A QUIET AFTERNOON

The Dispute Resolution outfit came for another step in resolving the conflict between Olivia and Chas. Well, Olivia and her closest cohort did not come so there was nothing to resolve. The group stayed and attempted to resolve what little was there. I prayed with Chas before he went that he would remain calm and controlled. Remarkably, while he nearly blew up at one point, he kept his mouth shut and all was well that ended well. I would say very little of the big issued were resolved, but the attempt to fix that issue was ended.

More tomorrow about "The Home." I think it is time to visit my place. I am debating cleaning up and making it look like I don't live here. Either that of let you see the truth. True or false: The life long problem we all fact. Check back to see how I answer.

I really appreciate the comments and I respond to each and every one. Actually, I would like more interaction with readers. I seem to have a strong connection with Canadians but as Canadians to my knowledge have very few who comment. Is it just Canadian conservatism - live and let live. Thanks for letting me live.

SHHH! THIS IS THE LIBRARY pictures part 5

We’re up again and cooking with gas. Not really. No gas in this building, but the other building has gas fireplaces and gas in the kitchen. Come to think of it we have no fireplaces. We are the poor cousins from across the driveway.

Let’s leave the living room and enter the library. I have better photos now. The first looks toward the windows with two computers. The best story about computer use is in the last blog. The guy has guts to do that in public, Or maybe he was just plain stupid.

Looking the other direction you can see an entrance to the poolroom. Now before I completely shock you. I call it the poolroom because it has a pool table, not a swimming pool. See! Nice table right? It has many uses. Give away clothes are piled on it. Quilters spread out on it. Over flow of bread gets stacked here. And decorations are sorted here before placement. This table multitasks very well.

The first view of the Pool Room is toward the inside. There is a mirror on the wall behind a stereo system. The exit next to that takes you to a hallway. The hallway leads to the elevator, the mailboxes and the front entrance. To the right (and through the cut outs in the wall) is the commons room (also called the dining room). More people gather here in the last afternoon and evening hours. The morning and early afternoon people are usually in the commons room.

You can sit near the windows and watch the inlet with the many ducks, birds and our own neighborhood eagle. He lives in a tree right across the street. There is a road between us and the inlet, but once over to the other side a 3-4' drop and you are in the water at high tide. When the tide is at it lowest and weather at it hottest, one could walk to the other side of the inlet while feeling like you were following Moses parting the Red Sea.

The final photo is the fireplace in the pool room. On a cold winter (spring or fall) day many will pull chairs around the fire even for coffee. It's a warm place to be.

Well, I'm off to get ready for the continuing saga of Olivia hates Chas. Round three of the group beating begins in a hour. They call it counseling but I disagree. Chas plans to go. I told him that I did not want to go, but I would not let him go in there alone. Gail made other plans. I may blog later to day, but more likely it will be tomorrow morning after my head has cleared and my heart begins to mend.

FREE SUPPER

I went to the free supper at a church down the street. Great cook. Had a nice side salad, meatball vegetable soup, and pork tenderloin, mash potatoes and gravy and a cream cheese cake, very tasty. I go once in-a-while when I get tired of cooking. Don’t know why I don’t go every Tuesday. I never feel like cooking

Well, if the truth is known — I do know why I don’t go every week. After I will explain why, and make a list of my reasons (excuses). This may take some self-defense. I don’t like to eat with certain people and those certain people go all the time. AND they expect everyone from The Home to sit with them and are offended if they don’t come. Clearly that is not a universal desire. We do have our more handicapped people attend every week and they would rather not sit with them. I would prefer either of these men than two of those women.

They are complainers. I have yet to be with them that they are not upset with something: the menu (which is free ladies - get over it - there’s a gourmet cook, the food is terrific). They complain about taste or presentation of the food or the lack of some items and especially the service. They serve you at the table so you do not have to stand in line. Very nice! I feel sorry for anyone who serves these women. The waitresses are mostly older women volunteering as a service to God. They get no pay and little to no training and most have never been a waitress. Live with it. These women get tiring and on my nerves. I need a nap.

Gail and I went late in hopes their table would be full when we arrived. It was not full (see others don’t want to sit there either) and we still sat at another table. Yikes, I’m in hiding now. I know I will have to face the music some time or other. Maybe I could just crawl under a rock and hide. There are large rocks around here.

INTO THE OTHER BUILDING photos part 4

Today I am taking you into the other building, the big building, the main building or whatever else I called it other than my building. We start through the

front entrance (a very good place to start) which opens just like my building (key opens both doors). Everyone can get into both buildings. To the left is the office (pink note on the door). But with no manager there is no reason to go to the office. All those details are handled at headquarters. A slight turn from the office to the right takes you to the mailboxes and a big red round cushioned turn of the century looking what-ever-you-call-it that is mostly in the way. No one knows why it is there. Probably donated.

Back to the entrance: Straight ahead is the living room. No one actually lives there, but it is still called the living room. They did find a tenant's overnight guest sleeping on the

couch one morning. That's a big No-No. Just inside and to the left is a large beautiful grand piano that was the first piece of furniture paced here (some history). There are three grouping of furniture to sit and talk. All concerts are here (not properly set up, but still...) and memorial services. Not many memorials are held as most people don’t like to be reminded of their own mortality.

The fourth photo is of two sofas facing one another with a fireplace going in the background. We call it "sofas facing one another." No food is allowed in the living room. Sounds like mom, doesn't it. Next is the library. It can be seen in the background of the living room photo. I don’t believe blood has been shed here. However, with only two computers that could happen. This is the scene of our most notorious event (before my time). The police came and arrested a man (yes a resident, that's why there are so many restrictions) using the computer for child pornography. Other than that it is a calm place.

Just discovered my photo of the library is blurry. I will start tomorrow with the library then it is on to fun places. This tour it to be continued

PUBLIC SPEAKING

We got a letter today from the Counseling Center for Serious and Obnoxious Behavior Resolution or whatever it’s called. They want another meeting March 31. I visited Chas today to try and talk him out of going. He said he didn’t want to go, but he is very curious about what might be said and he is very spontaneous. Gail had already told him she is not going. I told him that I do not want to go but I will not let him go in there without someone on his side. He has said he will not go, but I will probably only know for sure a few minutes before the meeting.

At church yesterday, the pastor of the little church I attend asked me preach sometime in the future. I like the word” sometime.” It’s not specific. It has no permanence. It’s unconfirmed and noncommittal even if I say yes.

I haven’t preached in over ten years. I’m not even sure I like the word preach. I know when women speak from the pulpit in church they often “share,” but must a man preach? Weird. Actually — I kind of like the idea! I sort of want to know if I could do it again. I have my doubts, but limited fear. I suppose I’m too stupid to be frightened. Besides I was never nervous or even concerned about speaking until was time to do it. Saying yea to something months in advance is no big deal. But of course, judgment day must come.

It is easy to think it is just a small group, but I attend the smallest of three services and that one is nearly half empty. The building only holds about 120 so none cane be huge. My first church was around 600 and I was a lousy, unconfident, and C average in speech class speaker. I tend not to display signs of fear, but my insides were a mess. When it came time to walk to the pulpit I felt like I would fall when I stood and my mouth was dry. I had seen the senior pastor take a drink from a glass placed under the pulpit most Sundays. When I reached for the glass my hands were trembling so bad I grabbed the glass with both hands and said let us pray. I thought at least the congregation wouldn’t see how bad I was shaking. But the back of the church was a glass wall diving it from the auditorium and none of the ushers closed their eyes. They saw what I was dong and laughed their fool heads off. That helped. I felt like I had nothing to lose after that. And by the way I did pray. I prayed for calmness and control. At least my voice didn’t tremble. At least I don’t think it did. I talked, but sis I say anything? Humm?

LOUNGES IN PICTURES part 3

To the left of the entrance to our building is the first floor lounge. That is a very ordinary name for a room that deserves a more uppity name. It feels more like a turn of the century “parlor” or a sitting room. It feels formal enough that about the only thing that ever happens there is sitting or picking up the mail. As you can see, the mailboxes are there as well. Some do sit and go through their mail, but it could be called the waiting room as many wait there for the bus or a ride to come. You can see everything and stay warm and dry in cooler weather. Occasionally a few will sit there and have a conversation.

Back to the entrance there are stairs next to the elevator. They empty into the upstairs lounge. But this place deserves to be called the party room. Picture three is taken from the corner of the room to the right of the elevator. I am standing in front of the entrance to the laundry looking across the room. I would have taken a photo of the laundry but it is tiny and had 2 washers and 2 dryers and a shelf to sort or fold clothes. Since it can be a stuffy little place, for stay there very long. To the right are the puzzle table and a large TV. There are occasional groups who sit and watch, but it is used mostly when people wait for their laundry to finish. If I can talk anyone to staying up or getting up we may use it to attend Prince William and Kate Middleton’s wedding. It begins at 3:00 am on April 29 so attendance may be low.

In the opposite corner is the games table. Presently a group gathers nearly every day to play dominos. But it is also used for cards, pizza parties, and a place to leave fresh baked cookies, cakes, pies and other wonderful but terribly fattening snacks.

HUH???

I have no idea why the font changes styles and sizes. I have tried fighting the problem, but have only ancient weapons against this modern and fancy warfare. I am not bright enough I guess. I am afraid my picture posts are just going to look strange. It is a miracle that they are even posted. Hope you understand and will accept me for who I am - a screw up. I grew up in the dark ages and fight with technology all the time. Don't get me going about phones. I now have three and don't like any of them. I want my old black phone that just sits on the desk and rings.

THE YARD pictures part 2

As you climb the five steps to the front of our building, the comfortable looking shaded front porch to the left strikes you. Done try to move the lovely wooden benches. They are screwed to the concrete. Old people steal too much – I guess we sit and people watch (some of the women ogle the shirtless men who run by – shocking I know) and we all yell at cars flying past. Out oldest resident once yelled at a slow moving car staring at us – They won’t let us off the porch. You are taking your life into your hands if you try to cross the street. There is a curve that begins at our porch and it is hard to see to your right and our other building blocks the view to the left, but it is done all the time. You should see some of us trying to run.

Obviously the door is right in front of you are the top of the stairs. Our key opens both the outside and inside door. This is great for those in a wheelchair or even coming in with packages. There is a ramp entrance to the left

At the bottom of the ramp and to the right is one of our two very large parking lots. Each holds four cars. The first and third spots are reserved for residents. There are 34 spots in the garage and 39 cars. The last three to arrive are outside. The back parking lot also holds eight cars and one spot is reserved for a resident.

Now we get to the are of one of our great war stories. What yard we have is located between building one and two. You can barely see in the back and to the left the tables and chairs set up for us. They have umbrellas but they are not us yet because of the wind. The parking lot is to the right. At the bottom of the ramp and along the top of the stonewall ledge is the location of Garden Wars. Residents who want a garden space are assign ones up here. This is a matter of arguing, whining, crying and fighting for the whole summer. The wars have already begun and will be reported in time.

The last picture is the sight of the largest Garden War of 2010. The large boxes were installed for the use of those in wheelchairs. To accommodate them better, the area was paved beautifully. Chas had the box in the back. He also had two pots up against the stone wall in the sun. His arch enemy had two spots up on the top of the wall. As you can see, there is a hose hanging on the wall. It is for the use of all whose garden it reaches. However, and here's the rub. The ledge tenant said the pots were a tripping hazard and moved them under the flower box everyday. She never returned them. Try to imagine two pots sitting against the wall and ask - what tripping hazard and for whom. Only the up high tenant had any reason to be at the rock wall. But under no circumstance would she put the pots back where she found them nor did she seem capable of working around them. This lasted all summer. I'm tired just thinking about it.

Chas was given a flower box are the bottom of the stairs to out building. He has stayed away from the boxes. His arch enemy is angry that she did not get that area and she will not let it go. If she had her way, she would take the entire yard. She reminds people all the time that she has a degree in plants (can remember the fancy word). She is upset as no one will bow to her superior intelligence.

No matter how this works out, I am done trying to fix it the way I want it. No layout, no fancy arrangement. I don't even think I can get the message up at the top like it should be. I may try to figure out something else next time. Please, let me know if this is of interest to you. I already know what this place looks like so don't need photos. I desire your input on this series of blogs. There are likely to be 5-6 more. Just can't fight with getting them all in at once.

IT WORKED I have pictures - part 1

I can't believe it. It worked. I just figured it out. It's just words and gobble-de-gook until it gets published. This first one is my building from the front. Notice the minute attention to detail as I have carefully replaced the real name with the methodological name of "The Home." That funky black and yellow speed bump is the counties response to a request to add a speed bump to slow the drives down and they fly past. They did add the speed bump, but it's in the loading zone of our property. The street is too the left. The only ones being slowed down are us.

We have this beautiful wrap around porch at the front and side of our building. In the summer there is often a group sitting at the front as it is about the only shady place on the property. We also do evening BBQ's in front of out building - also for the shade. Every Thursday from Memorial Day to Labor Day we BBQ’s in front of out building (BYOM - Bring your own meat). We start the season with a donated ribs BBQ and continue whatever people bring. Usually that means hot dogs and some hamburgers. On a warm summers night you can always find a group sitting and enjoying the evening together. Doesn't that sound lovely. Doesn't it sound like the most wonderful place in the world to live?

This is the two buildings together. The one on the right is the larger building. We have 18 apartments and they have 44. They also have the commons rooms, the pool table, the library, the fireplaces, the grand piano, the living room — HEY we was robbed.

I'm excited that it worked and I can share the beauty of The Home. In the next blog I will take you inside my building and it you are real good, maybe I'll take you in my room. Of course that depends on me getting it cleaned up enough for the Better Homes and Gardens photographers can come and make it look like a palace.

This didn't turn out exactly as I expected. I was trying to add more photos and the layout bounced all over the place like a grasshopper during a plague. Every time I though I had it one photo would disappear. I will keep trying as soon as I get over my sore neck from looking at this computer. Just in case you didn't know, old people complain about aches and pains ALOT!

FOILED AGAIN

I have wanted to share photos for some time. Well, maybe since Christmas when I got a digital camera. So here we go ready or not. I hope to share the physical side of The Home. I have shared plenty on the emotions of The Home. Forgive me if this does not look like I would like ii to look. I'm not 100% sure of how this is going to work or not work.

After quite a while of attempting to post photos, I have had no success. I have counted to ten and I am currently deep breathing. It seems simple. I used to understand things like this. Am I just to old? Do I really need to get my nine year old grandson to come and help? I'm embarrassed.

All I am suppose to do is click on a little picture here in the header. It says add image. That sends me to another screen where I am asked to select the file. I do that. So far it is the same process I have used to post that beautiful high school picture of me. This program dinks around flashing a warming sign until it is suppose to be loaded. The photo I want appears in the pre-whatever-you-call-it and says it is loaded. When I go back to the blog all I have is some typed gibberish that I guess is some substitute for the photo. Yuck! What's all that about? I'm a decent human being. I haven't over eaten today - yet. I never hit anyone or stole their toys. I haven't been too mean to anyone (OK there was that one joke at coffee this morning that was a bit of a put down, but I didn't mean it to hurt. Ha Ha Ha! OK, I 'll apologize if I must, but she laughed. Do you think I should say anything. Now don;t be motherly, said it like a buddy who might have done the same thing. If you do that I know you will think I'm right.

No what do I do? I just spent three hours getting them off the camera, cleaning some of them up, cropping some and resizing so they would meet the size limits imposed. I think I did all the right things so what did I do wrong? I've going to start over eating and will come back to this later. There is nothing like food to help get one out of a well deserved depression. No criticism right now, I'm way to tender.

NEW CARPET

We are getting new carpet in the public areas of the main building in The Home. One can only laugh at the responses. Understand, people have complained about the stains and wear since I moved in (2 ½ years). Now that it's here?????

They started on the third floor hallway. Why do I have to move my things out of the hallway? Aren't they just carpeting the floor? Why do things have to come off the wall? Can’t the carpet layers just move my things when they get to my doorway? I'm having trouble getting in and out of my apartment. Can't they do this at night? I don't want to be kept up with their noise all night. Can't they do something about the smell? I hate that odor. Why is it almost the same color? Couldn't they have changed the color? I never liked that color. When is it going to be done? They are moving very slow. How do I get out of my place when they are right in front of my door? Duh - you can't. Why didn't we get a scheduled of what and when they would do each portion of the job? Did you know they were approaching your area? Yes! Why didn't you leave your room before they blocked you in? I didn't have to leave yet? You could have waited downstairs early. Why would I do that when I can see my ride coming from my apartment? You can see them arrive from the lobby. Stop! Enough. That's just the comments on the top two floors. They moved to the main floor today and started in the commons room.

I didn't know they were coming here today. I made coffee. So what did you do? I put it in the kitchen. Can we get to the kitchen? Yes, but how will people know it's in the kitchen. You could put notes up or depend on their sense of smell. You can smell the coffee. But I have sweets with the coffee. If they find the coffee, they will find the sweets. I didn't know they were going to start here. None of us did. Well, I had to move all the decorations. There weren't very many things were there? No, but I had to do them all myself. You could have called some of us who come for coffee by 9:00. I was ready to come earlier. I didn't want to bother anyone. I'm sorry it was such a problem for you? It wasn't that big of a problem. Well was it or wasn’t it a problem?

I arrived first today. Person number two arrived - stood and looked at the taped off entrance. She must have been looking for a sign. She spoke to herself. Where's the coffee. Now, the hallway entrance to the kitchen is not a secret. I explained how to get to the coffee. When she returned to the pool table room where I was sitting alone she says, is this where we are sitting. Ahem, it's when I'm sitting and I am the only one here. Why is it being done today? I guess they are finished with the top two floors? Why did they start here? We get bread delivered the next two days. If they aren't finished I'm sure we can find someplace to put it. More people begin to arrive. The questions get repeated. Where's the coffee? How do we get there? Why are they carpeting here? All they are doing is laying the one color. I miss the green squares in front out our doors. I'm sorry. How long are they going to be? I've been here about 30 minutes and they have the carpet cut and are ready to glue it down. Why do they glue it down? How do they get the underlay down?

By this time, a property man has arrived in time to laugh at the question and explain the floors are concrete and must be glued down. No wonder it stinks. Why don’t they just stretch it over padding? And the questions roll on. Each new arrival wanted to know where the coffee was (follow your nose - I restrained myself). Why are they carpeting in the commons room? Why not the commons room? Where are we going to put the bread? Let’s just feed the bread to the birds. No I didn’t say it.

By this time I was ready to move the coffee pot into the pool table room and put signs everywhere I could think of. When I left about 1 1/2 hours after arrival, they were nearly finished with the commons room. I assume they are working from the back to the front. That meant the pool table room would be next. I have no idea why no one asked how there were going to move the pool table or where the carpet layers would put it. I really wanted to know but decided to keep my mouth shut. No one I knew there could answer that one.

SPORTS FAN

I’m a fair-weather sports fan. I enjoy football and basketball. I learned to enjoy hockey. After all, I did live in Canada for 15 years. However, I never reached the soaring enthusiasm of my mother–in-law who lived for the games. I got a little excited about junior hockey. I often went across the street to watch the Regina Pats play and managed to continue to follow them in Oregon. They were in the same league with Portland.

Personally I preferred football from my days in Canada. I lived 5 blocks from the Regina Roughrider stadium and had season tickets for three of my six years there. I loved the speed of the Canadian game. Only three downs meant more passing and the longer field was fun. However, I hated the cold weather. If any place needed an enclosed stadium it was Regina! I know the season ends in November, but that is one cold month in Saskatchewan. I hope they have enclosed it by now, but I have my doubts.

I moved to Oregon during the height of Clyde Drexler, Terry Porter, Buck Williams, and guys and quickly because a Portland Trailblazer fan. Canby was so close to Portland we were always being blacked out, but a friend had the all Blazer TV package so I spent a lot of game nights at his place.

When the Blazers went through their bad days, I went through my-ignore-the-Blazer days. See – fair-weather sports fan.

I like college basketball I have no college in particular that I follow. In fact, I don’t even watch until the play offs begin. I had great plans for today. I planned to watch the Washington Huskies play North Carolina. My son-in-law is a big fan. I woke up in time to watch the last half. It was a good game. Felt bad that the Huskies lost. Maybe if I had been more supportive earlier in the year? Ridiculous! My attitude as no bearing on their play – thank goodness.

I planned to watch Duke play next. I don’t even remember the tip off. I slept right though that game and the next one, whoever they were. I don’t know if I slept through two good games or two that should have been slept through. I could look it up on line, but think I’ll go back to sleep instead. It felt great.

I like basketball but it is clearly not the focus of my life. Yawn!

FIRST ANNIVERSARY

It’s March 19, 2011. I have been writing this blog for one year as of today. I’m shocked. I have tried diaries, journals, and notebooks at various times throughout my life. None have lasted over a month. I get busy doing something else and it is gone from my mind. I even started out pretty good here then began to miss a few days. Actually, I’m surprised I even came back. There have been more than one occasion when the thought of continuing put me to sleep.

I have no real reason to write this thing. I was encouraged to do so by Duncan, but that never kept me going before. I have been lectured about the value of journaling to no avail. I admit there are things I wish I remembered accurately. I would love to write about the years I kept proctor boys. But it would be a work of fiction at this point. The details are blurry. Actually, fiction may be the best way to do it.

I have tried to journal about my Bible reading. I felt bad when I could think of nothing to write about or nothing jumped out at me. I was a professional religious type person. Surely I sould have insights daily. Ha! It didn’t happen. Sometimes I thought I was a very secular religious professional. Shush! Don’t tell anyone! The clergy already have a bed rap by the likes of the Bakers and others. On the other hand, I’m nobody so my lapses should not add much to the clergy damage.

I admit there is something fun about saying whatever comes into your head. It can be dangerous. I hope it hasn’t been.

I started writing because I though so much of what happened here was funny. It has taken a more serious turn with the huge emotional and legal battles of Chas and Olivia. I wish I could will that disaster away. It’s not going to happen. I lost some of the humorous tone with my own health problems. I moved from satirist to storyteller. The satirical commentator was what I wanted to remain. I have moments, but when there is pain, few of us maintain our humorous edge.

The truth is one never knows if anyone reads their blog without feedback. I love the comments (and help) I get for time to time. It motivates me. Even hard criticism is better than no criticism. At least it’s attention. Some attention is better than no attention. And I guess we write these things either for attention or because we have something we think is significant to say. I’m not saying much of anything so it must be attention.

By now writing has grown into somewhat of an obsession. I have been told many times by untrained, nonprofessionals that I should write. I’ve through about it for years. When teaching I wanted to write a text for an intro class. I concluded I was too inexperienced. I have written many articles about the state of the church and considered myself to cynical for anything by the Wittenberg Door (A satirical Christian magazine that may no longer exist). I have many pages of a biography I was writing for my family. Haven’t even finished that. Considered writing about my son from each of our points of view, but doubt I even understand his point of view. And to be honest, he was much smarter than I. The proctor boys I had were entertaining and challenging. It could have been my best try at comedy. They never really frustrated me, but I laughed a lot in secret and loved trying to out smart them. Even my failures are interesting.

I finally have almost enough data to write about living in an independent retirement home. I could probably turn it into a somewhat entertaining book, but I won’t. My heart would break if some people were identified. I also seriously lack the discipline and most importantly — I don’t want to. What I do like is writing snippets of life as it is. It reminds me that life should not be taken too seriously. All of us here have already had more pain in our lives that we can handle. Why would we want more. One just must laugh about human reaction.

The earlier fire alarm will be funny in a few days, Right now most are mad that we lost sleep. I’m not. I can sleep all day tomorrow and so can most of the others. But it will be more fun to get together and complain.

THE ALARM

It’s 4:30 a.m. and the alarms have stopped. When woken by the blaring sound of the smoke alarm over my bed, I tried to figure out what was happening. My head was not clear. Like usually happens when woken from a deep sleep I had to pee. The building could have been coming down around me, but I still had to pee. Next I did what most of us do — try to find what I did to set it off. Since the only alarm we can hear is in our apartment, we are all usually sure we must have done something.

There was no smell of fire or smoke. The stove was not on. There was nothing in front of the only heater I use. I turned my two overhead fans on and considered opening some windows, but opened my door instead. There was smoke all right but people were wandering the hall. No one seemed anxious to leave. While outside my door, Ron walked by and said he had to get out of here because of the noise and smoke. A few minutes latter the fire department is all over the building. They were looking for Ron. The smoke came from his apartment. Apparently he left his stove on. No one knew what it was exactly, but there was something on the stove. Still don’t know what it was.

There was a group in front of my door trying to guess what caused it and also wondering where Ron went. Every fireman wanted to know where he was.

I went outside in my robe to see if I could detect his lit cigarette. The moonlight was not seeping through the overcast but I thought I might see his cigarette. I don’t know why I thought that because my eyes were still blurry from lack of sleep. None of us ever saw him. They were angry and wanted to have a talk. One the other hand, the fresh air was wonderful and it felt warmer than during the day.

Ron is the resident alcoholic of our building and the apartment was ripe with the smell. We still do not know what was on the stove, but we love playing the guessing game. It makes for great gossip. So far the guesses include a pan that boiled out its water. Burnt toast (we’ve had that before. No burnt toast smell). Clothing too close to the heater, however, he said he left something on the stove so that’s out of the question. Some think he left his supper cooking and fell into a drunken stupor on the sofa and everything burnt to a crisp. This is the best story so far. Given time they may get better.

Since the fire department was anxious to find him there was much speculation about why? Most have agreed that he is in a great deal of trouble — if they ever find him. I concur with that one.

In the meantime, no one broke out the baking or made a pot of coffee so I decided to use my hard to get back to sleep hours writing. I’m tired now. Back to bed.

PORT TOWNSEND

If you like history, Victorian architecture, spectacular water views as well as large old forts. This is the place for you. We went to Port Townsend today. It’s my fourth visit and I would love to go once a month, if possible.

Fort Wordon is famous as the movie set for An Officer and A Gentleman. If you are familiar with the movie many places will be familiar. This weekend is heritage days and there were many people walking around in Victorian dress. A lady got on our bus to take us on a guided tour and she was dressed perfectly. I loved getting more of the history.

I confess I had little interest in history while in high school and college. But for some reason, unknown to me, I now have this great fascination about the past. In particular England, Canada and the USA. Port Townsend has it.

In the late 1800’s it rivaled San Francisco as the busiest deep harbor port on the west coast. There was plenty of lumber to repair the tall wooden ships and there was plenty of talented labor to do the repairs. Resources may it the perfect place for a stop. Industry was plentiful which allowed for a great deal of trade. The area is rich with produce, fruits, fish and meat from bears, elk, deer and others. It was perfect. After the cross country railroad reached San Francisco there were plans for a northern spur. Since Port Townsend was the most sensible terminal point, everyone expected it to end there. But it stopped in Tacoma. At the same time more and more ships were coming under steam. The lumber of this northern point was less important so ships bypassed Port Townsend and went right down Puget Sound. The tall ships could not make the trip. The area was not wide enough to tack from side to side. Port Townsend faded into a small town with hundreds of empty storefronts.

The movie and cheap land turned the tide in the 70-80’s when the population grew again and Port Townsend became the quaint town it is today. We had a wonderful time. My favorite place to eat is “Nifty 50’s”. It looks like a 50’s Soda Shoppe with the black and white tile floor, turquoise table tops, swivel stools are the counter, jukeboxes at the booths, and the greatest ice cream concoctions I have had since the 50’s. It’s not the lowest price place in town, but it is one of the more economical places in old town.

I may sneak up there on my own on a sunny day to take photos of more of the buildings. The detail is wonderful. I had always wondered why none of the downtown buildings had any of those wonderful old Victorian rooflines. Most were removed in the 50’s to modernize them and be replaced with flat roofs. To be fair, the roofs were rotting and often a story or two were also removed because of rot. It was still interesting to me that each roofline looks finished.

It if visit, pick a bed and breakfast for you overnight stay. They are all Victorian homes and very beautiful.

I called my daughter when I got home to arrange for the day I would go and make supper for her husband’s birthday. We have set it for Monday. I had been praying she would have a good day at work. She did. No problems, no complaining, no negativity. I told her it sounds like “The Home.” We have our good days and then we have the others. I have more to write about on the other days.

SOCIAL SECURITY

Oh, you don’t pay taxes you’re on the dole. What are you talking about? Yes! I get social security. It’s my money, and I want it now (so a boring TV ad keeps reminding),

Where did anyone get the idea that receiving social security is like taking money you don’t deserve. OK, I didn’t pay much taxes or social security in my first five years of work. It was mostly part-time work. I never made enough. But from then on I paid my full share in taxes and social security. And I did it in two countries.

I worked fifteen years in Canada putting in enough quarters to collect retirement there and I have worked 20 years in the good ole’ US of A to collect here. In other words, I paid into social security for 35 years and most of that was the maximum amount and I did it mostly as one who was self employed. I have paid more than my fair share. My accountant (yes, I had an accountant) explained that I would have to live well into my 90’s before I would start getting interest on the money I invested. No matter, I still fight for every penny of my money. I would have had more money had I stuff what they took and placed it under my mattress.

I could have retired in two countries and was hoping I might get a little return from both countries. But noooo… they have a reciprocal arrangement so I can only collect in one place. I chose where I was living thinking it would be easier to collect. I’m not so sure I made the right choice. Is it too late to change? Yes!

I accept taxes as necessary. But I am tired of being threatened with the reduction of essential services every time our state or country faces financial trouble. Why is it that the only place they can think of to cut is law enforcement, military, education, health care, and social security? Etc. No one seems to want to get rid of useless committees studying whether we should repair an essential bridge or wait until it falls. Get real.
The federal government began taking my money years ago to pay for other useless things and now want to take what I have left that should be in their coffers. It was never their money to use on their pet projects in the first place. It was mine for my future. It was my money they promised to invest for my “golden years.” Those years are here. How dare they even think of taking more away while voting raises for themselves because their finances are tight? They should try to live on what I do. But why? They are the only group in the world who get to vote for their own raises.
When my work career began, social security was a retirement plan. Now they tell me it was never intended to be that. If it was not a retirement plan, why could I not have my money to waste or invest as I saw fit? Why did they take it in the first place? Jerks! I certainly never wanted my investment loaned out to more useless and ridiculous government plans. Even at a minimum rate in a bank, I would have done better that their plan of giving it away and hoping the next generation would repay me. Idiots. The government owes me, not my kids.

OK, I’ve calmed down. I’ll let they throw money in the wind and borrow from China because they have no capacity for self-control. But I want you to know I am only allowing this because I cannot stop it. They should be put in a time out until they get it right.

DRAMADY

Dramady! A strange little word juxtapositioned from opposing words to mean something no one ever really thought about. It is drama or a comedy. How can it be both? I can’t answer that. However, at coffee this morning the group agreed that dramady was the best word to describe life at “The Home.” My granddaughter proclaimed life here a total drraaama (drag it out) and possibly worse than junior high. That’s a terrible indictment since junior high is possibly the worse place our culture has ever developed. It sticks a large collection of immature adolescences in the same location where they terrorize, mock, hassle, annoy, criticize, lie, gossip, distort what truth, and make fun of one another and … wait a minute. Change one word and it fits seniors (got the word figured out). We have too much time, very little to do that is meaningful, and only bingo, dominos and puzzles to fill our “together” time.

As the kids say — GET A LIFE.

Today was St. Patrick’s Day, at least for lunch. It was a lousy turn out. About 20 people! The food was terrific as usual. There is nothing better than eating the food others prepare. At least that’s true for those of us tired of cooking for one. The day was benign — until Maria walked by Chas. I wasn’t more than 5 feet from the exchange but have no idea how it started. Maria was in line for a second time for more food (as I recall). Chas must have said something. It could have been to her, or maybe to the group at out table. I didn‘t pay much attention. I was laughing with Rocky over his tree cutting as he told how he got the job and some of the hassles of getting started on Saturday morning.

Suddenly there was Maria’s raised voice directed at Chas. I heard the volume. Not the words. She was mad. Next I heard. “What are you talking about?” Then Chas tried to explain. The explanation was not acceptable. She raised her voice a bit more and then Chas rolled out of the building without saying another word.

I shook my head and returned to the tree-cutting story - comedy. I thought the drama was over. Noooo… it was just beginning. After the meal, I was still sitting at the table with the cook finishing our food when Maria came to clean up. She came to out table and asked, what is wrong with Chas? The cook hates being asked about other people so said, I don’t know. Have you asked him? He tried to bite my head off. She then turned to me. I didn’t remember hearing any head biting. Doesn’t that have the sound of snap, crackle, pop (could be a cereal). Maybe a weak attempt at a joke. But to be honest — I don’t know what he said. She pumped us both to get agreement that he was a butthead. Well, yes, he can be. Was he like that at lunch, I don’t know?

She caught me again in our upstairs lounge. This might surprise you, but I didn’t know any more 30 minutes later than I did earlier. I do not consider myself closed to learning but I still have a very difficult time remembering things I never heard. Go figure. It was a great day, a little comedy and a little drama. Dramady – the activity to brings junior higher and senior citizens together.

AX MEN

Saturday morning I awoke to a show going on right outside my window. Of course, I didn’t know it. After getting myself together I went to make coffee and breakfast, so I was hanging out in the kitchen. After everything was ready I sat down and then my phone rang. It was Gail, my upstairs neighbor. I knew you were up, I heard you toilet flush and gave you a few minutes before calling. Did you see what is going on outside your window? Since she is directly overhead I checked out the south window. Is that Rocky? Rocky is our maintenance man.

I could not see very well as it was raining and my windows were running with water. Well, the windows weren’t actually running, water was running down my windows. Clear? Across the street is a clump of three tress 4-5 stories high. One was dead and a guy was near the top taking the braches off. Is that Rocky?

First, I could hardly see through my windows. Second, my eyes were still not focusing that well yet. Third, I didn’t know. It sort of looked like him, but there were branches from the other trees blocking my view. I think it is, she said. We both knew he had a side job removing trees, so it was possible. It wasn’t on The Home’s property. It was across the street on the edge of a strip mall’s property. I gave up trying to figure it out, but I had my blinds pulled all the way up so I could watch while I ate my cooling breakfast. As you probably know, it is best to eat eggs as soon as they are cooked as they cool off quickly.

When finished, I put a few more clothes on and walked outside. It was Rocky. He had already waved our way. By that time, he was up about 3 stories tying off the tree above him. He then cut below the rope and the top of the tree dropped straight down on the rope. It did not hit the ground. It was fun to watch.

I have lived next to a camp in Oregon that seemed to lose trees during every windstorm. I had often seen trees taken down. There was an older man at the camp that was an expert. He had the ability to cut a tree from the ground and drop it exactly where he wanted it. I once saw him remove the limbs of a tree and then cut it from the ground and drop it between to cabins about ten feet apart and hit neither one. I thought Rocky might do the same, but he took it down in sections. There were too many cars in the parking lot. He had no choice. At least I didn’t turn the TV on until he was done.

Today I was up stairs puzzling and some were talking about the removal of the tree. Maria said she watched the whole thing. Maybe! She lives on the other side of the building so would not have automatically heard or seen the action until the sawing began. Gail mentioned that it was fun watching him take the tree drown with a rope. He didn’t use a rope, Maria said. What? Everyone in that group saw it and argued with her immediately, but she never gave in. One lady said, you weren’t watching the same scene I was watching. Maria said, they never use ropes to take trees down. I watch Ax Men. Well, she must have been watching Ax Men that day. Rocky used ropes.

Without Maria and her comments most days would be pretty ordinary. I’m glad she’s here. I might have very little to write other wise. Oh yeah. There is the big Chas and Olivia issue, but that’s not really fun.

THE GRANDKIDS

There was a break in drama at The Home today. I managed that by avoiding people. I had coffee with a group of non-gossipers then came back to start work on the next newsletter. My neighbor came by to have me copy some items for her — a service I provide when I can. But the best part of the day was being with the grandkids tonight.

My kid’s church had their big annual meeting tonight and the two youngest kids stayed with me. I love it when I get time alone with them. My apartment is not the most fun place, but we survived. The oldest arrived from a basketball game at school. Her dad brought her. While she showered and got herself cleaned up in case she ran into some boys, he and I talked about the new Matt Damon movie, “The Adjustment Bureau.” It’s an interesting movie dealing with the issue of freewill verse preset and predetermined lives. I am not a predestinationist.

The youngest brought his new basketball so we could go to the park. I don’t even know if there is a basketball court in our little park, but it didn’t matter — there was some rain and the wind is freezing. It took some doing but he backed off. That’s his new thing. He is fast and a good defender, but needs work on shooting. It will come. He wanted it to come tonight.

Mom brought supper and “Megaminds,” a cartoon their had wanted to see. It was great fun. I let them drink pop until they will most likely swim in it. They both finished two cans here and took another one when they left. I expect they will both be up at lease once during the night. They need to experience what papa goes through every night. Their mom might not agree. However, she won’t have to get up. They are old enough to take care of themselves.

When the movie was over “Finding Nemo” was just beginning on the Disney channel so we transitioned into that one. No one paid must attention to the second movie. The girl moved to the computer and the boy began telling me knock-knock jokes. He loves doing it, but needs some work on his timing. I’m a good papa. I laugh no matter what.

We had chocolate brownie ice cream and a brownie and mom showed up right about the time we finished. Yes, I’m biased, I may do little for these kids, but they mean the world to me. They all hug me when they arrive and again when they leave. I live for those moments. They make my day. The best part is I get to be with the two little ones again tomorrow. Mom and dad are helping out with the high school production of “West Side Story” behind the scenes and the two little ones and I get to relax in the audience. I’m a lucky guy. The girl will like the love story and the boy will like the fights. I will bask in their presence. Yeah!

AHOY! ICEBERG AHEAD! part 3

The captain asked to speak to Gail and I separately. While not clear on the why of that reasoning, it seemed like divide and conquer. I was confident that she and I were on the same page. We were in agreement. Neither of us wanted to go back to the party when the iceberg was approaching. I felt like the captain saw no problem with the danger approaching on port side. I struggled with what appeared to be his blindness. I wanted no part of dancing to destruction.

I was as clear as I could be. More over, I am beginning to think Olivia may have a mental illness. When she gets something in her mind, she will not let go. I shared my experiences.

Olivia has a personal need or desire nearly every day. She has a request of every crewmember she sees and when she doesn’t see one she calls for help. The head of maintenance dreads going by her stateroom. She seems to sense when he is near and has a request. He has threatened to jump overboard. He doesn’t mean it. He says that to express his frustration.

Corporate management of the cruise line attempts to appease the situation but is also getting frustrated. You can hear it in their voices and see it in their faces. They can do nothing until she and her gang actually decide to throw the large man over board. I have my doubts that they will ever succeed. They can’t life him.

Many of us would love to see Olivia disembark at the next port. But I am sure she would feel like she gave in to him and she does not give in to anyone.

There was at time when the maintenance manager entered her stateroom to check it out and measure areas so they could remodel another stateroom to meet all physical codes and standards standards. She was in a handicapped stateroom. She could not accept that it was only a fact finding mission and immediately began telling everyone she was going to be moved from her place so the large man could be put there because her room was larger. That was never said and never intended, but her extreme bitterness anchored there and grew. She added concerns about him being on any deck other than where the lifeboats were located. It was her attempt to keep him isolated from the areas she enjoyed. She just does not want to see him — EVER.

We have since learned that she filed a restraining order because she felt threatened about being put off the ship. No such threat occurred according to the cruise owner. It did not stop the gossip she fed the information animals. It was vicious.

I have no desire to return to any party no matter how entertaining it is, as long it appears we are headed to destruction. Get back on the bridge and steer this thing around the obstacles. Find a way to save the cruise. A communicable disease is now on board and beginning to be passed around. Many need to be quarantined before the whole ship is contaminated. I know I’m going to wear a mask every time I leave my cabin even if I hate wearing those things. Maybe I should disembark. Naw! There’s too much to see and do.

AHOY, ICEBERG AHEAD, part 2

The ships captain approached Gail and I near the lifeboats. It was dark and the moonlight was reflecting off bits and pieces on the right of the iceberg. It looked like a diamond in the glow of the light, a diamond maybe, but a dangerous one lurking below the surface with an unknown circumference and jagged edges. We might miss the obvious side, but will we miss what cannot be seen?

The captain is insistent that we return to the party. He is unconcerned about the iceberg. There are many in these waters and none have been a problem before. I know some about icebergs and much more about danger, but do not know these waters as this captain does. We are not convinced we should stay at the party. We are considering cutting a lifeboat free and dunning for our lives. But we agree to at least go to the door where the large man in the wheelchair is sitting. He looks lonely — maybe even scared. He feels his own fate is no longer in his own hands.

Earlier Olivia cornered a lady passing through the room to tell her about the problems with the man in the wheelchair. She is convinced he will tip the ship over. It’s not even reasonable. The woman attempted to escape her clutch. She explained she was in a hurry and really needed to get to her cabin for some sleep. After her release she approached Gail while the wealthy lady held court in the middle of the room. She told Gail she was very uncomfortable being recruited like that. Another also told Gail of the recruitment going on. Sides are being chosen and only one side is recruiting. I thought the meeting was to be secret. I guess Olivia believed it was to be broadcast.

The group around Olivia does not appear very. The mood is somber, maybe even angry. They are in a very serious discussion. Some are listening to Olivia and nodding in agreement, others in a smaller groups seeming to speak similar things. We watch. We listen. We begin a conversation with the man in the wheelchair. He is defensive. Not because of us, but because he feels under attack.

When did he leave the ballroom? Why did he leave? Was he surprised at what was being said? Should he have stayed to defend himself? How did he think it impacted him? He did not seem to know or even understand they want to throw him overboard. He did not know what they were plotting. He was hurt by comments made by three people. He was running the names of all guests through is mind to see if he could figure out who might be angry with him, but could only think of the three. He was unaware a campaign was developing that could destroy him if carried out successfully.

He listened to Gail and I. He seemed to hear our suggestions. But he was following his own track. He was withdrawing like a turtle into his shell. His head was disappearing. He was acting like he might be able to slip into oblivion and not be noticed. He knows he cannot exactly blend into the wallpaper, but thinks he can stay in his stateroom. He would only come out when necessary. Isolation will hurt him even more. He needs people as much as anyone, maybe more. His self-image is often at the bottom of the barrel. When he withdraws, he slips in depression.

While we are talking the waves of the water are growing. We can now feel the rock of the ship as the waves crash again the hull. Gail and I feel like we are the only defense he has. We agree to stand together. However, do not yet know if we will enter the discussion. We don’t want him thrown overboard, but are still waiting for those in authority to step up and be responsible. We want the captain back on the bridge. We want the ship line managers dealing with this threat of mutiny. Is no one in charge? Does no one have any courage to do the right thing? Will it really take two other passengers to save the man in the wheelchair? Maybe we should grab him and get all jump in the lifeboat, but I have no idea how we would get him in the boat.

AHOY, ICEBERG AHEAD! part 1

I feel like I’m on a cruise in the north Atlantic. The big party is in the main ballroom dancing to Glen Miller and his band of renown. It’s loud and lively. There’s plenty of liquor, laughter and luxury. It looks like everyone is there. The talk and singing is nothing if not joyous. I’m on the port deck with Gail listening to the party inside and in absolute turmoil about what I see coming. This danger could be seen coming for quite a distance. The captain has left the bridge and is inside observing the passengers. No one appears to be at the helm. No one seems to care. We see the iceberg approaching on the port side, or is it standing still and we are approaching it. Either way, it is beginning to look unavoidable.

When were first saw the obstacle in the distance we tried to warn of the impending danger. We were mocked. This ship cannot be damaged. It is unsinkable. Let the dancing continue. The ship is automated. It is designed to sense obstacles and take evasive action. It needs no captain on the bridge. We are not avoiding the obstacles and the captain is not there.

The one consolation is that Gail and I can see into the future — or maybe we are seeing in retrospect. We know we are not going down with this ship. Maybe it is because we are so close to the emergency lifeboats. Just in case, we have donned life vests. Admittedly we cannot swim well. Besides the waters are shark infested. Our situation, like everyone’s is about to become tense. Hard times are ahead.

Some passengers do believe the ship is listing to the port. Many are aware of this. A large, gentle giant sits in his wheelchair near the port doors. There are a lot of rumors and gossip about this man and his size. He has a very clear and powerful voice. One sophisticated lady dislikes even the sound of that booming but joyful sound. She is mounting a drive to have him tossed overboard. She is convinced it will level the ship out and remove any possible danger. She is blinded by her own spirit and desire to have a world around her that fits her view of the perfect world. Her control drives and hatred for anyone who does not fit her sterile view simply does not belong. She has removed in the dark objects she considers in appropriate (read she does not like). In secret, she has removed, relocated and/or rearranged information posts she does not approve, appreciate where they are placed or appear to be clutter. All her concerns are addressed under the guise of “concern” for the other passengers. But, alas, it is only one passenger is sees.

She has certainly not set the iceberg in place. But she is distracting all from seeing the present danger and placing every issue at the feet of one man whom she dislikes. She has even added concerns that are not accurate. Unfortunately, she is at the center of the deck surrounded by her disciples. She is preaching her doctrine of bitterness and hatred.

It reminds me of the sailors who threw the apostle Paul overboard to calm the storm. They all went down. I’m hanging on for the impact. We are getting closer. Gail and I have moved nearer the lifeboats.

RUMORS ABOUND

The rumors have begun and they are moving fast. Both Gail and I have been asked about “the meeting” from Thursday. It was a private meeting and neither of us will discuss it. That hasn’t stopped talk — or information flow.

Admittedly Gail and I have gotten together to exchange notes. We have a meeting with the bosses on Monday. We will explain why we have no intention of returning and plan to discourage Chas from going again. It was a nasty experience.

Today we learned from where the information flow was pouring — Olivia herself. She has already pulled several people aside to tell them about the meeting. Some never even knew there were a meeting, let alone one trying to help two people reconcile. But the more we hear the move we doubt it can ever be repaired. It does not appear Olivia will be happy until Chas is evicted. I do have one suggestion for her. If she does not want word of her gossip getting back to Gail or, don’t talk to people in our building. She has one convert here — Maria, but I doubt that other than herself, Maria and Sylvia there are open ears.

She tried to draw in my favorite cook this morning and the cook would not hear it. She said is had no bearing on here life and walked away. I wish everyone would do that, but this is too good to pass up. And since the new gossip about his language and comments to women is the kind of hot stuff that will make the rounds — it will get around — fast.

I have had only one experience with a very small community. When my parents retired to Hardy, NB, a town of about 160 on the Kansas-Nebraska border, it was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone else. On my first visit to them I took a morning walk to check out the two blocks of “downtown.” It was step back in time. The sidewalks were boards. Most buildings were boarded up. There was still a restaurant with three old dudes picking their teeth with straw. There was a small convenience type store, some food, some hardware, and some variety store goods. All of it was smaller than a typical 7-11. They had no Slurpees, but you could get bottled pop from an old trunk type dispenser. A friend taught me (as a child mind you) how to drink a pop out of one of those without removing the bottle. An opener and a straw would do the trick. Did I say I did that? Mistake. I heard one could do that. There was a store that appeared to having sewing goods. I never went in there.

The point (FINALLY) was that the handful of people I met on the streets of Hardy all called me by name. Remember, I had never been there. This community has the same feeling. By the way, there was also a bank that from the outside that appeared to be right out of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. I loved that movie.

REPORT FROM THE FRONT LINES

I’m still exhausted. I want to go back on the record to say I was opposed to the method used to resolve the conflict between Olivia and Chas. It was intimidating just walking into the room. No one knew what to expect and the air was filled with a deathly quiet. I wanted to scream just to break the tension. Instead I sat and looked into the faces of everyone. Olivia sat tense like waiting for the sentence of the judge.

The resolution mob attack began with Chas saying, “I still want her to leave my things alone.” Olivia responded by asking what he said. He has a very loud voice. As each piece was repeated she said I heard that. So why… forget it, who cares.

The initial 10-15 minutes was rather innocuous, then Sylvia spoke and all (what’s that word people use) broke loose. She clearly had an agenda and she went at Chas in a way designed to hurt without mentioning is name. I kept waiting for the moderator to put the clamps on as we had agreed there would be no personal attacks. But Chas handled it himself. He left.

Gail and I were both disappointed, but Sylvia was regurgitating an issue most of us, and especially Chas, believed was solved. Both Gail and I defended his departure as the only way he could not explode and say things he would not regret. Then Olivia with Sylvia and one of their cohorts began a three-hour tirade on Chas. I was afraid of this.

Early in the runaway, uncontrolled battle of the bulge, I was accused of believing people can change and told how wrong I was. I laughed and had to wait until that load of verbal diarrhea ended before I could attempt to clean up the mess. Neither Olivia nor Sylvia believes anyone can change. I glanced at Gail and both knew there would never be a resolution, but we plowed ahead. I restated the matter and mentioned I believed this meeting was futile. Resolution is impossible if neither party was willing to make any changes. If people cannot change what happens when they learn something new? We change to incorporate that new knowledge. I did not mention the offensive language that God can change a heart, but I spent 37 years of my life with that concept as the foundation of my occupation. If a minister doesn’t believe that they are in the wrong place.

No amount of talking led the two principles to do anything but raise the ante of their explosion. At that point I sat back and listened just to see how far they would go. I visibly showed disgust when he was accused of lengthy expressions of profanity and sexual language directed at women. I had never heard anything of this kind. I could not believe what I was hearing. I was shocked. If this is true why I had never even heard of murmur in this gossip filled place. If this were true why was this the first time it had ever been addressed.

After three hours I could not take it any longer. My bladder was about to burst. I left to resolve that issue and decided not to return. Thirty-minutes later Gail left and it was still going. With us gone they were free to have a group rant and preach to the choir.

Gail and I went to check on Chas and ask some very difficult questions. In the course of the debate I had just left, I hear three comments of Olivia’s that I knew to be lies. I now believe these latter accusations are pure fiction. It appears that the group plans to do anything they can to get Chas evicted.

The fat lady has not sung and this is far from over. There will be more.

READ THE LABEL

A friend sent this little item to me on facebook today. I loved it.

“I figured out why I'm fat! The shampoo I use in the shower that runs down my body says ‘For extra volume and body’. I'm going to start using ‘Dawn’ dish soap. It says ‘ Dissolves fat that is otherwise difficult to remove’.”

I have been reading labels for several years now, its not because I’m a health fiend it was because I must. It stated with just looking for sugar. I rarely read more then was absolutely necessary. I needed to reduce my sugar intake. I hated that because I love sugar. Not handfuls of refined sugar licking my hand until its all gone. I wanted it in baked goodies. I will eat some candy, but have always had a hard time passing up pies, cakes, squares – especially what my wife made. I blame it all on her. She was an excellent cook. Now had she cooked like my mother I would probably be skinny. I loved mom, but she could not cook – at least not like my wife.

Each new disease has forced me to read more of the label. Now I need to know about fat, sodium, sugar. I have pretty much decided that if it tastes great, I should not eat it. I am sure that if I hate the food it will be good for me. At least I would eat less. The elimination of dairy has done me the most noticeable good. My whole system works like a car with a change of oil — smooth.

I wish people came with labels. I think I’m pretty good about reading people, but a crisp clear, concise label would help me get there faster. I want to know if they snap like a turtle. Then I could tape their mouth. Do they squeeze like a boa? I would stay out of range. Do they bite like a rabid dog? Look at the label and run. Those labels are easy. I am more concerned about the ones who change.

Great initial presentation, but will stab you in the back. Often you have to wait until you have been stabbed before you know who they are. Or how about love to get you to talk about your problems but cannot keep a secret. I solve that by telling everyone what one might think is a secret. That means there are no secrets. That really rattles a person.

I don’t want these labels stamped on their rears. It would be embarrassing to have them pull their dress up or pants down so I can check their label. Might see more than I should. I think they should wear these labels like a nametag. Hello, my name is Suzie. I’m a gossip. Be careful what you tell me. Hello, my name is Fred. I hate talking to people. Go away. Hello, my name is Betty. I’m looking for a man, any man will do, how about you?

I can pick much of that stuff up rather quickly, but since I’m in the label reading routine now, it would sure make my life easier. Hello, my name is Clyde. I like people. Why is it that I like myself so much?

Tomorrow is the big social group counseling experiment. A pile of people gathered to straighten two people out. I'm expecting a disaster, but I never liked Rogets theory of counseling. Do I hear you saying you are mad. YES! Just tell 'em like it is and forget the crowd. I can't even imagine the gossip that will come out of this.