Tuesday, June 17, 2025

Mind Games

Activity Director is on the second week of her 2 weeks’ vacation.

As my mother used to say, "One monkey don’t stop no show", so a new resident, let’s call her Crafty Lady — the resident that brought down her leftover supplies week before last, took over when we didn't like what Activity Director had in mind, took over today and showed us how to make bookmarks, from acrylic blanks, tassels, stickers.



Discussion during crafting was planning for yet another BBQ, this one for the 4th of July.

Staff has Friday the 4th off, which means the Community Room is locked. The organizers, because of that homeless gentleman crashing the Memorial Day BBQ, ultimately making off with 8 hot dogs, want not to BBQ outside on the 4th, but in the Community Room, on a day when it is open, where access can be monitored.

Thursday the 3rd is out because the Baker has to take her husband to a doctor’s appointment. Monday the 7th is out for a similar reason for one of the organizers. When I left the discussion, went back upstairs, days were still being discussed.

So soon after the Memorial Day BBQ, I’d like to see the idea of another BBQ dropped altogether.

Not only is the date an issue, and inside rather than outside to keep the homeless away, the organizers want to limit invitees to the usual suspects — only the bingo players.

Good luck with that.

Judging by what happened last Thursday, where we had a private surprise birthday party for one of the guys who has been helpful and Judy, who has fallen out of favor because she never contributes and pissed off the Baker in one or more of the bingo sessions I’m told, passed by, saw us gathered, came in, brought another resident with her, sat down and waited to be served cake, but left after being ignored for half an hour, I expect it will be the same trying to limit attendees to the BBQ the organizers are now planning.

Seems there’s a lot of playing of mind games going on — grievances and subliminal paybacks for those grievances.

I’ve never seen the Baker angry before but, in speaking of Judy, the Baker’s face turned red and she shook with anger saying she was already upset because Red Light had started posting things about her again (that is until I blocked RL) and then Judy had gotten on the Baker’s case in bingo when the Baker called the correct number but the wrong location (like G 73 instead of O 73 because vision in her right eye is down 40%). She said Judy humiliated her and had done so on other occasions in bingo.

Instead of saying something like, Give me a break Judy. It's getting annoying. I got the location wrong, but you know what the number is, the Baker internalized the annoyance and is now walking around fuming at Judy.

I told the Baker what I’ve always told her, that she needs to stop letting people walk all over her, speak up for herself.

She said, "Maybe I will next time it happens".

She won’t.

She never does.

She just gets mad, tells others of her grievance, others get mad with her, then come grievances and paybacks.

I suppose you’d call this passive-aggressive behavior.

As I’ve said ever since no one had my back when I had that dust up with the Black Witch, and the usual suspects not only did not have my back, but tried to silence me, tried to make me allow myself be walked all over like they let others do to them, I’m done fighting other people’s battles for them, don't really care how the usual suspects try to punish Judy, whether or not Judy crashes their BBQ.

The Talker and I seem to be the only one of the usual suspects with the guts to tackle things head on and thus whatever is immediately handled, over and done with.

Backing up a bit to the homeless …… we had a substantial encampment building up in the field across the street at the end of that corner away from the businesses.

I didn’t hear anyone complain about it, because we know, with the uncertainty of what Donnie Two Dolls is going to do with Social Security and SSI, it could happen to anyone of us.

That is, there were no complaints until some bad actors from the field began coming onto the property, hanging out — which frightened some of the more vulnerable seniors from going outside. One bad actor was seen stealing cute little items residents had placed on their patio railings. Others from the homeless encampment began sneaking in at night to swim in the pool. We have a shower at the pool, but instead of using that, they put soap in the jacuzzi to take a bath, and tried to beat up the security guard when he caught them, tried to remove them from the property.

The result was police involvement, one of the homeless guys trying to attack the cops with a hatched, and the city sending in a crew to dismantle the encampment — towed the campers away, etc.

You hate to see them displaced like that, but had they left us alone, we would have left them alone.

Twin 1, who runs a non-profit which provides essential services to the homeless, had serviced that encampment last time she was here and, when I told her they’d been evicted, said how sad it was, that "They’re getting desperate. It really is a walking dead situation where it’s every man for themselves and people are just doing whatever it takes to be fed and cared for. It’s sad all around. I completely understand the need for y’all’s safety and I also understand the need for the items they have. They do have to go about at the right way."

As long as that field is vacant, the homeless will be back, and probably are in the process of moving back while I’m typing this, but hopefully it will be a nicer group, bad actors gone, won’t cause us any problems.

Wednesday, June 11, 2025

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.

Tuesday, June 10, 2025

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.

Saturday, June 7, 2025

Triggered

It would appear that our former resident Red Light has gone all Baby Reindeer.

Last Red Light (RL) made it to the blog was back in February, when she was having her third public meltdown on facebook …… her passive aggressive way of manipulating people into feeling sorry for her. Like, "Hey look at what’s happening. I’m a victim here" because she had been told, as a non resident, she could not continue to attend our bingo sessions.

RL did not take it well, went publicly postal.

Her public meltdowns usually come in the form of cryptic memes but, this last time, she named names and made veiled threats, which got her into a lot of trouble.

So much trouble that the authorities got involved, after which she wisely removed those posts, learned a lesson, moved on with her life in her fancy new luxury community in Yucaipa, touted as "modern amenities and conveniences of metropolitan life, but with the privacy and tranquility of small-town living".

Seems like learning lessons, letting go of this community, getting on with her life in the Yucaipa community, like a good little Baby Reindeer, is something RL is not capable of.

Small-town living must be lonely and boring because, when I went to the website last night to post photos the bingo organizers had sent to be added to the Residents’ Facebook page, I saw RL had spiraled into yet another meltdown — her fourth, because she'd posted to our page ……


I can only assume what triggered RL is that while she’s sitting in her gilded cage, bored out of her mind, she checked our FB page, saw the photos of our Memorial Day BBQ, coffee and donuts, fun with crafts.

First of all, RL gets an F for sentence structure, not making a whole lot of sense in parts.

Second of all, no one here dislikes her … some were irritated by her continuing to attend our bingo sessions, long after she’d moved, not as a welcomed guest, but as still being bossy and in control; but no one here is putting any energy into disliking her, would have remained friends with her — met her for lunch, allowed her into their units for a visit, visited her at her place. She could have even attended the BBQ, just not play bingo or craft with us.

That is, she could have participated as a welcome guest in these other activities, had she not had that meltdown where she burned every single bridge.

You don’t get to burn down the bridge and then feel sorry for yourself because no one now comes to visit.

RL seems to think that because she did what she deems as "a lot for people", that residents owe her something.

This is a community. A lot of us devote our own time, energy, money into supporting our community.

Management didn’t throw that BBQ for us, us residents joined forces, threw the BBQ for ourselves; and no one contributed more than the Baker (the Bea that RL seems so fixated upon as a friend who she feels betrayed her), whose whole family contributed — provided the meats, sodas, brought over that huge awning to protect us from the sun.

Even the donuts for Craft Day were not from management, but from Talker, who walked across the street to the donut shop, paid for with her own money, to go with the coffee provided by Activity Director.

Those of us who are a little better off than others have always given to the community, and I can’t imagine any of us consider it as the quid per quo RL seems to think it is — I did this for you, so you now owe me a lifetime commitment.

I’m sorry for RL that she is bored, lonely, unhappy, but no one forced her to move. She moved because she didn’t like Manager and wasn’t comfortable with a maintenance issue going on in her unit, but you can’t have it both ways. Can’t move, then continue to return and act not as a guest, but as a resident who is an integral part of the community, still in control of how things are done.

If she wanted to maintain her status, rather than irritate those who’d taken over where she’d left off until they complained and got her banned from bingo, she could have moved back and regained her throne …… that is she had the option to move back until she blew it with that third public meltdown — burned bridges by naming names, attacked those friends she now think are putting time and energy into disliking her, made those veiled threats.

Inasmuch as she'd posted that comment to the Residents' page managed by me, I was able to remove it, which I did.

Hopefully, I took it down before very many saw it but, if not, the only one to look the fool is RL herself.


Thursday, June 5, 2025

Wednesday, June 4, 2025

Mish Mosh and a Correction

We had some freaky weather yesterday.

The day started off hot and muggy, followed by cool and gloomy, then came the rain, Flash Flood Warnings, thunder, lightning, ending with the return of sun and heat. All this between 8AM and 4PM.

It was like the weather gods had a work schedule, threw everything at us in one shift.

The only weather-related event that didn’t happen yesterday was an earthquake or a fire.

Also what didn’t happen yesterday was, even though Management indicated the only way we would be getting an Activity Calendar for the month was through signing up for Rent Café; yet and still, after having capitulated, signing up, no calendar of events was forthcoming, which prompted me to walk down to the Community Room to see what if anything was going on.

The joint was jumping. In addition to the day being Pizza Tuesday, there was coffee, donuts, a mish mosh of Arts and Crafts going on.

Trash Tosser was in the room, chatting with I forget who; while Dream Lover, who had been the recipient of her trash being tossed at his door, was also present — sitting at the opposite end of the room.

I sensed no tension. Energy in the room was high; everyone was on their best behavior.

I imagine the strong coffee (I had a cup, and it was strong enough to make my hair stand on end) and sugary donuts had a lot to do with the high energy, LOL.

Di was in the room — the 60 something who was in a relationship with Meat Man’s 20 something son until the son turned Baby Reindeer, ending in police involvement.

Di is very pretty for her age, gets around well, but I think she’s losing it.

She always lights up when she sees me, waves and says "Hi, Shirley" but, when I walked into last week’s BBQ, she waved, greeted me with "Hi, Diane".

She’s known me for as long as I’ve lived here, but it’s just in the last two years she’s been calling me by random names.

When I walked into the Community Room yesterday, it was "Hi, Joanne".

I don’t even try to correct her any longer. I just go with it.

Crafts was a mish mosh. Supposedly to be an uninspiring writing of Father’s Day messages on blank canvases, when no one seemed interested, it switched to a new resident bringing down some of her leftover crafting supplies — wood, stencils, paint.

I chose to do a stencil project.


Others worked on pre-printed canvases.


Buttons, our 88 year old that lives alone and is always on the go …… takes the public bus to the catholic church and a shuttle to the Senior Center to take classes/participate in activities at those places; and is a crafter — knits, crochets, writes poetry, plays bingo with pretty buttons, outdid all of us by painting a little wooden tray, then painting little wood flowers to display in the tray.


Returning to my unit before the rain began, positioning myself in front of the never-ending needlepoint to put in some time on that project, I flipped on the craft lamp and found it didn’t turn on.

Fortunately, I had a replacement bulb.

Unfortunately, the replacement didn’t work. The lamp still would not turn on.

The lamp, which had seen better days and was literally being held together with electrical tape, had died. So, I took it to the dumpster, ordered a replacement and then began to bemoan the fact I’d not be able to see clearly enough to do any needlepoint work.

Until …… I remembered the sun lamp I’d ordered when lousy weather dragged on for so long that I’d experienced an episode of SAD (seasonal affective disorder).

Thing was, after last Halloween I’d turned that sun lamp into a skeleton lamp.

Not wanting to undo Skelly the skeleton from the structure in order to use the sun lamp as a craft lamp until the new lamp arrives, I made it work.


While in the Community Room, I got an update on Painted Rock Lady.

I’d posted yesterday that I didn’t see Fire Rescue take her away on a stretcher. Turns out, I didn’t see that because an ambulance had earlier arrived, taken her away.

Talker had gone over to check on her, found her lying on the floor, called an ambulance. Both the amulance and Fire Rescue responded.

Painted Rock Lady has been calling friends from the hospital, saying she wants to recouperate at home, rather than in the hospital.

Since being found on the floor signifies she obviously can’t do that living alone as she does, friends are urging her to go to rehab.

My guess is Painted Rock Lady feels the end is near, doesn’t want that end to come in the hospital or rehab, but at home. She’s been around long enough to know the pattern — that when residents go to rehab, we rarely see them return.

Monday, June 2, 2025

Gentle Reminder

Since the BBQ, it’s been quiet as a tomb around here. I spotted nothing and no one out/about all weekend long. More than likely, probably because it’s been too hot to go outside.

Not ready to face another Monday this morning, I nevertheless put on my big girl panties, headed out for the Pain Cave and, crossing the parking lot, spotted Fire Rescue in front of Painted Rock Lady’s unit.

She’s had a very hard time lately — in/out of the hospital for respiratory issues, then for a broken hip.

She has a good support system of neighbors who take care of her dog when she's hospitalized; look in on her, grocery shop, whatever she needs when released from the hospital to recuperate at home.

She has a little dog, and it was the dog that caused the first hip break by pushing her out of bed.

Her recent injury is yet another hip break and, believe it or not, the cause being pushed out of bed by the little dog.

"She probably needs a bigger bed", said I when being told of this latest injury; and it was said, "She’s been told she can no longer have the dog".

I'm assuming that came from the doctor, because she can't risk another fall or trip over the dog.

I dunno. The whole story of her dog trying to unalive her, pushing her out of the bed not once, but twice, sounds sus, but stranger things have happened.

At any rate, I don’t know what befell her this morning that Fire Rescue was at her door, but since they didn’t take her out on a stretcher, I’m guessing that since she’d still recouperating from the latest hip operation, can’t get around to fall, it must have been the breathing thing, maybe a problem with her oxygen tank.

Popping into the market after this morning’s workout, I got in line behind a woman who had just the cutest little kids in her cart — four of them, all Red Haired/Gingers.

They waved at me, I waved back. One asked "What are you doing here". "Buying tomatoes", said I and asked the mom if she does TikTok, know what’s being said about Gingers.

And here I got the gentle reminder Infinite Spirit sometimes gives me to not be so friendly when out and about because not everyone is friendly not everyone has a sense of humor.

Mom was cold and rigid in her response that NO. She doesn’t TikTok and could care less what is said about Gingers because she’s heard it all.

"It’s not bad" said I, and then thought that if she’s racist, she might see it as bad, so I said, "It’s not bad, depending on how you see things".

Mom had nothing to say, but her tense uptight body spoke volumes. So, I ended the attempt at being friendly with, "Well, you’ll have to figure out what’s being said for yourself", because I didn’t dare risk infuriating her further by telling her.

Maybe she’ll be curious, ask around, look it up. If not, no sweat off my back as I walked out of the market still smiling and in a good mood; but once again kicking myself for forgetting to not be so open and friendly when out and about because people are walking around angry, miserable, humorless and want to stay that way.

It’s a shame those cute kids have such a pill for a mom.

If you don’t TikTok, have no idea of the fun trend going around about Gingers …… A woman posted that people with "Red Hair are Black …… Gingers are Black".

She gives no evidence to support this hypothesis. It was just something she came up with and it’s gone viral.

Gingers are posting cool things about now being considered a part of the Black community; Black people are welcoming Gingers to the family, inviting them to the Cookout. It’s just a silly, feel-good, inclusive thing going around, distracting from so much which is ugly and exclusive.

Like this guy's posting of "My mood when learning Gingers are Black".


And prepping the kids for what to expect at the Cookout.


Tuesday, May 27, 2025

The Day After

The Memorial Day BBQ went off without a hitch.

After working out that morning, I switched into the leggings I stitched up and painted with stars back in 2014.


A ton of residents packed into the patio area — some residents I knew, some I'd seen around, others I'd never seen before.

Of those I'd never seen before, some turned out to be the wives of guys I'd seen out and about, but thought were lonely old men because I'd never seen them with a female companion.

Made me think of Handmaiden's Tale ... are the wives not permitted to be out/about OR are the wives not all that social, happy to stay in their units like me.

Who knows, but an interesting discovery.

I was surprised to see Name Dropper — the resident that came to us in July and was quick to say her granddaughter is an actress, had a role with John Travolta when she was a child. I thought she'd moved to Texas.


"Not until the 30th" said she.

"Oh, so this is your Last Supper", said I, as I began scouring the scene asking her which resident she thought might be Judas.

Oddly enough, the main table was set up Last Supper style, with seats reserved for the organizers.


I should have counted to see if there were 13 seats.

At some point, I asked Talker if Trash Tosser was present.

She looked around and said "No".

"Is she likely to show up?"

"I hope not", said she.

Talker did not get her wish. Trash Tosser showed up a little later and was nothing like I’d imaged. She's attractive, personable, seemed to be getting along well.


It's not unusual to see new people come in, think they're important, are going to start making some changes, running things, beginning with complaining about neighbors, but tossing trash on a neighbor's doorstep is a new one.

When I first heard of the trash tossing incidents, I’d surmised it might be Dream Lover had hit on her and she didn’t appreciate it; after all, I see she is a nice-looking lady; but word now it might be a racial thing. She doesn’t like sheet people.

Whichever it is, it seems she’s ceased tossing. Either Manager told her she could be evicted, or she’s learned Dream Lover has a lot of friends, best not to antagonize.

It’s said, she’s approached Dream Lover, wanted to apologize but “he was 'weary' about that. Because it lasted a bit”, didn’t want to hear her apology.

Dream Lover was the grill master. Lu was present but, unlike when they were joined at the hip, she rubbing all over him, neither she nor Dream Lover paid much attention to each other.

Guess he grew weary of that as well.

That romance was over so quick and fast that I almost got whiplash from watching it start then so quickly end.

That's pretty much all the tea served at the event. Conversations seemed to be gripping about Manager, how "rude" she is, how much they "hate" her.

One guy said he went to Manager’s office and tried to talk to her, help her have better relations with residents. I forget what exactly he said he told her, but it was along the line of not looking down to and speaking down to residents, seeing others in a better light, essentially the Law of Attraction.

Her response was, "You don't know the kinds of people I deal with here".

WHOA!

A few residents complained about Manager not handling complaints and that when they do go to her office to complain, her reaction at seeing them at her door is, "WHAT NOW!".

GOOD LORD!

It’s still the Law of Attraction, only she’s got it working in reverse. She hates, so hate is coming back to her.

She doesn't talk to me like that. Probably because I keep a paper trail by communicating via email.

She probably yells, "WHAT NOW!" when she sees my name in an email, but at least I don't have her disrespecting me to my face.

I actually don’t get all the hate, because none of what residents complain of come near to how awful that mean Nurse Ratched, who managed the complex for three years, was.

That woman was a sociopath. She terrified the old folks, demonstrated jealously towards those of us who didn’t fit the mold, in her mind, of looking old enough; of those who challenged her, she lied, manipulated, called the police, did whatever to play the damsel in distress, afraid of the resident, in order to get them evicted.

The current Manager doesn’t even come close to the horror of Nurse Ratched, as I’ve repeatedly told those who complain, but whatever. Their reality is she's the worst.

Other conversations were about all the grifting and ruining of lives being done by 45/47.

I didn't get into the political conversations other than to say the only joy I get from the mess we're in is knowing those who voted for a convicted criminal not only screwed us, but screwed themselves as well.

There was lots to eat ... burgers, hot dogs, chips, dips, potato salad, pasta salads, fruit, mac and cheese, cakes, pies, etc.

Everybody was bringing something, everybody was eating what others brought which, not knowing how others live and maintain their units, I’m not too sure was wise, but not my risk.

One resident didn’t bring food. He instead brought the homeless guy who sometimes camps out front on the lawn.

The organizers were very upset because the ladies had asked the resident for help setting up and he fained his back hurt, then brought in a homeless gent who, while the ladies were making plates, serving residents, was at the food table loading up his own plate and piling it on.

Inasmuch as one of my complaints, about the Usual Suspects, is that they’ve not had my back when I’ve stood up, have wanted me to be mealymouthed like them, let bullies run all over me, like they let bullies do them, I was proud when Talker called bullshit, read the riot act to the homeless gent that, though he should not be there as he was not a resident, he was to remain seated, like everyone else, wait to be served. She then tore a new one in the resident that brought the homeless gent, saying "When we asked you to help set up, you said your back hurt, you couldn’t help, but look at all these ladies with physical issues helping, then you bring in a homeless person on top when you know homeless people are not to be brought onto the premises" yada yada yada.

My position was that if the resident wanted to feed his homeless buddy, he should have asked the ladies if he could make a plate for him, and taken it outside to him.

At any rate, Talker chopped him down to size, taught him not to think he could get all Henny Penny up in here ... not help, then take advantage of the organizing ladies, bring in others, because he’s a guy.

I was exhausted from not enough weekend, insufficient sleep from staying up way too late at night, into the early morning, watching Korean Dramas with English translations on the laptop, stayed just long enough to take 65 photos for the facebook page, went back to my unit and passed out on the couch for 3 hours.

Now for a PSA.



Friday, May 23, 2025

Whata Week

Reader’s Digest version … I fell out of lust, met the new neighbor, got some of the Lab work the doctor wanted done.

Unabridged version … Returning from this morning's workout, I ran into, introduced myself, and welcomed the new neighbor to the quad.

Learned, she’s not exactly new, but has been living on the opposite side of the complex for a year.

Management asked her to move over here, because the unit she’d been living in was designated a handicap unit …… no one who isn’t disabled should have been living there.

I didn’t know we had special units built for handicapped individuals which, I understand have "wider doorways, low cabinets, accessible bathrooms" etc., but if no one who is not handicapped should have been living there, then why did management lease the unit to her in the first place?

She says management told her she had to move because the unit had been requested by someone who is disabled, but my spidey sense is telling me management got caught when we had that last inspection.

At any rate, new neighbor said she's happy to move, because she didn’t like the low cabinets and that some of the features, she's accustomed to, were missing in order to make the unit accessible for people with disabilities.

I haven’t run into Silver Fox since the day he talked me out of being physically attracted to him, opened my eyes to what would be the side effects of ingesting yummy looking eye candy, so my jets have cooled. As Bob, put it …… "Not as pretty when it speaks." LOL.

As I was walking to check out the board in the Community Room the other day, I did see him driving, like a bat out of hell, back into the complex.

He was really gunning it, going way beyond the 10 mph speed limit, as he burned into the driveway, flew through the open gate, swooped into his parking spot.

He even drives angry, thought I, and reflected on what would have happened had someone been walking across the parking lot, as I hurriedly disappeared before he exited the car and saw me.

Everything about Silver Fox reads as angry which, in a way, is rather exciting. Made me think about how fun he must have been when younger …… a real Bad Boy, rough but fun. I also reflected on what the grapevine was saying about him before I became aware of who he was. That "He's really handsome, but sooo mean".

I can definitely see it now and ain't nobody got time for a moody, angry, aging Bad Boy.

On Thursday, I got the bloodwork portion of what the doctor wanted done, but the Lab gave me homework the doctor wanted me to submit for testing, within 1 to 2 hours after performing the homework.

It’s an impossible task, so she’ll have to be satisfied with the bloodwork which, if I’m reading correctly, indicates my Cholesterol is off the charts and may be the source of the high BP and dizzy spells.

Oh well.

Monday being Memorial Day, a 3-day weekend would be in order were I in the working world. I’m retired, but the Pain Cave workouts are like having a job with an employer that doesn’t recognize holidays, allows no days off.

Trainer will be working on Monday, so it will be a regular Monday for me; except, the bingo regulars are having a BBQ in the patio area later that afternoon.

Barring unforeseen circumstances, I plan to check it out for a bit.

Tuesday, May 20, 2025

Talkative, Opinionated, Political, Intense, Angry

I admit that Silver Fox’s facade had me tempted, but seeing through, like I always do, it hasn’t taken me long to make my way through the pretty boy veneer, size him up.

Not only did I run into him last Thursday, our paths also crossed yesterday, when I was heading to the Pain Cave, and today, in the Mail Center.

Silver Fox is a talkative soul.

I picked that up about him last Thursday, but then thought about something I’ve shared before here on the blog …… that it’s frustrating to try to talk to anyone around here about anything other than what goes on in the complex, because people here are remarkably uninformed, gullible, naïve, clueless.

Water reaches its own level, so maybe Silver Fox — hungry for conversation was being drawn to me subliminally, as someone he sensed isn’t clueless.

So today, he shared his feelings about social media ….. that family lives nearby so, though he has a Facebook account, he doesn’t think much of FB as a tool to connect with others and feared that if he did use FB, he’d not be able to control his hatred of No. 45/47 — post things that would make him a target. Also, that he was a Project Manager in his previous career, and is so worried about the current regime “messing with people’s money” that though he doesn’t want to go back to work, he’s getting ahead of what he sees coming by interviewing today for a Project Manager position; and also, in preparation for what he sees coming, he went to Bass Pro this morning and bought a pew pew.

So talkative, opinionated, political, intense, angry, and soon to be packing.

I’m beginning to see why he and Shirley divorced.

When I could get a word in edgewise, I defended FB saying that, because I’m a quiet person, older than he, don’t socialize much, don't care for long phone conversations,  I use FB to connect with family, friends, former coworkers and if anyone wants to communicate with me, I prefer it be through FB, Instagram, Text Message.

He seemed surprised about my age, which I told him thinking he’d think twice about being interested in me, said "You don’t look like it" and of FB he said, "Well, I guess that’s okay".

As if I needed his approval.

Though I do enjoy the eye candy Silver Fox provides and would still stop and chat with him if and when our paths cross, because I find him interesting, it’s obvious to me that he’d get on my last nerve in no time at all.

It’s not that I’d be too quiet and chill for him, it’s that he’s too talkative and intense for me, I can see him being controlling, and not be able to accept my witchcraft books, voodoo dolls, chill and nonjudgmental attitude.

He's nice to look at, but I hope his ex-wife Shirley thinks twice about going down that road again.

Monday, May 19, 2025

Weekend Update

We have a new neighbor in the quad.

As I was heading out to Friday’s workout, I saw a moving company truck parked at the end of the walkway. A little lady, whom I took to be the new neighbor, hurriedly passed me on the walkway.

She seeming so rushed, I didn’t get to greet her other than to say "hello". She responded "hello" and was gone in a flash.

Just as I was making my way around the moving van bringing her in; simultaneously, one of those self-moving vans was driving by, exited the gate, moving someone out.

It’s like a revolving door around here. A lot of newbies, very few of us long-timers still around.

My guess is us long-timers are still here because we’re in that gray area — over income for most "affordable" living situations, but not so flush that we’re willing to pay the exorbitant sums being charged elsewhere.

Long story short, we will follow the path of other long timers who did leave .... they left because they died.

So, anyway, the new neighbor doesn’t look like she’s going to provide any blog fodder. She reads as quiet, no drama.

It's nice to look out in the morning, see a window free of debris, a patio not cluttered with a dresser drawer and miscellaneous items, but real patio furniture and cute decorations.

Saturday was a milestone for me because of this ……


Any guesses as to what that is and what it signifies?

I’ll wait.

Spoiler: If you thought it signifies my reaching the bottom of that never ending needlepoint project, you would be correct.

After 4 years, an estimated 3,630 hours, I finally touched bottom and, over the weekend, I managed to fill in the corner, left of that one bottom row.

Now working my way across, rather than down, looks like I may complete this project around this time next year; then I can get rid of the frame, put an exercise bike in its place, and have time to read books again.

Over the weekend, I also managed to put in some scrapbooking time. I’m very far behind on that craft, with last year’s Disneyland visit and the Mission Inn’s Christmas Festival of Lights to be scrapped into the Places book.



I was going to fit in doing my nails up for the holiday, but between scrapbooking and the needlepoint project, I somehow managed to break both pinky fingernails down to the nub.

There will be no fancy nails until the two grow back.

I didn't get around to posting yesterday and had two Funnies for you; so, here's a late Sunday Funnies.