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Does 10:30 p.m. qualify as being the middle of the night? If you’re retired, I’m sure it does. The other night I was soundly sleeping and softly snoring (my sweetie will get a kick out of the SOFTLY snoring part) when my phone rang. Now we all know when the phone rings in the middle of the night, its bad news, VERY bad news,

I grab for the phone, answer, “Hello” and hold my breath. The voice on the other end says, “Hello, this is the Port Saint Lucie Sheriff’s Department.” OH NO, IT’S THE POLICE! This is much worse than I imagined. My mind is whirling a million miles a minute. This is bad. This is very bad? Someone is seriously injured. Someone has been in an accident and been KILLED. This is horrible. Why are they calling me on the phone? For news like this they should be knocking on my door. They should be asking me if there’s someone they can call. They should NOT be giving such heartbreaking news over the phone.

Wait! What is the voice saying? It sounds like a recording. IT IS A RECORDING! The Port Saint Lucie Sheriff Department is telling me that I can take my expired medications to the nearest Walgreen’s Pharmacy for disposal. And, just to make sure I understand how this is accomplished, they leave a phone number for me to call with any questions.

WHAT THE HELL? THEY NEED TO TELL ME THIS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT? I DON’T THINK SO! The police are supposed to be our friends. Well, MY friends do NOT call me at 10:30 and scare the daylights out of me. So, I decide that I’ll just call the good old Port Saint Lucie Sheriff Department back and tell them so.

I had to get OUT of bed, turn on a light, search for my glasses and hunt for a phone book. When listening to the ‘medication disposal advice’ I was too astounded to think clearly enough to write down the number they were spouting. Besides it was dark (I’m sure I mentioned the time).

I actually gave thought to dialing 911. Someone had called 911 from McDonalds recently because they were out of McNuggets. This was a much more serious emergency than that! But, I kept my composure, looked up a non-911 number and called. I told the nice young lady that answered that I had just received a call from the police and that it scared me half to death and if it was a joke, it certainly wasn’t very funny.

She wanted to know who called me and what did they say? I’m sure she was thinking that I’ve received a prank call and she would be able to deny all responsibility. BUT, that was not the case. I explained that the Sheriff’s recording has called me to give me a lesson on how to dispose of expired medication. That turned the tide. She was very apologetic and said she would look into it immediately.

The next day there was an apology letter in the newspaper, addressed to any of the Saint Lucie County residents who had been awaked by a recorded message. The person who programmed it to make calls had gotten confused about the distinction between a.m. and p.m.  Oh dear ……………. They don’t know day from night and they’re protecting us?

I’M GETTING A DOG!!!

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Gram use’ta say

“It is said, there are two rules on winning an argument with a woman.
Neither works.”

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 I live in a senior citizens condominium community where everyone owns their own unit. We all pay a monthly maintenance fee which I consider to be very reasonable and which has seen minimal increases over the years. That fee is to cover the expense of hiring all the service personnel required to keep the community looking really nice. In addition, our monthly fees pay for garbage removal, cable TV, water & sewer and probably several other things that I’m forgetting to mention. Our entire complex is magnificently maintained. The lawns are mowed weekly including edging and trimming, the trees and shrubs are trimmed on a regular basis and replaced as needed. The trash dumpsters, which are emptied on a regular basis, are all contained inside of concrete walls which for the most part are well hidden by shrubbery. In short, we live in our own little piece of paradise. It’s a place that I’m proud to call home and show off to my snow-bird friends who visit each year.

However, there are times when I get frustrated about some of the individuals who also live here. The majority of them are kind and caring people who don’t cause any problems and don’t spend all of their time complaining. But there is that very tiny minority of them who seem to live only to make life as miserable as possible for everyone else.

At our annual owners meeting those are the people who get up to speak and when I say speak, I mean bitch. They can’t seem to find anything about living here that pleases them and rather than simply ask a question about whatever is bothering them they tear into the manager or the attorney or a member of our Board of Directors, who incidentally are not paid, but volunteer for that position.

I’m of the belief that they are the same people who can’t or won’t pick up after themselves. Likely it is they who go to the pool and move the furniture around to suit their needs then just get up and walk away without putting it back where it belongs. They are without a doubt the same people who use the various floating devices provided for everyone’s entertainment then, rather than put them back in the containers provided for that purpose, simply throw them in that general direction, leaving them for someone else to pick up.

They’re also probably the same people who bring beer to the pool and sit around drinking it even though the rules prohibiting that sort of thing are prominently posted. Maybe they are the ones who bring their grandchildren to the pool, but can’t be bothered enough to supervise them properly. Running, screaming, jumping in the pool or babies in diapers are not proper use of the community pool in a senior citizen community and those rules are also posted for all to see. We purchased our unit in a senior citizen community for a reason and it wasn’t to listen to someone else’s misbehaving grandchildren.

Geeze-O-Pete, hope I haven’t just turned into one of the very people I’m complaining about…

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Gramps use’ta say
©R.L.King2012 #401

About: Life’s Lessons

  “They’s some things best left unsaid,
but it’s damn hard
figurin out which ones.”

By:  Donna Hale Chandler

I may have won the Battle of The Bugs a few days ago but I just don’t see a quick end to the Battle of the Sparkles. Actually I brought on my own grief by forming a bad habit several years ago when my children were small. I was working full time, and time for cleaning, laundry, etc. was severely limited. The bad habit has to do with the dreaded chore of doing the laundry. I found that you can be finished with all those dirty clothes in half the time if you just throw everything in together…. whites, darks,….. makes no difference. Just make sure you push the cold water button. Nothing fades, nothing shrinks, all is right with your world… USUALLY!

Once on New Year’s Eve I donned a nice sparkly top and celebrated with my sweetie and my friends. All was well, until laundry day rolled around. The pretty, festive, sparkly top needed a bit of attention. I read the ‘care’ label which instructed me to wash separately on the gentle cycle. So, as had been my habit, I ignored the label and in it went with the rest of the clothing to be washed.

Who would have ever guessed that ‘sparkles’ actually jump from article to article, either while sloshing in the washer or tumbling in the dryer? Who would have ever guessed that those pretty sparkles could come off of that nice top and attach themselves to EVERYTHING ELSE?

I then had very fancy, sparkly sheets, sparkly pillow cases, sparkly socks, sparkly jeans, sparkly towels and even sparkly wash clothes. .

I was afraid that for many months I would need to sleep with a mask over my eyes or the bright lights from the sparkles on the sheets will keep me awake.

Fortunately my sweetie was a good sport because his clothing was in the wash too giving him several nice sparkly pieces of clothing.

****Fast forward several years, we’re sitting in the doctor’s waiting room. As I cross my legs to get more comfortable, I spot it — a sparkle on my ankle. Now where did that rascal come from? I point it out to my sweetheart and we both started to giggle making those around us wonder if we might be dangerous or simply ‘off our rockers’.  ******

Moral of the story, joy and laughter are all around if we only open our eyes to see the sparkles of each day.

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Gram use’ta say

“Senior citizens should be required to wear name tags,
so I’ll remember who I’m talking to.”

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TIME TOUCHES EVERYTHING
© By: Richard L. King
From the book Memories & Time

There’s nothing known to man that time doesn’t touch,
including dreams, relationships, memory’s and such.

Time is often a factor in the things we do or say
often it’s our teacher as we meander along our way.

Time can move mountains or it can alter streams,
it can be unforgiving as it steals most all your dreams.

Time might stoop your shoulders or maybe alter your walk,
it might slow your mind or make it difficult to talk.

Time will cause skin to wrinkle and could gray your hair
or make you go bald, though likely you’ll no longer care.

Memories of old joys might be taken away,
not wanting to leave, they simply cannot stay.

Time doesn’t allow anyone to enjoy a second take,
but it can zap your energy and all your bones will ache.

It will steal your memory refusing to treat you fair,
as you spend more and more of it, in your easy chair.

Time will always move forward, it can never move back
as it creates the trail, then obliterates the tracks.

But as it takes its toll and you approach your final days
may your life be filled with love and all sorts of things to praise.

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Gramps use’ta say
R.L.King2012 #329

About: Intelligence

“It’s never too late
to shut up & listen.”

BY:  DONNA HALE CHANDLER

I don’t like bugs! I’m not afraid of them. They don’t give me the willies. I just don’t like them. I don’t keep a spotless house. I “live” in my home, and anyone can take one look and tell that. But just because I live here doesn’t mean I want to live with bugs… The nasty little critters carry germs and probably leave little tiny pee spots and itty bitty poos everywhere.

A couple of days ago, there was a bug crawling around my kitchen sink. A little black rascal about the size of a flea but it didn’t jump or bite … just crawled around like it owned the place. I squashed the bugger and didn’t think much about it. But later, I saw two more. I squashed them and went on a search for my can of Industrial Strength Bug Spray. I sprayed around the kitchen edges, trying to stay away from food and dishes.

Well, dang it all, yesterday I saw them again, so I sprayed some more and started the search for their hiding place. I checked the bread, nope none in there. I checked the coffee, nope none in there either. None in the instant oatmeal packets, or the hot chocolate packets either.

I knew the Whole Bug Family was living somewhere nearby so I started emptying my kitchen cabinets. While standing on a chair, peering into the clutter of various seasonings, plastic bowls with missing lids, I saw half dozen little bugs on the shelf. Squash, squash, squash, spray, spray, spray, wipe, wipe, wipe.

Finally, I gathered up my courage and looked into a container of Italian Bread Crumb Seasoning. Yikes! There were Zillions and zillions of bugs. Quick, quick, quick, get a plastic bag and start throwing every eatable thing that was up there away. Take every plastic dish and put it in the dish washer …… probably had bug pee or poo on them. I tied up the plastic bag, stepped out into the dark, watching for raccoons, and tossed that buggy stuff into the dumpster. Then I ran the dishwasher and scrubbed the entire kitchen.

This morning… No bugs! I won the war!

(Excerpt from Life Happens (My Story) by Donna Hale Chandler)

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Gram use’ta say

“When you give your word, keep it.”

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