Pizza Tuesday

Giving up needlepoint time to visit with the seniors this morning was worth the tradeoff.

I learned how Monster’s Ball came to be shown.

My buddy Apache was given a whole bunch of used DVDs, so he put them on the table and asked the Little Helpful Lady to pick one. She saw Haley Barry’s name, remembered Haley had won an Academy Award for the film and chose that one.

Then, once the film was shown and all heck broke out, she blamed Apache for showing such a “nasty” movie.

“I didn’t know”, said Apache, “But you chose it”.

So that was that, but bad luck followed.

There was no movie last Friday because Apace became ill and the Little Helpful Lady took a fall and broke her arm in three places.

I hope they threw the DVD in the trash, because it appears to be cursed.

On another topic, there’s been a wedding.

No, not The Seer and Shadow, not yet but, as I was being told by The Seer which resident was married Sunday at their church, it was on the tip of my tongue to ask, “When are you two getting married?” Fortunately, this time I had the thought just before the words rolled off my tongue and consequently was able to bite my tongue and not get myself in trouble.

The new couple is The Lady Who Wants Braids (LWWB) and the gentleman she lives with, who she told me was someone her mother had been caregiver to and, when mom died, she took over as his caregiver.

Since LWWB is one of the group that attend the same church, I guess that was a story to cover what their church would have considered living in sin. Now I’m finding out they’ve been a couple for 22 years.

She needn’t have lied to me ─ I’m not antiquated or judgmental like that, but whatever.

Wanting to give her a wedding gift, I Googled “Wedding Gift Ideas for 60 Year Olds” and came up with a lot of impractical stuff, like:

Cleaning service (too expensive)

Personalized gift basket (too much trouble)

Gym membership (get real)

Coupon for activities in the city (they never leave the complex, other than to attend church a block away)

Tickets to an all-paid vacation (living here IS a vacation)

Then there was:

Good old cash

Ding ding ding ding.

I rushed out, picked up a Congratulations on your Wedding money card, and sent to them via The Seer.

So, gifting is done and behind me.

Speaking of gifts .... Catching up with my Buddy Apache, I learned he’s being pursued by an 80-year-old.

A relatively new resident, the woman in question is in really good shape for her age. She’s thin, lively ─ always dancing around, and has been leaving little gifts at Apache’s door. She's also spicy, having been overheard to say someone, "I've still got a fire" as she swiveled her hips.

I like her.

Even though Apache is nowhere near her age, he could do worse.

That Preacher Tho

Home sweet home.

Leaving the complex for anything other than grab a water bottle, run a few local errands, hunt for Pokémon, is soooooo much trouble. Preparations taken to get to the Great Donut Run were no exception.

Not a road sign one sees every day. In fact, this is my first time having to keep an eye out for deer.

I made it to the hotel, no deer in sight – which residence type inn, except for no Starbucks and no daily maid service, turned out great.

The Great Donut Run was all flat land and the weather was a cool 62, conditions perfect for a successful race.

Successful it was, I finished feeling still energetic and strong in 1 hour 5 minutes.

This while simultaneously hunting Pokémon and stopping for photos.

Team Cops Love Donuts

Winner of Costume Contest

Homer Simpson Costume

Female Side of Family

So the Great Donut Run is off my bucket list.

Will I do it again?

Probably.

Will I do it again with family?

Probably not. We don’t seem to enjoy the same interests.

As for the Royal Wedding, I needn’t have worried about setting the DVR because there was so much coverage that I got to view the event multiple times during my stay. The wedding was magical, the dress fabulous and even though Harry, to my dismay and Margaret's approval, did not shave off the beard, I was all caught up in the magic. That is until that long-winded show-boating episcopal preacher from L.A. showed up and snapped me out of it.

It took flipping channels, until I saw he was done grandstanding and it was the choir bringing the magic back, for me to get back into the fantasy.

So 5K done, Royal Wedding done, it on to Memorial Day and what else ...... another potluck here at the complex.

One Before the Road

Time for one last post before I hit the road so, continuing with what I forget to mention came out of yesterday’s Residents/Management meeting .... It’s a Girl.

Head Maintenance Guy (HMG) and his wife are having a little girl to go along with his two boys.

No mention was made of the young lady, also expecting a baby while living here as caretaker to her grandmother, but residents are already talking about a baby shower for HMG.

So there’s that.

Watching Good Morning America’s coverage of the Royal Wedding, as I had my coffee, I caught a segment that mentioned Megan and Harry met on a blind date.

Flashback to the two times I myself went on blind dates -- one I agreed to, the other I was forced into.

The one I was forced into was when my mother and stepfather arranged for me to go on a blind date with a young coworker of stepfather.

I was only 15, no way interested in boys and dating, but mom – being the odd individual she was, seemed on a mission to destroy my life in multiple ways, other than traumatizing me when my dog was taken from me and she said she’d sent Skippy to the meat market to be ground into hamburger meat, had been pushing me to get interested in boys way sooner than I was ready. Mom even tried to turn my best friend against me by telling her she thought I was destined to be a lesbian.

I wish mom was alive today so I could ask her, “What the hell was wrong with you!?”

At any rate, that date with stepdad's coworker was a movie and dinner.

Uncomfortable being alone in a car with a boy, I made it through the movie because, when he spoke to me, I was confused as to whether he was talking to me or someone over my shoulder, behind me, because he was cross-eyed. His head was towards me, but his eyes appeared to be looking elsewhere.

Being only 15, I’d never heard of or seen eyes like that before and it confused and scared me to where I asked to be taken home after the movie, rather than dinner.

Second and very last blind date was when a neighbor, some 15/20 years ago, hearing me always blasting country music, asked, “Do you date out of your race?” saying she had a friend who was also into country/western but only dated Black women.

Sounded interesting so I, of course, asked for his credentials.

He was a long-time employee of a utility company and she said he was a big guy, tall, kinda looked like country music star Trace Adkins.

I don't think I asked the other usual questions, because she had me at “looks kinda likes Trace”. I agreed and we met up at, where else ... Starbucks.

He was a good conversationalist, had a nice deep voice, was tall, did look like Trace, everything seemed what I like EXCEPT where his mouth should have been was a bird-like beak opening.

I’m sorry if I sound shallow, but the facial deformity was a deal breaker. Everything else about him was so right that I tried, we went to lunch, talked for a bit on the phone, but the mouth thing was more than I could handle. I called it off and was done with sight unseen blind dates.

Road Trip

News from this afternoon’s Residents/Management meeting is ...  we passed the re-inspection with flying colors.

If you will recall, we had that inspection in March where our score was so high that the government suspected shenanigans and sent in a different regulator to re-inspect the complex on May 1.

No shenanigans having been found, the regulator verified the high score and life goes on as usual. The only benefit to passing, as far as I am privy to, is that the government won’t check on us for another three years, instead of every year.

When Community Manager walked into the room looking glum, I commented on her not looking happy and was expecting bad news. She said she just didn’t feel well, but that there was some bad news coming and, to counteract that, she was going to raffle off a free carpet cleaning.

The bad news is, because folks are using their garages for storage, rather than cars, Corporate wanted to raise the price of a garage from $15 per month to the going rate for garages in this area ... $200.

Residents in attendance were outraged.

Community Manager says she pled the case that residents are on fixed-incomes and got it reduced to $75 a month.

Residents are still outraged, but have the option to pay up or give up the garage.

Glad I opted for a carport, which remains a flat $15 a month, plus I won the free carpet cleaning.

I, who have a history of never winning anything, have been winning --  at bingo, that bag of goodies at the Mother’s Day raffle, and now this.

I am on a roll.

I am also packing my bags, DVR is already set to record the Royal Wedding, and tomorrow I head out for the Great Donut Run.

If I survive this adventure, I may register for December’s Santa Claus Run, in San Diego, where participants dress in Santa suits.

It all depends on 1) Whether I can find a hotel in San Diego, near the race site, that has facility for me to cook my own food and 2) Whether there are no hills on the course, because I am aged out of walking up hills and mountains.

You’ll have to wait until I return to find out how this adventure goes, because I won’t be taking a laptop.

I thought I’d pretty well hidden my electronics, including the laptop, mixed in and under clothes and in my boots, when I spent Thanksgiving week in that hotel in Long Beach, only to realize later, the selfie stick didn’t make it back home with me.

I’m sure it wasn’t any of the lady maids who cleaned my room but one day, as I was leaving, I saw a youngish guy making the rounds. I got a bad vibe from him, but didn’t think much about it until, lo and behold, I returned home and discover no selfie stick.

I guess he figured the laptop would be too obvious.

At any rate, no laptop this time and, when I leave the room, I’ll be taking other electronics – selfie stick, chargers, with me.

A long-time friend is having a Royal Wedding Party, entitled “Tiaras and PJs” in the Hollywood Hills. If Harry and Megan hadn’t planned their nuptials for the day I have to pick up race packages, I’d probably have spent the night at friend’s place, getting up early to watch the wedding.

I hope Harry shaves that awful beard off his face – not that I have anything against beards. When done right, a beard can be quite sexy and though Megan probably doesn't have a problem with it, I think Harry looks better clean shaven.

I also hope the world is paying attention and taking note of the fact it’s not Megan’s so-called “Straight Outta Compton” relatives -- her mother’s side behaving badly, creating drama. That is her father’s side of the family.

Just sayin’.

Exercise, Instincts and Intuition

Being the loner I am – enjoying walking and exercising alone, I was a little annoyed I let Apache rope me into attending an exercise class he started this morning.

I know my fellow seniors, however, and figured that even though the seniors had been griping about not having an exercise class, it was all talk, not many would attend, and the event would fold pretty quickly.

Inasmuch as only myself, Apache and three others attended, I’d say my instincts were dead on.

A tape played on the television, it actually was a good session.

Even though it felt well-worth giving up my Saturday morning for, I’m just not fond of making commitments with my time since retiring -- which is why I didn’t join the new gym down the street – even though they sent me a free one-week pass.

I don’t think I’ll have to worry about this turning into a long commitment. Apache will probably give it one more Saturday before he realizes there’s just not enough interest (even though folks complained until a session was scheduled), that folks just want to complain, he gives up, cancels and my Saturday mornings will be my own again.

Elsewhere in my world, my intuition has been working overtime.

Last time it worked overtime was in 2016 when intuition led me to attend a nephew’s 40th birthday party for two reasons. One, as an opportunity to reconnect with family I’d not interacted with for years and years and years and two, to say goodbye because -- between nephew and I, there was the persistent feeling one of the two of us would not be here much longer.

I’m still here, so it was he who passed away a year later.

Now I'm seeing myself in a wedding ... The Seer’s wedding.

Intuition is telling me she and Shadow will wed, remain a part of the community, but in one unit rather than two.

The Seer has family she’s close to – daughters, granddaughter, so the fact I’m seeing myself as her bridesmaid seems farfetched, but intuition hasn’t failed me yet.

We’ll see.

Mother’s Day

Hope your day was one of being appreciated.

I myself chose not to be “honored” this year. It was “no thanks” to breakfast, lunch, manicure/pedicure, because I just wasn’t feeling Mother’s Day.

Back in September, something was said to me that opened my eyes to how my life’s work has been so misunderstood, so unappreciated. I was very surprised at what the speaker had to say to me about me, especially since she herself had been no picnic to deal with. Yet I’d dealt with, supported, swallowed whatever hurt and pain had been visited upon me in her no picnic stages, and continued to pray for and support.

At the time the words were spoken, the individual was going through relationship and work drama. So, thinking her anger at others was being misplaced upon me, I let it go.

It wasn’t the first time I’d been snapped at, bombarded with hurtful words, including the time I blogged about being yelled at on her wedding day, and how it was that day, and other occasions, I felt constrained in her presence – like my mouth had been duct taped, my arms tied, and I had to be careful what I said, did, essentially walk on egg-shells.

Though she’d apologized about the wedding day beat down, I was hurt to being on the verge of tears all that day. Not wanting to spoil her wedding day, I held it all in and, planning to stay over, had instead loaded up the car to head straight back home after, so I could let it out and cry in the car.

I continued being loving, supportive ... still.

It’s that thing again about my being slow to burn.

Now craving nothing more than a drama-free life, I guess it’s time to cut that cord.

Looks like a lot of cord cutting going on right now.

At any rate, it took those September hurtful words rolling around in my head to cause me to remember how difficult she herself had been/can now be and realize, instead of being blamed, I should be getting a medal.

Spiritually speaking, I’ll continue to pray and uphold her – as I do for all family members and others. Humanly speaking, however, I’m done … done with swallowing, done with being misunderstood, done with being blamed … done with keeping my mouth shut … done with walking on eggshells … done with people, places, things, situations, circumstances which require I not be who I am, done.

I got up this morning, turned off my cell phone to avoid any “Happy Mother’s Day” calls, popped the in-home walking tape into the DVR – which was so fast paced that I only managed a mile, and spent the remainder of the day on that needlepoint project.

The Mother’s Day celebration here at the complex isn’t until Friday.

Why so late? I do not know.

I enjoy getting together with the folks, whatever the occasion, so I can ignore the theme; but I’m not sure I’ll be attending. Depends on 1) How I feel when I get up Friday morning and 2) Whether I’m stuck in the unit because the termites are swarming.

I didn’t sign up for a potluck dish so, if the termites are not swarming and I decide to go, I’ll have to pick something up on the fly from the deli.

Oh … though I'm not die hard superstitious, there’s a little thing about Friday being the 13^th.