Sightings

Since first of the new year, I’ve been feeling cold, like a human popsicle, chilled to the bone even when wearing layers of clothing, running the heater off/on, but at least it finally stopped raining …… for the time being.

For a few hours yesterday, we actually caught a glimpse of the sun, which motivated me to leave the den, venture out to stock up on supplies, pick up prints at the drug store and treat myself to coffee from Starbucks.

Whoever is cleaning the windows at Starbucks, needs to switch to a streak-free product.

Inasmuch as every time I visit this particular Starbucks, I see that same Nat C Car, and no one inside Starbucks seems to fit, I’m pretty sure the driver is someone associated with the dental office next door.

There’s parking in the back for the dental office, but the driver is no fool. He or she always parks in front of Starbucks, where the vehicle is safe from vandalism, has eyes on it.

Before running errands, I decided to check into the Community Room, see what the seniors were up to and missed Ernie by a hair's breadth.

He was walking out the back door just as I was walking in through the front door, so I paused to duck behind a pillar should he happen to turn around. He didn’t so, once he was out of sight, I walked into the Community Room found a small cake party to wish long-time resident, the Other Wheelchair Lady, happy trails …… she’s moving to Norwalk to be closer to family.

That leaves us two down in our group of Usual Suspects … Hell on Wheels will never recover enough to return to the complex and now the Other Wheelchair Lady is moving.

I did see Manager out and about on the complex yesterday, so she’s back after a nearly six-month absence.

Inasmuch as things worked so well when she was gone, I’m surprised Corporate didn’t just eliminate the position. She’s obviously not needed, but oh well. We’ll see what’s in store for us now that she’s back.

I stuck around in the Community Room just long enough to take a few photos for the residents’ FB page, was preparing to head out to run those errands when I saw Ernie out on the walkway. I waited until I could slip away unnoticed by him, headed to the car and escaped.

A few weeks ago, before the weather turned cold, I happened to be walking by our Bird of Paradise area and caught a hummingbird in action.

Fascinating. I can’t believe he let me get that close. They usually fly off before I can capture a photo.

Triggered, Part 2

Except for another visit from a hummingbird peering in through the window, the patio remains free of nesting birds. That last solution (scary tape wrapped around a balled-up plastic grocery bag, dropped into the eave) seems to have worked.

It’s beginning to look like I might have to try that scary tape on Red Light, because something she saw on the residents’ facebook page triggered her into posting yet another pathetic comment …… This one directed at her favorite target — the Baker, AND a new target — the Talker.

At least, her sentence structure is better; but she keeps saying things like "Okay" and "If that’s the way you want it", like it’s over, but it’s never over, she persists, like those birds did.

Inasmuch as simply deleting RL’s comments isn’t deterring her any, I decided to respond to her comment, fully knowing it would be poking the bear.

Sympathy is obviously what she’s trying to elicit from her poor poor pitiful me act, which reminds me of what someone said to me back in the day when I was weak, unillumined, feeling sorry for myself. I was told, "If you’re looking for sympathy, you’ll find it in the Dictionary between Shit and Syphilis, and it will do you about just as much good".

Best advice I've ever been given. The dose of reality I needed to pick myself up, get on the road to enlightenment; so, instead of deleting RL’s comment, I poked her.

That one must have stunned her, because she didn’t come up with an immediate retort, which pause was just long enough to give me time to block her from viewing and commenting on our page.

I got the last word which I know, control freak that she is, is going to drive her up the wall.

I also preempted her next move, which surely would be to call her son, have him post to our page for her, so I blocked her and her enabling son.

With neither she, nor her son, having access to viewing our page, I can almost feel her frustration at now having no place to watch, get triggered and vent.

Aging and Bird Behavior

I took a blow to my ego yesterday when, leaving the Pain Cave, the friendly neighborhood homeless woman I’ve seen around so frequently that I’ve gotten to know her (62 years old, homeless 15 years, never asks me for money but will try to sell me something she’s managed to get her hands on and will occasionally ask me to buy her a beer) instead of referring to me as the ususal "mama" — "Thanks, mama …… Did you workout today, mama?" referred to me as "grandma".

What the hell, thought I. Am I starting to look my age?.

And then this morning, after finishing the latest battle with the birds, heading out to run errands, the drug dealer’s wife (they live in the complex), who always refers to me as "My Black Queen" — "Good morning, my Black Queen" referred to me as "Mama" — "Have a good day, Mama".

Two back-to-back blows to my ego. I’m crushed, LOL

The day started off with yet another battle between myself and the birds.

Around this time every year, for thirteen years of living here, I’ve successfully discouraged birds from moving into the highly desirable corner eave, which is way too close to my living space and access to the patio storage area.

I don’t mind, and rather enjoy, seeing birds visiting the patio area and frequently take photos of them relaxing on the railings.

Occasionally, a hummingbird gets curious …… flies all the way up to the patio window, looks inside, then is gone before I can grab the phone, take a pic.

What I take issue with is when the birds bring their bags, prepare to occupy the corner eave, make babies.

Sorry, but I don’t want to have to listen to the noise of the parents cooing, the kids going chirp chirp chirp, and don’t want to have to deal with cleaning up the mess they bring, so I tell them "You can’t build here. Go somewhere else" and chase them away.

But just like Red Light, they refuse to move on, and the battle begins.

After a few days of seeing fly overs, birds checking the space out, it was yesterday I caught a couple bringing in supplies.

I pulled out the holographic scare tape.

It wasn’t easy, but I managed to tie some of the tape around a pipe, hoping the tape, flying in the wind, would scare the couple off.

It didn’t.

There they were, this morning, slaving away bringing in more supplies.

Looks like the tape slipped down the structure, was not close enough to the eave to deter the build.

So, this morning, I balled up some of the holographic tape and again, not easy, but I managed to drop the ball of tape in front of the eave, hoping that, because the ball was so light, the wind didn’t blow it away.

The wind didn’t, but the birds swooped in and somehow, between them and the wind, the tape rolled away from the eave, and it was business as usual for the birds, who flew away when I repeated there was no room at this inn for them here, go elsewhere, and watched me, from across the quad, to see what I was going to try next.

What I did next was to ball up a plastic grocery bag, wrap holographic tape around it.

I managed to drop it in front of the eave.

This heavier ball is probably going to interfere with drainage, but being my last option to win this battle, it is what it is.

I did try unsuccessfully to push the balled-up materials back into the opening, to bar entry; but having no luck with that, was hoping the reflecting tape, at the front door of the home they were trying to lay claim to, would at least scare them away.

Would you believe …… it didn’t.

Scare, the holographic tape did not. However, it does look like the curve appeal is no longer quite as pleasing because, after what looked like an inspection and discussion between the two, they flew away and have not returned.

If they do decide they can live with the eyessore and come back, I give up, they win. The corner eave is theirs.

Curses, Foiled Again

Leaving the market yesterday, after popping in after that morning’s workout, I saw a bird seemingly having a bad day.

He flew away just as I ended taping.

This morning, Manager replied to my email about California Code, Civil Code - CIV § 1947.3 prohibiting landlords and their agents from requiring tenants to pay rent only by electronic means.

It likely took a day to reply because Corporate had to first look at the Code. Manager then had to work out a response after hearing back from them.

As I’d surmised ... that management was technically in compliance because checks and money orders were still being accepted by the office for now, that is exactly how the response was framed.

"We are fully aware of the code (not bloody likely), we comply with all local and state laws, and we are still accepting checks and money orders. You simply just have to personally deliver it to us in the office. However, we will not accept postdated checks."

Curses, foiled again; but it was worth a try.

At least management now knows they can never achieve the goal of one form of payment, that being Rent Café; that the office will have to continue accepting walk-in payments.

So maybe management will stop all the many methods they’d been trying to force us to Rent Café. Be happy with those of us who capitulated and be done with it.

In other happenings, I received an email for my auto insurer, the other day, indicating I needed to update my odometer reading.

I logged into the account, updated the reading on my Jeep Renegade to 19,466.

Not a lot of miles in 7 years‘ of ownership, but not unbelievable that someone could log in so few miles in seven years.

The insurer evidently didn’t buy it.

They mailed a document for me to sign, under penalty of perjury.

A little insulting, don’t you think, and not the first time.

I forget what I was driving back in the day when it happened, probably a Beetle, but it was before the internet, so such updating was by telephone.

When I read off the odometer reading to the agent at that time, she said, "If you’re not giving me an accurate reading, it could cause you to lose your insurance".

Pretty much called me a liar, assumed I was lying about my low mileage in order to get a discounted rate.

So, anyway, I filled out the form with a now odometer reading of 19,612 miles. The increase because of the day I had to drive from one end of town to another seeking a pharmacy that was open, then the following day having to drive to the main Medical Center.

At any rate, I’m going to lose it on my insurer if they communicate a problem with the difference between the mileage first reported a few weeks ago, and the mileage now being submitted.

Another interesting thing about the Jeep is that, when I last stopped into the air check station, the guy said my two front tires needed to be replaced — something about the wear patterns.

I’m no expert, but I looked at both tires and the thread looks fine to me.

With less than 20,000 miles on the odometer, I think I’m being hustled about the front tires needing to be replaced.

Up Close and Personal

Got a call from the Talker late Wednesday evening. "Did you move?" she asked.

"No, but I want to" said I.

Actually, I’m over that itch I had a few months ago to move.

After researching other living options, finding they were too expensive and many had the same management issues as here, some even worse, weren’t open space units like here but instead were built like little boxes stacked inside a big box, where I’d suffocate and be bored; and taking in consideration here is affordable, I have a great view from my patio and bedroom windows, how no one really bothers me, I let go of that itch.

I’m better off where I am.

So, anyway, I said to Talker "No, but I want to. Why do you ask?".

Turns out, rumor was I’d moved and, after being asked by several residents "Did Shirley move?", she decided to give me a call, find out for herself.

After confirming I’d not moved, Talker asked "Why would they think that?".

Nearest I can figure is, when the workers came to repair the patio that morning, they’d removed the patio furniture.

During the hours they worked on the patio, residents saw there was no furniture on my patio, observed two worker types going in/out of the unit for hours, put two and two together and came up with three ……… Shirley moved.

The Grapevine worked overtime that day, but with the patio furniture now back in place, that rumor has been put to bed.

Now that the concrete damage has been repaired, Adirondack chair back in place, it’s too bad I can’t enjoy the patio. Those dreaded lizards have taken a liking to the new concrete.

I can’t even leave the patio window open for air, as I fear the little bastids will squeeze through the screen, get inside.

There’s a baby lizard that keeps parking itself on the outside steps and, when I returned from a trip to Sprouts this morning, I saw two adults on the patio.

It’s a nice warm day and I really need the patio window open, so I went online to research "How to keep lizards away from the porch".

Google said, "If you have cayenne powder, hot peppers, or hot sauce, you have the key ingredients for a lizard deterrent. Fill a bowl or measuring cup with 2 cups of warm water. Stir the mixture well, then pour it into an empty spray bottle".

I have Chinese chili pepper powder in the cupboard — don’t know how hot it is because I was afraid to try it on my sensitive gut after going through the expense of special ordering it.

I’ve mixed the powder with water, sprayed the porch, so we’ll see how it goes with keeping the lizards away, so I can open the window.

Hubba Hubba Awooga Silver Fox resurfaced earlier.

If you will recall, he’s the resident that moved in August of 2024, that the women were all gaga about. The ladies described him as mixed with First Nation Indian Blood and some other blood type, wore a ponytail, which blood mixture and ponytail made him "too handsome for words".

He quickly was labeled "really mean/antisocial" because, as a result of thirsty women around here bothering him, he’d pronounced, "I’m sick and tired of women always chasing me".

I’ve seen him around a time or two or three and each time I sensed a devilish glint in his eye and a little flirting when he looked at me.

I've been careful to keep him at a distance by presenting myself as a polite, neighborly ice maiden.

Today was the first time he's caught me off guard. I didn't see him coming, reacted without thinking to chill, instead greeted him with a warm friendly "Hey" and a smile.

I was returning to the complex from Sprouts, getting out of the car, heard a voice, looked over. He was standing the usual polite distance away, on the walkway, but when I greeted him with a smile and a warm friendly tone in my voice, it was like a magnet drew him over to where I was standing at the car door.

When he got to where I was standing, I said something like, "How are things going for you?"

Don’t recall what he said, but he asked me how I felt about all this stuff going around about social security.

"It’s going to decimate this place", said I.

He said he was trying not to worry, and what followed was a pleasant and interesting conversation about what’s going on.

I gotta tell you. It was an oddity to find someone around here whose world extended outside these gates.

He was standing so up close and personal, as he talked, that I couldn’t help but check him out. Though I wouldn’t classify him as Hubba Hubba Awooga Silver Fox, I found him easy on the eyes — tall, good body, nice eyes, nice smile.

He reads as a "player", but players are not boring and, as I prefer being alone, I can't be played, wouldn't mind getting to know him.

As our conversation ended, he prepared to continue on to his car and I to my unit, he all of a sudden said, "Let me give you a hug".

The fact that I allowed his rather lengthy warm hug and told him, “You smell nice” (he did) speaks to my flirting back and signaling to him a willingness to have further talks; but he'll have to catch me when he can.

Patio window is now open to let fresh air in, and I’m not seeing any lizards, so I guess the pepper powder spray is working.

Nighttime is Scary

Realizing I’ve not run into Compton and Gandalf’s mom in some time, I checked the camera footage back to the day I set it up, July 9, and find mom (Ms. Neighbor) is not showing up as still living here. She’s made an appearance, checked in a time or two since, but seems to be residing elsewhere — maybe with her daughter, maybe with a boyfriend.

My mom did something similar when three of my four brothers, still in their teens, lived with her in a one-bedroom apartment, and began wearing her down.

I was out at my own at the time, dealing with learning, growing and that cop I married.

My brother Johnny, four/five years younger than I was likewise also out on his own, starting a family when mom found herself a boyfriend — Morris, the man who would eventually become my stepfather, and escaped the boys by moving in with Morris.

My sister, a few years younger than Johnny, was also out on her own.

Mom paid the rent and utilities on the apartment, where resided the twins and my youngest brother; provided groceries, but never actually lived there while the boys finished school, did whatever it is teen boys do.

When mom married Morris and they bought a house, the three boys eventually made their way to living in the house with mom and Morris.

I don’t know all the details, but think it safe to assume Morris and mom could not afford both a house payment and the apartment for the boys.

My youngest brother finished school, worked through his teen angst, got out on his own, eventually bought his own home, started a family, worked for an oil company.

That left my twin brothers for mom and Morris to deal with.

The twins remind me of Compton and Gandalf — Compton appears to be working as nighttime security, Gandalf hangs around ………… one of my twin brothers worked menial jobs as a shoe salesman, the other lounged around, never held a job.

Neither twin ever left home. Never got out of the neighborhood. Never lived on their own, away from mom.

The last time I ran into Ms. Neighbor she’d changed her style — wore braids the entire time I’ve known her to live here, but had suddenly taken her braids out, was sporting a press and curl.

That kind of change translates boyfriend, rather than living with daughter, but either way, it’s still a lease violation for the boys to be here, in a senior complex — with or without her.

While reviewing prior camera footage, looking for the last time I actually captured Ms. Neighbor on camera, I saw two things I really wish I hadn’t seen.

Please watch this next video to end, tell me if it's as spooky to you as it is to me.

I’d like to convince myself this was just a cat, but what’s scaring me is knowing cats don't shimmy up walls like whatever this blur is did.

And for sure, whatever beast this is, it’s not a cat.

What with TinTin’s window coverings and Gandalf’s nighttime ritual, which he has now moved to daylight hours as well, things are weird around here, but nighttime is full on scary.

Misunderstood the Assignment

Tuesday's walking club did not go as expected — not just because no one but Activity Director showed up, but because I misunderstood the assignment and missed the walk.

Activity Calendar indicated 8:45 - 9:00, which no way did I interpret as a measly 15-minute walk. Instead, I'd assumed we were to gather between 8:45/9:00, set off walking at 9.

That’s what I did last time ....... arrived 9:00, caught AD rounding a corner, walked from that point not knowing she was actually finishing the walk and chose to walk with me since I was there.

So suited up and ready by 8:30 yesterday, not wanting to arrive too early, I waited until 5 minutes to 9.

Arriving at the pool area, seeing no one, I assumed AD was a no show, waited until 9:00 sharp just in case she showed and, when 9 arrived started heading back to my unit when AD rounded the corner, looking like she'd just been on a hike.

"Did you walk already?", asked I.

"Yes".

"By yourself?"

"Yes".

"But I thought you'd be taking off at 9:00".

She clarified the actual walk was from 8:45 to 9:00.

Seems a short while, but doesn’t mean I have to stop after 15 minutes.

So, anyway, since no one showed up, I suggested Walking Club is a bust, that she should take it off next month's calendar.

Bless her heart, she's not ready to give up. Plans to put the activity on next month’s calendar ... every other Tuesday, 8:45 a.m. 

I'll be there.

My not understanding the assignment happened to be fortuitous, because I had lots to do yesterday.

Instead of walking, I spent the day clearing out the kitchen cabinets .... all of them, even under the sink. No easy chore, but required for pest control guy, due to treat the unit this morning.

Red Light had been worried about TinTin’s furniture and began preemptively setting up traps around her own unit, because TinTin revealed the reason she’d relocated to our quad — her former neighbor was a hoarder which hoarding resulted in a roach problem, not only in TinTin’s unit but in her furnishings as well …. the furnishings TinTin brought with her to our quad.

Sure enough, I spotted a handful of the little bastids last week, immediately called for pest control to treat the unit before things got out of hand.

Of course, pest control guy only comes once a month on Wednesday at 11:00, so I had to give up this morning’s workout.

Instructions for the day was to have all the cupboards bare and, once pest control guy treated the place, leave the unit, not come back for three hours.

No problem. I had a plan ...... spend the 3 hours taking care of a non-fasting blood test the doctor had requested, drop into Sprouts for product I can’t find nearby, do some banking, hunt for the illusive purple Pikachu recently release into the wild.

It was a 45-minute wait for the blood test, so I finally had time to get some reading done.

I’ve The In-Between to finish, also The Old Gays Guide to the Good Life.

I chose the Old Gays Guide because it makes me laugh, whereas the In-Between brings me to tears, and sobbing in public is not cool.

I plan to get the car serviced next week, which will give me even more time for reading, and possibly hunting in a different area as I still didn't run across that special Pikachu in Redlands.

So, anyway, the good news is the unit has been treated.

Bad news is that I’m now tasked with putting all this clutter back in place.

Clearing the cupboards gave me an opportunity to toss unused and expired products. I’m now going to take my time putting things back ……… start with what I really need and use, which will give me an idea of what I no longer need taking up space.

Less is more.

Luck of the Irish

Guess I have just enough Irish in me for this to be my lucky day because, while logging in miles around the complex, I spotted an elusive roadrunner — a sign of magic and good luck.

Not a Leprechaun leading me to a pot of gold, but I’ll take it.

I’m not kidding about the Irish blood.

Family history handed down is that back in the day of slavery, we were on a plantation owned by an Irishman. One can imagine how he took advantage of the female ancestors, fathered children, mixed that ethnicity into the blood.

My mom was saddled with a completely Irish name, so I never doubted what I’d been told; nevertheless sent my saliva into one of those DNA places a few years ago and received an ethnicity estimate of not only "Ireland 2%" but a significant percentage of Wales and some Scotland.

I may be related to some of you readers across the Pond, and the mixture may explain why it was that, in junior high school, I was the only Black girl to sign up for folk dancing. Even got A+ on the Irish Jig. Guess it was in the blood.

Believe it or not, I still remember some of the steps to that long ago jig.

Also, while out walking, I spotted a sign on the lawn of the next building over.

The sign reads "Lost Phone. The last GPS signal was right here and it said that the person that found it might be riding a bike or a skateboard or may be driving slow. Reward".

We have two guys living here who ride bikes. Neither looks like the Honest Abe type.

The likelihood of a skateboard on the property is doubtful, as is the likelihood of a car "driving slow" up the walkway, so I’m guessing a motorized wheelchair.

No matter how one looks at it, he or she won’t be getting the phone back because, if the person who found it were honest, they would have immediately called numbers on the phone to try to locate the owner.

It's sucky to know we have people living here that, when packages are dropped off at the wrong door or placed in the wrong mailbox or valuable items, like a cellphone, are found, that they don't do the right thing and turn the items over.

The Tea Spilleth Over

This break in the rain has residents out and about. Not only did I today run into Next Door Neighbor, Oversexed and the resident who married the man her mother used to be caretaker to, but also Talker and, at long last, Meat Man himself.

The morning started with my heading out for this morning’s workout, only to get trapped on the landing by a baby lizard on the stairs.

Stomping didn’t make it skedaddle so, putting my gear down, I went back into the unit, retrieved the patio broom from the outside storage area to sweep the creature away. Only, when I returned, it was gone.

Or so I thought because, after picking up my gear, heading for the stairs again, I spotted it — no longer on the stairs, but on the wall by the stairs.

The lizard was about to make me late for the Pain Cave, so I psyched myself up that I could do this. I could get down the stairs by walking sideways, away from the wall.

I gave it a go.

Midway the lizard tried to give me a heart attack by moving. It skedaddled from the wall to underneath a stair.

Arriving at the Pain Cave, I saw a resident in the lot that’s been keeping a low profile ever since she married the man she’d passed off as someone her mother used to be caretaker for and who she took over as caretaker when her mom passed away.

I’d bought it, but then she got religion, married the guy because she felt guilty about "living in sin" having passed the relationship off as caretaker.

I didn’t see the necessity to have lied about the relationship all those years, but whatever.

She tells me they’re in the process of moving to a "Mobile Home Park".

That translates to me as "Trailer Park".

She says she knows people there, so I wish them well.

Is that where everyone's been going that's moving out? Is that less expensive?

As for why she’s moving … her husband can no longer handle stairs, she needs a downstairs unit, but has been unable to get one here.

After working out and a stop by the grocery store, I returned to the complex and armed myself with that stylish walking stick from the car — the one I’d purchased for protection February of last year that has a sharp tool on the tip, just in case the lizard, or one of its relatives, was on the stairs or near my door.

Not to kill lizards, but to knock then off the stairs.

Fortunately, for both the creatures and myself, the stairs were clear; but I’ll be carrying that stick with me from now on … just in case.

Walking from the car to the stairs with gear and some of the groceries, I passed Next Door Neighbor and Oversexed — the resident that produced that naughty cupcake a while back and whose conversation seems to always turn to that three-letter word. The two were deep in spilling the tea about someone.

I just said "hey" and kept going.

I had to go back for the remaining groceries and, as I was crossing the parking lot, here comes Meat Man driving out of the complex.

He pulled up alongside, blew me a kiss and wished me a Happy New Year, because we’d not seen each other since Christmas.

Asking where he’d been all these many months, he said he’s been going back and forth taking care of his mom, who I know has one of those nice homes over near the College Campus ……… "She’s 86 now and needs help".

If he only knew …… having failed at making a pass at me some time ago, that he’d been coming on to a woman only six years younger than his mom.

So, anyway, after we did some catching up and he moved on, Oversexed said something to Next Door Neighbor, pointed in Meat Man’s direction and Next-Door Neighbor’s mouth flew open and, had she been wearing pearls, she would have clutched them.

"You two gossiping about H?" asked I.

Both doubled over in laughter, then Oversexed began spilling all of Meat Man’s tea.

Asking Oversexed if he’d made a play for her, her reply was "Who hasn’t he made a play for" and began naming names, like the Voice.

The Voice was the resident once mentioned in the blog because of her beautiful singing voice; also, because she was one of three millionaires living on the complex.

She’d come from a well-heeled prominent family; plus had a boyfriend who passed away, leaving her a Cadillac and his fortune.

She'd sold the Cadillac, pocketed that cash and, when the Voice unexpectedly passed away overnight in October ‘21, she was waiting for her portion of a $7 million inheritance that was in probate.

Oversexed said she’d see Meat Man, going in and out of the Voice’s unit. Hed go in at night, wouldn’t come out until the next morning.

Simultaneously, he had ……… and still has a well-off fiancé. The fiancé wants to get married, but he says he doesn't want to marry her, because she’s "too bossy".

I asked if the fiancé knows he’s a player, but Oversexed didn’t know the answer to that.

She also named the resident who lives across the quad, next door to Upstairs Lady — let’s call her The Fool because Oversexed says that resident is "So in love with him that she’s always cooking and taking meals to him".

Meat Man is rewarding Fool’s devotion by telling Oversexed to "Stay away from her. She’s crazy".

More like he doesn’t want Oversexed to tell Fool about the fiancé, and all his other dalliances on the complex.

Fool is also the resident Meat Man himself once disparaged to me ……… we’d actually gotten into it because he was on his high horse, deacon of the church persona, opining how others should live, and I wasn't having it.

It was the day he shot his shot, came onto me with, "I’m looking for a good woman" line. Since I wasn’t interested in being that woman, I deflected by pointing out other single women he might consider. Little did I know back then that he was already hooked up with several, but I’d suggested Next Door Neighbor and the one I’ve dubbed Fool.

He’d given me an unequivocal NO! to Next Door Neighbor, with whom he’d had dinner twice, and went off on a tirade about Fool cooking and sharing those dinners with an old army vet living here with an invalid wife.

My position was they could just be friends. His position was "HE’S MARRIED. WHAT THEY’RE DOING IS WRONG!".

Knowing what I know now, perhaps the old hypocrite was jealous.

The old vet moved out when the wife died, so now Fool is in love with and cooking for Meat Man.

He doesn’t seem to have a problem, finds nothing wrong with stringing Fool along, while having a fiancé, and trying to add others to his stable.

Oversexed didn’t seem to know about Meat Man failing with Homegirl, but she did say he recently was turned down by a new resident I’m not familiar with. The woman was said to have told him no, that she was happily married.

After being so judgmental about the old vet, did Meat Man know this new resident was married? I don’t know.

Oversexed went on to say the woman’s husband is a "Fine young brother with dreadlocks".

I don’t know how Meat Man, if he did know she was married, thought he could compete with a young man, and one so good looking as to be referred to as "fine", but being a dog, I guess Meat Man has to chase.

It seems Meat Man is oblivious to the fact his doggish behavior is being talked about, or he just doesn’t care.

Oversexed is evidently a confident of Meat Man — birds of a feather, water seeks its own level kind of thing I’m guessing. She knows all the tea, goes to the same church as he, where she says all the woman have crushes on him because he presents so well. If they only knew he’s the devil in disguise.

At any rate, Meat Man’s body count around here — successes and failures are piling up.

Oversexed ended the conversation with "Oh, and he’s waiting for his mother to die so he can move into her house".

While all this tea was being poured, TinTin had come out of her unit, whereupon Oversexed said to her, "I’ll be over in a minute".

TinTin replied, "Just knock on the door when you’re done".

THEY’RE FRIENDS!

I don’t know if old friends or new friends, but water seeking its own level again.

Heading back to my unit, I ran into Talker who asked about the stick.

After telling her it was to protect myself from lizards on the stairs, she said she’s not afraid of them, to call her next time and she’ll remove it.

If my stick can’t handle it, you can bet I’ll call her.

Nesting and Holy Heck

The cable technician arrived at 11:16 this morning.

"What seems to be the problem?", asked he.

I picked up the remote, turned the TV on, showed him how the cable box was not connecting to its source.

I then handed him the remote and, as soon as it touched his hand, the TV came on.

"What did you just do?"

"Turned the box on. It was off".

So that was embarrassing.

As to how it got turned off in the first place is a mystery. Maybe I hit a wrong button when turning the TV off the previous night.

He showed me how to tell when the box is off, how to turn it back on, asked if I wanted him to show me anything else; at which time I thought about asking him to show me how to get to Netflix on the TV, so I won’t have to watch on the phone, but thought I’d better leave well enough alone. Stick to the basics and not confuse myself further.

There’s just too much technology.

Heading out later to pick up mail, I found the front drive full of rescue vehicles — not one, but two fire trucks and an ambulance.

The ambulance was loading up the gurney, but no one was on it.

Turned out, they were here because a resident had fallen in the office area.

Two fire trucks AND an ambulance seemed overkill for a fall, and proved to be so because, as I approached the mail center, the gentleman who’d fallen was being escorted back to his unit by Head Maintenance Guy.

He looked fine and, in fact, told HMG that he could make it to his unit on his own from there.

Maybe he was embarrassed by all the hoopla.

While chatting with others there to pick up mail, my attention was drawn to a naked tree.

I've never seen it like this before. It's lost all its leaves overnight, but looks quite beautiful this way.

One of the guys pointed out a bird building a nest on a bare branch.

The bird flew away before I could capture a photo of it tending the nest, so I’ll be checking back from time to time to see how the nest goes, if/when any babies appear.

Seeing flyovers around my patio lately, I figured it was nearing that time again when I’d have to chase birds away from nesting in the eves over the patio door.

There was all that drama last year, when I had to keep chasing birds off, telling them not to build and that one couple began building and settling in when I wasn’t looking, then got upset when I blocked off the entrance.

Having since purchased holographic scare tape, I’m ready for them this year.

So, that was my day — the TV got fixed, I finished another photo book for the family ...

Watch Me Grow No. 4

.... and, when I settled in to watch TV a little while ago, all hell broke lose.

The couch began shaking up/down, dishes and other items began rattling and the entire building felt like it was being lifted off the ground, then dropped.

It was the mother of all earthquakes we’ve had to date — a 4.4 @ 7:43 pm centered a mile away in Fontana.

Nothing broke, but one more like this and the building is coming down.

Now I know why it was, just last week, I began rethinking what to save in case of emergency. I'd decided to grab important papers, the cellphone, as many photo books as possible and my makeup bag, of course. Figured anything else was unimportant, could be purchased again.

Besides, I keep wanting to downsize, go minimalist living. I'd like it not to happen by way of a disaster, but what will be is what will be.

I can feel something big is coming. In fact, I'm hearing a rumbling, and small shakes, as I'm typing this. Aftershocks?

Size Doesn’t Matter

Walking into the Pain Cave this morning, I greeted Trainer, set down my water bottle, cellphone, keys as Trainer began walking towards me when, all of a sudden he stopped, looked down and said, with a smile on his face — as though he saw something cute, "Will you look at that".

I froze. "What?".

"It’s a little baby lizard," said he.

There was much screeching and screaming after that as I jumped up on top of the nearest bench.

"Are you being serious right now?" said Trainer as I continued to screech and yell "Kill it! Kill it! Kill it!"

"It’s little, a baby" said Trainer.

"Size doesn’t matter. It’s a lizard. Kill it!".

To make matters worse, it was a white lizard.

Whoever heard of such a thing?

How many more ways can nature torture me?

Saying, "You scared me Shirley". That he didn’t initially know why I was screaming, didn’t occur to him it was because I was afraid of a baby lizard, Trainer got a broom and began sweeping the lizard out of the studio while assuring me he was not going to sweep it towards me, but rather towards the open door.

A bookcase was positioned in such a way that I couldn’t see the floor in the door area, so I didn’t believe Trainer when he said the lizard was gone, that he'd swept it out the door. I thought the lizard had eluded him and made it to the corner opposite the door, where Trainer couldn't get to it.

"He’s gone. I swept him out the door. I wouldn’t lie to you."

I eventually trusted putting my feet back on the studio floor, got down to working out, with Trainer continuing to say he thought I was joking at first until he saw how wide and wild my eyes looked when I was perched up on the bench.

"I thought you were gantsa, could handle anything".

"Not creepy crawlies", said I.

So, anyway, today's workout was once again the ladder. Only this time Trainer said he was going to push me a little and had me hop sideways, instructing to get my knees up high as I went along.

This was as high as I could get 'em.

Not my best work, and later this afternoon, at bingo, I became aware my right hip was aching. It feels a bit out of alignment. Not sufficient for a visit to the acupuncturist, but enough to require soaking in a hot tub and some yoga stretches.

I don't think I'll be engaging in any future knees up sideways hopping again.

Walking into the Community Room this afternoon, I saw the refrigerator had a big old "STAFF ONLY" sign on it.

Logic tells me the words "Community Room" signifies a room set aside for the community of residents — our kitchen, our refrigerator for our events. But unless and until someone of authority, someone with power who actually gives a damn comes along that we can complain to, there’s not a thing us seniors can do but work around management.

Shadow — the resident that caused my former friend The Seer, now deceased, to turn on all of us, said we should unplug the refrigerator or cut the cord.

I actually like that suggestion of sabotage, but reminded him of the kitchen’s video surveillance system.

Curses, foiled again.