago, when she found out how much less the county units were going for, she applied to get on the county roll.

"I should be on the county, tried many many times" she said, but that the list was long and the buildings they offered her didn’t look like this one. They were in seedy rundown areas, were not well kept and smelled foul.

I believe her.

Many times I’ve said, though things are not perfect around here, there are worse places for seniors.

Returning from this morning’s market run, I see two residents, that did not decorate for Halloween, have already set up their Christmas decorations.

I realize not everyone loves Halloween as much as I do, don’t decorate, but decorating for Christmas before Thanksgiving is a little much.

I must admit though, seeing decorations going up is tempting me to do the same, but I’m holding out for the traditional Day after Thanksgiving.

I have, however, jumped the gun a bit — I'm drinking coffee from my Christmas cup, but only because I don’t have a Thanksgiving cup.

A funny thing involving listening happened as I was picking up mail after this morning’s grocery run.

Only it wasn't the still small voice talking, it was the resident you might recall saw me at Sprouts, gave me a hug like he knows me and we're best buds, which we are not.

I’ve seen him around for years and years, exchanged pleasantries, but hardly know him.

At any rate, he too was picking up his mail and, as I headed back to my unit, he began walking along side of me talking talking talking about nothing in particular.

I listened.

When he got to talking about how he's been recently working out, going to the gym five times a week, I was impressed but said "Five times a week is brutal. It’s like a job”.

"I’m feeling better already", said he.

"Good for you. It's important to stay active", said I.

"I’m a little sore on my right side, but I need to get strong because I’ve a girlfriend now".

"Get stronger and take some of those little blue pills" came out of nowhere.

Stunned him a little.

He stopped in his tracks with his talking talking talking mouth frozen wide open, but then laughed, said "Maybe" as we both headed off to our units, in different directions, laughing.

And For My Next Trick

A few days ago, Dawn the Bohemian displayed a voodoo doll in a casket on her site.

It was then I realized a casket was just what was needed for Inmate#P01135809’s voodoo doll, but the only miniature casket I could find large enough to fit his puffiness was plain, unfinished wood.

Not a problem, because it's amazing what a little leftover acrylic paint, scrapbook paper, and a fresh can of gloss sealant can do.

A-Tisket, A-Tasket, Inmate# P01135809 in a Casket.

Rest in Darkness You A-Hole

Knock Knock

She’s baaack.

As I pulled into my parking space, returning from this morning’s workout, I saw Talker had just pulled in, was removing stuff from her front passenger side and that my Little Knock Knock was peeking from around the rear of Talker’s car, watching me pull in.

She couldn’t jump out and surprise or scare me — like the time she once did when she knocked then hid in a corner on the porch, because I’d already seen her, said "I see you", so she ran over, gave me a hug and asked "Can I come to your house?".

Changing the conversation, I offered "I don’t have any treats for you. I didn’t know you were going to be here".

It was then I noticed the cast on her arm.

"Broken" said Talker.

Visiting San Diego Wild Animal Park with family, Talker included, she fell. Noone felt anything serious happened, other than a little boo boo, until Little Knock Knock said, "I think I broke it", whereupon park medics were summoned.

There was a big to-do after that and though the park was not at fault or blamed for a child tripping over her own feet, tickets were refunded, parking fees were refunded, and Little Knock Knock was given a $50 toy.

At the end of Talker’s recounting the broken arm story, Little Knock Knock once again asked, "Can I come to your house" but this time gave me the business with an imploring look and "Can I come to your house … Pleease!?".

"No honey. I’ve got things to do".

If Little Knock Knock is going to be here for any length of time — to the end of the week and bingo day, I’m guessing there’s no way grandma is going to keep her from knock knock knocking on my door.

Inasmuch as I have no treats on hand, I may have to share my See’s chocolates with her, LOL.

Not too long ago, a commentor — who shall remain nameless, but you know who you are and I know who are, came for me with "Children are good at knowing when someone doesn’t like them. You’re a good faker".

I deleted the comment because I can and because it was judgmental bullshit, but I do agree that children and animals are good at ferreting out what's below the surface.

Which should have been commenter's first clue that perhaps something might be wrong with the commenter herself, rather than with me.

Consequently, inasmuch as my Little Knock Knock is always happy to see me, hugs me, wants to spend time with me — even though I’ve made no bones about not wanting a man, woman, child, neighbor knocking at my door bothering me, Little Knock Knock is evidently a better judge. Senses what commenter, with her surface understanding, lack of depth and judgmental state of being can sense.

On tap for remainder of day is trying out a no-rice sushi recipe.