Duncan's Blog

I drove to the desert.

I had a week off and was originally planning a trip to Dollywood with a friend of mine whose 'people' are from Tennessee. Well, he kind of sort of passively aggressively baled on me. And I wasn't about to give the vacation time back to the agency.

So I made day trips. One of these trips included a drive to Morongo. California Indian Casino, CA | Morongo Casino Resort & Spa I went for the slot machines. Blackjack requires too much math. I limit myself to just how much I can/am willing to afford to lose and--when that moment happens--I stop or head home. I was able to enjoy a meal and a dessert as well as some fun spinning time in front of the one-armed bandit.

It's not the healthiest way to live. Gaming in and of itself (especially with machines that lean towards supporting the house) is not a profitable pastime/hobby. But I know there are subliminal messages with the sounds and lights of the machines. You could close your eyes and push the button (you don't even have to pull the lever anymore) and still feel the tense sounds.

Oh! There is a spa there. I could have gotten my face exfoliated! Oh well, I took out my liquid soap and coarse corn meal, mixed them up, and gave myself a homemade face scrub.

Glad I went. It'll probably be another ten years before I return.

I took a week off from work. This was planned long before Trump turned my life upside down.

Actually, the original plan was go to with a friend to Dollywood. But he couldn't make it. Sadly for me, however, he also never let me know of this in actual words. I simply shrugged it off and said to myself, "SELF! You can go to Pigeon Forge on your own when you want and on your own terms."

Vacation days are precious, and I wasn't about to give them back. So I made a series of day trips. It was Tuesday when I took a roundtrip AMTRAK ride between Los Angeles' Union Station and San Diego's Santa Fe Station. Temperatures were in the mid 90s.

I don't really do well in the heat. I don't really do well in the outdoors for any length of time. I took the bus to the zoo and I spent about 3 hours walking around and looking at the animals. It was a weekday and there were lots of families there. Children were screaming. Parents were being as effective as they believed they could be. Snacks were expensive.

Time at a zoo is meaningful to me. I feel a connection with my planet when I get to see the critters that have been placed in different spots of the world. The heat did me in after about 2 to 2-1/2 hours so I went back to the entrance and took the bus back to the train station.

Not sure what else to say about the day. I don't think I will do the AMTRAK trip again as it was a little over $60 with my senior discount. My car can get me there cheaper. Glad I went, though.

I've had many jobs in my life(time). For years I had worked for temporary employment agencies in offices in Manhattan. Most of the clients were corporate banks. Then I moved to the Bay Area (San Francisco) and I did some temp work until I landed a full-time job (temp-to-perm).

I was young and didn't really know how to read all of the signs that showed up before me. Like... why was this job as a transcriptionist available? It seems the last two that worked there were so fed up with the "office manager" that when pay day came, they took their checks, high-tailed it to the Hibernia Bank of Union Street (that was the bank where the checks were drawn), and they never came back!

"Office manager" was written in quotes. She gave herself the title. She was a bookkeeper. She was a hillbilly from West Virginia. In fact, I used to refer to her as the WV hillbilly bookkeeper. And folks would laugh. She red pointed nails (no fills at the time) and frosted hair that was hair-sprayed in place after it had gone through the curling iron. They looked like bomb shells that were suspended on her head. The frosting job, I later learned was $100. Mind you that would be about $300 in today's market (reflecting a cumulative price increase of approximately 200% due to inflation... calculating the inflation rate from 1985 to today at around 2.78% to 2.79% per year).

This self-anointed, self-appointed office manager also had an eating disorder. It was one I had never actually seen in my life. She was anorexic. I remember looking it up in German for they always have such a rich description in their ability to name things. The word is magersüchtig and it means addicted to lean/thin.

I never saw her eat. She drank black coffee from an electric avocado colored percolator (from a 4-ounce mug) and she'd pop her own popcorn in a device that looked like an electric Teflon wok with a plastic lid. When she later discovered that popcorn could be mad with air popping (thus avoiding the need to use oil), you'd think she had just reached doggy-style orgasm.

She was the wife of a coast guard captain and--from what I had observed--the man had a roaming eye. I used to say that he had Roman eyes and Russian hands. Well, it would make ME laugh, anyway! She had issues with her weight. She would go into the bathroom and use the scale (the kind that had movable weights on it). She'd always be between 101 and 103. How did I know this? She'd leave the weights where they landed. Really? With this level of OCD did I think that a WV hillbilly with red pointed nails and bombshell curls was going to leave her weight exposed on the bathroom scale? It was her subtle way of letting folks know that she took care of herself.

Her office was right next to the bathroom. When I'd go in there, I would move the weights back to zero. And I'd do it loud enough for her to hear it.

Eating disorders in and among my tribe were usually presented with obesity and probably cases of diabetes mellitus. Never had I ever encountered a person who willingly subjected him-/herself to starvation. I take it back... I'm sure there were teenage girls who'd sip TaB and maybe take diet pills for a short term 'fix'. But starvation as a lifestyle? Uh-uh. Maybe she didn't know how to cook.

I always brought food to work. There was even a kitchen in the office. The food was usually a sandwich, a piece of fruit, and something to drink. On special days, I might fire up the stove and make something from scratch. I particularly loved days when I would make smelly food... salmon croquettes or chicken liver with onions were high on the list. I always assumed they were dying to ask but wouldn't dare. Over time, I thought that maybe they really didn't like the smell of the food. The WV hillbilly bookkeeper once told a story of a time when she worked for a Jewish doctor. He brought in borsht for her tor try. She called it beet soup. "It taste [sic] like dirt," was her assessment.

She was a mean woman. She was coached by the Coast Guard captain on how to stand tough and let the underlings know who was in charge. She'd often leave with the words, "Thanks for all your hard work, guys!" I remember that because I once said to her, "Thanks for all your heard work, ___!" as she walked into the work station. She was not amused.

I looked her up online. She died in 2022 at the age of 71. Her frosted hair was short and spiked. And the picture of her on the obituary page showed signs of Botox in her cheeks. She looked like a chipmunk that was about to make a run to its storage space with nuts in its mouth.

There is nothing really nice that I have to say about her. She was not a role model of any sort. [SHRUG]. I don't even care to know how she died or whether or not it was long or short, painful or pain free.

My encounter with her was one of those images that gets created and implanted based on repeated exposure and experience with someone who is/was toxic. Thankfully, I have learned to recognize anorexia and have also learned to stay clear of anyone who has it.

There is nothing more to add to this. I've already made posts about it. I have since learned that PERFECT is not a qualifier for credit. Credit is either poor, fair, good, or excellent (kind of like a grade school report card). I'm only posting this because I love to say it. For so many years my credit was toilet-worthy. Now it's up there. I wish I knew then what I know now.

On a Sunday I set a 0730 (7:30 a.m.) appointment for myself to donate blook at a location that is 62 miles from my home. Why?

There are numerous places where one can give blood. My local hospital has a donor center. There is also the American Red Cross. Then, there are some private companies that do it as well. Why would you opt for one over the other? At this point, the choice is sort of like an airline to fly. Who has a program that offers the best gives/awards? VITALENT is en-par with the rest.

I first discovered them in San Francisco. They were located in a part of town I didn't frequent. I always like to eat something nearby when I donate blood. So, this time I went to Ventura County (some 60+ miles from my home) to offer a pint of the good stuff.

I don't really know much (or anything, for that matter) as to who oversees companies that receive blood. Who actually owns the blood? How is blood distributed? What is the price of blood? Are there different markets for it in different places and at different times?

Blood is technically tissue, not an organ. According to Britannica :

"blood, fluid that transports oxygen and nutrients to the cells and carries away carbon dioxide and other waste products. Technically, blood is a transport liquid pumped by the heart (or an equivalent structure) to all parts of the body, after which it is returned to the heart to repeat the process. Blood, however, is also type of a tissue, because it is a collection of similar specialized cells that serve particular functions. These cells are suspended in a liquid matrix (plasma), which makes the blood a fluid. If blood flow ceases, death will occur within minutes because of the effects of an unfavorable environment on highly susceptible cells."

I don't have any viable reason for promoting Vitalent over the American Red Cross or a local hospital that collects blood. I discovered the place when I went to San Francisco (as I had mentioned earlier). San Francisco is a beloved city to me and donating blood there is one of the few ways I feel I can give back to the city.