Global Running Day

It’s that time again ─ first Wednesday of June, designated as Global Running Day.

Running not in my DNA and no walking activities scheduled for today in my area, I pledged on the organization’s website to do 6 Miles on the indoor bike. So that’s my contribution to celebrating the sport of running, while also complying with homework assigned by Trainer.

I’m looking forward to World Sauntering Day ─ Wednesday the 19th ─ a day set aside to remind people to slow down and enjoy life as opposed to rushing through it.

I’ll be letting the dog eat my activity homework that day, and I don’t even have a dog.

That unsuccessful search for a run/walk activity for today wasn't entirely fruitless, as I did run across and register for two up comings:

The Sunrise Stampede is within my driving radius, but Batman will require travel and an overnight stay.

No matter, I’m all over that one ─ even if it is an evening run and through the somewhat icky streets of Downtown Los Angeles.

Los Angeles has been getting a very bad rap in the news lately, because of the homeless population.

Cause and Effect.

If Los Angeles would put a halt to the burgeoning prices being charged renters for apartments, the working poor wouldn’t be forced to live in their cars and on the street.

Did you see the news article about rats invading City Hall?

The folks brought in to eradicate the rats, unsuccessfully thus far, say the invasion is a result of the mess left on the streets by the homeless encampments surrounding City Hall.

Karma.

Impose rent restrictions so folks can afford housing.

What’s Happening Now

Granddaughter has her car back, her belongings back, got the car insured, so there’s hope this millennial has learned there are consequences for not properly handling one's business.

If not, well then too bad so sad. She’s got a boyfriend, a mom and she’s got herself.

Grandma is out.

See you next Thanksgiving.

Maybe.

Meanwhile, out and about on the complex, I noticed management finally got around to removing the duct tape from the mailboxes and properly sealing with cement.

It took management four long months to repair damage done by the bad guys breaking in to gather and sell personal data.

August

October

December

I’m not holding my breath that the bad guys won’t return and tear it all down again.

Elsewhere on the complex, in addition to the new Community Manager having had enough and quitting after 81 days, the Assistant Manager has gone missing.

We don’t know if she’s sick again or went out of the country to get her husband’s visa in order so he can return, or if she’s fired or quit. 

Of the 12 senior communities owned and operated by Corporate, 12 have an opening for Community Manager (that includes this complex) and three are looking for Assistant Managers. This community isn’t listed for that position, so probably not quit or fired.

So happy am I now to be old, retired, not having to deal with an employer.

During the week, I found the market elf Harold again.

I didn’t even have to look very hard.

Thinking that if market staff located the elf low, some Grinch would steal him, I theorized it would always be somewhere high up.

Sure enough, there he was on a shelf in the produce department.

On tap for today is putting the finishing touches on the Thanksgiving scrapbook and making a decision as to what to bring to Wednesday’s Holiday Potluck. I’m wavering between ice cream and Starbucks in a Box (Traveler).

Probably ice cream, because 40 have signed up for the event and a Traveler only serves about 20. Inasmuch as the folks really love Starbucks, it might cause a scramble to get coffee before it’s gone and may even result in an old-people fight or two.

On the other hand, that might be interesting. So maybe the Traveler after all. LOL.

I Can’t with These Millennials

In October, it was that Target worker who didn’t know how to properly bag breakables that caused me to realize just how clueless and irresponsible young people can be.

Fortunately, I’m not called upon to interact much with people under 55 years of age but I had to make a trip to Ralphs Market yesterday, because it’s the only place where I can find tofu (Shirataki) noodles.

While there, I picked up a few other wet products, like frozen cauliflower rice, frozen broccoli, et al.

At the checkout, I reached into my cloth bag, pulled out the Ralphs plastic bags and gave to the young bagger.

I became livid, yelling to myself, “What did he do! What’s wrong with him!” when I reached to unload at the car, and saw he’d not used the store bags I’d given him but, when I was otherwise occupied paying the cashier, he’d retrieved my cloth bag from the cart and put all the wet ingredients in it.

What did he do with the store bags?

Why, he’d put them inside the cloth bag as well.

It’s tiring me out.

I just can’t with these millennials.

The straw that broke the camel’s back was my millennial granddaughter texting, earlier that morning, that the 2004 Saturn I’d gifted her in February, when I bought the Jeep, had been stolen.

Poor thing has been through a lot.

I’m not speaking of granddaughter as poor thing, but the car.

While spending Thanksgiving in Long Beach, I’d gotten a look at the Saturn. It obviously had not seen a car wash in a long time, plus there was that chunk out of the left side back door, caused by granddaughter being hit in the traffic circle. The grandsons advised she’s also not keeping up with maintenance/oil.

Oh and btw, from that traffic circle accident I learned granddaughter was driving without insurance.

Call Geico, I tell her. Get a quote. I’ll pay for it.

Nothing happens.

THEN, I get that woe is me text that the car was stolen, along with everything she owns ─ clothes/shoes, as she was in the process of moving.

“I don't know why bad things keep happening” she bemoans.

This is California!

Any fool knows you don’t drive without insurance and you don’t leave anything in a car to temp thieves, but I resisted saddling her with blame. Instead, I said the Universe is throwing some hard tests her way and that hopefully the car will be found, with her items safely inside. In the meantime, it’s back to the bus and Uber, I say but add “Something good will happen. Expect a miracle”.

An hour later, “Car not stolen. Towed”.

There’s your miracle but ... “Towed for why?”

“Three parking tickets”.

WT Heck! thought I, but pulled from my savings and sent her enough to get the car from tow, pay citations, and it was a lot of $$$$ and once again say, “Get a Geico quote”.

Along with this gift of $$$$ came my texting to her that the Universe was being kind this time, that complete loss of the car and belongings would have been a far harder lesson than tow, especially when the loss would have been the result of something as small as parking where she’d not be ticketed, then failing to pay the first parking ticket, go on to garner two more.

In retrospect, I should have left her to the consequences of her own actions ─ no clothes, back to buses and Uber. But the car, previously well-maintained and having served me well for so long, didn’t deserve to be abandoned to the tow yard.

At any rate, granddaughter says she’ll use the $$$$ wisely and get on top of things immediately, but I don’t know. I’m suspicious that there’s something I don’t know about that’s the reason for no insurance, but I’m now at the place of I don’t want to know, and shouldn’t care because she’s a grown ass millennial woman and I just can’t with these millennials any longer.

My future dealings with granddaughter's dramas will be much like the relationship in this clip of Woopi Goldberg and Tiffany Haddish in their new movie Nobody’s Fool.

Didn’t See This One Coming

Color me saddened and shocked when, checking in with the folks this morning’s Pizza Tuesday, I learned the Community Manager was fired yesterday.

Two women from Corporate, one of whom I’m told is the new Regional Director, were said to have entered her office, spoke briefly with her, allowed her to gather all her things and whoosh she was gone.

She did not deserve that and we’re all very sad, except for Apache. He’s so pleased with himself that he’s dancing around, his feet barely touching the ground because he sees it as another win.

Like I’ve posted before, that’s all that matters to my buddy Apache … that he wins. And though Corporate Lawyers issued a cease and desist on his contacting Corporate, he not only continued but managed to get another resident to join him.

I’d actually seen him and this other resident walking through my quad last week, looking as though they were on patrol.

I opened the patio window and yelled down to them, “Why are you two up to? You’re walking around looking like cops.”

They laughed and said “we’re up to nothing”, but it looked strange and I’ve since learned they were looking for lease violations, taking photos of those violations and forwarding to Corporate in order to get Community Manager in trouble.

Apache and his co-snitch took photos of food being left in varying locations on the property for stray cats/birds/squirrels, which Community Manager had sent out flyers indicating it's a lease violation and attracts unwanted animals to the property. We all know who the food leaver is and I, personally, thought Community Manager should have lease violated that individual instead of sending out flyers, but she didn't and it gave Apache just the ammunition he needed. I don't know what other violations he found, but in my quad he found this.

The photo looks a little grainy because of the dusty screen door, but what you're looking at is a hideously ugly tacky black … I don't know if it's fabric or screen, that the woman directly across the quad from me put up week before last.

I wasn’t sure if she was trying to block me from seeing inside her unit when her blinds are open (as if I would), or blocking her husband from peeping me when my blinds are open (which he probably does) but, either way, I’d told myself at the time that management wasn’t going to allow it. The office has made it clear that they don’t care what you hang on the window for privacy, so long as it is white, because they want uniformity and the place not looking like a ghetto.

Evidently, Community Manager didn’t notice and correct the violation quick enough and, along with other photos Apache had sent to Corporate, he succeeded in getting manager in trouble because, according to him, tired of being bothered with complaints that should have been handled at the level of the Community Manager, Corporate took extreme measures and fired manager.

Not that Apache wanted her fired. He said that after he received the cease and desist, she stopped responding to his telephone calls, emails, and he just wanted her to pay attention and respond.

If Corporate thinks firing Community Manager is going to stop Apache, they’d better think again. If the Karma Train doesn’t turn around and run over him, I fully expect Apache to be even more embolden by this win and continue his quest to get rid of the Pit Bull, which was his initial goal. When Community Manager failed to do that, even took sides with the pit bull owner, saying Apache was harassing the guy, it so angered Apache that he became vengeful and began looking for petty violations to report.

Hopefully the replacement Community Manager isn’t going to be someone who’ll be mean to us, like the predecessor Nurse Ratched was, and I’m hoping our fired Community Manager will land on her feet and go to something better.

What a shame though. Such a nice woman.

Karma Speaks

On my schedule for today was 1) Catch up with complex goings on in the Community Room during Pizza Tuesday; 2) Reorganize kitchen cabinet; 3) Clean refrigerator 4) Run by local Starbucks to see if caught up in the boycott.

All I actually got done was No. 1.

I checked into Community Room. Learned Community Manager’s suspension ends on Monday the 23rd. She’s expected to be back in her office that day -- Just in time to host the Residents/Management meeting on the 26th, and just in time to be held accountable if the May Day re-inspection goes wrong.

Also learned it’s not looking good for our favorite veteran. Just home from a week in hospital with pneumonia, he’s learned he needs a bypass.

A sweet old gentleman, already extremely thin and poorly, I don’t want to think he might not make it, but I can’t help thinking it. He must be thinking it as well because, frail and weak as he is, he made it down to the Community Room to give his favorite ladies, of which I’m one, a string of Marika Pearls.

Having been around the block a time or two, he knew enough to also bring a few token pearl bracelets for others.

I’ve been working really hard to overcome my disgust and judgment of Greedy Grabby – the woman who has an air of entitlement, that enough is never enough, never contributes but always ALWAYS takes more than her share. 

I felt I was making progress.

I could greet her without gritting my teeth, my thoughts towards her were free of judgment and, when she saw me sitting in the Community Room alone one morning (I was meditating before people began coming in) she walked over and offered me a flower.

The old me would have declined her offering, or accepted and thrown in the trash, because it’s bad juju to have anything in one’s possession from someone one doesn't respect. One thing the old me never would have done was to accept with thanks, which I did. I even took the flower to my unit and put it in water.

The fact that it immediately died should have been my clue that her bad juju was alive and well, and that my judgment of her was actually instinct/spiritual wisdom, because as our favorite vet was treating us with long strands of pearls, she walked over, with her hand out, and he handed her a small pearl bracelet.

She had the gall to say, “No. I want the long one”.

That’s her favorite word … “I want”.

Our vet had already given me – who he was sitting with, Church Lady – whom he crushes on and another woman who he frequently sits and talks with the long strands, so when he told Greedy Grabby all that remained were the little ones, she actually went through his bag looking AND, when she couldn’t find a long strand, she kept her short strand and took the remaining other two short strands.

There was that, and then another resident made a fuss because she couldn’t jump in line ahead of others to get her pizza.

Too much ugliness. Time for me to go back to my unit.

Starting on organizing the kitchen cupboard, I pulled out a few things I can no longer consume and decided to take to the Community Room Kitchen counter for whoever might want or need. Included in that giveaway was a 1-pound bag of Starbucks Verona Grounds.

That wasn’t me protesting what happened to the two Black men at Starbucks Philadelphia … I’m so accustomed to reading, seeing, hearing, occasionally still experiencing racial profiling that I’ve accepted it as business as usual and don’t even react, but I’m glad to see others are waking up, realizing we’re not making it up that the rules are different for us, and those waking up are making a fuss about it. I don’t think, however, the CEO should be apologizing and held accountable. It’s the barista that denied bathroom privileges and called the police.

Where’s she?

Why isn’t she front and center accepting responsibility for this brouhaha and apologizing? Knowing how the police over-react, shoot Blacks first, make excuses later, she could have caused their murder .... over nothing!

At any rate, giving the grounds away wasn’t in protest, but because inasmuch as I’m doing butter coffee every morning, I no longer needed the unopened pound of Verona grounds.

Guess who grabbed the coffee off the counter as soon as I put it down.

Yep … Greedy Grabby.

Anyway, since Bingo was about to start, and it wasn't proctored by Activity Director, but a representative of an agency trying to sell us on their insurance, with some nice looking prizes available, I selected a card and sat down.

Guess who sat down next to me.

Yep … Greedy Grabby.

I tried. Honestly, I really tried to keep my seat and let her talk to me, which she surely would have, but I couldn’t do it.

I mentally spoke to the Universe, saying NO, I’d had enough for one day, moved to another table and got lucky.

I never win, but won twice and got two cool prizes.

Wire Basket and Rose Scent

I didn’t realize, until I returned to my unit, that the title of the rose scent is “Karma”.

It’s like the Universe sending me a message … “She’s a difficult case, but thank you for trying”.

Do Not Touch

Yesterday ended up not being my free day after all, as a last-minute errand came up that took me out of the area.

Upon returning to the complex, I cut through the Community Room, on the way to the mailbox, and saw an announcement for a celebration of life scheduled for today for one of our long-time residents.

Her passing was a complete surprise to all of us, as she’d just a few weeks ago celebrated her 95^th Birthday.

I’m not exactly sure what transpired after that, but it all seemed to have happened in rapid succession in the span of two weeks … one day she was in the Community Room chatting, having fun, watching television, next thing an ambulance picked her up and took her to the hospital. Then her daughter put her in a care facility and began cleaning out her unit -- inviting residents to come to the unit this past Saturday to take anything they’d like saying our long-time resident would not be coming back. When residents arrived at the unit Saturday, the daughter announced our long-time resident had passed that morning.

Once they leave the community and all their friends, they just don’t seem to have the will to go on.

Asked to post information about the celebration of life on our facebook page, I headed upstairs, located a photo I’d taken of our long-time resident, posted the photo and announcement with the title “We say goodbye to a Dear Friend”.

I won’t be attending as the service is out of the area, we weren’t that close that I feel compelled to attend, plus I’d made arrangements to meet up with daughter, while she's in the area at the nail salon, to hand over the blankets for what she calls her “outside neighbors” -- which is a nice way of describing the homeless people in her area.

I’m kinda amazed that both my girls are devoting time and energy to serving outside neighbors – one cooks and takes meals and clothing to those living in a nearby park, the other is involved with an organization that weekly takes food, clothing, essentials to those living in the Skid Row area.

That’s a worry because Skid Row, if you’ve never seen it, driven through there, is worse than anyone can image -- filthy to the umpteenth degree, highly volatile, dangerous. In fact, just this last week, daughter returned to her car after providing for those outside neighbors only to find an ungrateful outside neighbor in that area had poured milk all over her car.

It could have been worse.

At any rate, after turning the blankets over to the daughter serving outside neighbors in the park, I’m off to get the car smog tested, with the hope today will be a slow day with folks focused on plans for New Year’s Eve, rather than getting their autos smog checked, so I can be in an out quickly.

We shall see.

While I was out yesterday, I ran into the resident who, like me, had been blessed with a windfall from a job she’d long since left behind. Unlike me, however, there was a question as to whether she could remain a resident because she was living in a unit as caretaker to the resident on the lease – technically not a resident herself and the windfall made her ineligible to become a resident now that she can afford her own unit.

Long-time readers will recall this was the woman whose only income was from living here with and caring for her mother. When the sister took mother away and placed mom in a care facility, the woman lost her income. Gripped with fear as to how she’d survive, she ended up in hospital with bowel obstructions … twice.

No surprise there … cause and effect, gripping fear = bowel obstruction.

With the help of her son, the woman was able to remain in that unit for a little while but, when that played out, she signed on as live-in caregiver to an older lady in the complex.

Suffice it to say, the woman has been through a lot in the last few years, supplementing what little she derived as caretaker by dumpster diving here on the complex, and I’ve often run into her dumpster diving at the University when I was there hunting Pokémon.

This windfall was a much-needed miracle for her.

At any rate, she was telling me yesterday that she’s outa here -- she bought a truck and, instead of the trailer she’d planned to buy, she’d found a little house not too far away.

I’m really happy for her, said so and felt a hug coming on – an urge rising up in me to hug her, sensing her moving in to hug me, at which time I quickly turned away, wished her well and took off.

Why?

Her name came up in the Community Room this past Tuesday. Maybe folks were jealous of her good fortune and wanted to say something to bring her down, maybe it was the Universe giving me a do not touch warning, but it was said that management had gotten on the woman about dumpster diving because those activities had brought bed bugs and roaches to the unit she was occupying with the resident on the lease. That the unit had been treated twice, but still had an infestation.

Thank the Lord, that unit is far away from my building.

I don’t know. She looks clean to me, but just the thought she might have cooties … well, you know. I had to resist the urge to hug and back away.

Dinner/Dance

After two days of no outside contact, because I was swept up in working on that needlepoint project while watching the Walking Dead Marathon, I headed down to the Community Room this morning to check the bulletin board for what, if any, movie was to play at Friday’s Movie Night.

Found the Community Room blocked off in preparation for the 4:00 Dinner/Dance, and when I peeked through the windows and saw how upscale everything looked, I heard myself say to myself “This is going to be a pretty big deal” and decided to attend.

THEN, switching channels during a commercial, I saw Top Chef was running an All Stars Season, so I put down the needlepoint and switched channels between Walking Dead, Top Chef, promptly forgetting about the dinner/dance until I looked up and realized it was 3:30.

Dressing up a pair of black leggings with my fancy belt, boots and a blazer, I headed down and had a ball.

Oops. My belt is off center

Turns out I can dance after all, but only because the music played was geared to the sixties. My feet and body remembered the steps and, before I knew it, I found myself on the dance floor doing the twist, swim, pony, even the mashed potato. And I wasn’t alone on the dance floor. Most of us old gals remembered what to do when certain songs were played. Even those in wheelchairs moved whatever they could move to the music.

It was a hoot.

Seniors on Canes/Walkers were Assisted

Color me surprised when next door neighbor who, like I’d previously posted, had stayed clear of the general population since being impeached from the Volunteer Activity Committee, walked through the doors. I thought she’d probably just make a plate and leave, but no. She sat down, ate with other residents, even danced. So, I guess she’s finally completely over what happened.

As for dinner, I took my chances on a chicken drumstick covered in some sort of sauce and vegetables cooked in butter, passing on rice, salad greens, macaroni salad, dinner rolls, deserts and fruit – because the fruit I ate at the Bake Sale gave me grief later that night.

Hopefully the chicken and veggies were safe enough to not cause a gut reaction.

Today ended on a high note, which I’m hopeful will carry on through to the 24^th with residents wearing costumes to the Halloween Party.

I’m going back and forth between Wonder Woman and Minion.

I was also going back and forth on attending services for that dead Klansman.

Graveside services are closed to all but family/friends tomorrow, followed by Celebration of Life from 2:00 to 7:00.

Though I had every intention of attending the Celebration, just to make a point to his fellow Klansmen and Klan girls that, though they tried to end me emotionally and career wise, that I survived and came out unbloodied, unbowed (not everyone they targeted were as fortunate).

The only reason I was going back and forth was because I knew in my heart that I was being spiteful and, not wanting to create any negative karma for myself, I told myself I was doing it UNLESS the Universe told me otherwise.

Would you believe, after returning to my unit from the dinner/dance, and on a high note, I heard loud and clear “Let the dead past bury its dead”.

Would you also believe I didn’t know where that phrase came from?

After Googling it, I find it’s from Luke 9:60.

So that’s it, I guess. I still kinda want to see those folks, have them see me, but I know better than to test the Universe or go against its directive.

Clear and Balanced

The replacement coffee came in yesterday afternoon … by Fed Ex, rather than mail. This time, the box was appropriately sized to where there could be no mistake as to its contents.

To make sure my Karma is clear and the Akashic Records balanced, I promptly authorized Amazon to retract the refund.

The good news is … I won’t have to purchase butter coffee for a long long time.

Pizza Tuesday went very well.

Activity Director solved the issue of folks helping themselves before she arrived by picking up and bringing pizzas with her.

She also solved the problem of food safety (folks opening lids and handling pizzas, dropping pizzas), and those taking more than their share by labeling boxes and stacking by type of pizza, i.e., cheese, pepperoni, meat. She then had residents line up, state which they preferred, personally handed the box over to them – with the caveat to return after everyone had an opportunity to get a pizza and help self to what was left. Bread bags and containers of chicken were likewise distributed.

A good civilized plan. However, the minute Activity Director’s attention was diverted, the old guy on a cane, who’d already been served, snuck back, began opening lids, even though boxes were labeled and what was remaining were all the same -- cheese pizzas. At one point, the old guy reached into a box, picked up a slice, changed his mind, put the slice back, closed the box, put that box back on the table, opted for a different pizza, grabbed a few more items, then hobbled away on his cane.

Those of us observing couldn’t understand why he’d put the one he’d handled back inasmuch as it was exactly the same as the one he walked away with.

At any rate, the pizza he’d handled was taken out of rotation and tossed in the trash.

I don’t know if he returned later for the BBQ, because I headed to my unit when I smelled deliciousness coming from the grill, so I wouldn’t be tempted to eat something I shouldn’t. But, in spite of so many BBQ’s having been scheduled this month, Tuesday afternoon’s BBQ looked to be a hit. The room was full, residents excited and having a good time.

Earlier, I’d presented the completed needlepoint landscape to The Seer.

She loved it. Said it lifted her spirits.

The resident I refer to as The Helpful Lady must have thought I was in the habit of creating needlepoint artwork and giving away, which is not the case. I’ve only done so twice and only because I had fun working a project, but didn’t want to display the completed, and knew someone who’d expressed an interest in owning. At any rate, Helpful Lady walked over and said, “The next one is for me. I’ll pay you.”

“Sorry”, said I. “I’m keeping the one I’m working on now and I have two others waiting in the wings that I plan to keep. I’m booked up for the next three years.”

“Well, after three years, I’m next.”

I think she’s serious.

Treasurer of the Resident’s Activity Committee, my good buddy Apache, indicated a 50’s Party is being bandied around. Asked my thoughts, I said sounded like a fun idea, but had no faith at all that residents would dress appropriately because I was the only one who showed up in costume for Halloween.

“We’ll print on the notice, “No admission unless dressed for 50’s”, said Apache.

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t trust them. They’ll show up to eat and won’t be dressed”.

Of course, if a 50's Party does materialize, I'll give them a chance to redeem themselves, make myself a poodle skirt and show up. I'd just better not be the only one appropriately costumed or I'll be too done.

Deja Vu

I’ve not had a package go missing since that pompous arrogant mailman who said, “I don’t make mistakes” retired. But here I am yet again, with a delivery showing up online as being placed in a locker on the 7^th, but the key obviously being placed in the wrong box because it surely didn’t make it to mine.

I’m debating whether it’s worth the aggravation to make a big deal about it, i.e., go to the post office, report a mistake having been made, talk to the mail person on duty that day and, for sure, there’s no point to expect the person who received the package in error to be honest and turn it over, because it’s likely the same person that was the recipient of the goods not belonging to them last year, goods which they kept and/or used and/or sold, has no intention of being honest this time around.

Hard to believe there are people like that in the world, yet alone in the complex where I live, a neighbor of sort.

Maybe I’ll just post a sign at the mailbox and on the bulletin board that, “Will the person who received a package of Bulletproof Coffee from Amazon in error, please drop off at the door of the appropriate unit, no questions asked.”

I’ll have to think of how to proceed while I’m sitting in the spa chair, as I’m outta here in a bit, heading for a much-needed manicure/pedicure.

At any rate, whether I decide to make a big deal of it or not, whether I decide to post a sign or not, I’m chuckling a bit at the thought that, if the person decides to keep the coffee, brew it for themselves, they’re in for a big surprise as there’s a period for the body to adjust itself to butter coffee. If one has never used it before, one is going to experience an out-of-control system flush – if you know what I mean. Instant Karma of sort.

Rebooting

I was like the energizer bunny yesterday – up and down the stairs doing laundry, then training for my next 5K by walking around the complex -- in 97˚ heat no less, finishing up with 3 miles on the Schwinn Exercise Bike.

This morning it was training in 86˚ heat, which felt like 100˚, and a 2.7 exercise bike ride to cool down.

I’m finally back on a roll.

Judging from how difficult it was to get back, I’m thinking the lesson to be learned is don’t stop, because once you power down it’s difficult to reboot.

To be fair, I didn’t exactly power down on my own. I was sidelined for six months by that foot injury, and became much too comfortable with and accustomed to the Great Indoors.

I did make it down to the Community Room, Friday afternoon, for movie night – The Founder.

Arriving 15 minutes early, I was surprised to see the room full. Activity Director was hosting bingo, but it wasn’t a problem because they were on the last game -- blackout. The Founder started only 5 minutes late, and I had a good seat.

It was a bit of a surprise to see the Activity Director hosting bingo because, last I’d heard, she and neighbor (President of the Resident’s Committee), had gotten into an argument, which was described as “They really got into it”. Inasmuch as Activity Director is an employee, I thought for sure she’d be suspended for yelling at a resident, especially since it’s her second time.

In her late 20’s/early 30’s, with a degree in social work but, from the looks of it, not much experience, Activity Director fails to accept how often she screws up and doesn’t seem to realize that the women she resents being told how to do things better by are women to be appreciated as mentors. We like her as a person and with some of our residents being highly intelligent women, women who’ve had careers in all manner of fields -- way more accomplished than she, if her ego wasn’t in the way, she’d realize these older wiser highly intelligent women are trying to help, not hurt her.

But, oh well. Some of us insist on learning the hard way.

The Founder was an interesting movie, but I had mixed feelings at the end.

For one thing, I wasn’t clear on whether or not the lead character stole the business contact’s wife he coveted.

Researching online, I see he had three wives. So, if he divorced his first wife, stole the second, evidently it didn’t work out.

Another thing is … I understood the lead character’s frustration at the brothers being stumbling blocks to progress but, didn’t understand why the lead character had to be so vicious and vindictive after having found a way through the blocks, not to mention not being fair with the first wife he divorced.

Reminded me of that guy I’d mentioned years ago in a post, the one at the office who’d won a million dollars in Las Vegas.

In the midst of a divorce, even though he’d won enough to share with the wife, put that behind him with enough left over to start a new life with the girlfriend, he hatched a plan to make sure the wife couldn’t get any of it -- he let the girlfriend claim the winnings.

His unfair intentions caught up with him quick, fast, in a hurry because, the girlfriend decided, since she had the money in her name, she didn’t need him. She bought a condo in Palm Springs and told him to get lost.

The stress of the divorce and the girlfriend’s betrayal, took its toll. He became too ill to work, had a heart attack and, last I heard, had been spotted walking the streets broke, sick, homeless, looking for a place to live.

Inasmuch as Ray Kroc had been so unfair to his wife in the divorce, and the brothers in the takeover, I wondered it Karma caught up with him as well.

From what I found on the internet, he did good things for society with his wealth, lived a long time and lived well, except for the stroke and alcoholism part – which may be signs vicious/vindictive did weigh on him somewhat as Louise Hay’s Cause and Effect theory describes the root cause of stroke as being “resistance, rather die than change” and “guilt” as the root cause of alcoholism.

The movie also prompted me to make a run by the 15 cents sign at the McDonald’s Museum to see if the sign was like the one Kroc had edited to take “McDonalds” out.

It wasn’t.

Until seeing the movie, I’d not realized the location was the original McDonald’s site and, except for the oddly shaped golden arches, the sign seems legit and the plaque underneath credits the brothers, with no mention of Kroc.

I’m surprised the location isn’t a pokéstop. Though I've come across side-by-side pokéstop, perhaps this is an exception as The Military Museum next door is a stop.

Bring Your Own Cup, Day 2

Instead of coffee this morning, it was Slurpee.

This being the last and final day of the Bring Your Own Cup promotion, I upped my game and filled the larger of the two containers posted yesterday.

Didn’t compare to the guy who filled up ahead of me.

Fun over, it’s back to a sugar detox and clean eating.

On the way to 7 Eleven, I noticed the ominous green cross had been added to the pot shop across the street.

Yesterday, when I checked into the Community Room, there was a lot of talk about the shop and, as I expected, folks are expecting the worse.

There was also talk about the woman Creepy Guy had arrested. The Writer of Christian Literature had befriended the woman when she first moved in, has been in contact with the woman and says not only did she get evicted from here, she lost her job over having been jailed. And, as we’d surmised, it all happened because Creepy Guy had come onto the woman, saying something inappropriate, something nasty. The woman said, “You can’t talk to me like that” and, when Creepy Guy retaliated with something even nastier, she says she “lost it”, pulled out a box cutter and "may have taken a swing at him".

Poor woman, now depending on the kindness of friends and relatives, has lost everything because of that creep.

Priding himself on being a Buddhist, Creepy Guy is like no Buddhist I’ve ever known, is not a good representative of that religion, and has a lot to atone for.

Also yesterday, in the Community Room, I was asked to sign a get-well card for my next door neighbor.

Last I posted about her, she was all involved in what management should be doing, had gotten involved with a canasta group outside the complex, and consequently seemed to have risen above being depressed; but now I’m told she’s ill and keeping a low profile … something about nosebleeds and “deviated septum”.

I knew I’d not seen her for quite some time, but didn’t bother to check because I could hear her door open now and then, which told me she was still alive.

I’m a terrible neighbor that I had to hear from someone on the other side of the complex that my next door neighbor is ill. And once again, I see how an ailment is related to the principle of Cause and Effect. It doesn’t seem all that odd to me that, with the neighbor being kind of a nose-up-in-the-air snob, her illness has something to do with her nose. 

Fake Day

Got a late start on what a facebook friend calls “Fake Day”. The late start was due to sleepus interruptus — I woke up at 2:00 a.m. and wasn’t able to get back to sleep until around 5:00.

It appears that can of worms I was afraid of did get opened and disturbing information crawled out the can and into my head, at that meet up with niece.

When niece originally found me on facebook, she’d said the times she’d spent with me were the happiest of her childhood. I didn’t know what that meant and, her being so young at the time, thought she was just being nice in saying so. After hearing what her life was like after her mom removed her from me until the time she grew up to where she became independent of her mom, I now know what she meant. Its dealing with what I now know, meditating, trying to understand/rationalize disturbing information from a spiritual angle, that’s waking me up at night.

Eventually, I’ll work myself through and return to a place of peace but, out of bed at 9:00 this morning, fake day didn’t really get started until 11:30, when I headed down to drop the rent check at the office, with a detour through the Community Room.

The place was abuzz.

Word is, there’d been police activity over the weekend involving Creepy Guy and a female resident.

Of course, the general consensus is that Creepy Guy once again said or did something inappropriate to a female resident. The female was so angered that she threatened to kill Creepy Guy.

Creepy Guy called the police and asked them to “Arrest this woman”.

They did – arrest her that is.

Why?

Especially since he has such a bad reputation?

Well, No. 1, the police don’t know about his reputation and No. 2, the female resident wasn’t smart. She was actually holding the box cutter she'd threatened to kill him with in her hand when the police arrived.

I suggested we take up a collection, pay her bail, take her out and buy her a drink, but learned she’s been released and is in her unit with the blinds drawn.

Will be interesting to see what, if anything, management does about yet another incident involving Creepy Guy.

Elsewhere on the complex, the Assistant Manager appears to be going the way everyone else goes who works with Nurse Ratched, which is one of two ways – 1) maintain your integrity and quit or 2) go against your own conscious, become spineless, afraid of displeasing Nurse Ratched, so wracked with guilt for succumbing and hating yourself for what you're doing that you make yourself sick. Assistant Manager chose the latter, has consequently been ill and out-of-office for over a month.

It amazes me that people don’t see what occurs in their daily living as the activity of Cause and Effect, when it appears so obvious.

What’s on tap for the remainder of fake day?

I recorded The Oscars last night, as there’s no way I could sit through three hours of all that yada yada yada. So this afternoon, I’ll be fast forwarding through to catch the highlights, make a batch of carrot-cashew soup for quick lunches during the week, and put in some work on my new needlepoint project.

Feeling stressed because of what’s in my head, from that overnight visit to LA, I’m craving Ben and Jerry Cherry Garcia ice cream today. This being a fake day, therefore not real, not actually happening, maybe I'll go off plan, indulge myself and consider it fake ice cream.

Resocializing

Finally got out of myself this morning and made it to the Community Room to socialize.

I guess today was the day a lot of folks decided to resocialize, because there was quite a nice gathering. Surprisingly enough, the main topic of conversation was not the Powerball. Instead, it was the Superbowl.

What with management once again closing up the Community Room on weekends, I don’t imagine residents are going to be happy about not being able to host a Superbowl party, as they did last year.

I learned there was actually a valid reason for management to return to closed on weekends and open only during office hours on weekdays.

What management had done to appease resident complaints about not having access so often was to set up the patio doors for entry, but only the patio doors. All other doors to the building are locked when management is not on premise, to protect files and the computer room.

Some smart aleck resident, hoping to create problems for management, was aware of a Fire Department code that two unlocked doors are required and notified the Fire Department of the violation.

After the Fire Department made an inspection and issued a citation, management decided to revert back to the old hours, rather than leave unlocked the patio doors and door leading to the offices.

I can understand that logic.

So whoever filed the complaint only hurt us residents, not management. I believe the complaint came from Big Linda, because she likes to complain and cause trouble. The Seer thinks the complaint came from Little Linda, because she too likes to complain and cause trouble.

We’ll never know who the culprit is, but I’m a firm believer that you get what you give, so the universe will take care of ‘em.

I’ve been wondering why management was taking so long to prepare the vacancy across the quad for viewing by potential new residents. This is the vacancy created when our former maintenance man and his wife moved out ... I mean, were forced out.

It wasn’t until just yesterday that I saw a crew come in to clean, repaint. I’ve not yet seen the carpet people, but that’s a given, they’ll show up.

Based on the sketchy looking folks Nurse Ratched has been bringing in, I was a bit worried she might lease, if not to another one of her relatives, to someone who would cause us to feel unsafe and planned to keep an eye out to get a feel for the kinds of people coming to see the unit.

According to one of the ladies in the Community Room this morning, it’s already been leased.

Actually, given away free … to the new Maintenance Supervisor, who I thought would have quit already.

I guess he’s tougher than I figured and what with the title of “Supervisor” added and a free unit, is prepared to swallow whatever Nurse Ratched dishes out.

Doubtful, he and his family will bring the quad back to the cohesiveness we formerly enjoyed but, inasmuch as we’re all single women, it’s someone we all know and who seems safe.

Also, while in the Community Room, younger sister was trying to get someone to walk the route to the street leading into the college with her on Friday. Younger sister kinda gets on my nerves, but I do need to get back to walking, so I and another resident agreed to do the three miles with her on Friday, if it doesn’t rain, and maybe stop at the You Buy We Fry fish restaurant to bring back lunch.

I’ve had fried fish only once in the last forty years, and that once was about fifteen year ago. No reason, as I like fried fish. Only because I'm always either on some sort of diet or have not had an opportunity for fried, so I’m thinking fried fish, maybe shrimp, will be my last off program meal before I begin clean eating again.

I heard the depressed neighbor coming in late Monday night, and heard her again heading out early this morning, so I at least now know she’s still alive – just being quiet, keeping to herself.