Mike's death; Betty's life...

Thursday, July 23, 2026

Saturday, August 17, 2024

I woke up once or twice during the night. I struggle a bit to fall asleep again. When I woke, I saw the yard outside my bedroom sliding doors was lit up. My first thought was that the motion sensor lights had been triggered; I had that set up in my driveway. Then, I remembered it didn't have motion detector lights in the yard. Why was it light? It could only be because the sun had come up. I never wake up that late.

The light in the yard was confusing because the sky was overcast. It wasn't the bright light of a clear day but a grey, cold light, much like the light of the motion detector bulbs. Realizing how late it was, I immediately fed Elsa and headed out for our walk.

Kona summers have arrived. Our hot, sticky days start in August and run through mid-October. I experienced a rash of fairly intense hot flashes. While I am a long-term hot flash sufferer, it has greatly lessened over the years.

A long-term hot flash sufferer is one whose hot flashes continue forever. When I started, I had about 100 a day. I timed them; I had one every 15 minutes, and they were intense. It wasn't just the sweat; it was an electrical surge that felt like an anxiety attack. It was miserable. In recent years, I might feel a mild rise of heat but not an electrical rush and no sweat. These traits have returned now. I worried about the implications for my health. Why has my endocrine system returned to a previous pattern? I needed to consult my doctor. I mentioned the change to Darby. She said she is experiencing something comparable. She attributed the increase in hot flashes to the increase in heat and humidity. That was reassuring.

I had no tutoring sessions today. I usually have the Twins and Adolescent D on Saturdays. The Twins weren't available because Mama K had to attend a major paddling event, and D had to start work at 10 a.m. at Costco. I hadn't heard from fourth-grade C's parents one way or the other. I considered the possibility that they didn't want to continue working with me. I sent a text asking if they wanted to schedule another session. The response was total silence. It was confusing.

The day started badly. I felt great sadness. My chest hurt. I've been feeling this discomfort on and off for a while. Was it physical or psychological? It leaves me feeling drained and weak, but not weak because I don't have muscular strength. It's all in my chest.

I felt that way until Dean and Nina came over to play a few rounds of Sorry. This has become a Saturday afternoon tradition. On one of our walks, Dean mentioned Nina would be making lime tarts. I started salivating at the thought of them. I love lime anything.

Nina sent me a shot of the ingredients laid out on her counter and then a shot of the baked item. It seemed large for a tart. I assumed a tart was a small pastry, three inches in diameter, whereas a pie is a 9-"12". Nina should bring over one or two for me. She arrived with a pie tin-sized tart, 9 inches in diameter. One of those would suffice.

I looked up the difference between a tart and a pie. It is not the diameter; it's the depth of the tin. Pies are deeper with more filling in relation to the crust; tarts are shallower with less filling in relation to the crust. What Nina brought qualifies as a pie. The crust was a graham cracker/ pretzel blend. The filling was lime juice, carnation condensed sweetened milk, ice cream, and eggs sprinkled with lime zest.

We played one game of Sorry that went on forever. I kept being bounced back to start over and over. It was almost funny. I play for the sheer pleasure of their company. The pain in my chest and the drained feeling disappeared immediately. I guess that answers my question as to the cause of it.

After we completed one long, drawn-out game, I offered them a slice of the lime pie. Nina cut three slices. It was incredible. Dean and Nina left after we'd scarfed down our shares.

Joseph, the young man who will move into the guest room for an undetermined time, arrived just as Dean and Nina were leaving. I introduced him to everyone. It occurred to me that most of my friends on the block would want to check him out. I am very optimistic this arrangement will suit me perfectly. His thinking is in line with mine. We will see if we can live together comfortably. Things seem to be moving in the right direction. I'm sitting in my old-lady chair typing away, and he's on the lanai doing his thing. We make connections without intensity or discomfort. At least, that's how I feel. Since the situation is temporary, he is someone on tenterhooks, wondering if he will be okay.

I spent part of the late afternoon showing Joseph where things were. He needed an ironing board and iron. The boy irons his shirts. He placed some food items on the counter. I have a few of mine laid out. I cleared a pantry drawer for him with enough height for a tall box.

At the end of the day, I felt drained, but in a good way. Having someone live here will help resolve my loneliness. I don't need much, just the sense of someone sharing space with me who isn't covertly or overtly hostile. When Mike was alive, we were happy to have people stay for a week or more, even if they did start smelling like fish (a reference to the three-day rule).

I set out for my evening walk at 6:30 p.m., unusually late.

Friday, August 16, 2004

I had several chores to do before I had Hula at 10 a.m. I left at 8:30 to finish them before the class at 10 a.m. My first stop was at Farm and Garden. I noticed discoloration on one of my hibiscuses, and all the leaves and flowers had disappeared on my pink-flowered jade plant overnight. The wonderfully made-up lady who seems entirely out of place in a store that sells to farmers and commercial gardeners diagnosed the problem was slugs in both cases. She sold me a container of Captain Jack's Slug and Bug Killer.

Then I headed for Office Depot to fax my dispute claim against Lucasie, the skin care company in town that scammed me, to Elan, the agency that handles credit card theft and scam charges. I intended to send copies of all the articles Cylin sent me about this company. When I discovered the fax fee was $2 a page, I decided against two of the articles since they didn't mention this company by name. I faxed 11 pages as it was. Cylin wrote a letter to Elan supporting my claim. When I got home, I called to confirm they received the fax. They had.

I drove to the church parking lot to park for the Hula class across the street at the community center. Odd. The community center parking lot was empty. Ah, yes. There was no class today. It was Hawaii Statehood Day; everything was closed. I was relieved because I was already exhausted. I only had to make a quick stop at Costco to pick up Lox before I headed home. I took that desired nap.

I only had Adolescent D today. We worked on the decoding exercise. He identifies the vowel letters quickly these days and remembers to determine which vowel letters represent vowel sounds, even though he persists in referring to the sounds as noise. He finished decoding the passage we had been working on and read the annotated words. He is still slow in processing them, although faster than he used to be. Realistically, he has only started to learn to read three years ago. Unlike children in school, he hasn't put in 10 to 20 minutes of reading a night. This puts him way behind where other children would be. Some kids take off in kindergarten. D would never have been like that. He needs to work hard to become fluent.

I opened Zoom for my appointment with fourth-grade L. I hadn't met with him all week because the laptop had to go to school with his older sister. His mother promised he would be available today. When I contacted her to tell her I had sent the link, she texted they went to town and wouldn't be available. She said L was actually looking forward to the session. She offered to pay. That won't be necessary.

Darby was available for a walk tonight. She hadn't been because she had injured her upper arm while working in the garden. It was a serious injury. It did more than inhibit her work in the garden; she was in so much pain she couldn't lie down comfortably. She'd been slowly improving. Tonight was the first night she was up for walking Elsa. We joined up with Lutz. We had a scary moment.

As I walk Elsa, I listen carefully for oncoming cars and pull in her retractable leash when I hear one coming. Darby waited a bit too long. A car came by, and Elsa lunged after it. I screamed, "No! No! No!" Darby said she had it. Elsa was unharmed, but it was a bit closer than I liked.

Monday, August 15, 2024

Today would have been my dad's 121st birthday. He died in 1956. I've been without him for a very long time. My mom died in 2001. It's been a while since she died, but she's no competition for my dad.

In my morning contemplations, I thought I had to call the vet and get Elsa on an antibiotic. Then, I thought I should try the infrared lamp. I looked up using infrared on dogs and watched several videos on it. One said you can leave it on for only three minutes. The other said the animal would know when to move. When I sit in my old-lady chair, Elsa usually lies on the floor at the side of the chair. That's a perfect spot for trying the lamp.

She responded well. She stretched out and relaxed. I was concerned about the light getting into her eyes. It's not good for us either. She turned her head away from the lamp. Perfect. Let's see how this goes. It's supposed to help with almost everything that ails her and me.

Elsa's Royal Canin Ultamino dog food arrived on Friday, the 12th. I just opened it tonight. I ordered royal Canin hydrolyzed protein dog food by accident. When I noticed it, I compared it to the Ultamino and saw it was less expensive. I thought, why not try it. Her skin started erupting again. I checked with the vet; they said the hydrolyzed protein should be okay. Her skin condition didn't improve. I took her off the new food and fed her only Dr. Marty's food, which I had been feeding her with the Ultamino before with no negative results. That didn't do much. Tonight, I finally served her the Ultamino. What a difference in her response!!!

When I fed her the hydrolyzed protein with Dr. Marty's combination and Dr. Marty's alone, she begged for something else. I gave her a greenie pill pocket as a treat, and then she ate the food. Tonight, I gave her the Ultamino. She scarfed it down without even considering another treat. This pup knows what's good for her.

I started watching Call the Midwife on Netflix. I caught an episode once before and found it too grim. Jean, my Hanai sister, has been touting its merits. I finally made another effort. It's wonderful. It's warm and loving above everything else. It gives a glance into poverty in London in the 1950s and 60s. It shows some rough domestic situations and loving relationships amid all that poverty. I had to wonder if any of that really happened.

I've been listening to various books and podcasts on psychological states: Attention Deficit Disorder, adult immaturity, and narcissistic personality disorder all have the same symptoms but are labeled as different psychological disabilities. The perspectives are interesting because they look at the impact of these problems from various perspectives.

One of the books I'm listening to is Ellen Langer's book on mindful learning. She differentiates between drill learning, resulting in automatic processing, versus mindful learning. She considers automatic processing the enemy of mindful learning. Once we learn to add, subtract, multiply, and divide automatically, we are no longer mindful learners of math. I think mindful learning is excellent, but I'm afraid I have to disagree with her view on the advantage of mindfulness over automatic processing.

Langer argues we lose contact with the basic elements of a process; we perceive things in larger chunks. For instance, when we learn to tie our shoelaces, we learn steps. Once we can do it automatically, we unthinkingly tie our shoelaces while doing six other things simultaneously. For her, this means we should never learn to do anything automatically. Ridiculous on so many counts. First, we couldn't function if we had to perform every act mindfully instead of unthinkingly. Second, we can always retrieve, relearn, and revisit the basic elements of an act. Pablo Casals was asked in his 80s why he still practiced the scales daily. He said to get better. Going back to the basics makes us better, whether we do it mindfully or mindlessly. Casals could never have been the cellist he was if he couldn't play his instrument automatically. I agree that if you want to deepen your knowledge of anything, you must mindfully go back to the basics.

Moving from automaticity to mindfulness is riding a mental elevator up and down the options, from the most atomized to the largest chunk. The smallest element in language, the phone is only worth focusing on if you're a linguist. The one after that is the phoneme, selected phones used to create a language. The next larger unit is the vowel in its context, the surrounding letters, which determines the syllable. Then, additional consonants are added to make the syllable a large unit. Those units are combined with other syllables. In the case of single-syllable words, to create a phrase. In the case of multisyllabic words, to build a word. etc., to larger and larger units.

The twins can now identify the phonemes in a word. They sometimes have trouble holding on to the sound when they blend it with another phoneme. I discovered yesterday how much trouble they both have comprehending unfamiliar phrases. That is the unit size we have to work on now.

Friday, August 16, 2004

Sunday, July 14, 2024

When I ran into Dean and Nina this morning, we all affirmed that we had fun yesterday and should do it again. Yesterday, they came to my house, and we played several rounds of Sorry. It was about the level of stress we could all handle. Rummikub required too much effort, mainly since Dean and Nina had never heard of it. Dean's request for Scrabble as the game of choice fell flat with Nina and me. I've never been particularly good at any board game. We never played them in my childhood home. My mother was uncomfortable with anything competitive. As for Nina, English is her second language. We vetoed Dean's choice.

Having the activity in my house meant the world to me. My home used to be filled with the energy of love and laughter. It needs to be renewed regularly. It took several years for all the energy to be drained. Elsa and I can't maintain it alone. There's a reason why it requires 'two or more' gathered in the name of love to make a difference. It doesn't have to be the deep-abiding love Mike and I had for each other; it can be the love any friendly person extends to another.

Margaret was sitting next to me on the lanai during mass this morning. She always sits inside. When I asked her why, she looked offended. She confused my curiosity with a challenge and said she was tired. I gave a big smile and said, "Welcome!" I was genuinely glad to have her sitting next to me.

I was anticipating two possibly difficult conversations after church. One was hurtful. Last Sunday, I was inspired to do a healing on this woman's husband. He had suffered a head injury over a year ago and had some physical problems as a result. The work I did was primarily psychological, overcoming the trauma of the event and releasing fear. It resulted in some immediate physical changes. His wife told me he was doing better due to the work. That was great news. I was concerned about a reversal because of how out of the blue the session was. He would either return to baseline or be worse off because he knew he didn't have to be that bad. I was concerned. His wife looked nervous. She said I had told him all the same things, but he only listened when he heard it from another person. I can appreciate where she came from, the pain that he didn't listen to her, and her discomfort with the healing process. Regardless, she denigrated my gift. It didn't feel good.

Yes, my ego was wounded. I need to get more positive feedback. I do fantastic work, but I rarely get the feedback. People often take it for granted or explain it away. By this time, I know the positive results are from my handiwork because of my success rate.

The other encounter didn't happen. The folks weren't there. They were considering hiring me to work with their child. Their image of the child differed significantly from the test results they shared with me. It was not the teacher's fault their child could not learn. He required specially trained teachers, even though they probably could not help the child become the student the parents wanted him to be.

I had another down experience just a week ago? I worked with this child on his memory, and it affected a change. He started moving ahead at a reasonable rate. I pointed out the child's improvement to his father. I do this mainly so the parent can give the child positive feedback. Positive feedback encourages the person to keep moving in that direction. It would be nice if I also got acknowledgment. It's mildly disappointing when I don't. But it really hurts when someone does what this parent did. He said, "Yes. I made him study." Do I understand why this ineffectual parent, whose son says his father does nothing to help him, says that? Sure! Does it make me feel good? No.

I've been thinking about ego lately. We are designed to care what others think of us; it's a survival trait. Referring to evolutionary psychology, we 'know' we are dependent on the goodwill of others for our physical safety, whether we are, in fact, in our contemporary world or not.

Drs. Gottman and Levenson formulated the theory of the magic ratio in a marriage. For every bad interaction, there have to be five good ones for the marriage to survive. If one partner inundates the other with negative feedback, it can undermine their emotional stability. If someone continuously negates your value, it has an impact whether you're strong or not. Mike was so precious to me because he liked me for what I liked in myself. I was one lucky lady.

This marriage formula applies to all relationships. While we don't usually sit down with a calculator and figure out the ratio in our relationships, we do at an intuitive level. We all want more positive moments than negative ones. We all have problems to work out—some more than others if their background was one of unresolved abuse.

Our egos depend on the feedback we get from the world, both from the physical world and the social one. Some claim our egos are supposed to be independent of social feedback. Not being independent means we're weak in some way. Given we are social animals, not being impacted by the input of our social network would be weird. (In the name of full disclosure, this theory is based on my belief in the evolutionary bases of our psyches.). There's a ratio of positive and negative feedback we can tolerate from others and be okay. People who live in the public eye have a heavy burden to carry. Many don't survive the challenge. I marvel at those who do and seem to go on to have normal personal lives. I wonder about their source of containment. There's a balance between caring and not caring about what others think. However, suppose the number of negative responses outweighs the positive and/or neutral. In that case, it's rough on the nerves, no matter how self-contained someone is. I think of performers and writers who must repeatedly put themselves out there. Every one of them experiences repeated rejection, often without even knowing why.

There are the exceptions: Meryl Streep tells how she auditioned for King Kong. DeLaurentiis's son asked her to audition after seeing her in a play. DeLaurentiis asked his son, "Why did you bring me such an ugly woman?" in Italian. Streep is fluent in Italian and said, "I'm sorry you find me so ugly." I've done some auditioning. Directors are often rude to downright brutal. My nephew wants to be a writer but lacks the courage to start collecting those rejection notices. I fully sympathize. It stops me in my tracks from putting myself out there, too.

After changing to shorts and a T-shirt in the church bathroom, I went to Safeway. They usually have a good selection of miniature fruit strudels. Today, they had nothing. Everything was chocolate. I headed over to Island Naturals to buy more Vitamin K2/7, as recommended by Dr. Reed, to help promote bone density. They had miniature fruit strudels. I bought two packages.

The crystal healing session at Unity of Kona was scheduled for noon. I drove there and sat in the parking lot, working on my updates. Clyde saw me and came out, inviting me to come inside. He's a lovely, sweet man.

As I waited for the event to begin, I checked out the room. It was meticulously maintained, and the attention to detail was impressive for a storefront operation. I explored the space. It was much bigger than I thought. The sanctuary was at ground level, and an open second floor was built. That's where the congregation had its after-the-service social hour, lounge, and administrative office.

It was less crowded than it had been for the sound bath. This time, I brought a pillow for my head and a fluffy blanket under me so my back didn't hurt on the hard floor. I also used a shawl to cover myself. Someone came around and placed a crystal on my seven chakras. They also did some healing, but I never felt anyone near me.

I only had a session with going-into-fourth-grade- M today. We continued with Stuart Little, working on prediction. I teach students to come up with a logical answer, something that could be possible. They aren't to answer what they think it should be. Nor does it have to be what it is in the story. Their prediction can be 'wrong' because it differs from the one the author chose. M comes up with some responses I don't anticipate. It's hard for me not to tell her she's wrong. I have to restrain myself and think, "Is this logical?" So far, so good. I haven't snapped at her once. She is doing well at taking risks.

Elsa's back was covered with small scabs. She must have had a bad breakout. While her belly looked less inflamed this morning, this evening, as I got her ready for her walk with Darby, I saw a large puss-filled lesion. Omg! She was not getting better. When I got home, I fed her and bathed her. I don't know why I put it off. I would have bathed her yesterday if I had stuck to every other day's schedule. She needs those baths to control the outbreaks.

Saturday, July 13, 2024

I had a long talk with John, my Hanai sister's husband. I try to call daily. I got in the habit when she was recovering from her back surgery and just lying around. She was discharged from physical therapy for lack of compliance. We all thought she was going to die. There's only so much of doing nothing the body can tolerate. But she's up and functioning again. However, she doesn't always want to talk. She never did.

When I call, if she answers, she's often too busy, tired, or in too much pain to talk. After listing whatever her current problem she has, she hangs up. I persist. She needs to be reminded there are people out there who still remember her and would prefer she not die. But sometimes John answers, and we have a delightful conversation despite his pronounced loss of cognitive capacity. Last time, he mentioned a stamp collection he assembled in the 1950s in Britain. These are stamps from a previous political era. I can't remember what he said. The Commonwealth? The Empire?

Today, he spoke about a Hostess biscuit tin he's had forever. He used it to store pencils. The question was, were these biscuits American or British? I tried to look it up after we got off the phone. I could only find Hostess bake goods in America.

He used the tin to carry items securely when he went to do stints on oil rigs off Norway for Mobile Oil. He was already living in America, married, and had at least one child when he made those trips. He described the structure of an oil rig. It's a several-story structure with a 10,000 square feet area on each level. He would live on the oil rig for two weeks, working two 8-hour daily shifts. Most of his time was spent in underwater spaces. Sounds horrible. I couldn't live that long without sunshine. His sleeping quarters weren't private. He was in a room with three other men. He loved it.

I've been reading more about Kant's Categorical imperative. Kant made the great leap from God-given to reason-determined ethical principles. He was intent on determining moral values that could not be context-dependent but applied to all situations regardless of time, place, or culture. That isn't the theory that interests me. I am interested in his argument that true virtue can only be measured if we work against our natural inclinations. If our natural inclination is to care about others and be kind, we can't be considered moral. Only when we have to force ourselves to do something against our interests can we get brownie points.

Here's a counterargument. Some consider self-sacrifice to be the highest order, as Kant did. They will choose situations that call for self-sacrifice, whether suitable for the other person or not. The measure of their goodness is the degree of their suffering, not the benefit to the other person. That makes no sense. If that's the motivation, they are' using' the other person for their benefit to collect brownie points. The very thing Kant says is immoral, to use another human being for your own good.

I joined a commune in 1969. I had to attend a group meeting to see if I could be accepted. It was also a meeting where they determined if one of the founding members should be excluded. Art Clymer, also one of the founding members, said, "I don't want to be asleep or at work and have to worry about what Otto is doing for my good." I roared when I heard that. Boy, did I understand! I'm still trying to recover from the things my mother did 'for my good.'

I heard bad news about both Biden and Trump. Today was Trump's assassination attempt. While I think he's perfectly capable of arranging this himself, even Trump is not so stupid to hire a twenty-year-old who is actually going to graze him. That's a little close for comfort. However, I'm beginning to believe it is God's will that Trump be our next president. I think God has had it with the human race and is looking forward to terminating our species. Enough experimentation with an 'intelligent' animal. We're the only species capable of ideals and religion and the only animal prepared to kill and die for it. We're all busy proving we're not the crazy one.

I haven't been overly keen on Biden, even though I would prefer him over Trump. He's also too old. Not worse than Trump, just another man that's too old for the job. Today, I heard an analysis of what's motivating Biden to hang on. She said a disproportionate number of political positions are held by very old people; they refuse to let go. Biden talks about 'finishing the job.' I'm all for '60s idealism. I think many of the objectives of that period are worthwhile. I want people in office who advocate for them. I want an equitable society. However, someone who's into 'finishing' the job worries me too. As I said, I think God is done with this experiment called intelligent life. Every living thing needs a natural enemy to contain it. Ours is us. God is winding us up to execute a significant population reduction.

I went down to check on the ground in front of the schefflera tree Dan cut back. I need to get to the three to drill holes in its trunks and fill them with Round-Up to kill this tree. It takes time, but it works. I must remember to ask Lutz if he did it just once or repeatedly and exactly how long it took before the tree stopped fighting for life. Saying that makes me feel sad. I don't feel good about killing a beautiful tree, even if it is an aggressive so-an-so that has plans of taking over the world.

I loaded the last logs from the fallen Schefflera on top of the two 5-gallon buckets I had already put in the barrel yesterday and walked it down to Darby's. The barrel was heavy- even to pull. I struggled to get it there. It put a strain on my arms. I tried switching off my left and right arms as the pulling arm. It hurt less on my left side than on my right. Since that's the arm that had the elbow reconstruction and the shoulder replacement a year ago, was I not feeling anything because of the cut nerves? Was I injuring myself? Adam drove by and saw me struggling. He asked if I needed help. I told him I only had a short distance until I reached Darby's driveway, meaning I could make it. He pulled his truck over, parked it, and came over to pull the barrel. I didn't object. I ran ahead to open the gate. I yelled, "Delivery!!" as I always do. Usually, Darby hears me and comes out to talk. Nothing today. She may have been out in the yard or catching a morning nap.

Monday, August 12, 2024

When I called the vet to make an appointment for Elsa for her skin condition and possible ear infection, the earliest available appointment was September 9. The receptionist told me to call at 7:30 on Monday morning to see if I could get a same-day appointment. Concerned the vet might say come now, I texted Clyde, the fellow who leads the Chi Qigong practice at 8 am on the Old A beach. Since I was the only other person who came as a rule and was a regular, I thought he would be alarmed if I didn’t show up. I suspected he wouldn’t have his phone on him during the practice, so I texted him around 7 am to warn him I might not be there.

When I called the vet at 7:30, the receptionist asked me about Elsa’s condition and told me to email pictures of her skin lesions. This was new. Either way, I didn’t have an appointment this morning and was free to go to the Chi Qigong practice. I arrived a few minutes late. Clyde and a woman, who I assumed was Shelly, who had been there twice before, had already started the first exercise. I got in place without saying a word to avoid interrupting them and started moving. Clyde said, “Now we’re in trouble.” I took it as a warm and friendly greeting. I greeted Clyde and the woman at the end of the session. The woman was not Shelly but someone I had never seen before, Lee.

Lee left, and Clyde and I sat for a while, enjoying the view. Clyde said he was having trouble getting me and Kayla together. Yesterday, he said something about wanting to introduce me to Kayla, who led the sound bath and crystal healing yesterday. Today, he said something about wanting to introduce me to her because I ‘counseled counselors;’ I have no idea why he thought that. It suggests Clyde is a bit confused. I know he has a massive inferiority complex, but he doesn’t act it out in ways that either hurt me or trigger me. He explained that Kayla is the one who gives the sermon at the Unity church. Huh? She is one of the youngest people there. How did she get in this position? Clyde continued explaining that while she was very heart-centered, she was currently having problems delivering sermons because the sermons were following a structured course on commitment. I don’t think the topic was the problem; it was the academic structure of the course. She had to use her cold cognition instead of her hot- her inspiration. It wasn’t in her wheelhouse. Clyde is right; I might be able to help her. It sounds like fun. Now, I know why he was having trouble getting us together. She was dodging his efforts to get her ‘help.’ Can’t exactly blame her.

Before I left Old A, I practiced backing up my car in the empty parking lot. I picked a shrub to aim for. I hit it perfectly each time using my rearview mirror. I can’t make the backup camera work for me.

Then, I went to the post office to mail Damon a jar of MakesNoClaims (Intrasound gel). There were four clerks on duty. I had never seen so many at once. The line went quickly. Then I headed to Target. Progressive soup was on sale, 4 for $8; I bought four. I picked up five frozen foods on sale, too. I dropped a mere $75 at checkout. I had nine dinners, a dozen organic eggs, a loaf of Dave’s bread, two packs of cream cheese, a jar of Smucker’s sugar-free raspberry jam, a feminine wash, and a small container of dessert baked goods. The checkout lady put all the frozen food in one bag, along with the cream cheese. They would all keep each other cold.

My next stop was at the transfer station. A space quickly opened up at the end. There was no one parked there yet. As I backed up, I didn’t have to worry about hitting another car. I felt pretty good about parking it until I got out of the car. While I had aimed for the space on the left, I wound up diagonally parked across both slots with my rear end near the fence to the right of the slots. Oh, boy. A truck pulled up quickly, preparing to use the second slot. I jumped out and tried to empty the car of the Bismarck palm nut clusters as quickly as I could. A man appeared at my side. I assumed he was the driver of the truck who wanted to get into this slot. Yep. I apologized. He wasn’t there to call me a stupid old lady; he was there to help me. He was a local Hawaiian man. Aloha is alive and well in Hawaii. You have the occasional haole (White person from the mainland like me) get worked up about something like that and give someone what for, but it’s not the rule. The man even helped me get the bags of loose nuts out of the back seat, untie the knots, and dump the contents. The elderly (kupunas) are respected here. Can’t think of a better place to retire.

I worked with the Twins at 3:30 on the nose. I had Twin E first. She was downing her snack while we worked, which made the work much harder. I could appreciate that she was hungry. I will ask her mom if she can ensure they’re snacked before starting with me.

I tested Twin E on her b/d discrimination by highlighting bs and ds in context in the text. She aced that. That’s progress. She told me she used crossbody blending when reading at school. She didn’t use it in the session as she should have. She was tired from her day at school, distracted by her snack, and didn’t do very well. She made a number of wild guesses, ignoring the letters in the words. While we may have resolved the b/d confusion, she may also have n/h confusion. It was a frustrating session.

In contrast, Twin A aced it. She read a passage fluently, spontaneously correcting mistakes. She also aced the comprehension. When I asked her about the passage, she gave an articulate answer. The gap between the two girls is growing. Twin E is the one who fell out a two-story window when she was under two. She was rushed to the emergency room. There were no apparent signs of harm, but who knows. It could be psychological trauma. For those of you who argue, she couldn’t possibly remember what happened. No, she couldn’t, consciously. But the body recorded it; it remembers.

I didn’t hear from Adolescent D today, one way or the other. At 4:30, I had an appointment with fourth-grade L. When I went to text his mom, telling her I had sent the link, I saw a text from her saying they had no computer. Her daughter started at the Parker school. She was told to bring a laptop. She took the only one in the house. It would be a few days before the new one arrived.

I’m a little confused. L's mother asked for a reduction in his fees, but they can afford to send their daughter to the Parker School, one of the most expensive in the state. It’s not my pocketbook that hurts; it’s my pride.

Sunday, August 11, 2024

I started applying MakesNoClaims (Intrasound) to Elsa's lesions. The old ones looked better, but it did not prevent new breakouts.

I got to church early and took a short nap in the car before Mass. Despite the short nap, I think I fell asleep during Mass anyway. I don't remember saying the Our Father.

I looked for Suzanne after Mass. She receives my current updates. Since I wanted to talk about a child who attends the same Mass she does and wanted to write about him in the updates, I was concerned she would recognize the family despite my never using their name. I needed assurance she could respect their privacy. I positioned myself at the entrance to the church as people exited, looking for her. I didn't see her. I resolved to just delete her name from the email address list for the updates. I didn't think she read them anyway. If she does and misses them, she can say something to me.

I also approached the man I had done healing on. He suffered a concussion when the security gate protecting a soda dispenser came crashing down on his head. I learned about a new approach to concussion recovery on an NPR talk show. I couldn't remember which show it was when I spoke to him and his wife. Sadly, the wife has been very uncomfortable with me ever since I did the work with her husband. I'm not quite sure why. Is she always nervous with people, or is it specific to me? Either way, my hip hurt when I walked away from that conversation. I only feel that pain when I'm scared. I didn't remember feeling fearful, but the other person did seem to be nervous around me. I can do nothing to remedy that situation except steer clear. However, it felt right to tell them what I had heard.

I had plans to go to the Unity Church for the crystal healing session at twelve, but that was in an hour and a half. I drove to the transfer station to dump the Bismarck nuts, then to Ace Hardware to look for a 10 gauge extension cord. Their selection was as limited as Lowes'.

Then, I drove to Unity Church. I caught the last few minutes of the service. Once the chairs were cleared, I laid down my yoga mat and got a small pillow for my head.

The last time I did the crystal healing, only ten people participated. This time, there were 20. I was much more comfortable with one small pillow than two larger ones. The last three times I participated in the church's free healing sessions, my back hurt from lying on the hard floor. I was surprised because I loved lying on the hard cement in the driveway during Yvette's yoga classes. At first, I thought the problem was that I was lying there longer in the healing sessions. Then, I thought it could be that I used two large pillows under my head, putting more pressure on my lower back. Today, I used a very small pillow and had no pain. The session was very healing.

As I was leaving, a woman approached me to say hello. She reminded me she had attended one of Monday's Chi Qigong practice on the beach one Monday morning. Not only did I not remember her name, but I also didn't remember meeting her. Wow! this is not good. I would never have forgotten the feeling of meeting someone, even if I had forgotten where I met them. Forgetting someone's name is worse now, but I've always struggled with it. Wow! Is this a minor incident, or is there more to come? In other ways, my mind is as sharp as ever.

I got home in time for the fourth-grade session with M. Shortly after the session started, the screen froze, and she exited Zoom. We had to terminate the session because there was an Internet problem at her end.

I had started to address an issue I had in mind. In our last session, I discovered her mind went blank when she was uncomfortable in any way. The problem in the previous session was her dress felt scratchy. When M feels well, her memory of the story is better than mine. Today, she had no memory of the story; she couldn't even remember the definition of a word I had told her minutes before. Her parents told me she was left back in second grade because of severe memory problems. I saw some of that. Her father frequently tells me how much better she is doing. He speaks about her improved self-confidence. I appreciate the benefit of improved self-confidence, but I had no idea she was so easily debilitated by even a minor discomfort. Holy Cow! I had just started to talk about it with her when our session was cut off.

The first question I always ask is, is the person open to exploring the possibility of change? There's not much I can do if someone doesn't want to change or doesn't want to discuss the topic. Often, that reluctance is caused by a sense of despair or shame. They can't imagine this problem can be fixed or it is too painful to discuss. Those feelings have to be addressed first.

After the session, I loaded the car with more clusters of Bismarck palm nuts. I put a basket of loose nuts in the car's front seat to remind me to drop off the load at the transfer station on Monday on my way home from the Chi Qigong session. I also loaded a barrel with nut-free stems to take to Darby. I thought that would take several trips, but I got all the empty stems loaded into one barrel. Darby came out to talk when she heard the familiar sound of the wheels of the trash barrel coming down the driveway. She asked me if I had caught that talk on concussion recovery. It was relevant to her because her stroke recovery was comparable.

I have been binge-watching Call the Midwife. There are infrequent scenes of people dying, along with many scenes of babies being born. They leave me feeling I didn't do enough to comfort Mike during those five weeks in the hospital before he died. I don't know if I withdrew, and so he did, or if he withdrew, and so I did, or if we bounced off each other. But I look back on it and can see all the things I didn't do that would have been comforting. While I told others to speak to him about what they did in their daily lives, I didn't do that with him. I could have told him about things I saw at the Ashram. Other than that, my days were sitting in his hospital room. I also didn't provide a lot of physical comfort. I didn't touch him a lot. Now, that was really weird because one of our commonalities was our mutual need for affection. I'm reframing my response, assuming I did what was suitable for the situation. I have no choice. I'm not getting a redo. I have to forgive myself.

Saturday, August 10, 2024

I woke up from my deep sleep around 1:30. I didn't fall into stinking thinking, but I couldn't fall back into a deep sleep. I got up around 5 a.m. I completed my seated yoga with laughter yoga and my floor exercises, where I worked on upper arm and leg stretches before heading out for my long morning walk with Elsa.

As we headed out at 6:35, I got a text from Mama K. The girls were available now, but she had to leave by 8 a.m. for paddling practice. I told her I would be available by 7:30, so please make Twin E the priority.

I was home by 7:15. After a few glitches, I had Twin E on Zoom. I designed a lesson on recognizing the difference between the letter C written correctly and one with the opening on the left rather than the right. I wrote the same word with the Draw function with the letter C written in both directions. She aced the exercise., circling the correct one every time. Then, I opened a page of regular text and highlighted each b and d as it appeared. She aced that, too. For those who don't get the association, the letter d starts with a c; the letter b has a backward c.

I walked down to Darby's to pick up the empty trash barrel and two 5-gal. orange buckets. I didn't announce my presence because I was tired. I didn't have the energy for conversation, and I had to get home to deal with the electrician.

When I drove to town yesterday, I noticed I didn't have a full charge on my battery. Weird. I thought I had charged it. I plugged it in when I got home. I checked it periodically. Sure enough, it wasn't charging. I thought, "Damn, something's wrong with the car again." But it wasn't the car but the connection to the outdoor outlet. I tried the lower one when I saw it didn't work when plugged into the upper slot. That worked briefly and then stopped. I called the electrician. He told me he would be over my way today and would stop by.

When I told Lutz about the problem, he came and looked at the equipment. He said the electrician installed a 10 amp outlet or a cheap one made in China. He should install another one for free. I told him I wasn't up to arguing with him. It would be easier for me to pay him.

I ran the wire from the charger to the outlet for the washing machine inside the house. That one worked. At 10 p.m., just before going to bed, I unplugged the charger and closed the door.

By 8:30 a.m., I was down for a nap. I woke up an hour and a half later when I got a call from the electrician announcing he was at the door. He took the outdoor outlet apart. He said it was working well. He didn't understand why it didn't work. It could be attached to another outlet, or it could be a frayed wire. He couldn't find an indoor outlet that shared the wiring with the outdoor one. That wasn't the problem. The plugs on the 10 gauge wire and the charger showed signs of a burn. Something was clearly wrong, but what. He instructed me to buy another wire. He suggested I get a new 10 gauge extension cord and use the other charger I had bought in case of emergency. He would stop by on his way home after making another call in the area. Charge-$126.

I took Elsa to Judy's at 11 for grooming. I tried to make an appointment at Petco for the 15th. I stopped by the store and found no one in the grooming room. Strange. I waited. Someone had to be there. The store clerk saw me and told me it was closed for the time being because of a leak in the ceiling. She took my name and number.

I scheduled a bath for Elsa at 10:30 for Judy's 11 a.m. grooming appointment. I got started a little late because of the electrician. Halfway through bathing her, it occurred to me that her hair needed to be dry for the razor to work. Oh, well. Her hair wasn't thick or coarse; it would dry pretty quickly.

Judy was waiting for me on the lanai. She got her dryer out to finish that job. I left before she started shaving. We both thought Elsa would be better off without me there. I don't know if having a parent out of sight makes it better for a child or a dog, but it sure makes it better for the adult in charge.

I left for Lowes to try and return the defective 10 gauge extension cord and buy a new one. The electrician told me the quality control on these cords is poor. They couldn't take it back because I didn't have a receipt. They didn't have a good extension cord selection. I found one 10 gauge cord and brought it to the return counter. If they had the item number of the new one, they would locate the purchase and reimburse me for the old one. That didn't work. I found out why when I got home. It wasn't the same type of plug as the one I had. I had never seen anything like it. it had something like four prongs. It was a good thing I had the receipt emailed to me. I printed it and put it in the box on the ready to be returned.

I got the second Kia charger out of the back seat of my car and plugged the damaged extension cord into the outdoor outlet that hadn't been working before. Everything was working well. However, to be on the safe side, I needed an undamaged extension cord.

Friday, August 9, 2024

Wow! It was only noon when I sat down to write this, and it had already been some day. First, I slept like a top last night. When I woke for the first time, it was already daylight. I got Elsa in harness and went for my walk. I saw Dean and Nina at the end of the street. Nina greeted Elsa joyfully. She checked her for lesions. Her skin was doing very well except around her neck. They had to turn around and head home quickly because Nina was doing the extra Kaiser shift that day.

Nina reported that the crisis at work had been resolved. Nina works part-time at Kaiser, three days a week. She supplements the work a man does full time cleaning the doctors' instruments. A new supervisor had come to town, a twenty-year-old with ideas of her own. She brought up complaints against the full-time employee. She wanted to get him fired with only two years left before he qualified for retirement. That young woman's supervisor joined forces with her to persecute the man. As far as Nina could make out, this second supervisor had a personal vendetta.

Kaiser is a union shop. The union rep advised Nina to write a letter declaring she would not accept a full-time position if the man was fired and to refuse to work. Her contract stated that if there was something else she had to do, she could not be required to come to work. Nina suddenly became very busy.

Yesterday, the issue was resolved. The man received a level one 'punishment' out of a possible four. Four would mean he was fired. The HR department advised him to attend the meeting and let it go. Apparently, that 20-year-old something had done the same thing to another elderly employee. Dean thought she was clearing the place out so she could bring in her own people, whomever that might be. I think of her as the Meagan Markle of Big Island Kaiser. She planned to come in and change everything. The arrogance of youth.

I walked Dean and Nina back to their house. Dean said he would be out again walking the moment Nina left for work. I told him I had an eight a.m. appointment and was in a rush. I planned to do the whole walk, but Elsa had different ideas. She knew the shortest route home and campaigned for it, pulling on the leash. I thought, okay, I'm in a hurry anyway.

I fed her and then went about putting touching finishes on the lanai so I didn't look like a total slob; I ate my breakfast and did my morning puzzles, Wordle, New York Times Mini Crossword, and Connections. I was getting better at all three.

The family arrived: mother, father, and child. The third-grade boy has a severe learning problem, and no normal teaching program can address it.

The father had worked with him on the concepts of more and less, which he didn't know last week. I did a quick test and could see the words were now a secure part of his vocabulary. He can learn to apply words to label concepts. Last week, he knew the concepts of big and small. This was an extension of those concepts, but not a small extension. It looks at the same two objects from a different perspective.

I decided to start with phonemic awareness today. I wrote the word MOMMY. Third-grade C could name the letters but couldn't tell me what sounds they made. He searched his memory for what he had been told. I modeled the sounds showing him the mouth formation for the M. He could follow that. Then, I talked to the parents about school options.

I recommended he have an aide in school with him at all times. She or he would be trained by the father and/or me to follow through on exercises we designed. While the father has no background in education, he thinks the way I do. I had never met anyone whose thinking pattern was like mine before in my life. I don't mean we come to the same conclusions; our mental processes are alike. Truly remarkable. The prospect of this project is exciting. But there's more I learned today, which is breathtaking.

After that interruption, I returned to the boy and asked if he could remember the sounds. He did a great job on the M but got stuck on the O. However, when I told him to hear it, he could identify it. He looked lost when I asked him the sound of the final M in Mom. I told him it sounded like the first M. He got that. I talked to the parents again, creating a distraction, returned to the boy, and asked him to remember the sounds. He did. I burst into tears. His ability to do that demonstrates that his short-term and working memory were in working order. This boy can learn.

We still needed to learn about his long-term memory. From what I have read, memory is downloaded to long-term from working memory at night when we sleep. I think there are other ways to accomplish that. I am experimenting.

I asked him about the spinning he experienced in his left hemisphere, which he had told me about in our last session. He remembered talking about it. He pointed to the same spot on his head. He affirmed it slowed down when he was asked to think. I associate the slowing spin with underperforming students. I have only one student who challenged that theory. Today, I asked him to draw the pattern. He drew one moving from out to in in a clockwise direction. When I asked him to draw it a second time, he drew it from out to in but in a counterclockwise direction.

At one point, I asked him a question he couldn't answer. I watched his eyes move back and forth, not scanning our faces or the air but with a clear inward focus. Holy cow! This indicates a profound capacity for learning and retrieving information. Since he sustained the search for at least six seconds, it suggests a tolerance for not knowing and confusion, essential traits in a good learner.

It didn't feel right to do the spin release with him today. I don't know if it ever will. With some kids, all I do is give the cues for observing the pattern calmly, and it resolves itself. Giving students the knowledge that the spinning can be resolved is sometimes all that is necessary. Students do it on their own, most likely in their sleep.

At the end of this session, I understood why these parents thought he was a normally functioning child. There is good evidence of substantial intelligence. We only have to figure out how to teach him to access it.

Then, I felt it we had enough. I told the parents it felt right to stop the session. When I checked the time, it was almost exactly half an hour. I was exhausted even if the child wasn't. I put in a tremendous amount of concentration in that session. I felt a little dull-headed and needed to stop. I prefer a maximum of half an hour for sessions. I don't know if the students are good for more, but I'm not.

I lay down after they left. I felt exhausted and drained. I needed a short rest to get ready for my Hula class. When my alarm went off, I went out to the yard and loaded as many of the bunches of Bismarck palm nut clusters as I could into the trunk of my car, with the intention of stopping by the transfer station on my way home. I put a small pail of loose nuts in the driver's seat so I wouldn't forget to drop them off.

After the Hula class, my next stop was UPS to make an Amazon return. Then I headed to the Post Office to mail Damon a jar of MakesNoClaims (Intrasound). The jar was too large for the small Priority box. The woman next to me at the table, where she was packaging something of her own, observed me and recommended I use the bubble envelope provided by USPS. I didn't know that was possible. It easily held the jar, but I thought it needed more padding. I took the jar home to wrap it properly.

I left my car in the post office parking lot while I went to the bank next door. A clerk was available immediately. I cashed a check and am getting cash back to cover my payments for Casey and Joseph.

The bank clerk had a glass filled with what looked like an ice cream soda treat. I ate a whole container of leftover ice from Damon and Cylin's visit. It was the first time I had some since Mike died. I suddenly wanted more. The clerk said an ice cream shop was in the strip mall across the street.

I walked down the mall looking for the shop. I stopped in at one. I knew it wouldn't be Haagen Das, but I was only looking for a smoothie. I chose the strawberry banana. How bad could that be? Wow! Impressively so. The woman poured milk into a container. Then, she opened another refrigerator and pulled out a squeeze bottle with red liquid. That wound up being the strawberry banana something or another. She dumped in a substantial amount of crushed ice, and put it under the blender. She then placed the cup under a machine. It placed a 'lid' on it. I stared at the concoction I had just purchased for $8. How did I drink it? The young woman pointed to straws in a container sitting on the counter. She must have thought I just landed from Mars. I might as well have been. I was so unfamiliar with what I had just seen.

I took a cautious sip of the concoction. The ice hit me hard. Could it cause a heart attack? I took one more sip and threw the rest into a trash barrel where it belonged.

Then I went to the transfer station. There was only one car waiting in line before me. Access to a shute opened quickly. I wanted to back my car up to it to make the trip with the bunches of Bismarck nuts from my car trunk to the shute a short one. Besides wrestling with that mess, I anticipated the ripe nuts falling off the branches and creating a hazard for others. These nuts are the size of walnuts. They roll. If someone got them underfoot, they could take a nasty fall. The clusters look like grape clusters; only the branches are four to six feet long.

As I got out of my car, another car pulled into the slot next to me. There are two parking spots per container. I commented on my bad parking. I wasn't backed up to the shute but to the fence next to it. It was a near miss to an accident. The other driver was out of his car and said, "Hello, Betty." It was Mark, the former owner of the Bikram yoga studio, who had had his own adventures in the last five years. I decided not to ask questions since one of his 'adventures' was a disastrous marriage. Mark helped me unload the nut clusters.

Thursday, August 8, 2004

I started listening to The Confessions of St. Augustine on Audible. It’s billed as a book that is relevant for contemporary readers. I got several surprises. In the introduction to the book, the author gives some biographical information. Augustine has a reputation for being a wild child, who wantonly indulged his passions. Come to find out, he did not go out carousing nightly for long and hook up with anyone available. Besides lusting for sexual contact, his greatest sin was stealing pears for the pleasure of the defiant act as a young adolescent. At seventeen, he took a concubine, a common law wife’ by today’s standards, and lived with her faithfully for fifteen years. They had to break up so Augustine could achieve higher social status. According to the introduction, both were heartbroken. Why didn’t he marry her? She wasn’t in his class. His mother, St. Monica, arranged a socially appropriate marriage partner for him, a 10-year-old girl, for her 25 to 27-year-old son. He needed that match for his social advancement. He couldn’t marry this poor girl immediately because Roman law dictated a girl had to be 12 to get married. He never did marry that child.

Augustine confesses to having sexual desire. Rational thought was highly valued in those days. Any impulses generated by ‘animal’ needs were considered base and in contradiction to God’s will. I’m surprised they didn’t give up eating bread and drinking water; we share those base needs with the animals. While our current culture may be too invested in sensual pleasures, the people of Augustine’s time and place were more puritanical than the Puritans.

In my session with Shelly, I described myself as slippery to work with. She guffawed. I guess she sees me that way. I would imagine most people at my point of development would quit therapy. I stick with it till all dissatisfaction is resolved, either by acceptance or change. Fortunately or unfortunately, I have experienced and believe in a change where most people don’t. I remain endlessly hopeful. Again, the problem is my doggedness is more often rewarded than not. My eye for possible change applies to external circumstances and internal states of mind.

My criteria is some internal state of satisfaction. That dogged pursuit of peaceful reconciliation with my mother paid off big time. She lived with me for the last 18 years of her life. It was a profoundly satisfying experience. While I complained bitterly about what she did to me when I was a child, I wasn’t nearly as disturbed by the problems we had when I was an adult. I loved having her live with us. It was good for Mike, too. He was in complete support of the arrangement. We all lucked out. It remains one of the most satisfying experiences of my life. Was it perfect? Absolutely not! But it was truly good enough. I don’t know when I learned to trust my internal measure of enough, but I trust it completely, possibly too much.

My relationship with Mike was also good enough. What a joy to have loved someone enough to have found their foibles adorably amusing. He was my funny Valentine. I miss loving and being loved. I was so lucky with both my mom and Mike.

Casey finally came by to do some work on the yard. He generally cancels five or six appointments before getting here to do the job. Today, he arrived with a friend, Joseph, who just moved to Hawaii recently. My best guess is Joseph is the better worker of the two. I’m glad to have him on board. Joseph took on the Bismarck Palm nuts. He brought down most of them. Some were out of his reach. While they worked at the top of the driveway, I went down and filled in two more buckets of green waste from the Plumbago shrub, loaded the trash barrel with those buckets and whatever fallen palm fronds I could find, and wheeled it over to Darby.