It took me two months, which is an indication that it was a good read but not a stay-up-all-night-because-can’t-put-it-down read like Mosley’s previous mysteries, the Easy Rawlins series (Devil in a Blue Dress, A Red Death, White Butterfly, Black Betty, A Little Yellow Dog, Gone Fishin’, Bad Boy Brawley Brown, Six Easy Pieces, Little Scarlet, Cinnamon Kiss, Blonde Faith, spanning a period from 1990 to around 2006).

All I Did Was Shoot My Man had so many characters that I got lost a time or two or three and wished I’d diagramed the characters. Have you ever done that … sketched a tree of characters, who they relate to and what they’ve done so when the author brings the character up later in the book you can quickly place their role in the current happening?

I’ve only had to diagram one other author, and that was Anne Rice in her Vampire series. And for the same reason … so very many characters and interpersonal relationships that spanned from book-to-book over a number of years.

All I Did Was Shoot My Man is the fourth in the series of Leonid McGill mysteries — something I was unaware of when Amazon sent me an email suggesting that, since I’d read so many Mosley books in the past, I might like his “new” book. One does not have to have read the preceding books to enjoy this latest, but my having not read books one and two and three probably added to why I sometimes became lost in who was who.

I have a lot of time on my hands, so I guess I’ll get into this Leonid McGill guy and catch up on Book 1: The Long Fall, Book 2: Known to Evil and Book 3: The Thrill is Gone. In between, I’ve still got that needlepoint project to complete …

April's Progress

May's Progress

… and another needlepoint project waiting to begin …

… but all the above now has to wait because of Amazon’s latest recommendation …

Book 12

If this one is as captivating as the other in the book series, I’ll be done in a day or so.

One pound a week.

Is that too much to ask?

I think not.

The plan for Week 3 is to continue to do everything right except, on the off chance the gain is water weight because I’ve been sprinkling salt on watermelon to bring out the sweetness, I’ll be deleting the salt and substituting balsamic vinegar instead.

On another note, I got a kick out of seeing Weight Watchers on an episode of Mad Men.

I actually met Jean Nidetch, the founder of Weight Watchers, once. It was about 43 years ago. I was working in downtown Los Angeles and Nidetch was doing a book signing for the original Weight Watcher Cookbook. I used my lunch hour to get my book signed. And no, I don’t still have the book. I wish I did though, even if the book is no longer relevant, because it was a signed copy.

It only took two trips to the acupuncturist to correct the pain and swelling, but the injury has left me feeling totally exhausted.

That first visit to Dr. Chan required a whole lot of needles – I lost count when we hit 100. The second visit, he only used about 40 needles.

I was to have returned today for a third treatment but, although it’s too soon for any serious physical activity, the knees are feeling stronger every day so I don’t see the need for a third treatment.

I can’t shake the sense that there was some significance to the timing of the tendinitis.

Feeling somewhat bored, resisting the urge to remain a recluse and not involve myself with people, I’d signed up to spearhead a water aerobics group here at the senior complex. The day before the group was to have started was the day the injury hit, resulting in a “postponement.” I’ve since had time to reconsider all the pros and cons of getting involved with other people, and I’m now inclined, once I can get back into water aerobics, to “cancel” that idea altogether. More than “inclined,” it’s a done deal. There are worse things than being bored and, although the tendinitis was an awful pain in my knees and lower legs, it probably saved me for an even more awful pain in my arse.

Since I appear to be destined to travel solo the remainder of the way, I’ve been spending the time working on that needlepoint project, still reading the Walter Mosley book, meditating and watching television. Too much television. In fact, so much television that, something clicked when I saw Ms. Piggy on The Bachelorette last night.

“I recognize that fabric, that dress,” thought I. My mind went back to the Project Runway episode where designers were challenged with a red carpet dress for Ms. Piggy. Did a little research and, sure enough, it was Michael’s winning design.

When Michael’s design won, I wondered if the final product would be off-the-shoulder for Ms. Piggy as well, but see they added straps.

It bothers me that I can’t remember my address or people’s names or any number of other way more legit things, but I can recall the origin of  Ms. Piggy’s dress. Is the aloneness and too much TV rotting my brain? Am I becoming shallow? I hope I don’t become one of those old ladies who walk around talking to themselves.

At any rate, since exercise is out of the question for the time being, I’ve been putting the focus back on weight loss. After gaining back 19 of the 31 pounds lost before relocating to Long Beach, I folded two weeks ago and rejoined Weight Watchers. Lost 4.8 pounds the first week. Week 2′s weigh-in is tomorrow.

It’s true I have been having negative emotional reactions to all the Mother’s Day ads on TV – which is understandable seeing as how my becoming a mother has spawned a Prodigal who in turn herself spawned so many damaged beings. It’s so saddens and fills me with guilt that I’ll probably always have trepidation about Mother’s Day until the day I die. But life is about choices and we have no control over the choices others make, so my choice now is to accept that life lesson, stop worrying about others and focus on my own salvation.

At any rate, I have healed sufficiently to where this year I was able to accept an invitation to Tea with Daughter No. 2.

Take for instance today. As I sitting in the car in the parking lot of the Chinese Restaurant, my friend R called to say she stopped for gas, now her car wouldn’t start and she’d have to call AAA. Our lunch date was cancelled.

No problem, I thought, for I automatically knew there was a reason for the happening.

After receiving her assurance that I was not needed for assistance, I headed out to find some lunch and kill the two hours until my manicure/pedicure appointment.

Driving down Foothill Blvd towards the area of the appointment, I kept an eye out for what was going to happen or not happen as a result of the happenstance – Was I being saved from something? Was I going to see someone I’d not have seen otherwise?

Having experienced or seen nothing that appeared to answer those questions, I arrived in the area of Victoria Gardens and realized it was a good place to kill 2 hours. I drove around for a bit trying to decide what I wanted to eat and then Voilà …

Who knew?

I certainly did not and probably would not, but for the happenstance.

Resisting kettle corn and sweet treats, I found myself at the French Quarter booth and ordered Hot Water Cornbread.

Wouldn’t you know … the guys were having trouble with an outlet, consequently, no hot water cornbread today. Potato Salad looked good, but after tasting a sample I settled on chicken winglets and collard greens.

Actually, the guys laughed when I ordered hot water cornbread. How they took a look at me and assessed I couldn’t be down with that I don’t know, but the older of the three guys said, with a smile, “What do YOU know about hot water cornbread?”

“We were poor,” I replied. “Hot water cornbread was sometimes all we had to eat. When we were lucky, we had beans to go with it. I sometimes still get a hankering for it, but it never comes out the way I remember.”

At any rate, the guys told me to come back next Friday. Now that I know about the Farmer’s Market, I will be back next Friday for that cornbread and more of those delicious greens — I can live without the chicken. I’ll also be making a visit to Tamale Guy’s booth — that is if the Universe doesn’t call up another happenstance which leads me in a different direction.

To reiterate some of the background I had blogged around that time … we were not a close family. In fact, I’d not had a relationship with my remaining two brothers and my only sister in some 40 years. I had no hard feelings about that. I’d long since learned to be on my own. Family was happily wrapped up and concerned with their own comfort those 40 years, and so it blessedly forced me to learn how to rely on Spirit.

The rising darkness problems arose when I relocated to Long Beach. By that time, the $hit was beginning to hit the fan for one of the brothers and the sister. After years of being and doing and having, they found themselves in failing states of health, at which time they wanted me to get involved. I was already struggling under the weight of trying to help that family member who was draining me physically, financially, mentally, emotionally and along come these other family members adding pressure to do and be what they wanted.

It was tough, but in the end I did what I have been trained to do as a spiritual student. I prayed the prayer of Divine Right Action — The Will of God for all concerned, learned my lesson that “no good deed goes unpunished,” retreated from the rising darkness by getting the hell out of Long Beach and have been in seclusion since.

At any rate, I received word tonight that I am the last surviving of my mother’s six children. In the last thirty days, both brothers and the sister, all passed away.

Seriously.

ALL.

So odd, because I am the oldest.

The youngest brother passed away of the big C. Two weeks later, the other brother stepped off a bus, had a massive heart attack and passed away. Then, either yesterday or today, sister passed.

Also odd is I felt none of the passings – and I am sensitive that way and generally do. Also, there have been no visitations. I attribute the lack of feeling the passings and having no visitations to the fact that we were not close, or it just may be that when I walked away this last and final time I’d closed the door so tight that no one from the past could get through.

As to the news that I am the last of my mother’s children … I feel strangely calm.

Woke up Sunday morning feeling lazy but, due to the miracle performed by Dr. Chan, the acupuncturist, and a little prodding from some Facebook friends, I got out of the apartment and made it to the Food Truck Fest at Citizens Business Bank Arena. No easy fete because, with 48 trucks, it was like miles and miles of walking. I was on my feet for a little over 3 hours with no discernible adverse effects to Dr. Chan’s work.

Entering the event, I was handed a map and list of vendors. Glancing at the list, “Thai 1 On” caught my eye and I headed straight to Truck No. 48 for chicken satay.

Delicious!

Thai 1 On had other items I was interested in trying out before I left the festival but, by the time I got back around to them a few hours later, the line was way long. Not as long as this line though …

This line was leading to the Grilled Cheese Truck. Hard to believe Grilled Cheese can garner this much interest, but the line was so long the totality would not fit into the frame. The line was endless and the absolute longest line in the venue. Second longest was Lobsta Truck.

Actually, the event was sort of like Disneyland in that there were long lines and long waits everywhere.

With so many choices of food items, I played it safe because if the long lines didn’t put me off, the ingredients did. Hardly anything was like simple. Instead, pretty much everything was gourmet’d up with fancy and sometimes weird ingredients – like an eggroll made up of vegetables and hummus. I love hummus but in an eggroll?

I’m not adventurous that way, so the only other item I tried was shrimp and vegetable tempura from OG Tempura.

Tempura is pretty much the same everywhere, so I’ll have to say it was awright.

So a fun fairly inexpensive day in the sun.

I missed yesterday’s Cinco de Mayo Potluck at the senior complex. I had a mid morning appointment with the acupuncture guru, which should have gotten me back in time for the potluck, but the traffic heading into and out of Los Angeles and Korea Town was like carmageddon. Plus the weather changed – it got really hot which, in bumper to bumper traffic, was exhausting.

The trip was worth it though. I frankenstein hobbled into the acupuncturist in pain, wearing that superhero brace, and walked out pain free, brace free, with a stride pretty much like a normal human being. I’m not yet 100%, but looks like another treatment or so will get me to 100.

At any rate, when I realized the traffic was going to make me late and how tired I was, I decided to just get home, get some rest and stopped at Subway to take home a late lunch/early dinner.

Once the young lady at the counter asked for my order, I clearly articulated, “Foot long BBQ Chicken, on whole wheat, toasted, no cheese.”

Of course, she had to ask me the obvious, “You want it toasted without the cheese?”

“Yes, BBQ Chicken, toasted, no cheese.”

After the young lady removed the toasted bread from the oven, she asked me, “You want vegetables.”

Now here is where it all went terribly wrong.

I was wondering why she asked me about vegetables before placing the chicken, but I figured she makes sandwiches all day so she knows more about what she’s doing than I.

That was a wrong assumption, because after she applied the requested lettuce, tomato, hot peppers, avocado and looked like she was done, I said, “But where’s the chicken?”

“I thought you said ‘vegetables’.”

Actually, I said “BBQ Chicken. When you said ‘vegetables’ I assumed you were asking what vegetables I wanted with the chicken.”

At any rate, I did walk out with BBQ Chicken on top of a bed of vegetables. And the sandwich was nice and tasty, except I’m not a big meat eater and they put like a ton of chicken on it. So much chicken that I had to scrap more than half off.

I wonder if I was as tiresome and clueless as this generation’s youth when I was young? Somehow I doubt it. I’m sure I had my faults, but really …..

The news clip was Channel 2’s coverage of a memorial service for fallen LAPD officers. One woman was placing a rose at her husband’s memorial. I clearly heard myself thinking, “Hah! Lucky lady. She’s financially set for life” (because of the pension benefits that come with one’s spouse being killed in the line of duty).

How cynical is that!?

As the news clip went on with the woman saying how she comes every year to honor her fallen husband, I found myself remembering my long since deceased ex, who was a cop and the meanest man I’ve ever met. I was thinking that if he’d been killed in the line of duty, I’d be grateful for his pension payout, but I certainly would not have been attending any memorial.

That’s when I caught the ugly thoughts and said to myself, “Self, I can’t believe how cynical you’ve become.”

A positive thinker and an illumined being, I’m really not sure what’s going on, but I think what it is is that I’m just over it – “it” being all the b.s. … and it is … all b.s. that is.

Yep. That sounds like I’ve added “cynic” to my resume.

Dealing with yet another injury caused by working out.

This time it was yoga stretches — the same stretches I’ve done for years but this time I performed the stretches while standing in the pool during the cool down phase, rather than sitting on the floor, and I guess the standing position added just a millimeter too much to the stretch and I ended up hurting myself and limping for a few days.

Because I ignored the limp, continued to work out and walk around the complex for exercise, I ended up completely off my feet with tendinitis last Thursday and did not get back on my feet until today … six days later.

Actually I didn’t totally ignore the limp … I tried to work around it by making a trip to Sports Chalet where I picked up that kewl super hero looking knee brace so I could continue to work out. THEN I got in the Jacuzzi, with the thought that the warm water would clear up the knee and ankle ache. Instead, the heat worsened the swelling, which had me bedridden and struggling to get from here to there in the apartment. I ended up using household instruments as crutches.

Necessity is the mother of invention, so it was the grabber …

And the door security bar …

Prognosis for this type of injury is off the feet for 1 to 2 months, but I was able to be on my feet for short periods of time today (with the help of that McDavid Brace … and really, the way things worked out, I’m thinking it was almost like the Universe knew I’d need that brace and led me to it while I was still mobile).

I’ve since discovered the correct course of initial treatment should have been cold packs NOT the hot Jucuzzi, so let’s file this experience under ”One Lives and One Learns.”

Even though I am processing the injury way ahead of the curve, I’ll be speeding up the process even more — so I can get back to working out, by paying a visit to the acupuncture guru this weekend.