I couldn’t believe it. She was actually repeating a story Gail told the day before and now it was her story. It was told almost word for word.
When Gail’s daughter was very young a policeman came to her class and told the children they could call 911 if their parents hit them. A few days later, Gail gave her daughter a swat on the rear. The next thing she knew the police were knocking on her door. Yes? Can we come in? Yes! We would like to speak to your daughter. Gail called her daughter. The police asked if she had called 911. Yes. Did your mother hit you? Yes? How? On my bottom. Why did she hit you? I disobeyed? Do you know what happens if we arrest your mother? No. We would put her hands behind her back and lock them in hand cuffs, take her in out car to jail and lock her up. The little girl began to wail. No. Don’t take my mommy.
As the police left, the female officer told Gail give us two minutes to leave.
So a few of us were working the puzzle yesterday when Maria told the story as her own. Maria is not a month. She did care for foster kids briefly (or so she says), but they were all teens. I bit my tongue to avoid the attack. She makes up stories, makes pronouncements on subjects she knows nothing, great exaggerates and now others stories are her stories. Can we believe anything she says? Doubt it.
I couldn’t believe it. She was actually repeating a story Gail told the day before and now it was her story. It was told almost word for word.
When Gail’s daughter was very young a policeman came to her class and told the children they could call 911 if their parents hit them. A few days later, Gail gave her daughter a swat on the rear. The next thing she knew the police were knocking on her door. Yes? Can we come in? Yes! We would like to speak to your daughter. Gail called her daughter. The police asked if she had called 911. Yes. Did your mother hit you? Yes? How? On my bottom. Why did she hit you? I disobeyed? Do you know what happens if we arrest your mother? No. We would put her hands behind her back and lock them in hand cuffs, take her in out car to jail and lock her up. The little girl began to wail. No. Don’t take my mommy.
As the police left, the female officer told Gail give us two minutes to leave.
So a few of us were working the puzzle yesterday when Maria told the story as her own. Maria is not a month. She did care for foster kids briefly (or so she says), but they were all teens. I bit my tongue to avoid the attack. She makes up stories, makes pronouncements on subjects she knows nothing, great exaggerates and now others stories are her stories. Can we believe anything she says? Doubt it.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
NOT THERE, HERE!
There are times I have great objection to free will. Not for myself mind you, but for some of the others. THEY need structure, a controlled environment, and limited choices. I know the desire will never be fulfilled so I am the one who had to deal with it.
Several of us were talking today about the why of various behaviors. Hazel’s compulsive behavior stretches in so many areas. The general category of behavior fits into “everything in its place and nothing out of place.” Items placed on a bulletin board must be uniformly arranged. Edges and tops organized in a straight line. She reorganized five signs in the laundry room into a perfectly straight line with all the tops even at the top and evenly spaced.
One lady bought two used lawn chairs for our front porch. They show wear and tear and are somewhat faded. Admittedly not the most beautiful chairs, but they serve a purpose. We have several beautiful teak benches and chairs that are screwed down to the porch. Unfortunately these are not as comfortable at the cheap lawn chairs. Several gather on the front porch in the cool of the evening. The lawn chairs let us make a bit of a circle so we are not sitting in a row like pigeons on a line.
Hazel, apparently, does not like the chairs. Sometime after we leave, she moves the chairs off the porch and over by the garden. Someone in our group moves them back every evening. There is no discussion, no argument, just the never-ending movement from let to tight and right to left and back again.
One person has added a blue Pepsi 64oz. tray stashed between the benches and chairs. The tray is moved every day. Whoever placed the tray there in the first places seems to move it left, right, left right. Another on going circle of death. Annoying and petty, but there are a few for whom that seems to be their world. WHY?
For some it is order and structure. Some do it for control. Others do it for spite. Some because the item in question is there must move it. I know there are other possibilities, but these four cover all the reasons it is happening here. The games are going to continue until someone is evicted. Not that that would disappoint some of us.
It’s like having someone following you around and correcting your every move. During the brief period that my daughter and I lived together before her marriage we had a small conflict. It began simply enough. She would finish eating and place her dishes in the dishwasher. An act I appreciated. Then for some inexplicable reason she changed and was leaving her dishes in the sink. That annoyed me. We had to talk. Why aren’t you putting your dishes in the dishwasher any more? Why should I? You just rearrange where I put everything? Whoops. The action was so unconscious I didn’t realize what I was doing. She had a great point. That shook me out of my corrective stupor but fast. If you want to have a good relationship — allow freedom to others. That may all be good and well, but I can get more dished in a dishwasher than my daughter.
Several of us were talking today about the why of various behaviors. Hazel’s compulsive behavior stretches in so many areas. The general category of behavior fits into “everything in its place and nothing out of place.” Items placed on a bulletin board must be uniformly arranged. Edges and tops organized in a straight line. She reorganized five signs in the laundry room into a perfectly straight line with all the tops even at the top and evenly spaced.
One lady bought two used lawn chairs for our front porch. They show wear and tear and are somewhat faded. Admittedly not the most beautiful chairs, but they serve a purpose. We have several beautiful teak benches and chairs that are screwed down to the porch. Unfortunately these are not as comfortable at the cheap lawn chairs. Several gather on the front porch in the cool of the evening. The lawn chairs let us make a bit of a circle so we are not sitting in a row like pigeons on a line.
Hazel, apparently, does not like the chairs. Sometime after we leave, she moves the chairs off the porch and over by the garden. Someone in our group moves them back every evening. There is no discussion, no argument, just the never-ending movement from let to tight and right to left and back again.
One person has added a blue Pepsi 64oz. tray stashed between the benches and chairs. The tray is moved every day. Whoever placed the tray there in the first places seems to move it left, right, left right. Another on going circle of death. Annoying and petty, but there are a few for whom that seems to be their world. WHY?
For some it is order and structure. Some do it for control. Others do it for spite. Some because the item in question is there must move it. I know there are other possibilities, but these four cover all the reasons it is happening here. The games are going to continue until someone is evicted. Not that that would disappoint some of us.
It’s like having someone following you around and correcting your every move. During the brief period that my daughter and I lived together before her marriage we had a small conflict. It began simply enough. She would finish eating and place her dishes in the dishwasher. An act I appreciated. Then for some inexplicable reason she changed and was leaving her dishes in the sink. That annoyed me. We had to talk. Why aren’t you putting your dishes in the dishwasher any more? Why should I? You just rearrange where I put everything? Whoops. The action was so unconscious I didn’t realize what I was doing. She had a great point. That shook me out of my corrective stupor but fast. If you want to have a good relationship — allow freedom to others. That may all be good and well, but I can get more dished in a dishwasher than my daughter.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
COULD BECOME A STAR
Just as you thing it is safe to go back into the water, the shark attacks again. Hazel was out front taking photos of the flowerless flowerbeds (are they still flowerbeds if there are no flowers?). She also had a notebook writing frequently and long. When her job was done, she walked off in great haste making if obvious she was headed to the administrative office.
The three on the porch watched her come out the front door. The conversation stopped as she walked down the steps with disposable camera in hand. They watched the 12-minute show in silence mentally noting every move. They watched her walk away and then turned to stare at one another.
What do you suppose that was about? Dunno! Where do you think she is going? To the administration office! Why? Dunno!
We will find out soon enough. Hope it’s as interesting as it looks.
Talked to Chas about the whole flower affair tonight. It was the first time we were alone. We talked about what he learned. He was surprised how many people found joy in the flowers and how many people genuinely cared about him. They didn’t like that he removed the flowers, but they understood. Someone even called the police to make a wellness check. It helped a great deal. We talked about the various people he could and should talk to before he takes any action of these conflict relationships. Then he surprised me.
He said he rode past my window five times hoping I would come out and order him into my room to talk. That was on day three. I was in my room working on the August newsletter and saw him. Even wondered why he was going in and out so often. My west window is right next to the back entrance. I wasn’t surprised he was using that door, just the frequency. He will often go out for coffee or to the grocery store. Both are close. It seemed obvious to me he didn’t want to run into anyone sitting on the front porch.
My window was open and he could have called out to me. When he’s at the door and I’m at my computer we aren’t more than 10-feet away. If God was urging me to go and talk to him, I wasn’t listening or was on a different channel. All I could really hear was the sound track for Joseph playing “And the man who can interpret can go far, He’ll become a star.” If this was my star making moment, I missed it again. I wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to anyone, let alone me.
I had better clean the wax out of my ears or at least having my hearing checked. Bas hearing runs in my family and the one losing their hearing is always the last to know. So tell me, I am I going deaf?
The three on the porch watched her come out the front door. The conversation stopped as she walked down the steps with disposable camera in hand. They watched the 12-minute show in silence mentally noting every move. They watched her walk away and then turned to stare at one another.
What do you suppose that was about? Dunno! Where do you think she is going? To the administration office! Why? Dunno!
We will find out soon enough. Hope it’s as interesting as it looks.
Talked to Chas about the whole flower affair tonight. It was the first time we were alone. We talked about what he learned. He was surprised how many people found joy in the flowers and how many people genuinely cared about him. They didn’t like that he removed the flowers, but they understood. Someone even called the police to make a wellness check. It helped a great deal. We talked about the various people he could and should talk to before he takes any action of these conflict relationships. Then he surprised me.
He said he rode past my window five times hoping I would come out and order him into my room to talk. That was on day three. I was in my room working on the August newsletter and saw him. Even wondered why he was going in and out so often. My west window is right next to the back entrance. I wasn’t surprised he was using that door, just the frequency. He will often go out for coffee or to the grocery store. Both are close. It seemed obvious to me he didn’t want to run into anyone sitting on the front porch.
My window was open and he could have called out to me. When he’s at the door and I’m at my computer we aren’t more than 10-feet away. If God was urging me to go and talk to him, I wasn’t listening or was on a different channel. All I could really hear was the sound track for Joseph playing “And the man who can interpret can go far, He’ll become a star.” If this was my star making moment, I missed it again. I wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to anyone, let alone me.
I had better clean the wax out of my ears or at least having my hearing checked. Bas hearing runs in my family and the one losing their hearing is always the last to know. So tell me, I am I going deaf?
Monday, July 26, 2010
ANOTHER POINT OF VIEW
Chas spoke to me about his confrontation last Monday. It was nice to hear from his side. Didn’t make his actions any more acceptable, but cleared up perspective.
Apparently there were four women taking in the commons room last Monday when Chas arrived. General conversation. Noting important, nothing world shattering (like it always is at The Home). After a few minutes Chas wheeled over to get some coffee and a sweet treat. While he was gone, Andrea arrived. She had asked Kiki a question that Chas had only heard the tail end. They had been talking about the possibility of Kiki’s family coming here for a visit. It was about number of days. Kiki began answering, paused and looked at Chas. He interpreted that pause as a request for information. He began explaining how many days one can have a guest before one must pay for their presence. Andrea turned to him and apparently said, “This is a private conversation and none of your business.” Is that what was said? I don’t know. Is she capable of that kind of comment? Absolutely. Did she say it in an angry way? Doubtful! She can be stern, but has much control.
Without further comment, he sped away. His departure was taken as rude, angry, and hostile. He was reported to the manager. On his returned he saw his plants had been moved again. Liz and Hazel were sitting at the table and he went over to confront them. Naturally, there was an explosion. He flew into his apartment angry and hurt. They had been told not to move his plants, but report it. He did not report the problem. Instead he came out in the afternoon, tore up all his plants and took them to the trash against the muted protests of several people. His anger was so great. He kept saying, “I can’t take this anymore.” Tears were rolling down his cheeks. People were afraid.
The manager and her boss came over to see Chas and tell him he had done wrong. Yes, he was hurt, but it hurt many more that he destroyed the beauty of our yards. His sister runs a nursery and provided the plants. She is also angry. Nothing was said about Liz and Hazel. These two friends leave soon on a cruise. Everyone is looking forward to departure. There may even be a farewell party — after they leave. There will not be a return celebration.
This was the first day Chas has spoken to me and he seems to be back to himself. He believes the plants were his and he had the right to do what he wanted with them. I know he feels that, but it’s a delusion. He stole from and hurt the feeling of many more. No apology will come. He was hurt and that excuses everything from his point of view. I don’t accept that. I’m not going to push him or demand anything unless the door flies wide open. Then I want to know what he has to say to all his friends who were hurt by his action. Then I will make him sit in a corner for a long timeout.
Apparently there were four women taking in the commons room last Monday when Chas arrived. General conversation. Noting important, nothing world shattering (like it always is at The Home). After a few minutes Chas wheeled over to get some coffee and a sweet treat. While he was gone, Andrea arrived. She had asked Kiki a question that Chas had only heard the tail end. They had been talking about the possibility of Kiki’s family coming here for a visit. It was about number of days. Kiki began answering, paused and looked at Chas. He interpreted that pause as a request for information. He began explaining how many days one can have a guest before one must pay for their presence. Andrea turned to him and apparently said, “This is a private conversation and none of your business.” Is that what was said? I don’t know. Is she capable of that kind of comment? Absolutely. Did she say it in an angry way? Doubtful! She can be stern, but has much control.
Without further comment, he sped away. His departure was taken as rude, angry, and hostile. He was reported to the manager. On his returned he saw his plants had been moved again. Liz and Hazel were sitting at the table and he went over to confront them. Naturally, there was an explosion. He flew into his apartment angry and hurt. They had been told not to move his plants, but report it. He did not report the problem. Instead he came out in the afternoon, tore up all his plants and took them to the trash against the muted protests of several people. His anger was so great. He kept saying, “I can’t take this anymore.” Tears were rolling down his cheeks. People were afraid.
The manager and her boss came over to see Chas and tell him he had done wrong. Yes, he was hurt, but it hurt many more that he destroyed the beauty of our yards. His sister runs a nursery and provided the plants. She is also angry. Nothing was said about Liz and Hazel. These two friends leave soon on a cruise. Everyone is looking forward to departure. There may even be a farewell party — after they leave. There will not be a return celebration.
This was the first day Chas has spoken to me and he seems to be back to himself. He believes the plants were his and he had the right to do what he wanted with them. I know he feels that, but it’s a delusion. He stole from and hurt the feeling of many more. No apology will come. He was hurt and that excuses everything from his point of view. I don’t accept that. I’m not going to push him or demand anything unless the door flies wide open. Then I want to know what he has to say to all his friends who were hurt by his action. Then I will make him sit in a corner for a long timeout.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
KEYS TO HAPPY RETIREMENT
Guess what appeared on my computer news section this morning. Right! an article that stirred my tired brain. I am in the fifth day of what I presumed was a cold. Maybe it was. It has vastly declined as of this morning. I have not wanted much food during some past colds, but this was the first time that food tasted awful, it was great to be hungry this morning and to enjoy the waffles. Thanks Eggo.
Sydney Lagier of US NEWS AND WORLD REPORT, for Thursday, July 22, 2010 wrote about 7 Secrets to a Happy Retirement. First, I have no reason to disagree with Sydney. I’m not a researcher and have absolutely no scientific data for anything about to spew from my fingertips. It’s just what I perceive in my tiny corner of “The Home.”
1) Good Health. Makes sense! Who doesn’t want good health? No one here put in an order for bad health at the drive through window of the local health store. Those who have bad health all have it by mistake. Unless you have found the fountain of youth — expect health problems. It will give you something to talk about at coffee.
2) A significant other. No argument here. All the women I know want one. Any size, shape or color will do. No one seems concerned about religion or politics. I thought that was important? We argue about those things a lot. New male arrivals are called “fresh meat.” Smoked, soaked in marinade or dried. Can he walk and talk? Standards decline over the years, obviously.
3) A social network. I always thought everyone wanted friends. I’m not so sure any more. At least a quarter only come out of their apartments for doctors visits. On the plus side, there seem to be small groups gathering through out the day for coffee, cards, puzzles, or just to shoot the breeze. Naturally, gossip is a major point of discussion. Various groups take off for shopping (the window type mostly) walks, lunches, movies, just about anything that costs less or is free. We are BBQing a lot this summer. We make our own happiness. We are not one of those fancy retirement resorts with scheduled activities, busses, lakes or pools, golfing or planned cruises. We’re on the other end. No bus, no activities director, no nothing. We’re told it’s the economy. We live here because of the economy.
4) They are not addicted to television. Amen! With 50,000 channels to choose from there never seems to be anything on anyways. Summer reality shows are designed for the brain dead. Do something or wilt away.
5) Intellectual curiosity. “Adults over 70 who choose brain-stimulating hobbies over TV watching are two and a half times less likely to suffer the effects of Alzheimer's disease.” That’s reason enough. There are many avid readers. Some are great conversationalists. I have found three other history buffs. I could have cared less about history in my younger years. I guess now that I have lived though much of it I want to know how we got to where I am today. Of course, don’t forget about the great mystery, adventure, lawyer or fantasy books. We even have some Twihearts. Romance is big. Some dreams never die.
6) They aren't addicted to achievement. “The more you are defined by your job, the harder it will be to adjust to life without it.” I guess I don’t know anyone like that. Maybe none of us liked our work. I know that’s not true. I loved mine, but could no longer keep up the pace. All of life is about handing the reigns off to the next generation. For most of us, it was time.
7) Enough money. What is enough money? We live to the end of the income in almost all brackets. What ever it is, it’s short. The key is learning to live on what you have. Frankly that is easier as you retire. We no longer have full houses and do not want the work of keeping it us, or the yard. Too much work! The less you have, the more creative you are. At least that’s what we tell ourselves.
We make our own happiness by our outlook on life, view of our circumstances and the choices we make. A former manager once said, “I just wish that lady would wake up one day and decide to be happy.” AMEN!
Sydney Lagier of US NEWS AND WORLD REPORT, for Thursday, July 22, 2010 wrote about 7 Secrets to a Happy Retirement. First, I have no reason to disagree with Sydney. I’m not a researcher and have absolutely no scientific data for anything about to spew from my fingertips. It’s just what I perceive in my tiny corner of “The Home.”
1) Good Health. Makes sense! Who doesn’t want good health? No one here put in an order for bad health at the drive through window of the local health store. Those who have bad health all have it by mistake. Unless you have found the fountain of youth — expect health problems. It will give you something to talk about at coffee.
2) A significant other. No argument here. All the women I know want one. Any size, shape or color will do. No one seems concerned about religion or politics. I thought that was important? We argue about those things a lot. New male arrivals are called “fresh meat.” Smoked, soaked in marinade or dried. Can he walk and talk? Standards decline over the years, obviously.
3) A social network. I always thought everyone wanted friends. I’m not so sure any more. At least a quarter only come out of their apartments for doctors visits. On the plus side, there seem to be small groups gathering through out the day for coffee, cards, puzzles, or just to shoot the breeze. Naturally, gossip is a major point of discussion. Various groups take off for shopping (the window type mostly) walks, lunches, movies, just about anything that costs less or is free. We are BBQing a lot this summer. We make our own happiness. We are not one of those fancy retirement resorts with scheduled activities, busses, lakes or pools, golfing or planned cruises. We’re on the other end. No bus, no activities director, no nothing. We’re told it’s the economy. We live here because of the economy.
4) They are not addicted to television. Amen! With 50,000 channels to choose from there never seems to be anything on anyways. Summer reality shows are designed for the brain dead. Do something or wilt away.
5) Intellectual curiosity. “Adults over 70 who choose brain-stimulating hobbies over TV watching are two and a half times less likely to suffer the effects of Alzheimer's disease.” That’s reason enough. There are many avid readers. Some are great conversationalists. I have found three other history buffs. I could have cared less about history in my younger years. I guess now that I have lived though much of it I want to know how we got to where I am today. Of course, don’t forget about the great mystery, adventure, lawyer or fantasy books. We even have some Twihearts. Romance is big. Some dreams never die.
6) They aren't addicted to achievement. “The more you are defined by your job, the harder it will be to adjust to life without it.” I guess I don’t know anyone like that. Maybe none of us liked our work. I know that’s not true. I loved mine, but could no longer keep up the pace. All of life is about handing the reigns off to the next generation. For most of us, it was time.
7) Enough money. What is enough money? We live to the end of the income in almost all brackets. What ever it is, it’s short. The key is learning to live on what you have. Frankly that is easier as you retire. We no longer have full houses and do not want the work of keeping it us, or the yard. Too much work! The less you have, the more creative you are. At least that’s what we tell ourselves.
We make our own happiness by our outlook on life, view of our circumstances and the choices we make. A former manager once said, “I just wish that lady would wake up one day and decide to be happy.” AMEN!
Saturday, July 24, 2010
GOOD OLD DAYS
I don’t know what made me think of Vacation Bible School (VBS) days from my childhood. I suppose getting old just makes one nostalgic. Maybe I long for those good old days. Naw! I was too stupid. It may have had something to do with watching a community parade and seeing all those flat bed trailers and pickup trucks filled with kids waving and yelling.
Every year on the final day of VBS some one brought their big old farm truck to pack the entire group into the back for the ride to Elm Park. I’m sure these types of trucks are still around, but I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen one. I think there must be a law prohibiting farm trucks from the city limits. The truck was huge. Remember I was about 3’ tall so maybe it wasn’t as big as I now think. The sides were all slates, like ladders, and each section was removable. We piled in without proper seats, seat belts or other safety equipment. Some sat, most stood trying to get a space around the rim to hang on and still a few tested their balance by trying to stand in the middle with no security. It took a few years before I tried that. When someone slipped, everyone laughed.
I guess those were the years of living dangerously. Personally I considered them terrific years of great fun. But what did I know. Kids were stupid remember. Being stupid I remember missing other things from the stupid days. Our school playground had a swing that could reach as high as a second story school window with a little effort. We used to see who could jump out at the highest level – onto a graveled playground. There was nothing else on which to jump. Maybe the occasional kid was taken to emergency, but most parents, brushed you off, cleaned the wound, told you it was nothing and to stop crying. So we did it again.
I loved sleeping in the back window of a car for long trips. I could lie there and watch the world go by while dreaming of driving some day in the distant future.
I loved football. I was just average, but that didn’t stop me or prevent me from playing in a small community league. Everyone wanted equipment, but very few had any. Some teams had shoulder pads. The most desired piece of equipment. Some had helmets. Only individuals has other things such as cleats, a jersey that actually covered the shoulder pads, or a cup. You didn’t get those until high school. It still hurt pre-high school.
With all the protection our government if providing, no demanding, I am fortunate to have lived long enough to be protected. From everything I can figure, I am a pretty sure I should be dead. But, guess what, I’m not. On a daily basis I listen to people sitting around talking about the good old days. You know what scares them most? Today!
We worry about all the pills we take. We worry about all the doctor visits we are told we must make. We worry about being warehoused in a non-carrying place. We worry about being placed in survival mode with tubes and machines keeping things moving while we have no live left but that equipment.
It’s not life that causes fear or worry. It’s the possibility of life without life. When will our government protect us from that? When will our friends and family see death as the natural course of living? I do not advocate assisted suicide. I support death with dignity. Don’t keep me longer than God has planned.
Every year on the final day of VBS some one brought their big old farm truck to pack the entire group into the back for the ride to Elm Park. I’m sure these types of trucks are still around, but I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen one. I think there must be a law prohibiting farm trucks from the city limits. The truck was huge. Remember I was about 3’ tall so maybe it wasn’t as big as I now think. The sides were all slates, like ladders, and each section was removable. We piled in without proper seats, seat belts or other safety equipment. Some sat, most stood trying to get a space around the rim to hang on and still a few tested their balance by trying to stand in the middle with no security. It took a few years before I tried that. When someone slipped, everyone laughed.
I guess those were the years of living dangerously. Personally I considered them terrific years of great fun. But what did I know. Kids were stupid remember. Being stupid I remember missing other things from the stupid days. Our school playground had a swing that could reach as high as a second story school window with a little effort. We used to see who could jump out at the highest level – onto a graveled playground. There was nothing else on which to jump. Maybe the occasional kid was taken to emergency, but most parents, brushed you off, cleaned the wound, told you it was nothing and to stop crying. So we did it again.
I loved sleeping in the back window of a car for long trips. I could lie there and watch the world go by while dreaming of driving some day in the distant future.
I loved football. I was just average, but that didn’t stop me or prevent me from playing in a small community league. Everyone wanted equipment, but very few had any. Some teams had shoulder pads. The most desired piece of equipment. Some had helmets. Only individuals has other things such as cleats, a jersey that actually covered the shoulder pads, or a cup. You didn’t get those until high school. It still hurt pre-high school.
With all the protection our government if providing, no demanding, I am fortunate to have lived long enough to be protected. From everything I can figure, I am a pretty sure I should be dead. But, guess what, I’m not. On a daily basis I listen to people sitting around talking about the good old days. You know what scares them most? Today!
We worry about all the pills we take. We worry about all the doctor visits we are told we must make. We worry about being warehoused in a non-carrying place. We worry about being placed in survival mode with tubes and machines keeping things moving while we have no live left but that equipment.
It’s not life that causes fear or worry. It’s the possibility of life without life. When will our government protect us from that? When will our friends and family see death as the natural course of living? I do not advocate assisted suicide. I support death with dignity. Don’t keep me longer than God has planned.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
I'M NOT NEEDED
HIGH SCHOOL FRIENDS
We do silly things when we’re sick. I woke up half way through Dr. Phil and turned the TV on. I don’t know what any of you think of Dr. Phil. I’m not a fan. I would not see him for counseling and I would definitely not go on national TV to air my dirty laundry. Besides, if I started I would need my own entire 21-episode show
Today’s show had a group of people who had been on a reality show some time back. They were high school classmates. Not all of them liked one another. I am always amazed they can find anyone to be on these shows. Why would anyone want to come on the air 20-years later to complain about what happen in high school? We were all stupid.
I was very shy, or at least felt very shy. Stanley’s church date found me in the library and convinced me to attend a Bible group meeting in a nearby church before school. It took a long time to attend. First I was nervous about meeting a pile (how many make a pile?) of kids I didn’t know and secondly and most importantly I needed to wake 45 minutes earlier. Painful.
This group hooked up with groups from other high schools in the city on Saturday nights. To be honest I don’t know it that was every Saturday night or what. There was some inter school teasing, but the group became my high school salvation — literally. I have no idea that they did any more than tolerate me, but I needed them. I remember they were fun funny and a little crazy. I did not overcome my shyness with them, but I found a place to fit in and be accepted. Sell shoes knocked the shyness out.
The school group I hooked up with had only two (that I remember). I thought of one as a very nice guy, but also a big shot at school. I liked him and at times wanted to be him. I also felt like I was out of his league. The tall thin one because one of my best friends. We ate lunch together most days, he picked me up for activities or just to “cruise” and pick up girls. He was way better than I was/ He was a hoot (do we say that anymore?). I was developing a humorous streak, but he was the best, the clown, the center of attention and a very nice guy. That we were even friend’s is somewhat miraculous, I was never into cars. He drove, I did not. He cared about cars. I saw them only as a way to get around. Of course, I was a senior before I got a car.
He was with me for my first wreck. It was weird. He commented on a draft coming between the front seats of my new (to me) 49 Pontiac as we were driving around on one of the first trips with my car. I briefly glanced down; then there were five bumps. When we got out, the whole right side of my wonderful little car was scrapped, dented and a mess. We looked to find the cars I had hit. We found a few that had the dirt shaken loose at their bumper, but nothing to warrant the damage to my car. We found the car owners of the ones I hit. They would look at my car and then do a double take at their own. The damage was a shock. When we finally left, I spotted a car a block away and a round the corner with a group of guys looking at the left side of their car. They stared at me as I drove by. I don’t know what really happened. I had my car repainted hoping to avoid questions about what happened. That didn’t work.
The group I was with was ordinary kids who just enjoyed having a good time and laughing. I doubt kids would enjoy the parlor games we played in homes. They might have liked going to the drive-ins, dances, and teen hangouts for hamburgers. The first McDonalds in our town had 15¢ burger. We usually got dollars worth. They were little and tasted like cardboards, but they were cheap. I needed the girl I often hung out with after school. She lived only a half block away. Going to her place avoided the parking lot fights and she hooked me into the group. She was the social center and being her friend allowed me to be included. I was not bold enough to do it on my own. We had completely different issues at home, but many similar feelings. She got me though the trough youth years.
There wasn’t one in the group I didn’t like. As in any group I was closer to some than to others. Most of these kids went to the same church. My dad finally agreed to the change of churches. It was a good thing for me.
In college I turned my back on them all. After months of self-isolation, my south city friend came to the shoe store to try and bring me back. It worked. We later left for college in Canada together. That changed my life forever. That was the best thing that every happened to me. Thank you all.
I know many that had lonely and isolated teen years. But my friends were my survival. And there are many more than I those referred to in the blog. I thank God for those who pulled me through my shyness, self-fear, and insecurity. I left at 19 so most never got to see me as a confident adult. But whether they got to see it our not, I’m grateful for the influence of all.
FEEL FREE TO FORWARD THIS TO ANY OF THE HIGH SCHHOL GANG YOU KNOW. I HAVE CONTACT WITH ONLY ABOUT FIVE.
We do silly things when we’re sick. I woke up half way through Dr. Phil and turned the TV on. I don’t know what any of you think of Dr. Phil. I’m not a fan. I would not see him for counseling and I would definitely not go on national TV to air my dirty laundry. Besides, if I started I would need my own entire 21-episode show
Today’s show had a group of people who had been on a reality show some time back. They were high school classmates. Not all of them liked one another. I am always amazed they can find anyone to be on these shows. Why would anyone want to come on the air 20-years later to complain about what happen in high school? We were all stupid.
I was very shy, or at least felt very shy. Stanley’s church date found me in the library and convinced me to attend a Bible group meeting in a nearby church before school. It took a long time to attend. First I was nervous about meeting a pile (how many make a pile?) of kids I didn’t know and secondly and most importantly I needed to wake 45 minutes earlier. Painful.
This group hooked up with groups from other high schools in the city on Saturday nights. To be honest I don’t know it that was every Saturday night or what. There was some inter school teasing, but the group became my high school salvation — literally. I have no idea that they did any more than tolerate me, but I needed them. I remember they were fun funny and a little crazy. I did not overcome my shyness with them, but I found a place to fit in and be accepted. Sell shoes knocked the shyness out.
The school group I hooked up with had only two (that I remember). I thought of one as a very nice guy, but also a big shot at school. I liked him and at times wanted to be him. I also felt like I was out of his league. The tall thin one because one of my best friends. We ate lunch together most days, he picked me up for activities or just to “cruise” and pick up girls. He was way better than I was/ He was a hoot (do we say that anymore?). I was developing a humorous streak, but he was the best, the clown, the center of attention and a very nice guy. That we were even friend’s is somewhat miraculous, I was never into cars. He drove, I did not. He cared about cars. I saw them only as a way to get around. Of course, I was a senior before I got a car.
He was with me for my first wreck. It was weird. He commented on a draft coming between the front seats of my new (to me) 49 Pontiac as we were driving around on one of the first trips with my car. I briefly glanced down; then there were five bumps. When we got out, the whole right side of my wonderful little car was scrapped, dented and a mess. We looked to find the cars I had hit. We found a few that had the dirt shaken loose at their bumper, but nothing to warrant the damage to my car. We found the car owners of the ones I hit. They would look at my car and then do a double take at their own. The damage was a shock. When we finally left, I spotted a car a block away and a round the corner with a group of guys looking at the left side of their car. They stared at me as I drove by. I don’t know what really happened. I had my car repainted hoping to avoid questions about what happened. That didn’t work.
The group I was with was ordinary kids who just enjoyed having a good time and laughing. I doubt kids would enjoy the parlor games we played in homes. They might have liked going to the drive-ins, dances, and teen hangouts for hamburgers. The first McDonalds in our town had 15¢ burger. We usually got dollars worth. They were little and tasted like cardboards, but they were cheap. I needed the girl I often hung out with after school. She lived only a half block away. Going to her place avoided the parking lot fights and she hooked me into the group. She was the social center and being her friend allowed me to be included. I was not bold enough to do it on my own. We had completely different issues at home, but many similar feelings. She got me though the trough youth years.
There wasn’t one in the group I didn’t like. As in any group I was closer to some than to others. Most of these kids went to the same church. My dad finally agreed to the change of churches. It was a good thing for me.
In college I turned my back on them all. After months of self-isolation, my south city friend came to the shoe store to try and bring me back. It worked. We later left for college in Canada together. That changed my life forever. That was the best thing that every happened to me. Thank you all.
I know many that had lonely and isolated teen years. But my friends were my survival. And there are many more than I those referred to in the blog. I thank God for those who pulled me through my shyness, self-fear, and insecurity. I left at 19 so most never got to see me as a confident adult. But whether they got to see it our not, I’m grateful for the influence of all.
FEEL FREE TO FORWARD THIS TO ANY OF THE HIGH SCHHOL GANG YOU KNOW. I HAVE CONTACT WITH ONLY ABOUT FIVE.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
HIGH SCHOOL FRIENDS
We do silly things when we’re sick. I woke up half way through Dr. Phil and turned the TV on. I don’t know what any of you think of Dr. Phil. I’m not a fan. I would not see him for counseling and I would definitely not go on national TV to air my dirty laundry. Besides, if I started I would need my own entire 21-episode show
Today’s show had a group of people who had been on a reality show some time back. They were high school classmates. Not all of them liked one another. I am always amazed they can find anyone to be on these shows. Why would anyone want to come on the air 20-years later to complain about what happen in high school? We were all stupid.
I was very shy, or at least felt very shy. Stanley’s church date found me in the library and convinced me to attend a Bible group meeting in a nearby church before school. It took a long time to attend. First I was nervous about meeting a pile (how many make a pile?) of kids I didn’t know and secondly and most importantly I needed to wake 45 minutes earlier. Painful.
This group hooked up with groups from other high schools in the city on Saturday nights. To be honest I don’t know it that was every Saturday night or what. There was some inter school teasing, but the group became my high school salvation — literally. I have no idea that they did any more than tolerate me, but I needed them. I remember they were fun funny and a little crazy. I did not overcome my shyness with them, but I found a place to fit in and be accepted. Sell shoes knocked the shyness out.
The school group I hooked up with had only two (that I remember). I thought of one as a very nice guy, but also a big shot at school. I liked him and at times wanted to be him. I also felt like I was out of his league. The tall thin one because one of my best friends. We ate lunch together most days, he picked me up for activities or just to “cruise” and pick up girls. He was way better than I was/ He was a hoot (do we say that anymore?). I was developing a humorous streak, but he was the best, the clown, the center of attention and a very nice guy. That we were even friend’s is somewhat miraculous, I was never into cars. He drove, I did not. He cared about cars. I saw them only as a way to get around. Of course, I was a senior before I got a car.
He was with me for my first wreck. It was weird. He commented on a draft coming between the front seats of my new (to me) 49 Pontiac as we were driving around on one of the first trips with my car. I briefly glanced down; then there were five bumps. When we got out, the whole right side of my wonderful little car was scrapped, dented and a mess. We looked to find the cars I had hit. We found a few that had the dirt shaken loose at their bumper, but nothing to warrant the damage to my car. We found the car owners of the ones I hit. They would look at my car and then do a double take at their own. The damage was a shock. When we finally left, I spotted a car a block away and a round the corner with a group of guys looking at the left side of their car. They stared at me as I drove by. I don’t know what really happened. I had my car repainted hoping to avoid questions about what happened. That didn’t work.
The group I was with was ordinary kids who just enjoyed having a good time and laughing. I doubt kids would enjoy the parlor games we played in homes. They might have liked going to the drive-ins, dances, and teen hangouts for hamburgers. The first McDonalds in our town had 15¢ burger. We usually got dollars worth. They were little and tasted like cardboards, but they were cheap. I needed the girl I often hung out with after school. She lived only a half block away. Going to her place avoided the parking lot fights and she hooked me into the group. She was the social center and being her friend allowed me to be included. I was not bold enough to do it on my own. We had completely different issues at home, but many similar feelings. She got me though the trough youth years.
There wasn’t one in the group I didn’t like. As in any group I was closer to some than to others. Most of these kids went to the same church. My dad finally agreed to the change of churches. It was a good thing for me.
In college I turned my back on them all. After months of self-isolation, my south city friend came to the shoe store to try and bring me back. It worked. We later left for college in Canada together. That changed my life forever. That was the best thing that every happened to me. Thank you all.
I know many that had lonely and isolated teen years. But my friends were my survival. And there are many more than I those referred to in the blog. I thank God for those who pulled me through my shyness, self-fear, and insecurity. I left at 19 so most never got to see me as a confident adult. But whether they got to see it our not, I’m grateful for the influence of all.
Today’s show had a group of people who had been on a reality show some time back. They were high school classmates. Not all of them liked one another. I am always amazed they can find anyone to be on these shows. Why would anyone want to come on the air 20-years later to complain about what happen in high school? We were all stupid.
I was very shy, or at least felt very shy. Stanley’s church date found me in the library and convinced me to attend a Bible group meeting in a nearby church before school. It took a long time to attend. First I was nervous about meeting a pile (how many make a pile?) of kids I didn’t know and secondly and most importantly I needed to wake 45 minutes earlier. Painful.
This group hooked up with groups from other high schools in the city on Saturday nights. To be honest I don’t know it that was every Saturday night or what. There was some inter school teasing, but the group became my high school salvation — literally. I have no idea that they did any more than tolerate me, but I needed them. I remember they were fun funny and a little crazy. I did not overcome my shyness with them, but I found a place to fit in and be accepted. Sell shoes knocked the shyness out.
The school group I hooked up with had only two (that I remember). I thought of one as a very nice guy, but also a big shot at school. I liked him and at times wanted to be him. I also felt like I was out of his league. The tall thin one because one of my best friends. We ate lunch together most days, he picked me up for activities or just to “cruise” and pick up girls. He was way better than I was/ He was a hoot (do we say that anymore?). I was developing a humorous streak, but he was the best, the clown, the center of attention and a very nice guy. That we were even friend’s is somewhat miraculous, I was never into cars. He drove, I did not. He cared about cars. I saw them only as a way to get around. Of course, I was a senior before I got a car.
He was with me for my first wreck. It was weird. He commented on a draft coming between the front seats of my new (to me) 49 Pontiac as we were driving around on one of the first trips with my car. I briefly glanced down; then there were five bumps. When we got out, the whole right side of my wonderful little car was scrapped, dented and a mess. We looked to find the cars I had hit. We found a few that had the dirt shaken loose at their bumper, but nothing to warrant the damage to my car. We found the car owners of the ones I hit. They would look at my car and then do a double take at their own. The damage was a shock. When we finally left, I spotted a car a block away and a round the corner with a group of guys looking at the left side of their car. They stared at me as I drove by. I don’t know what really happened. I had my car repainted hoping to avoid questions about what happened. That didn’t work.
The group I was with was ordinary kids who just enjoyed having a good time and laughing. I doubt kids would enjoy the parlor games we played in homes. They might have liked going to the drive-ins, dances, and teen hangouts for hamburgers. The first McDonalds in our town had 15¢ burger. We usually got dollars worth. They were little and tasted like cardboards, but they were cheap. I needed the girl I often hung out with after school. She lived only a half block away. Going to her place avoided the parking lot fights and she hooked me into the group. She was the social center and being her friend allowed me to be included. I was not bold enough to do it on my own. We had completely different issues at home, but many similar feelings. She got me though the trough youth years.
There wasn’t one in the group I didn’t like. As in any group I was closer to some than to others. Most of these kids went to the same church. My dad finally agreed to the change of churches. It was a good thing for me.
In college I turned my back on them all. After months of self-isolation, my south city friend came to the shoe store to try and bring me back. It worked. We later left for college in Canada together. That changed my life forever. That was the best thing that every happened to me. Thank you all.
I know many that had lonely and isolated teen years. But my friends were my survival. And there are many more than I those referred to in the blog. I thank God for those who pulled me through my shyness, self-fear, and insecurity. I left at 19 so most never got to see me as a confident adult. But whether they got to see it our not, I’m grateful for the influence of all.
GOURMET DINNER
Ten of us got together yesterday afternoon and went to try out the free gourmet dinners sponsored by a local church and a local gourmet chef. It is provided for those in need and the elderly. What a great meal. The best I have had since moving to this area. The tables have table cloths, the dishes are glass with non-plastic cutlery, the waiters and waitresses are exceptionally kind and friendly and there is no bill at the end – or at the beginning either. There were choices of two salads; two soups; six entrée’s and two desserts. It was incredible. There was so much food I brought almost half home. I was looking forward to having it today, but things change.
I had a scratchy throat yesterday with a very hoarse single noise cough. It got worse last night. I woke in plenty of time to leave for bread wars (every Wednesday). I was way too sick. I called both women to report I would not be able to make it. That means no bread at all. I have the van. This was the first miss in nearly two years. I never called in sick, pretended to stay home because of the weekly test, or needed a note from my mother. But I could not to it today. Back to bed I went. It felt good.
That was a sleep of three hours. When I got up (the bathroom thing did it), I got a call from a lady who ordered a print at the art show. She was willing to come later, but I have waited two months for her to show and wanted her to come. She didn’t know exactly where I was so I met her at the front door. We made the exchange, I took the money and was headed back in when Kiki saw me and asked if she could do anything. Very kind, but I could manage. Then she expressed disappointment that we went out to eat without giving her a special invitation. WHAT? She was present when the entire group made the decision. I teased her a little and came in. Gail knocked on my door a few seconds later to ask if I needed anything and see how I was. She wanted to know if I got food poisoning from the night before. No, why? Well, Maria is telling everyone that you got food poisoning. Why am I surprised! I didn’t give her an engraved invitation to dinner either. But she was told. Gail invited her. But the invitation didn’t come from the right person. I guess this is the punishment I will have to take for trying to put together, and encourage others to put together activities. All I know was the food was terrific. We decided to go every other week. I will post notices, but I’ll be pea soup if these two spoiled women are going to push me into a corner to make them special.
I know. I could give in. I could be a nice guy. I could make them special. I could make sure they are invited specifically. I could go and apologize; I could fall on bended knee and beg their forgiveness. I could deliver future notices via mail. I could do a lot of things, but I think I’ll go back to bed.
I had a scratchy throat yesterday with a very hoarse single noise cough. It got worse last night. I woke in plenty of time to leave for bread wars (every Wednesday). I was way too sick. I called both women to report I would not be able to make it. That means no bread at all. I have the van. This was the first miss in nearly two years. I never called in sick, pretended to stay home because of the weekly test, or needed a note from my mother. But I could not to it today. Back to bed I went. It felt good.
That was a sleep of three hours. When I got up (the bathroom thing did it), I got a call from a lady who ordered a print at the art show. She was willing to come later, but I have waited two months for her to show and wanted her to come. She didn’t know exactly where I was so I met her at the front door. We made the exchange, I took the money and was headed back in when Kiki saw me and asked if she could do anything. Very kind, but I could manage. Then she expressed disappointment that we went out to eat without giving her a special invitation. WHAT? She was present when the entire group made the decision. I teased her a little and came in. Gail knocked on my door a few seconds later to ask if I needed anything and see how I was. She wanted to know if I got food poisoning from the night before. No, why? Well, Maria is telling everyone that you got food poisoning. Why am I surprised! I didn’t give her an engraved invitation to dinner either. But she was told. Gail invited her. But the invitation didn’t come from the right person. I guess this is the punishment I will have to take for trying to put together, and encourage others to put together activities. All I know was the food was terrific. We decided to go every other week. I will post notices, but I’ll be pea soup if these two spoiled women are going to push me into a corner to make them special.
I know. I could give in. I could be a nice guy. I could make them special. I could make sure they are invited specifically. I could go and apologize; I could fall on bended knee and beg their forgiveness. I could deliver future notices via mail. I could do a lot of things, but I think I’ll go back to bed.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
ANIMAL PLANET
We had our own personal Animal Planet show this morning. On Tuesdays we get a small delivery of bread and sweets from the Food bank and a larger delivery of commodities. That means there were a larger number of people in the commons room having coffee and shooting the breeze – of which there was a strong one today.
Our retired doctor next door is finally cleaning up his yard a piece at a time. The lost was covered and there is a pile (lots) of blackberry bushes. They were so over grown one could not reach them all. But he has been whacking them down one weekend at a time. All but the edges near fences on either side of have been cleared. Their removal revealed a horde of sins. We can now see at least three trailers, an old tractor front loader, a couple piles of rotting wood and the run down shed/house at the back of the property.
When the lot was covered it was home to a large number of critters. We all have wondered where or if the animals have moved and if they have, where did they go. There were feral cats, squirrels, mice, an opossum or two and raccoons. This morning the raccoons put on a show for those of us gathered. It takes very little to entertain us.
At first we could see through the strip of remaining blackberry bushes the mother and two kits. When she took off to the other side of the lot we saw three little ones followings. A few minutes later she returned to our side of the lot and there were four kits. They wandered in the vines briefly before coming right along side the fence looking for a way through the fence. Right outside our window mom stopped, turned, stood on her hind legs and starred back at us. It was hard to know who was watching whom? One of us was saying “feed me.” Two of the children joined mom and we felt like we were in the zoo. After all, they were outside.
There was a clearly worn trail through the berry patch leading to an opening under the fence. The removal of so many bushes most likely made the trail hard to find. They found a space that was too small. Then mother climbed up and over the fence. Three little ones followed suit. There was some nervousness, but they made it. Number four was much more cautious. It (don’t know if it was a he or she) started up the fence a couple of times before getting to the top. Once to the top, “it” didn’t seem to know what to do. “It” tried to balance on the top, but was struggling. “It’ then considered going back the way it came, but the rest of the gang was outside the fence. Hesitantly “it came down on the outside only to discover the others had found the space under the fence and returned to the lot. “It” did catch up and joined the family bouncing around and finally finding a hill to return to the outside. They wandered west of us and we lost them (or they left us – one or the other).
One summer at our home in Canada, some very stupid parents rented the house adjoining our property to the back. Four high school boys shared the house for a summer of parties and mayhem. They had a pet raccoon, if one can have a pet raccoon. The animal could jump out of a bedroom window onto another’s garage roof, climb down some vines and wander wherever it wanted. It seemed to enjoy wandering in our yard. I know it checked out the entire neighborhood, but went though my place first. Since they fed that animal it always returned to them.
The police were at their place often. On one occasion there was an afternoon raid and the boys reached out the bedroom window and deposited drugs in the garage eves. The raccoon was on the garage roof watching the action. It sat and stared at the activity. Soon the police were in the window and they spotted the raccoon, but missed the drugs. Apparently it was against the law to have an unlicensed raccoon as a pet. The little overgrown bandit rat was hauled away.
The boys moved out at the end of August to return to school. Yeah! Early fall some friends helped me tear down my backyard leaning garage. There was about 16-18 inches between my collapsing garage and the other neighbor’s fence. When the garage came down, the marijuana was obvious. That sure explained why the boys were either in my yard near the garage or hanging out behind my garage. It is very hard to get rid of Marijuana without anyone knowing you have it.
Our retired doctor next door is finally cleaning up his yard a piece at a time. The lost was covered and there is a pile (lots) of blackberry bushes. They were so over grown one could not reach them all. But he has been whacking them down one weekend at a time. All but the edges near fences on either side of have been cleared. Their removal revealed a horde of sins. We can now see at least three trailers, an old tractor front loader, a couple piles of rotting wood and the run down shed/house at the back of the property.
When the lot was covered it was home to a large number of critters. We all have wondered where or if the animals have moved and if they have, where did they go. There were feral cats, squirrels, mice, an opossum or two and raccoons. This morning the raccoons put on a show for those of us gathered. It takes very little to entertain us.
At first we could see through the strip of remaining blackberry bushes the mother and two kits. When she took off to the other side of the lot we saw three little ones followings. A few minutes later she returned to our side of the lot and there were four kits. They wandered in the vines briefly before coming right along side the fence looking for a way through the fence. Right outside our window mom stopped, turned, stood on her hind legs and starred back at us. It was hard to know who was watching whom? One of us was saying “feed me.” Two of the children joined mom and we felt like we were in the zoo. After all, they were outside.
There was a clearly worn trail through the berry patch leading to an opening under the fence. The removal of so many bushes most likely made the trail hard to find. They found a space that was too small. Then mother climbed up and over the fence. Three little ones followed suit. There was some nervousness, but they made it. Number four was much more cautious. It (don’t know if it was a he or she) started up the fence a couple of times before getting to the top. Once to the top, “it” didn’t seem to know what to do. “It” tried to balance on the top, but was struggling. “It’ then considered going back the way it came, but the rest of the gang was outside the fence. Hesitantly “it came down on the outside only to discover the others had found the space under the fence and returned to the lot. “It” did catch up and joined the family bouncing around and finally finding a hill to return to the outside. They wandered west of us and we lost them (or they left us – one or the other).
One summer at our home in Canada, some very stupid parents rented the house adjoining our property to the back. Four high school boys shared the house for a summer of parties and mayhem. They had a pet raccoon, if one can have a pet raccoon. The animal could jump out of a bedroom window onto another’s garage roof, climb down some vines and wander wherever it wanted. It seemed to enjoy wandering in our yard. I know it checked out the entire neighborhood, but went though my place first. Since they fed that animal it always returned to them.
The police were at their place often. On one occasion there was an afternoon raid and the boys reached out the bedroom window and deposited drugs in the garage eves. The raccoon was on the garage roof watching the action. It sat and stared at the activity. Soon the police were in the window and they spotted the raccoon, but missed the drugs. Apparently it was against the law to have an unlicensed raccoon as a pet. The little overgrown bandit rat was hauled away.
The boys moved out at the end of August to return to school. Yeah! Early fall some friends helped me tear down my backyard leaning garage. There was about 16-18 inches between my collapsing garage and the other neighbor’s fence. When the garage came down, the marijuana was obvious. That sure explained why the boys were either in my yard near the garage or hanging out behind my garage. It is very hard to get rid of Marijuana without anyone knowing you have it.
Monday, July 19, 2010
TO TELL THE TRUTH
What is truth? What influences our perception of truth? There are a few black and white issues that are not debatable, but very few. There are even arguments over what is written. Written items may not be true, but how do you argue it was not written? When backed into corner it is said that it doesn’t mean what you think it means.
Most have an acquaintance that will argue night is day and day is night. Naturally we assume they are completely loony. But what about informational truth? One story passed along by multiple people. Many of us played the old parlor game “telegraph” or “telephone” where you sit in a circle and whisper a piece of information around the circle then hear the message from the last and then first person. They are never the same. For some reason that knowledge does not change what we feel. Amazingly, when it comes to stories about people, our feeling play a big roll.
How we feel about the person telling the story, or the one about whom the story is told or even about the information being passed along affects our understanding of the truth.
Boy oh boy. A lot of that is floating around The Home. There is a small group of people who are accepting everything that has happened to Chas as the gospel truth. It doesn’t matter that Chas has yet to say what happened, or that the stories about what caused Chas to do what he did have been interpreted through a minimum of five people, only one of which was in the commons room when things blew up. The primary interpreter of “the facts” comes from one who very often confuses things when she is present. Everything she says should be verified. It usually is, but not this time.
Most on Chas’ side do not like either Andrea or Liz. Anything negative about them is easily believed. Liz has been interpreted as such a rotten person that anything negative is believed about her. In spite of being a horticulturalist, most believe she would poison plants, pull them up by the roots and destroy them. Only one person says she saw her do it, but — and I love this lady — she is a liar. She also hates Liz. Why many believe her is beyond me. I can’t think of anyone who has not caught her in “misinformation.” That’s the current word for lying. I have personally tested her to check her information. Usually it is little stuff, but what should you believe when she hates someone? She cannot let a grudge go.
So we are stuck this morning with multiple pieces of misinformation (read lies) floating around. Facts are very few. 1) Chas had a blow up with Andrea. 2) Chas tore out his plants and threw them away. 3) Many feel sorry for how Chas has been mistreated and emotionally abused — was he?. 4) Management sucks, as they have done nothing about this mess. 5) Andrea and Liz are awfully mean people.
I am not over fond of either woman, but get along well with both. I have not seen them do anything, or heard them say anything negative. Other facts: 1) When Chas is upset it takes very little for him to explode. 2) Both Liz and Andrea say what they like without regard to the impact of their words. 3) Maria and Chas use information as power and are not always 100% truthful (admittedly that is my interpretation.)
The stories are bigger than they were on Friday. Management likely knows nothing of the blow up but is still responsible. Management will likely never straight this mess out. Truth here is now so muddled I doubt the truth can ever be figured out.
In the meantime, the civil war sides are being divided. The battle of words is escalating. I think some cream pies should be placed in the commons rooms and something done to incite a riot. We would not likely hit anyone with out first, but throwing pies would be fun. I would enjoy throwing pies at both sides.
Most have an acquaintance that will argue night is day and day is night. Naturally we assume they are completely loony. But what about informational truth? One story passed along by multiple people. Many of us played the old parlor game “telegraph” or “telephone” where you sit in a circle and whisper a piece of information around the circle then hear the message from the last and then first person. They are never the same. For some reason that knowledge does not change what we feel. Amazingly, when it comes to stories about people, our feeling play a big roll.
How we feel about the person telling the story, or the one about whom the story is told or even about the information being passed along affects our understanding of the truth.
Boy oh boy. A lot of that is floating around The Home. There is a small group of people who are accepting everything that has happened to Chas as the gospel truth. It doesn’t matter that Chas has yet to say what happened, or that the stories about what caused Chas to do what he did have been interpreted through a minimum of five people, only one of which was in the commons room when things blew up. The primary interpreter of “the facts” comes from one who very often confuses things when she is present. Everything she says should be verified. It usually is, but not this time.
Most on Chas’ side do not like either Andrea or Liz. Anything negative about them is easily believed. Liz has been interpreted as such a rotten person that anything negative is believed about her. In spite of being a horticulturalist, most believe she would poison plants, pull them up by the roots and destroy them. Only one person says she saw her do it, but — and I love this lady — she is a liar. She also hates Liz. Why many believe her is beyond me. I can’t think of anyone who has not caught her in “misinformation.” That’s the current word for lying. I have personally tested her to check her information. Usually it is little stuff, but what should you believe when she hates someone? She cannot let a grudge go.
So we are stuck this morning with multiple pieces of misinformation (read lies) floating around. Facts are very few. 1) Chas had a blow up with Andrea. 2) Chas tore out his plants and threw them away. 3) Many feel sorry for how Chas has been mistreated and emotionally abused — was he?. 4) Management sucks, as they have done nothing about this mess. 5) Andrea and Liz are awfully mean people.
I am not over fond of either woman, but get along well with both. I have not seen them do anything, or heard them say anything negative. Other facts: 1) When Chas is upset it takes very little for him to explode. 2) Both Liz and Andrea say what they like without regard to the impact of their words. 3) Maria and Chas use information as power and are not always 100% truthful (admittedly that is my interpretation.)
The stories are bigger than they were on Friday. Management likely knows nothing of the blow up but is still responsible. Management will likely never straight this mess out. Truth here is now so muddled I doubt the truth can ever be figured out.
In the meantime, the civil war sides are being divided. The battle of words is escalating. I think some cream pies should be placed in the commons rooms and something done to incite a riot. We would not likely hit anyone with out first, but throwing pies would be fun. I would enjoy throwing pies at both sides.
Friday, July 16, 2010
TAXES AND EXTRA FEES.
It’s quiet today. There are plenty of people around. They just are not talking about any of the events of yesterday. Chas is still not answering his phone or door. I did see him coming back in this evening at the door by my apartment. He was alone. It is the least used door. I assume he didn’t want anyone to see him.
I did learn that there were conversations that sent him off. There was something Andrea said in the commons room and in spite of an earlier conversation with the manager; Liz moved his plants again yesterday. So he was on edge before he had words with Andrea. His emotions were crushed. He was in tears while tearing out his plants. A few tried to talk to him. He either ignored them of responded harshly. I doubt the head office knows anything about this yet.
The primary conversation of the day was about being nickel and dimed to death by anyone who thinks they can get away with it. A couple days ago Bank of America announced they were going to begin charging $8.95 each time a customer needed to talk to a teller. Don’t you love it? A completely automated world is coming. It won’t be long with all these wonderful communication tools that we will never have to talk to another human being for anything. Won’t life be grand? We can hardly wait for free checking to become a thing of the past. My own bank has announced that on August 15 they will begin charging $35 for each over date. If you pay a fee for over draft protection you will only be charged $25. Such a nice bank! Fee checking will be next. Use plastic or be charged extra. Use a machine to avoid paying the “talk to human being fee.” Checks are also on the way out. The cashless society is about to finally dawn.
The government is trying to crack down on deceptive airline pricing. Everything is now extra. This is not my main concern. I can no longer afford to fly anyway. The new rule of thumb is not to take any luggage on vacations or business trips. If you do, you are charged from $25 to $100 per bag, plus over weight fees. Don’t even take a carry on. That’s also $35 per item. They have already or will soon move all extra fees out of the cost of flying. All taxes will be extra as they are not part of what you are buying. Airplane fuel will be extra because that has nothing to do with the space you are consuming. Would you like a bottle of water, a soda, milk or anything else, try to take correct change? They will all be $2 a glass. Want the whole can or bottle — that’s five dollars. Peanut packs will be $2. Actual peanuts are extra. They will once again serve food on planes for, of course, a fee. A ham sandwich with fake cheese, wilted lettuce and a dead tomato will be $10. You can add a small bag of chips for $3. You will, of course, need exact change. Here you thought you got a great deal on the $150 flight to your favorite location. Look again — the total cost is $1,150 with other necessary additions.
The next thing you know extra will be added at the grocery store. In the produce aisle the plastic bags will be dispensed in a machine that only takes $1 bills. There will be a $10 charge for using a cashier. Use the3 self serve line. All vegetables will come individually packaged for your health protection. Yes, the price will be doubled to include a packaging fee. How many carrots would you like? Will that be one pea or a dozen? They will be packaged in lots of 2 dozen, but you can, of course, buy a single pea for an extra fee. Do you need help from someone in the store, pay the fee? Bagging items in plastic will be $1 dollar a bag, paper will be $2, and your own reusable bags must be sanitized in the sanitizing machine for a low, low fee of $5 a bag. Unsterilized bags will not be permitted in the store.
All of this will lead to home gardens; an increase in raising pigs and chickens inside the city limits and your neighbor may have his own milking cow. The city will permit that because each animal will be required to have a license tag around it’s neck. Gardens will be taxed separately from homes. They will be taxed as farms. The city needs its share as well.
The price on actual items will go down, but the extra taxes and fees will double the price of everything. It’s a great new world where we can finally afford everything — except the taxes and fees. Glory! It’s a bright new future. Nothing will be as it seems.
I did learn that there were conversations that sent him off. There was something Andrea said in the commons room and in spite of an earlier conversation with the manager; Liz moved his plants again yesterday. So he was on edge before he had words with Andrea. His emotions were crushed. He was in tears while tearing out his plants. A few tried to talk to him. He either ignored them of responded harshly. I doubt the head office knows anything about this yet.
The primary conversation of the day was about being nickel and dimed to death by anyone who thinks they can get away with it. A couple days ago Bank of America announced they were going to begin charging $8.95 each time a customer needed to talk to a teller. Don’t you love it? A completely automated world is coming. It won’t be long with all these wonderful communication tools that we will never have to talk to another human being for anything. Won’t life be grand? We can hardly wait for free checking to become a thing of the past. My own bank has announced that on August 15 they will begin charging $35 for each over date. If you pay a fee for over draft protection you will only be charged $25. Such a nice bank! Fee checking will be next. Use plastic or be charged extra. Use a machine to avoid paying the “talk to human being fee.” Checks are also on the way out. The cashless society is about to finally dawn.
The government is trying to crack down on deceptive airline pricing. Everything is now extra. This is not my main concern. I can no longer afford to fly anyway. The new rule of thumb is not to take any luggage on vacations or business trips. If you do, you are charged from $25 to $100 per bag, plus over weight fees. Don’t even take a carry on. That’s also $35 per item. They have already or will soon move all extra fees out of the cost of flying. All taxes will be extra as they are not part of what you are buying. Airplane fuel will be extra because that has nothing to do with the space you are consuming. Would you like a bottle of water, a soda, milk or anything else, try to take correct change? They will all be $2 a glass. Want the whole can or bottle — that’s five dollars. Peanut packs will be $2. Actual peanuts are extra. They will once again serve food on planes for, of course, a fee. A ham sandwich with fake cheese, wilted lettuce and a dead tomato will be $10. You can add a small bag of chips for $3. You will, of course, need exact change. Here you thought you got a great deal on the $150 flight to your favorite location. Look again — the total cost is $1,150 with other necessary additions.
The next thing you know extra will be added at the grocery store. In the produce aisle the plastic bags will be dispensed in a machine that only takes $1 bills. There will be a $10 charge for using a cashier. Use the3 self serve line. All vegetables will come individually packaged for your health protection. Yes, the price will be doubled to include a packaging fee. How many carrots would you like? Will that be one pea or a dozen? They will be packaged in lots of 2 dozen, but you can, of course, buy a single pea for an extra fee. Do you need help from someone in the store, pay the fee? Bagging items in plastic will be $1 dollar a bag, paper will be $2, and your own reusable bags must be sanitized in the sanitizing machine for a low, low fee of $5 a bag. Unsterilized bags will not be permitted in the store.
All of this will lead to home gardens; an increase in raising pigs and chickens inside the city limits and your neighbor may have his own milking cow. The city will permit that because each animal will be required to have a license tag around it’s neck. Gardens will be taxed separately from homes. They will be taxed as farms. The city needs its share as well.
The price on actual items will go down, but the extra taxes and fees will double the price of everything. It’s a great new world where we can finally afford everything — except the taxes and fees. Glory! It’s a bright new future. Nothing will be as it seems.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
MAJOR EXPLOSION
Tonight we began our first of regular Thursday night BBQ’s. Sixteen attended. That’s a good number for us. I did my best to make sure this was not a “come to the free meal” event. It was my desire that everyone brought whatever he or she wanted to cook or have cooked. Naturally it didn’t work out that way. Three people brought extra “for those who come without something of their own.” It worked out as five came looking for someone else to provide food for tem. Some want a handout; others want to provide the handout. I guess it all works out in the end. Think I’ll keep my mouth shut.
Chas was one of those encouraging people to come and brought extra so “others” would have some when they came. As much as I tried, everyone he invited he told there would be food provided.
Yesterday Chas spoke with the big manager. He took Gail with him to help keep focused. That was a good decision. Gail kept him focused and on track. He primarily addressed the issue of his plants being moved every day. She confirmed that the lower patio area was put there for wheelchair use. He should report to her the next time his plants are moved. They also addressed Hazel’s movement and removal of signs that seem to trouble her. It was suggested she might have some sort of compulsive disorder. Amen to that.
Then this morning, Chas’ world blew up. I have heard only pieces of what happened. Already I have heard three different versions. I am still trying to mesh the stories and find common ground. Fundamentally it seems to go like this. The manager talked to Hazel about her compulsive disorder. I doubt that label was used, but an attempt was made to get her to stop. Later that manager met with Liz, the offending plant mover telling her to stop moving the plants. That took some time. So far so good! From here the story splits into three distinctive trails. I first learned there was any issue when Gail came by to ask if I knew where Chas was. She believed he was inside but not answering the door. I walked down to his apartment with her, knocked loudly and asked if he was okay. “I’m fine. Go away.” Right. We trained observers immediately know that when someone says, “I’m fine,” and immediately follow up with, “Go away.” They are upset. I have a minor in counseling.
I did the right thing. I went away. Back to my dirty apartment that I had been cleaning all day, except for the times I played on the computer and watched my taped version of “Last Comic Standing.” I edited out all but the comics. Did you know that the one-hour show is only 20 minutes long when you do that? But I digress.
Gail went to see Doris and see if she could find out what was wrong. She returned with story one. As I was setting up for the BBQ a few hours later, Maria reported story number two – the wildest of the three stories. I won’t go into that now. During the BBQ Kiki gave me story number three. Here is where the stories line up.
Chas ripped out all his plants. Not just the ones on the patio, but also the ones he planted along the front of our building. It looks bear and naked, barren and ugly. He was crying as he did it. He then locked himself in his apartment, was not answering the door. And fell into deep depression. How he came to this point is debatable. Even people in the same room do not agree on what happened. The blowup occurred at coffee and conversation. No one seems to know exactly how it began. Even the person making the initial comment is in question. The comment its self is in question. It is agreed that there were four around a table plus Chas. Doris was in the kitchen. The fourth person and the speaker whose comment led to the explosion was either Liz or Andrea. Liz has been the primary thorn in the flesh to Chas, the one moving his flowerpots. Andrea on the other hand is more often at coffee and a very opinioned former teacher who will say what she thinks without regard to where the chips may fall. Until I know for sure I assume it was Andrea, as I have never seen Liz sit there for coffee. No one remembers what was said only the after math, the verbal explosion.
The woman was first in raising her voice, but Chas quickly followed. A few exchanges occurred before Chas powered up his wheelchair and sped away. His door was locked – it’s never locked. He was silent to any who came to the door. He did not come to the BBQ. He is so far down, he can’t see up to bottom. He reacted. We who know him wish he had sought counsel. He didn’t. It will be several days before he comes out. Teams are lining up. There is team Chas and Team anti Chas. This will be hard to remain neutral but I promise to be Switzerland. It has to power to divide our once somewhat pleasant campus. He was egged on. He has been egged on for sometime. He reacted and deprived us the beautiful garden at the front of our campus. I am sad. I will remain in my room for a few days as well. The place is a pigsty and really needs cleaning. I started today. I know I can finish within a week. I have a great book I can hardly put down, oh and I plan to clean.
Chas was one of those encouraging people to come and brought extra so “others” would have some when they came. As much as I tried, everyone he invited he told there would be food provided.
Yesterday Chas spoke with the big manager. He took Gail with him to help keep focused. That was a good decision. Gail kept him focused and on track. He primarily addressed the issue of his plants being moved every day. She confirmed that the lower patio area was put there for wheelchair use. He should report to her the next time his plants are moved. They also addressed Hazel’s movement and removal of signs that seem to trouble her. It was suggested she might have some sort of compulsive disorder. Amen to that.
Then this morning, Chas’ world blew up. I have heard only pieces of what happened. Already I have heard three different versions. I am still trying to mesh the stories and find common ground. Fundamentally it seems to go like this. The manager talked to Hazel about her compulsive disorder. I doubt that label was used, but an attempt was made to get her to stop. Later that manager met with Liz, the offending plant mover telling her to stop moving the plants. That took some time. So far so good! From here the story splits into three distinctive trails. I first learned there was any issue when Gail came by to ask if I knew where Chas was. She believed he was inside but not answering the door. I walked down to his apartment with her, knocked loudly and asked if he was okay. “I’m fine. Go away.” Right. We trained observers immediately know that when someone says, “I’m fine,” and immediately follow up with, “Go away.” They are upset. I have a minor in counseling.
I did the right thing. I went away. Back to my dirty apartment that I had been cleaning all day, except for the times I played on the computer and watched my taped version of “Last Comic Standing.” I edited out all but the comics. Did you know that the one-hour show is only 20 minutes long when you do that? But I digress.
Gail went to see Doris and see if she could find out what was wrong. She returned with story one. As I was setting up for the BBQ a few hours later, Maria reported story number two – the wildest of the three stories. I won’t go into that now. During the BBQ Kiki gave me story number three. Here is where the stories line up.
Chas ripped out all his plants. Not just the ones on the patio, but also the ones he planted along the front of our building. It looks bear and naked, barren and ugly. He was crying as he did it. He then locked himself in his apartment, was not answering the door. And fell into deep depression. How he came to this point is debatable. Even people in the same room do not agree on what happened. The blowup occurred at coffee and conversation. No one seems to know exactly how it began. Even the person making the initial comment is in question. The comment its self is in question. It is agreed that there were four around a table plus Chas. Doris was in the kitchen. The fourth person and the speaker whose comment led to the explosion was either Liz or Andrea. Liz has been the primary thorn in the flesh to Chas, the one moving his flowerpots. Andrea on the other hand is more often at coffee and a very opinioned former teacher who will say what she thinks without regard to where the chips may fall. Until I know for sure I assume it was Andrea, as I have never seen Liz sit there for coffee. No one remembers what was said only the after math, the verbal explosion.
The woman was first in raising her voice, but Chas quickly followed. A few exchanges occurred before Chas powered up his wheelchair and sped away. His door was locked – it’s never locked. He was silent to any who came to the door. He did not come to the BBQ. He is so far down, he can’t see up to bottom. He reacted. We who know him wish he had sought counsel. He didn’t. It will be several days before he comes out. Teams are lining up. There is team Chas and Team anti Chas. This will be hard to remain neutral but I promise to be Switzerland. It has to power to divide our once somewhat pleasant campus. He was egged on. He has been egged on for sometime. He reacted and deprived us the beautiful garden at the front of our campus. I am sad. I will remain in my room for a few days as well. The place is a pigsty and really needs cleaning. I started today. I know I can finish within a week. I have a great book I can hardly put down, oh and I plan to clean.
Monday, July 12, 2010
WHO WILL STAR?
There’s lots of talk about the barefoot bandit. Since he started in our part of the world he is our hometown hero. Did you know he never hurt anyone? There was never any violence. Isn’t that good. It is hard to believe how stupid people are. I know I’ve had lots of practice listening, but there is always something new. That’s why life is so interesting. How big is his fan base on Facebook? Something like 10,000. He did elude police for over 2 years. Yeah! Terrific. What a clever and bright boy he must be. He’s a boy of above average intelligence we’re told. Did you know he figured out how to fly a plane just by playing video games about flying? He’s brilliant. Maybe if he had practiced on video games about landing he wouldn’t have crashed those planes.
These admiring people are the same ones who would have cheered on Bonnie and Clyde, Billy the Kid and any number of criminal folk hero’s. I know he will be in the headlines for many months. He will most likely be tried in 6-7 states. Since he took planes and boats across state lines there will also be federal charges.
There will be a book and a movie. There is money to be made off the barefoot bandit. The law prohibits him from profiting from his own crimes, but can mom profit? She hired a lawyer to protect those rights. Both the book and the movie had better move quickly. You have to strike while the iron is hot. The book is probably mostly written — just needs a conclusion. If it’s cheaply done it should be on the market in less that a month. Paperback of course. A good movie will take more time. I know a TV movie of the week would be faster, but I want to encourage them to hold out for a major motion picture. Smaller audience, but more money! I’m sure casting directors already have ideas. Colton is tall. 6.4” or something like that. He is sorta thin. Leonardo DeCaprio has the build, but he’s getting to old. Matt Damon is over the age limit and short. Who is tall, somewhat thin, good looking with a smirky smile? They also have to be likeable and sneaky. The role may have to go to an unknown. There really isn’t such a thing as an unknown. The actor’s parents know him. So do his siblings and friends. I guess that just means we don’t know him.
Maybe a young TV star, or up and coming Broadway star. It must be someone who runs well barefooted. Maybe Logan Leman would work. He’s been on a couple of series but may be best known as the kid from 3:10 to Yuma, the son of Christian Bale. He has the looks and the build. He is also 18 years of age. Very close! Other suggestions?
If Logan doesn’t work, I’m stuck. Set up a national open audition. Go ahead see all 10,000 who audition and try to keep them strait. We don’t know that the barefoot bandit had a girlfriend, but one should be written in. We need a hook for the teenage girls. A tragic love story would help a lot otherwise it may only be guys interested in the movie. I’m not sure there are enough explosions for that crowd, but there are some pretty cool crashes. One can always add bigger explosions and crashes. It doesn’t have to be a true story, just based on a true story. The final boat chase is pretty cool. Did you see all those bullet holes? How did they avoid hitting him? Amazing.
The story is great if you don’t take into consideration the damage he did, the live’s he destroyed and the emotional harm he did, but if it has comic overtones these people can be presented as just slightly annoyed instead of devastated. We do want a good movie.
These admiring people are the same ones who would have cheered on Bonnie and Clyde, Billy the Kid and any number of criminal folk hero’s. I know he will be in the headlines for many months. He will most likely be tried in 6-7 states. Since he took planes and boats across state lines there will also be federal charges.
There will be a book and a movie. There is money to be made off the barefoot bandit. The law prohibits him from profiting from his own crimes, but can mom profit? She hired a lawyer to protect those rights. Both the book and the movie had better move quickly. You have to strike while the iron is hot. The book is probably mostly written — just needs a conclusion. If it’s cheaply done it should be on the market in less that a month. Paperback of course. A good movie will take more time. I know a TV movie of the week would be faster, but I want to encourage them to hold out for a major motion picture. Smaller audience, but more money! I’m sure casting directors already have ideas. Colton is tall. 6.4” or something like that. He is sorta thin. Leonardo DeCaprio has the build, but he’s getting to old. Matt Damon is over the age limit and short. Who is tall, somewhat thin, good looking with a smirky smile? They also have to be likeable and sneaky. The role may have to go to an unknown. There really isn’t such a thing as an unknown. The actor’s parents know him. So do his siblings and friends. I guess that just means we don’t know him.
Maybe a young TV star, or up and coming Broadway star. It must be someone who runs well barefooted. Maybe Logan Leman would work. He’s been on a couple of series but may be best known as the kid from 3:10 to Yuma, the son of Christian Bale. He has the looks and the build. He is also 18 years of age. Very close! Other suggestions?
If Logan doesn’t work, I’m stuck. Set up a national open audition. Go ahead see all 10,000 who audition and try to keep them strait. We don’t know that the barefoot bandit had a girlfriend, but one should be written in. We need a hook for the teenage girls. A tragic love story would help a lot otherwise it may only be guys interested in the movie. I’m not sure there are enough explosions for that crowd, but there are some pretty cool crashes. One can always add bigger explosions and crashes. It doesn’t have to be a true story, just based on a true story. The final boat chase is pretty cool. Did you see all those bullet holes? How did they avoid hitting him? Amazing.
The story is great if you don’t take into consideration the damage he did, the live’s he destroyed and the emotional harm he did, but if it has comic overtones these people can be presented as just slightly annoyed instead of devastated. We do want a good movie.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
BATTLE OF THE BULLETIN BOARDS
It’s started. I’m not surprised that it has started I’m just surprised it took five days after the departure of our on site managers. Hazel has appointed herself the keeper of notices in our building. She moves things around and puts things in a straight line. While that annoys some residents, it’s not a horrible thing. But she also removes signs she does not like. She takes others down the morning of the event though some will check that day to confirm times. That makes people mad. Hazel prowls at night. She makes these changes when most are sleeping. Her sneakiness gets on nerves. If confronted she will deny that she makes these changes, and weep that no one believes her. However, she has a history of doing this.
Hazel moved and removed notices at will before our managers came. We even had a special meeting warning us all about leaving notices alone. A collection of absurd rules were laid out that one no enforced and were ignored by most.
1. No signs could be posted without an administrator’s signature on the notice. I defy anyone to find an administrator. They were in a different building and hidden behind locked doors.
2. Signs were to be removed only by administrators. That never happened. They only came to post notices.
3. Signs would be posted to clarify everything. Sorry, the signs only brought more confusion. All signs were on 8.5x11 sheets with very few words. They filled a board until Hazel came along to clean up. Our building has less information than the other, but it looks neat.
Signs ended up on windows, doors, in the elevator. When Hazel confessed after many days of anger at being accused (go figure), she said she would never allow a sign to be posted in the elevator. If they wanted her to stop, they would have to come tell here personally. That was a challenge to those she offended. They called and sent notes until the administrators came and ordered her to stop.
There are four bulletin boards in our building, one at the back door, one upstairs and two at the front door. At the front one is inside the building and the other is in the airlock. Hazel has moved notices that are only for residents to the airlock board. That was normally notices that never changed. The inside board constantly changes. She moved one outside because it was on orange paper and it didn’t look good in the building. A notice for deliver men had been posted on the window by the door where it would be seen. It has been moved to the airlock board. Another notice over the intercom was moved to the airlock board where it will never be seen. There is another board upstairs. If there are duplicate signs she removes all but one and leaves the one on the most obscure board. She says one sign is enough. Maybe for her as she checks each board every night.
Notes and calls to the administrators will begin tomorrow. They will be hounded until a special meeting is called and we are reminded that we are all silly little children. The administrators do not have the guts to address the people involved. Instead they will gather us all to tell us all to grow up. The attack will only make them more hated. They need to mature and deal appropriately with the offenders. There is only one. And everyone knows who it is. By the way, when the meeting is called to warn and condemn us, Hazel will not be there.
Hazel moved and removed notices at will before our managers came. We even had a special meeting warning us all about leaving notices alone. A collection of absurd rules were laid out that one no enforced and were ignored by most.
1. No signs could be posted without an administrator’s signature on the notice. I defy anyone to find an administrator. They were in a different building and hidden behind locked doors.
2. Signs were to be removed only by administrators. That never happened. They only came to post notices.
3. Signs would be posted to clarify everything. Sorry, the signs only brought more confusion. All signs were on 8.5x11 sheets with very few words. They filled a board until Hazel came along to clean up. Our building has less information than the other, but it looks neat.
Signs ended up on windows, doors, in the elevator. When Hazel confessed after many days of anger at being accused (go figure), she said she would never allow a sign to be posted in the elevator. If they wanted her to stop, they would have to come tell here personally. That was a challenge to those she offended. They called and sent notes until the administrators came and ordered her to stop.
There are four bulletin boards in our building, one at the back door, one upstairs and two at the front door. At the front one is inside the building and the other is in the airlock. Hazel has moved notices that are only for residents to the airlock board. That was normally notices that never changed. The inside board constantly changes. She moved one outside because it was on orange paper and it didn’t look good in the building. A notice for deliver men had been posted on the window by the door where it would be seen. It has been moved to the airlock board. Another notice over the intercom was moved to the airlock board where it will never be seen. There is another board upstairs. If there are duplicate signs she removes all but one and leaves the one on the most obscure board. She says one sign is enough. Maybe for her as she checks each board every night.
Notes and calls to the administrators will begin tomorrow. They will be hounded until a special meeting is called and we are reminded that we are all silly little children. The administrators do not have the guts to address the people involved. Instead they will gather us all to tell us all to grow up. The attack will only make them more hated. They need to mature and deal appropriately with the offenders. There is only one. And everyone knows who it is. By the way, when the meeting is called to warn and condemn us, Hazel will not be there.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
YOU MADE ME MISS THE SHOW
How does one little incident turn into such a big hullabaloo? It was no big deal. The tickets were paid for and none of the money came out of my pocket. Of course I wondered where they were. They are always pushing me to make sure I don’t leave them. Yes, I called each of them to see where they were. Yes, I went to their doors and knocked to try and find them. Yes, I searched around the usual places they hang out without finding them. Yes, I went and sat on the front porch waiting for departure time where three others joined me and I told them what I was doing. Now it is all my fault.
The first I heard of my sins was when Kiki knocked on my door to tell me I had told her the tickets were for tonight. She got the from the phone message that she only listened to this morning. Actually I never told them anything. I gave each a written notice with all the details before they ever gave me money for the Cinderella tickets. Can we use the tickets for tonight? No, they were reserved seats and they were for Friday night. Did I try to get the money back? No. Why? Because it is not their responsibility to make sure we get seats for a show because we did not come on the night assigned. But we thought it was tonight, not last night. If you want to go over and explain your thinking, be my guest. I doubt it would be persuasive. Besides, tonight is closing night and it will be packed. It was three quarters full on Friday. So you are not going to give my money back? No, I am not. Well, I’ll get even someway. You’re welcome to try but I have no idea why I am responsible for your inability to track your own plans. Well, Maria wanted to go out, so I went along. Maybe you should think for yourself and tell her you had plans. She didn’t say anything about the plans. So now it’s also her fault. Kiki, I love you, but just accept the fact that you made a mistake and missed the performance. YOU MADE THE MISTAKE. No one made that for you. The money was spent and it is not coming back. Accept it.
I expected Maria to come next, but I didn’t see her until I went to do my laundry at about 5:00. As I usually do, I worked on the puzzle while my clothes were washing. She came out of her room and began by telling me she had come to talk to me but I didn’t answer the door. She guessed I was gone. Actually I had gone back to bed. For some reason I was tired. Leslie came out and invited me to have supper with her, Maria and Kiki. I agreed. It was at the dinner table that I faced new and improved accusations. You told everyone how mad you were about us not being there. If they said I was mad, that was their interpretation. It was your money and your choice. My concern was how long should I wait for you to return. Well, Chas said… (Who knows what – to the best of my knowledge it sounded nothing like anything I had said … I don’t know what his spin was. Then Gail said … (again, she said what? I doubted it). Oh well! They made it perfectly clear that they missed the show because it was my fault. Hummmm! No wonder I’m tired. I had no reason to be mad at them. I did try to explain that I was not mad, but Chas said… and Gail said… I get it. The truth is not what I said it was but how it was interpreted and then how you reinterpreted the interpretation. Got that. A perfect example of gossip at work!
I had supper, left to get my laundry and escaped to my apartment. I think I’ll try to find some violent movie with car crashes, gunfights, fistfights, explosions and other assorted mayhem. It will help me release my aggression. I will atone for my sins at a later date — after I figure out what I atone for.
The first I heard of my sins was when Kiki knocked on my door to tell me I had told her the tickets were for tonight. She got the from the phone message that she only listened to this morning. Actually I never told them anything. I gave each a written notice with all the details before they ever gave me money for the Cinderella tickets. Can we use the tickets for tonight? No, they were reserved seats and they were for Friday night. Did I try to get the money back? No. Why? Because it is not their responsibility to make sure we get seats for a show because we did not come on the night assigned. But we thought it was tonight, not last night. If you want to go over and explain your thinking, be my guest. I doubt it would be persuasive. Besides, tonight is closing night and it will be packed. It was three quarters full on Friday. So you are not going to give my money back? No, I am not. Well, I’ll get even someway. You’re welcome to try but I have no idea why I am responsible for your inability to track your own plans. Well, Maria wanted to go out, so I went along. Maybe you should think for yourself and tell her you had plans. She didn’t say anything about the plans. So now it’s also her fault. Kiki, I love you, but just accept the fact that you made a mistake and missed the performance. YOU MADE THE MISTAKE. No one made that for you. The money was spent and it is not coming back. Accept it.
I expected Maria to come next, but I didn’t see her until I went to do my laundry at about 5:00. As I usually do, I worked on the puzzle while my clothes were washing. She came out of her room and began by telling me she had come to talk to me but I didn’t answer the door. She guessed I was gone. Actually I had gone back to bed. For some reason I was tired. Leslie came out and invited me to have supper with her, Maria and Kiki. I agreed. It was at the dinner table that I faced new and improved accusations. You told everyone how mad you were about us not being there. If they said I was mad, that was their interpretation. It was your money and your choice. My concern was how long should I wait for you to return. Well, Chas said… (Who knows what – to the best of my knowledge it sounded nothing like anything I had said … I don’t know what his spin was. Then Gail said … (again, she said what? I doubted it). Oh well! They made it perfectly clear that they missed the show because it was my fault. Hummmm! No wonder I’m tired. I had no reason to be mad at them. I did try to explain that I was not mad, but Chas said… and Gail said… I get it. The truth is not what I said it was but how it was interpreted and then how you reinterpreted the interpretation. Got that. A perfect example of gossip at work!
I had supper, left to get my laundry and escaped to my apartment. I think I’ll try to find some violent movie with car crashes, gunfights, fistfights, explosions and other assorted mayhem. It will help me release my aggression. I will atone for my sins at a later date — after I figure out what I atone for.
Friday, July 9, 2010
WHERE ARE YOU?
If my daughter needs me to watch the grandkids, I drop everything to go over there. I have very selfish reasons. I go just to get the hugs and kisses from them. They are getting near the age where they may not need me, but I plan to drag it out as long as I can. After all, I moved here just for this reason.
I had to leave them alone for a half hour transition between my departure and their dads arrival. They did great. I left to get to Janet’s memorial service.
I swung by The Home to pick up five passengers. It was a beautiful service of celebration. They sang hymns that make old people cry. We cry easily any way. Old hymns are always connected to old memories — especially “How Great Thou Art.” Her son told some terrific stories. Loved the ones about her terrible driving. I’m surprised someone didn’t take her license. Her first husband never let her drive, but when he passed away she inherited a new Cadillac. On her second day of driving she tried to squeeze between two cars. She scrapped her car on both sides. He shared stories of several of mom’s wrecks. Three times she rolled a car (different cars) on the same road and ended up in the same guys yard. She rear-ended a city bus causing $86,000 damage. She turned into a home driveway and missed it by 20 feet ending up with the front of car in a ditch. They were going to call a tow truck when a couple of large neighbors said they could lift up the front end. While they held it, she was to put it in reverse and back up. She put it into drive and pinned the guys on the other side of the ditch. She was driving down a four-lane freeway at 85 miles an hour going the wrong way. The Highway Patrol had to stop her. She was out driving (the correct way this time) with one of her grandkids. She was doing over 90 miles and hour when the child commented that she was speeding. She said it was okay because the police radar doesn’t work in the rain. I doubt these were very funny in real life, but the son told the stories in such a way that if was impossible not to laugh. I’m glad I didn’t know her during her driving days.
Relaxed a bit before having supper and getting ready to attend the community production of Cinderella. Yes, this has been theater week. Second show in two nights. If I had the money and there were enough shows I would go every week. I love live theater. Maria and Kiki had tickets with me. They were on hold at the theater. I called to remind them our tickets for the show were tonight. Kiki only has a landline. She wasn’t home. Maria has a cell phone, but never takes it with her and when she does she never turns it on. I tried to reach her anyway, knowing it was useless. I then searched the complex in all the usual places and they were nowhere to be found. I finally checked the garage and saw that Leslie’s car was gone. There was a good chance they were all together. I figured they went for supper. Being a warm night, I sat on the porch waiting for them. We were to leave at 6:50. I called and changed it to 7:00. I actually left at 7:15 for a 7:30 show.
It was a descent show. It was their annual kid performers show. Great singers. Pacing was slow. After the show I drove through Dairy Queen and picked up the new turtle pecan pie. Totally off my diet, but hey, I only do it three times a day (joking – can’t you take a joke?) On my arrival I noticed Leslies car had not returned. To be gone over three hours means only one thing. They went to the casino. I hope they won some money as they lost it at the show.
I had to leave them alone for a half hour transition between my departure and their dads arrival. They did great. I left to get to Janet’s memorial service.
I swung by The Home to pick up five passengers. It was a beautiful service of celebration. They sang hymns that make old people cry. We cry easily any way. Old hymns are always connected to old memories — especially “How Great Thou Art.” Her son told some terrific stories. Loved the ones about her terrible driving. I’m surprised someone didn’t take her license. Her first husband never let her drive, but when he passed away she inherited a new Cadillac. On her second day of driving she tried to squeeze between two cars. She scrapped her car on both sides. He shared stories of several of mom’s wrecks. Three times she rolled a car (different cars) on the same road and ended up in the same guys yard. She rear-ended a city bus causing $86,000 damage. She turned into a home driveway and missed it by 20 feet ending up with the front of car in a ditch. They were going to call a tow truck when a couple of large neighbors said they could lift up the front end. While they held it, she was to put it in reverse and back up. She put it into drive and pinned the guys on the other side of the ditch. She was driving down a four-lane freeway at 85 miles an hour going the wrong way. The Highway Patrol had to stop her. She was out driving (the correct way this time) with one of her grandkids. She was doing over 90 miles and hour when the child commented that she was speeding. She said it was okay because the police radar doesn’t work in the rain. I doubt these were very funny in real life, but the son told the stories in such a way that if was impossible not to laugh. I’m glad I didn’t know her during her driving days.
Relaxed a bit before having supper and getting ready to attend the community production of Cinderella. Yes, this has been theater week. Second show in two nights. If I had the money and there were enough shows I would go every week. I love live theater. Maria and Kiki had tickets with me. They were on hold at the theater. I called to remind them our tickets for the show were tonight. Kiki only has a landline. She wasn’t home. Maria has a cell phone, but never takes it with her and when she does she never turns it on. I tried to reach her anyway, knowing it was useless. I then searched the complex in all the usual places and they were nowhere to be found. I finally checked the garage and saw that Leslie’s car was gone. There was a good chance they were all together. I figured they went for supper. Being a warm night, I sat on the porch waiting for them. We were to leave at 6:50. I called and changed it to 7:00. I actually left at 7:15 for a 7:30 show.
It was a descent show. It was their annual kid performers show. Great singers. Pacing was slow. After the show I drove through Dairy Queen and picked up the new turtle pecan pie. Totally off my diet, but hey, I only do it three times a day (joking – can’t you take a joke?) On my arrival I noticed Leslies car had not returned. To be gone over three hours means only one thing. They went to the casino. I hope they won some money as they lost it at the show.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
ANY DREAM WILL DO
Any Dream Will Do
Andrew Lloyd Webber – Tim Rice
I closed my eyes, drew back the curtain
To see for certain what I thought I knew
Far far away, someone was weeping
But the world was sleeping
Any dream will do
I wore my coat, with golden lining
Bright colours shining, wonderful and new
And in the east, the dawn was breaking
And the world was waking
Any dream will do
A crash of drums, a flash of light
My golden coat flew out of sight
The colours faded into darkness
I was left alone
May I return to the beginning
The light is dimming, and the dream is too
The world and I, we are still waiting
Still hesitating
Any dream will do
A crash of drums, a flash of light
My golden coat flew out of sight
The colours faded into darkness
I was left alone
May I return to the beginning
The light is dimming, and the dream is too
The world and I, we are still waiting
Still hesitating
Any dream will do
I just returned from seeing Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat with my daughter. It was a community production. Well staged, beautifully conceived and the leads had terrific voices. All the guys did except the man who played Pharoah/Jacob. His projection was off and the mic was not picking him up. Too bad! Pharaoh’s Elvis impression and song is one of the highlights of the show.
The above song summarizes Joseph’s story. Time Rice has used a different musical style for almost every song. It is a very creative telling of the Biblical story of Joseph with great humor, wonderful music and creativity. The interpretation is unique and fresh. Andrew wrote this musical near the beginning of his career for church youth to perform.
This is an unashamed, unabashed promotion of the musical. You come out happy, tapping your feet and singing or humming the tunes and you will have a smile on your face. No musical gives one the good feeling like “Joseph.” Don’t wait for the professional tour. I have now seen five community or local theater productions and liked the staging better than the pros. I will concede the pros dance better.
If a high school or community group does it in your area — see it.
Andrew Lloyd Webber – Tim Rice
I closed my eyes, drew back the curtain
To see for certain what I thought I knew
Far far away, someone was weeping
But the world was sleeping
Any dream will do
I wore my coat, with golden lining
Bright colours shining, wonderful and new
And in the east, the dawn was breaking
And the world was waking
Any dream will do
A crash of drums, a flash of light
My golden coat flew out of sight
The colours faded into darkness
I was left alone
May I return to the beginning
The light is dimming, and the dream is too
The world and I, we are still waiting
Still hesitating
Any dream will do
A crash of drums, a flash of light
My golden coat flew out of sight
The colours faded into darkness
I was left alone
May I return to the beginning
The light is dimming, and the dream is too
The world and I, we are still waiting
Still hesitating
Any dream will do
I just returned from seeing Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat with my daughter. It was a community production. Well staged, beautifully conceived and the leads had terrific voices. All the guys did except the man who played Pharoah/Jacob. His projection was off and the mic was not picking him up. Too bad! Pharaoh’s Elvis impression and song is one of the highlights of the show.
The above song summarizes Joseph’s story. Time Rice has used a different musical style for almost every song. It is a very creative telling of the Biblical story of Joseph with great humor, wonderful music and creativity. The interpretation is unique and fresh. Andrew wrote this musical near the beginning of his career for church youth to perform.
This is an unashamed, unabashed promotion of the musical. You come out happy, tapping your feet and singing or humming the tunes and you will have a smile on your face. No musical gives one the good feeling like “Joseph.” Don’t wait for the professional tour. I have now seen five community or local theater productions and liked the staging better than the pros. I will concede the pros dance better.
If a high school or community group does it in your area — see it.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
WAR, INSPECTIONS, REPORTING THE NEWS
I love technology. Here is a sample of a conversation I had today over the intercom between the front door and my apartment.
GUEST: Ring --- Ring --- Ring (It s phone intercom and it ran three times before I got to it.)
ME: Hello.
GUEST: is tis kghtphd.
ME: Yes (thinking I they most likely want me. My name is by the button they pushed)
GUEST: I haff[h infmotionnnn foooor y.
ME: I’ll let you in. Come on down to my room.
GUEST: Don’t konst weshter U R?
ME: (gave her – I think– my room number)
ME: Buzzzz (door opens with a click)
I’m at the end of the hall so I stepped out of my apartment to see a woman I never met walking toward me. She spoke in perfect English (I wasn’t sure by our intercom conversation). She came to tell me when and where Janet’s memorial service would be. I thanked her and told her I would make up notices to be put on the bulletin boards.
She left and I came in and cursed technology. If I can have a cell phone that calls Europe (not that I have ever tried) why can’t I have a wired intercom with a clear connection? Is that too much to ask? Apparently it is. The building is only 10 years old. Was a clear connection impossible ten years ago? Phone lines worked better than that in the 40’s. Yes I can remember that far back.
Talked to Chas this afternoon and asked about the status of flower wars. We are close to instant reporting at The Home, but different stations report different sides of the news. Coffee break is a collective effort. Individual discussions are decidedly biased reports. I had heard Marias review this morning so I decided to change the station. Chas said, I gave the three potted plants to my pastor who placed them by the church office door. Yesterday I came out and trimmed back the hanging baskets and they hang over there in that tree. I thought you had thrown them away. No, the smaller flowers on the outside of the basket were dying so I cleaned them up. Why were they dying? Didn’t Maria water them every day? She said she was but they were dry as a bone. Hanging plants need to be watered every day. I heard you threw them away because someone poured salt water on them. Ya, that’s awhile back. So did they survive the salt water? There was a small amount of burning, but I cut that out and they were fine. This just proves you have got to check all the stations and mush them together to get to maybe, a…a… 60% of the truth. The real reality doesn’t usually matter that much to me. The stories are what are really interesting. Neither Maria nor Chas can be depended on for a fully accurate portrayal of the truth. Their stories should have a preface, “This story BASED on actual facts.” That way we can choose to see them as the whole truth and nothing but the truth, or we can throw our hands up in the air and call it all fiction. But that’s what makes this place so fun — too me.
There was an inspection in building 2 today. Investors and a bank came through to make sure their investment was being handled well. The inspectors pulled a few emergency cords and the ambulance and fire trucks came running. Apparently management did not advise the fire department of the inspections. They were very frustrated and told they would be billed for these calls. Yikes. They already eliminated too many budgets for our enjoyment. What will they remove now to pay for this? During the inspection Irene was told she had to remove the bird feeder hanging outside her window. Irene popped a gasket. She has had the feeder there fourteen years. Only now are they concerned that the seed shells were attracting raccoons and pigeons gathering two floors down under her window and pooping everywhere. No one ever walks on that side of the building. Besides the real problem is the lot next to us if over run with blackberry bushes and is the home to raccoons, feral cats, squirrels, mice and who knows what else.
While sitting on the porch talking with Chas a friend came by and mentioned that the old man who owned the blackberry field was cleaning it up to sell. He is a former doctor who looks like he lives on the street. He has had conflict with the administration in the past and has purposely let the place go because it annoys them. I guess they tried to buy the property when they build The Home.”
I do have a sadistic mind at time – maybe even most of the time. I really enjoy this last installment of “As The Home Churns.”
GUEST: Ring --- Ring --- Ring (It s phone intercom and it ran three times before I got to it.)
ME: Hello.
GUEST: is tis kghtphd.
ME: Yes (thinking I they most likely want me. My name is by the button they pushed)
GUEST: I haff[h infmotionnnn foooor y.
ME: I’ll let you in. Come on down to my room.
GUEST: Don’t konst weshter U R?
ME: (gave her – I think– my room number)
ME: Buzzzz (door opens with a click)
I’m at the end of the hall so I stepped out of my apartment to see a woman I never met walking toward me. She spoke in perfect English (I wasn’t sure by our intercom conversation). She came to tell me when and where Janet’s memorial service would be. I thanked her and told her I would make up notices to be put on the bulletin boards.
She left and I came in and cursed technology. If I can have a cell phone that calls Europe (not that I have ever tried) why can’t I have a wired intercom with a clear connection? Is that too much to ask? Apparently it is. The building is only 10 years old. Was a clear connection impossible ten years ago? Phone lines worked better than that in the 40’s. Yes I can remember that far back.
Talked to Chas this afternoon and asked about the status of flower wars. We are close to instant reporting at The Home, but different stations report different sides of the news. Coffee break is a collective effort. Individual discussions are decidedly biased reports. I had heard Marias review this morning so I decided to change the station. Chas said, I gave the three potted plants to my pastor who placed them by the church office door. Yesterday I came out and trimmed back the hanging baskets and they hang over there in that tree. I thought you had thrown them away. No, the smaller flowers on the outside of the basket were dying so I cleaned them up. Why were they dying? Didn’t Maria water them every day? She said she was but they were dry as a bone. Hanging plants need to be watered every day. I heard you threw them away because someone poured salt water on them. Ya, that’s awhile back. So did they survive the salt water? There was a small amount of burning, but I cut that out and they were fine. This just proves you have got to check all the stations and mush them together to get to maybe, a…a… 60% of the truth. The real reality doesn’t usually matter that much to me. The stories are what are really interesting. Neither Maria nor Chas can be depended on for a fully accurate portrayal of the truth. Their stories should have a preface, “This story BASED on actual facts.” That way we can choose to see them as the whole truth and nothing but the truth, or we can throw our hands up in the air and call it all fiction. But that’s what makes this place so fun — too me.
There was an inspection in building 2 today. Investors and a bank came through to make sure their investment was being handled well. The inspectors pulled a few emergency cords and the ambulance and fire trucks came running. Apparently management did not advise the fire department of the inspections. They were very frustrated and told they would be billed for these calls. Yikes. They already eliminated too many budgets for our enjoyment. What will they remove now to pay for this? During the inspection Irene was told she had to remove the bird feeder hanging outside her window. Irene popped a gasket. She has had the feeder there fourteen years. Only now are they concerned that the seed shells were attracting raccoons and pigeons gathering two floors down under her window and pooping everywhere. No one ever walks on that side of the building. Besides the real problem is the lot next to us if over run with blackberry bushes and is the home to raccoons, feral cats, squirrels, mice and who knows what else.
While sitting on the porch talking with Chas a friend came by and mentioned that the old man who owned the blackberry field was cleaning it up to sell. He is a former doctor who looks like he lives on the street. He has had conflict with the administration in the past and has purposely let the place go because it annoys them. I guess they tried to buy the property when they build The Home.”
I do have a sadistic mind at time – maybe even most of the time. I really enjoy this last installment of “As The Home Churns.”
DON'T TALK TO ME
If the truth will set you free, I expect to be in bondage for quite some time. The maintenance man left last night and there seems to already be a world of total confusion. Not that that is unusual, but it doesn’t linger for long. We usually rotate through confusion frustration, anger, and partial peace and quiet with a cloud of depression hanging overhead.
There has been an on going flower war between Chas and Liz for months. Well at least since the gardens went in. The single major on going conflict at The Home is over the gardens. If one wants to stay clear of that fighting, I recommend going to the store to purchase your veggies. Liz has a degree in horticulture. As such she is the self appoint guru of what everyone should and should not do with their plants. In addition, she plants who knows what at every open space she can find — all without permission. The lack of permission grates on several people. I think it actually looks pretty good.
Add to the mix that Maria is the self-appointed water gardener. She not only waters her own plants, but everyone else’s as well. This does not bode well with Liz or even several others. The people who have gardens do it because they like gardening ( doesn’t make sense to me) and don’t want anyone else’s help. When Maria is confronted she argues that she is helping. Yah, right! They tell her to keep her cotton pickin’ hands out of their garden. Now, I don’t know if she ever picked cotton, but she seems to have done everything else. If you don’t believe it, just tell a story in her presence and she will tell a similar story that is a little bigger and a little more exciting. Maria does tell a good story.
The major on going feud is between Chas and Liz. Both try to draw others in to making the rest of us a Hatfield or McCoy. Frankly, I would rather be the government agent trying to shut down the stills. Chas is in a wheelchair. This year they added a paved space and installed raised beds for people in wheelchairs. There are two people that use the patio garden. I doubt you could have three. Chas extended his space by placing three pots on the patio. At the top of the wall is Liz’ garden. It is easy for her to work in her garden without bending over as her garden is slightly lower than the top of the wall. However, to do that she moves Chas plants and never puts them back where they were. Naturally (and I say naturally because life here depends on stirring conflict) Chas is angry with Liz. They exchange angry words daily. Chas threatens to throw his plants away. That would not bother Liz, but others like his plants and are offended every time he suggests nuclear bomb activity on his garden. So he is so sick and tired that he gave his potted plants to Maria. Sound simple? That’s where you would be wrong. Now he and Maria argue about the plants, over watering and location. Liz is still moving the pots and now both Chas and Maria are angry with Liz. Liz handles things by telling people, “Don’t talk to me.”
At I left this morning for bread wars, I noticed that the two hanging plants on our front porch were gone. So were the potted plants by the gardens. Maria comes along to help with the bread and so she says (don’t necessary take this as the truth), someone (implication is obvious) poured salt water on the hanging plants and they were dying so Chas threw them away. Yesterday they looked fine to me – and I say that as an expert in being Switzerland in the plant wars. Some one had pulled the potted plants pots out by the roots and left them sit on top if the pot drying out, or so I’m told. (Question this statement).
As for me — I don’t trust any of them. We may never know the truth. The one thing we can count on is no one will win plant wars. I am expecting Chas or Maria or both to begin pulling Liz’s plants out. It won’t be long until they begin reporting each other to the administrative office. When that happens, the big she boss will come over and give us a lecture about controlling ourselves and trying to act like adults. The key word is acting. It would be nice if they just were adults. I do hope three dunce caps are brought. I have an idea for their use.
I wish I had secret video cameras placed around this place. That would be a great thing to show on move night with popcorn.
There has been an on going flower war between Chas and Liz for months. Well at least since the gardens went in. The single major on going conflict at The Home is over the gardens. If one wants to stay clear of that fighting, I recommend going to the store to purchase your veggies. Liz has a degree in horticulture. As such she is the self appoint guru of what everyone should and should not do with their plants. In addition, she plants who knows what at every open space she can find — all without permission. The lack of permission grates on several people. I think it actually looks pretty good.
Add to the mix that Maria is the self-appointed water gardener. She not only waters her own plants, but everyone else’s as well. This does not bode well with Liz or even several others. The people who have gardens do it because they like gardening ( doesn’t make sense to me) and don’t want anyone else’s help. When Maria is confronted she argues that she is helping. Yah, right! They tell her to keep her cotton pickin’ hands out of their garden. Now, I don’t know if she ever picked cotton, but she seems to have done everything else. If you don’t believe it, just tell a story in her presence and she will tell a similar story that is a little bigger and a little more exciting. Maria does tell a good story.
The major on going feud is between Chas and Liz. Both try to draw others in to making the rest of us a Hatfield or McCoy. Frankly, I would rather be the government agent trying to shut down the stills. Chas is in a wheelchair. This year they added a paved space and installed raised beds for people in wheelchairs. There are two people that use the patio garden. I doubt you could have three. Chas extended his space by placing three pots on the patio. At the top of the wall is Liz’ garden. It is easy for her to work in her garden without bending over as her garden is slightly lower than the top of the wall. However, to do that she moves Chas plants and never puts them back where they were. Naturally (and I say naturally because life here depends on stirring conflict) Chas is angry with Liz. They exchange angry words daily. Chas threatens to throw his plants away. That would not bother Liz, but others like his plants and are offended every time he suggests nuclear bomb activity on his garden. So he is so sick and tired that he gave his potted plants to Maria. Sound simple? That’s where you would be wrong. Now he and Maria argue about the plants, over watering and location. Liz is still moving the pots and now both Chas and Maria are angry with Liz. Liz handles things by telling people, “Don’t talk to me.”
At I left this morning for bread wars, I noticed that the two hanging plants on our front porch were gone. So were the potted plants by the gardens. Maria comes along to help with the bread and so she says (don’t necessary take this as the truth), someone (implication is obvious) poured salt water on the hanging plants and they were dying so Chas threw them away. Yesterday they looked fine to me – and I say that as an expert in being Switzerland in the plant wars. Some one had pulled the potted plants pots out by the roots and left them sit on top if the pot drying out, or so I’m told. (Question this statement).
As for me — I don’t trust any of them. We may never know the truth. The one thing we can count on is no one will win plant wars. I am expecting Chas or Maria or both to begin pulling Liz’s plants out. It won’t be long until they begin reporting each other to the administrative office. When that happens, the big she boss will come over and give us a lecture about controlling ourselves and trying to act like adults. The key word is acting. It would be nice if they just were adults. I do hope three dunce caps are brought. I have an idea for their use.
I wish I had secret video cameras placed around this place. That would be a great thing to show on move night with popcorn.
Monday, July 5, 2010
SADNESS AND JOY
I have got to have a motivational reason to get moving in the morning. You know, like someone else is making me breakfast. I wake pretty good. Usually well rested and somewhat coherent. But, Lord help me, I want to sit around in my PJ’s (read boxer shorts and a T-shirt), have a cup of coffee, catch up on the news (internet), check my mail, make breakfast and eat slowly. I am rarely in a hurry. Well, there are days I’m in a rush, but this was not one of them.
I’m sitting at my computer working a puzzle (like the computer puzzles you can do in 5 minutes), still in my boxer shorts when there is a knock on the door. It is 8:10 a.m. (Yeah, I know – that’s late for some of your, but I’m retired) I’m not dressed yet, I shout. Come to the door. I need to talk to you. I answer the door, standing mostly behind it. I have nice boxer shorts and assumed she had seen an old man’s partial leg and cool boxers before. But it sounded serious. It was. Janet passed away early this morning. I’m torn. I will greatly miss her. She brought us all great joy. But she got her wish and she is with her husband and God. Good for her.
I was already having trouble walking. Had no idea what I have done to my left foot, but it hurt. I even wondered if I it was broke. I asked my chiropractor this morning if he would check my foot. He said, what’s wrong — you don’t like stripes? Cheap joke. It has always turned in and twist has gradually got worse. I’m partially walking on the side. He gave me stretching exercises to use to loosen up those muscles. Just another thing I need to do to attempt to keep mobile. Just another thing to ignore!
Coffee was interesting. My namesake was present. Haven’t seen him down there before. Some things were said yesterday that have some how made him feel like I’m the go to man for all his problems, and he has many. I spent a fair amount of time trying to drill into him who to call and what to do. I feel l sorry for him, but he should not be here. He needs a lot of help. He has taken to calling out his window with profanity at every loud noise. It should get crazy around here if it ever warms up and the windows are left open.
I came back to my place to work on the August calendar. I have a web site I love. It lists special days. I decided to set up a night to make s’mores on National Toasted Marshmallow Day and have scheduled paper airplane races on National Aviation Day, You would be amazed what ideas these days bring. Mostly dumb.
I felt a little sad that I BBQed (read warmed up) 30 pounds of ribs yesterday and never got to taste them. They were all taken inside before I snagged one off the plate. I wandered out to sit on the front porch and feel the weather warming up. It’s headed to 90 by Thursday (I hear – Ha, what do they know). Maria told me there were a few pieces still in the kitchen. She precooked the rib and did an incredible job. So I went to steal them and got caught. I’m glad I never chose burglary as an occupation. I would have spent my whole life in jail.
I’m sitting at my computer working a puzzle (like the computer puzzles you can do in 5 minutes), still in my boxer shorts when there is a knock on the door. It is 8:10 a.m. (Yeah, I know – that’s late for some of your, but I’m retired) I’m not dressed yet, I shout. Come to the door. I need to talk to you. I answer the door, standing mostly behind it. I have nice boxer shorts and assumed she had seen an old man’s partial leg and cool boxers before. But it sounded serious. It was. Janet passed away early this morning. I’m torn. I will greatly miss her. She brought us all great joy. But she got her wish and she is with her husband and God. Good for her.
I was already having trouble walking. Had no idea what I have done to my left foot, but it hurt. I even wondered if I it was broke. I asked my chiropractor this morning if he would check my foot. He said, what’s wrong — you don’t like stripes? Cheap joke. It has always turned in and twist has gradually got worse. I’m partially walking on the side. He gave me stretching exercises to use to loosen up those muscles. Just another thing I need to do to attempt to keep mobile. Just another thing to ignore!
Coffee was interesting. My namesake was present. Haven’t seen him down there before. Some things were said yesterday that have some how made him feel like I’m the go to man for all his problems, and he has many. I spent a fair amount of time trying to drill into him who to call and what to do. I feel l sorry for him, but he should not be here. He needs a lot of help. He has taken to calling out his window with profanity at every loud noise. It should get crazy around here if it ever warms up and the windows are left open.
I came back to my place to work on the August calendar. I have a web site I love. It lists special days. I decided to set up a night to make s’mores on National Toasted Marshmallow Day and have scheduled paper airplane races on National Aviation Day, You would be amazed what ideas these days bring. Mostly dumb.
I felt a little sad that I BBQed (read warmed up) 30 pounds of ribs yesterday and never got to taste them. They were all taken inside before I snagged one off the plate. I wandered out to sit on the front porch and feel the weather warming up. It’s headed to 90 by Thursday (I hear – Ha, what do they know). Maria told me there were a few pieces still in the kitchen. She precooked the rib and did an incredible job. So I went to steal them and got caught. I’m glad I never chose burglary as an occupation. I would have spent my whole life in jail.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
FAREWELL TO A GOOD MAN
It’s the 4th of July and firecrackers are going off all around me. There are no beautiful fireworks tonight or even the night before. Our town does the big display on carnival weekend. The noise is enough to drive our dogs bonkers. Most are hiding under the beds.
I knew I was in trouble when I walked to church this morning. The church is only two blocks away and my left foot kept rolling under. By the time I got to church I was exhausted. I spent much of my time in church worrying about the walk home. I should have used a cane. It was nice this morning, even hot. We are ready for a streak of warm weather. I had errands to run and when I got back I needed to clean up the grill and make sure it was ready. It was warm enough that I took my sweatshirt off. As I was finishing the job, the clouds started to roll in. It took very little time before deciding to move the eating part inside. It’s the NW. Everyone else is having nice weather. We are in sweatshirts with cloudy and possible showers. Showers here are not really showers. Usually they are a kind of mist or light drizzle. But it is always cold. I would love to walk in the rain, but not here.
It was a terrific BBQ. Over 40 people attended. That’s our biggest crowd ever. Boy did we have food. We had enough to go into the highways and byways to feed the masses. A few who wandered in might have been from that crowd. I never saw them before. Besides celebrating the 4th, we were celebrating the monthly birthdays. By the time we got around to the cake, none of the five people with birthdays this month were even in the dining room. We sang anyway. I don’t know why. Tradition, tradition (sing with gusto) we also had three cakes. There was plenty left over. We will have it for coffee break the rest of the week.
The maintenance man was talking with me outside at the grill when he got an emergency call for the other property. It was just at the time we were going inside to present him with some farewell gifts. So we waited and we waited and then waited some more. (Don’t you just love waiting)? More and more people were drifting away. By the time he got back there may have been 18 people left. He talked more and gave more information than he would have had the crowd been larger. But it was small enough that we sat around in a circle and he talked conversationally about his move, and invited us all to come see him in Florida. I would like to, but there are a lot of things I would like to do and probably won’t do. It’s no fun bring poor on my world class tastes.
Maria is my right hand gal when doing a food event. She is organized and a very good cook to boot. The biggest problem we have with her is ordering people around. Some of us have been trying to teach her words such as please and thank you. They’re tough words. She didn’t throw them out, but she was far less bossy than usual. My heart aches for her. She has several health problems and they are greatly affecting her attitude. She is generally lashing out more. If we can get that under control, we might work on getting her to forgive and forget. Naw, it will never happen.
Walking around on that gimp foot left me exhausted. I watched one show when I returned and sat to write this before dropping off. I know this is a weak report. I’ll do better tomorrow, hopefully. If I can’t get funny, I’ll run a chapter of a Bill Cosby book.
I knew I was in trouble when I walked to church this morning. The church is only two blocks away and my left foot kept rolling under. By the time I got to church I was exhausted. I spent much of my time in church worrying about the walk home. I should have used a cane. It was nice this morning, even hot. We are ready for a streak of warm weather. I had errands to run and when I got back I needed to clean up the grill and make sure it was ready. It was warm enough that I took my sweatshirt off. As I was finishing the job, the clouds started to roll in. It took very little time before deciding to move the eating part inside. It’s the NW. Everyone else is having nice weather. We are in sweatshirts with cloudy and possible showers. Showers here are not really showers. Usually they are a kind of mist or light drizzle. But it is always cold. I would love to walk in the rain, but not here.
It was a terrific BBQ. Over 40 people attended. That’s our biggest crowd ever. Boy did we have food. We had enough to go into the highways and byways to feed the masses. A few who wandered in might have been from that crowd. I never saw them before. Besides celebrating the 4th, we were celebrating the monthly birthdays. By the time we got around to the cake, none of the five people with birthdays this month were even in the dining room. We sang anyway. I don’t know why. Tradition, tradition (sing with gusto) we also had three cakes. There was plenty left over. We will have it for coffee break the rest of the week.
The maintenance man was talking with me outside at the grill when he got an emergency call for the other property. It was just at the time we were going inside to present him with some farewell gifts. So we waited and we waited and then waited some more. (Don’t you just love waiting)? More and more people were drifting away. By the time he got back there may have been 18 people left. He talked more and gave more information than he would have had the crowd been larger. But it was small enough that we sat around in a circle and he talked conversationally about his move, and invited us all to come see him in Florida. I would like to, but there are a lot of things I would like to do and probably won’t do. It’s no fun bring poor on my world class tastes.
Maria is my right hand gal when doing a food event. She is organized and a very good cook to boot. The biggest problem we have with her is ordering people around. Some of us have been trying to teach her words such as please and thank you. They’re tough words. She didn’t throw them out, but she was far less bossy than usual. My heart aches for her. She has several health problems and they are greatly affecting her attitude. She is generally lashing out more. If we can get that under control, we might work on getting her to forgive and forget. Naw, it will never happen.
Walking around on that gimp foot left me exhausted. I watched one show when I returned and sat to write this before dropping off. I know this is a weak report. I’ll do better tomorrow, hopefully. If I can’t get funny, I’ll run a chapter of a Bill Cosby book.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
WHEN IT RAINS, IT POURS
I know I usually comment on the problems and weird incidents at The Home, but we have some real gems as well. We have a couple of Farewell Cards floating around the campus. I am handling one for our building and Joy is handing one for the other building. We are also taking up a collection for our fearless leaders.
One of the cool things about taking the card around it the privilege of reading what people say and enjoying their generosity. People’s giving here is very much the widow’s mite. They have little, but they give much. But it is also because our managers were greatly loved.
Our residents are beginning to drop like flies. Janet is in hospice, Edna is in rehabilitation, and my next-door neighbor is in the third week of just not feeling well with no clear indication of what is wrong. Then this morning Marty was taken away in an ambulance. Marty is wheelchair bound. She was apparently in her bathroom and needed help. She pulled the emergency cord, which summons emergency services. But that didn’t happen. As it turns our the call went to the right place, but because headquarters did not change the phone number to Marty’s number when she moved in, it went to the last resident. When Bonnie got the return check up call she reported there was nothing wrong and the response was cancelled. Marty eventually got to her phone and called 911. She finally got help, but our maintenance man was irate. He already was angry enough at headquarters, he did not need more reasons. Because of the problem he was not notified of Marty’s need until she was returned to her apartment. Then when she was returned, Maria thought pulled the emergency string again thinking it would turn the light off, but instead ambulances came again. The turn off switch is in the manager’s control.
That was just the beginning of the day for Maria to stir the waters. I do have empathy for Maria, really I do. She has her own medical problems. She also really needs attention and does much to keep the spotlight focused on herself.
As Marty is being taken out she tells those gathered that she almost called 911 herself as her eye was bothering so much last night. So why didn’t she? Because it didn’t hurt that much, and everyone was now focused on Marty. Poor Maria! We should all feel sorry for her.
On the second emergency visit to Marty I was on my way to pick up mail, saw the fire truck and saw Chas in the lobby talking with Hazel. Chas is still upset about his flowers being moved around. They are located in an area specifically set aside for our wheelchair guests. But his flowers are in the way of Liz getting at her own garden spot so she moves them. They are not really in her way, but by moving Chas’ flowers she does not have to walk so far. Hazel was assuring Chas that Liz, who is such a plant loved and a master gardener, would never hurt his plants. Chas just wants her to keep his hands off his plants. Hazel, whose only friend here is Liz, continued to defend Liz as harmless. My arrival tempered the conflict.
Chas then wanted me to take his check to the office since I was on my day to deposit my own rent. Hazel, who is planning an Alaskan Cruise with Liz, asked me if the inside cabins were comfortable. I told her that I had no idea. When I went, I knew this would be the only time I would ever go so I had a balcony cabin. I wanted to sit on my deck and watch the world go by. I especially enjoyed it when coming into or leaving port. I loved watching the process. The only response was “Oh!” I cannot imagine the two of them sharing a tiny little inside cabin for the 10-day cruise they are planning. Hazel can hardly stand anyone to be that close to her. I’m sure someone will take bets on whether they will be friends by the time they return.
Well, Chas came over to the main building with me and we went to the kitchen where Maria was preparing the pork ribs for the BBQ tomorrow. They were some reasonable pleasantries exchanged before Chas tells Maria about Marty going to the hospital. He made a mistake in mentioning who had brought her home and Maria jumped on him like a rattler about to be stepped on. Naturally, he reacted badly and it only got worse. Chas took off in his wheelchair like he always does.
Maria needed help cutting through some bone and called me over handing me the knife. I barely got started and she began micro managing my work. She also had her hands in my way trying to pull the ribs apart while I am trying to cut them. I stop, give her the knife back away and tell her we can’t both do this. Either she is doing it or I am. Don’t tell me how to do it. If it must be a certain way, do it yourself. If I am doing it I want the freedom to do it my way. She lets go. Good thing or I might have cut her fingers off. They hurt so bad at times she often talks about having them amputated.
Maria leaves and two other people, one after the other came to talk about her controlling ways and how they can’t stand it any more. When Maria returns, she asks, am I getting worse? Yes. Your micro management is as bad as that of the Ivory Tower. Stop trying to control and let people say what they want. There is no need to correct insignificant details to a story. But he was wrong, I went to get Marty and bring her back. That’s not technically true, Maria does not drive. She was in the car that went to get her. So what. Don’t sweat the little things. It is not important to be credited for everything. That’s what I think. I will be trying to release things to others gifts and skills and she will try to belittle them into giving them back to her. It should be a great summer.
One of the cool things about taking the card around it the privilege of reading what people say and enjoying their generosity. People’s giving here is very much the widow’s mite. They have little, but they give much. But it is also because our managers were greatly loved.
Our residents are beginning to drop like flies. Janet is in hospice, Edna is in rehabilitation, and my next-door neighbor is in the third week of just not feeling well with no clear indication of what is wrong. Then this morning Marty was taken away in an ambulance. Marty is wheelchair bound. She was apparently in her bathroom and needed help. She pulled the emergency cord, which summons emergency services. But that didn’t happen. As it turns our the call went to the right place, but because headquarters did not change the phone number to Marty’s number when she moved in, it went to the last resident. When Bonnie got the return check up call she reported there was nothing wrong and the response was cancelled. Marty eventually got to her phone and called 911. She finally got help, but our maintenance man was irate. He already was angry enough at headquarters, he did not need more reasons. Because of the problem he was not notified of Marty’s need until she was returned to her apartment. Then when she was returned, Maria thought pulled the emergency string again thinking it would turn the light off, but instead ambulances came again. The turn off switch is in the manager’s control.
That was just the beginning of the day for Maria to stir the waters. I do have empathy for Maria, really I do. She has her own medical problems. She also really needs attention and does much to keep the spotlight focused on herself.
As Marty is being taken out she tells those gathered that she almost called 911 herself as her eye was bothering so much last night. So why didn’t she? Because it didn’t hurt that much, and everyone was now focused on Marty. Poor Maria! We should all feel sorry for her.
On the second emergency visit to Marty I was on my way to pick up mail, saw the fire truck and saw Chas in the lobby talking with Hazel. Chas is still upset about his flowers being moved around. They are located in an area specifically set aside for our wheelchair guests. But his flowers are in the way of Liz getting at her own garden spot so she moves them. They are not really in her way, but by moving Chas’ flowers she does not have to walk so far. Hazel was assuring Chas that Liz, who is such a plant loved and a master gardener, would never hurt his plants. Chas just wants her to keep his hands off his plants. Hazel, whose only friend here is Liz, continued to defend Liz as harmless. My arrival tempered the conflict.
Chas then wanted me to take his check to the office since I was on my day to deposit my own rent. Hazel, who is planning an Alaskan Cruise with Liz, asked me if the inside cabins were comfortable. I told her that I had no idea. When I went, I knew this would be the only time I would ever go so I had a balcony cabin. I wanted to sit on my deck and watch the world go by. I especially enjoyed it when coming into or leaving port. I loved watching the process. The only response was “Oh!” I cannot imagine the two of them sharing a tiny little inside cabin for the 10-day cruise they are planning. Hazel can hardly stand anyone to be that close to her. I’m sure someone will take bets on whether they will be friends by the time they return.
Well, Chas came over to the main building with me and we went to the kitchen where Maria was preparing the pork ribs for the BBQ tomorrow. They were some reasonable pleasantries exchanged before Chas tells Maria about Marty going to the hospital. He made a mistake in mentioning who had brought her home and Maria jumped on him like a rattler about to be stepped on. Naturally, he reacted badly and it only got worse. Chas took off in his wheelchair like he always does.
Maria needed help cutting through some bone and called me over handing me the knife. I barely got started and she began micro managing my work. She also had her hands in my way trying to pull the ribs apart while I am trying to cut them. I stop, give her the knife back away and tell her we can’t both do this. Either she is doing it or I am. Don’t tell me how to do it. If it must be a certain way, do it yourself. If I am doing it I want the freedom to do it my way. She lets go. Good thing or I might have cut her fingers off. They hurt so bad at times she often talks about having them amputated.
Maria leaves and two other people, one after the other came to talk about her controlling ways and how they can’t stand it any more. When Maria returns, she asks, am I getting worse? Yes. Your micro management is as bad as that of the Ivory Tower. Stop trying to control and let people say what they want. There is no need to correct insignificant details to a story. But he was wrong, I went to get Marty and bring her back. That’s not technically true, Maria does not drive. She was in the car that went to get her. So what. Don’t sweat the little things. It is not important to be credited for everything. That’s what I think. I will be trying to release things to others gifts and skills and she will try to belittle them into giving them back to her. It should be a great summer.
Friday, July 2, 2010
NEWS TAKEN IN STRIDE
It seems like nearly everyone knows that the manager, her son and two daughters returned to Florida with the mother-in-law. It brings a few questions, but not many. The disappointment that they cannot say goodbye to her personally is there, but followed by great understanding. Only a couple people are mad, but only one has ever been happy. A good friend said, “It would be terrific if just one day in her life she would wake up and say — I’m going to be happy.” If she did, many would faint. Personally I might have a stroke. Just minutes ago she caught me in the hall to question me about details of the July 4th BBQ. Who’s putting it on? Who’s paying for the ribs? Are you bringing the tables out? Will you be setting up on the lawn? You should be in the lawn. Remember there is a very dangerous pipe sticking out of the lawn. Put in a red flag so no one trips. I just knew I could not get through the conversation without a directive or two. I had to bite my tongue. I put in the red flag for the BBQ last year. She moved it and then got rid of it later. It was my flag and my ruler holding it up. What happened to my ruler? Gone forever. Oh well, it was a piece of garbage anyway.
Is Maria helping? That’s a not so subtle way of saying I hope she’s not involved. I don’t like her and don’t let her do anything. I know I am one of the few, who can work with her, but she will prepare the pork ribs for cooking and they will be superb. I was not rude, but I do wish she would mind her own business. She got no satisfaction. She and her buddy in crime are going on an Alaskan Cruise together in a couple of weeks. They will be gone for two weeks. It will almost be heaven. We will have to get busy and plan a lot of things during those two weeks while we have peace and no intrusions. By the way, I did not tell her who is paying for the ribs. It’s none of her business. Neither did I ask how her partner is paying for her portion of the trip since she is on every welfare handout available (That’s snippy).
Chas will be happy to just have his plants stay in one place. She moves them late in the day and he puts them back the next morning. I had to talk him out of pulling up her plants and throwing them in the garbage. I do think I should get a referee shirt. XXL.
The maintenance man came to see me and we talked about the survival of this place. He and his wife loved 90% of the people and feel bad for the difficulties we are about to face. He encouraged me and somewhat frightened me. But we are in partial agreement. We both feel God has something in store for me here. Neither of us have a clue what it is, but we have both been sensing it. I would never say that to anyone. It would be way to egotistical for most to understand. I have told them we are going to have to pull together if there is going to be any activities here. Happiness and contentment are a choice. I want to help make that possible for the residents.
The last time we were without a manager, we were also without a budget. It has already been cut off. Nothing is being supplied for coffee breaks. One gentleman has already replenished most of the needed kitchen supplies. Three people have bought napkins (serviette’s for my Canadian friends). There are nearly enough to last us through most of our life times. All were bought at Costco. There are three thousand six hundred and fifty napkins (See above napkin comment) in each package. Well maybe they won’t last that long, we can be very sloppy people. I know if I eat any thing slightly juicy I need to get a clean shirt right after. My built in personal traveling table gets in the way and catches everything that drops.
No new news on Janet. We are waiting to see what God will do. Gail was relieved to learn that her sin-in-law will be OK. He ran head first into another ball player last night and was air lifted to the hospital. He had six seizures. But all is well. She is relieved and we are relieved for her.
Is Maria helping? That’s a not so subtle way of saying I hope she’s not involved. I don’t like her and don’t let her do anything. I know I am one of the few, who can work with her, but she will prepare the pork ribs for cooking and they will be superb. I was not rude, but I do wish she would mind her own business. She got no satisfaction. She and her buddy in crime are going on an Alaskan Cruise together in a couple of weeks. They will be gone for two weeks. It will almost be heaven. We will have to get busy and plan a lot of things during those two weeks while we have peace and no intrusions. By the way, I did not tell her who is paying for the ribs. It’s none of her business. Neither did I ask how her partner is paying for her portion of the trip since she is on every welfare handout available (That’s snippy).
Chas will be happy to just have his plants stay in one place. She moves them late in the day and he puts them back the next morning. I had to talk him out of pulling up her plants and throwing them in the garbage. I do think I should get a referee shirt. XXL.
The maintenance man came to see me and we talked about the survival of this place. He and his wife loved 90% of the people and feel bad for the difficulties we are about to face. He encouraged me and somewhat frightened me. But we are in partial agreement. We both feel God has something in store for me here. Neither of us have a clue what it is, but we have both been sensing it. I would never say that to anyone. It would be way to egotistical for most to understand. I have told them we are going to have to pull together if there is going to be any activities here. Happiness and contentment are a choice. I want to help make that possible for the residents.
The last time we were without a manager, we were also without a budget. It has already been cut off. Nothing is being supplied for coffee breaks. One gentleman has already replenished most of the needed kitchen supplies. Three people have bought napkins (serviette’s for my Canadian friends). There are nearly enough to last us through most of our life times. All were bought at Costco. There are three thousand six hundred and fifty napkins (See above napkin comment) in each package. Well maybe they won’t last that long, we can be very sloppy people. I know if I eat any thing slightly juicy I need to get a clean shirt right after. My built in personal traveling table gets in the way and catches everything that drops.
No new news on Janet. We are waiting to see what God will do. Gail was relieved to learn that her sin-in-law will be OK. He ran head first into another ball player last night and was air lifted to the hospital. He had six seizures. But all is well. She is relieved and we are relieved for her.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
THE SKY IS FALLING
The proverbial branch has hit the wood chipper. The day started out calmly enough, coffee with a couple of friends and some expressed disappointment about the departure of our maintenance man. Then Doris told me her budget for coffee supplies has been terminated. She is nearly out of coffee, has no plastic ware and oddly only a small stack of napkins (serviettes in Canada) are left. We had already been cut off from disposable cups. We are now required to bring our own cup to coffee. That’s not bad for most of us. I have always brought my own cup (I’m such a good boy) because I like those flavored creams (vanilla, caramel and Hazelnut) so I put them in my travel cup and head for coffee.
My two passengers arrived and we left to see Janet. The hospice care was a new area to me and I could see the building but could not figure out how to get to the parking lot. I finally made it even though my passengers kept shouting different directions. Being a stubborn guy, I didn’t listen to either one. We met Janet’s son and a friend of hers at the room. Janet was sleeping so I spent some time getting updated with her son. What a delightful man. I was thrilled for Janet that she had a family willing to support her decision to let go. We went in and her son told Janet her friends were here and she stirred. She could hear and nodded her head, but did not talk. The end appears to be near. We spent time reminiscing with her and telling her what we liked and loved about her. I prayed at the end that our loving God would restore her to complete health quickly – by physical healing or taking her home. She has had a wonderful life.
Back at the ranch I could hardly get out of the car before I was caught and bombarded with questions. I’m not sure how word got around I that I was the one to talk to about Janet and our leader, but it continued most of the afternoon. Were our leaders fired? No. Why are they leaving? I gave a brief tactful explanation. More digging on their part, more stalling and redirecting on my part. This moved on from person to the next. Most took Janet’s decision well and considered her brave. I was not prepared for the two explosions that came. The first was to be expected — mostly tears and sorrow for the loss of Janet. However, one person was so livid and angry she could not and did not remain in control. She called her names and cursed her for giving up. I was unsuccessful in calming her down. I finally walked away.
When I finally got back to my room, the maintenance man came for a visit. He wanted to tell me what was going on before it spread like wildfire. He had put his wife, son, the two girls and his mother who was visiting them on a plane and they were now in Florida. She will not be here for the farewell. One resident felt “compelled” to tell her how happy she was that they were leaving and what an awful job she did. Another did the same to her husband and could not believe he lasted this long. He is strong and worked with people and will survive, but his wife was near emotional collapse. It wasn’t just the resident’s who attacked, but the “Ivory Tower” went after her as well.
I love how people handle departures. Idiotically. Most do well and either keep their mouth shut or express their appreciation or love. But there seem to always be one or two people who blast the shotgun. Leaders need tough skin.
A resident who wanted to take up a collection to buy a gift for them approached me with the idea. I supported her but suggested we make it cash. When driving across country, money is handy. A close friend is angry that she was not consulted about the collection plan and is acting like a total snit. I love her to death, but she can slide off her rocker at a moments notice. Have mouth will react. Thinking comes after talking.
The day has ended with Gail’s son-in-law being seriously hurt during a baseball game and being air lifted to a larger city hospital. He daughter is a nervous wreck so Gail is a nervous wreck. I was with her over an hour. It has been a tiring day. We all have them and I am going to bed. Sleep will come easy — I hope.
My two passengers arrived and we left to see Janet. The hospice care was a new area to me and I could see the building but could not figure out how to get to the parking lot. I finally made it even though my passengers kept shouting different directions. Being a stubborn guy, I didn’t listen to either one. We met Janet’s son and a friend of hers at the room. Janet was sleeping so I spent some time getting updated with her son. What a delightful man. I was thrilled for Janet that she had a family willing to support her decision to let go. We went in and her son told Janet her friends were here and she stirred. She could hear and nodded her head, but did not talk. The end appears to be near. We spent time reminiscing with her and telling her what we liked and loved about her. I prayed at the end that our loving God would restore her to complete health quickly – by physical healing or taking her home. She has had a wonderful life.
Back at the ranch I could hardly get out of the car before I was caught and bombarded with questions. I’m not sure how word got around I that I was the one to talk to about Janet and our leader, but it continued most of the afternoon. Were our leaders fired? No. Why are they leaving? I gave a brief tactful explanation. More digging on their part, more stalling and redirecting on my part. This moved on from person to the next. Most took Janet’s decision well and considered her brave. I was not prepared for the two explosions that came. The first was to be expected — mostly tears and sorrow for the loss of Janet. However, one person was so livid and angry she could not and did not remain in control. She called her names and cursed her for giving up. I was unsuccessful in calming her down. I finally walked away.
When I finally got back to my room, the maintenance man came for a visit. He wanted to tell me what was going on before it spread like wildfire. He had put his wife, son, the two girls and his mother who was visiting them on a plane and they were now in Florida. She will not be here for the farewell. One resident felt “compelled” to tell her how happy she was that they were leaving and what an awful job she did. Another did the same to her husband and could not believe he lasted this long. He is strong and worked with people and will survive, but his wife was near emotional collapse. It wasn’t just the resident’s who attacked, but the “Ivory Tower” went after her as well.
I love how people handle departures. Idiotically. Most do well and either keep their mouth shut or express their appreciation or love. But there seem to always be one or two people who blast the shotgun. Leaders need tough skin.
A resident who wanted to take up a collection to buy a gift for them approached me with the idea. I supported her but suggested we make it cash. When driving across country, money is handy. A close friend is angry that she was not consulted about the collection plan and is acting like a total snit. I love her to death, but she can slide off her rocker at a moments notice. Have mouth will react. Thinking comes after talking.
The day has ended with Gail’s son-in-law being seriously hurt during a baseball game and being air lifted to a larger city hospital. He daughter is a nervous wreck so Gail is a nervous wreck. I was with her over an hour. It has been a tiring day. We all have them and I am going to bed. Sleep will come easy — I hope.
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