Sunday, May 21, 2023
The scale stayed steady from yesterday. Still a mere 145.5.
I didn't attend church in the morning because I planned to go to the four pm mass. Actually, I thought it was at four-thirty. Fortunately, I asked Judy if she was planning to attend the four-thirty mass, and she corrected me.
I spent the morning working on updates and pouring pots of boiling water on my neighbors' weeds that border and intrude onto my plantings. I made sure the kettles were on full boil before I quickly took them outside and dumped them on the plants. These plants are unbelievably immune to the impact of boiling water.
I bathed Elsa. Her skin has been completely clear of lesions for two days. As a result, I didn't wash her yesterday. I wondered how long it would take for her skin to break out if I didn't do it. I was about to find out. Is it only a bath a day that keeps her lesions away? Now, I only leave the soap on for five minutes. I don't know about her. But I'm happier with that procedure than waiting ten to fifteen minutes. She shakes the whole time. I hope five minutes on an every-other-day schedule will be as effective.
The four p.m. mass was a special event. A young man who grew up in the parish had recently been ordained as a priest and was performing his first mass in his home church. Dinner would be served after the mass. The turnout was good but not spectacular. I was glad I went to add to the number.
I usually set myself up on the south lanai because it's outdoors with less respiratory contamination and no refrigeration. The pastor keeps the church that cold (brr!) to make himself comfortable under all his vestments.
Today, I went to sit inside the church to find Judy and Paulette. I saw Judy immediately. She signaled for me to come sit with her. It wasn't too cold; I went and got my things and joined her. I had a large scarf I could use as a shawl. It was lovely sitting inside the church. I may start doing it again after my July THR surgery. In the meantime, I have to be sure I don't get sick and have to postpone the operation.
There was a boatload of priests, deacons, and seminary students to share in the celebration. Father Arrion's parents were sitting in the front row. His mom looked stressed. Was she concerned about his performance, the number of people in attendance, the celebratory meal, or her upcoming hula performance?
I danced the hula at Mike's funeral. As I was walking to the back of the church to congratulate Fr. Arrion, I ran into two women who would be performing at the dinner. One had been my PT, and the second was a wonderful woman who came to my home daily for a week to help me learn the dance I did on the funeral day.
Most people who observed and attended understood that my performance was part of my eulogy. Hula is a sacred dance here, never just for entertainment. Judy proposed that I ask the Hula ministry to dance at his funeral and that I participate. Mike told everyone that he wanted me to dance with the group. I never did; this was my makeup gift. Better late than never. Hopefully, he got to enjoy it.
While I had an extensive background in dance- I took dance classes for sixteen years and performed in concerts for about eight- I hadn't danced in a while. Also, I had never studied hula and had an arthritic hip. So there I was the day of his funeral after two weeks of practice doing one of the more complicated dances with many twists and turns. Only two people commented on my performance. I expected no one to do so. It wasn't appropriate, given the circumstances.
Meali'inani said I did all right. She had given me some pointers when she came to visit. A mainland friend gave me the biggest compliments, but not intentionally. He told me I had made a mistake and wasn't as good as the woman beside me. The woman next to me had studied hula regularly for twenty years. If all I was was not as good as her! I was delighted.
I spoke to Judy H, my hula hero, and Terry, my old PT, for ten minutes. Judy H. encouraged me to join the hula ministry. Maybe I will. It doesn't look like I will be busy with my tutoring. Sadly, there is very little response, even though I offer it for free. Wild! Kids need to catch up, and this method is magical.
I went to the door at the back of the church to congratulate Fr. Arrion. Then I got in line for the food. It was one long, long line. It was a good thing the turnout wasn't too big, or the food line would have gone on all night. I wasn't with Judy G., my friend, and her sister, Paulette. I saw them way ahead of me.
I started talking to the woman standing next to me. She was a tourist from Germany and was here for three weeks. We continued talking about the parish as we slowly moved down the line. When served, I looked around for Judy G. and Paulette inside the parish center but didn't see them. I asked Monica to join me because she was alone.
I chose to sit outside. I saw Judy G. sitting alone at one of the tables. She had told me she would sit with the Youth Ministry Group, but no one had joined her yet.
My tourist guest, Monica, blew her nose and coughed, covering her mouth with her hand. I was freaking out. She stood close to me while we talked in line. She was so close I thought she might have a hearing problem. I was concerned I might catch something from her.
After I finished my main course, I went inside to get a second helping I could take home and dessert. When I returned, Monica shifted closer to Judy, and they embraced. Okay. Given my concerns, my feelings toward the woman weren't quite that cozy.
The hula ministry got up to perform. First, there was a whole group dance. Next, Fr. Arrion's mother did a solo dance to a non-Hawaiian song about a mother's endless love for her child. She is a good hula dancer. At the last chorus, Arrion's father walked up behind his wife and joined her in the dance, duplicating her arm motions. He didn't quite get the hip action that distinguishes the hula. The last move is a symbolic embrace of a mother with a baby in her arms. The father put his arms on the mother's, and they 'embraced' that baby together. I cried. Judy sidled up to me, saying how she also cried. She is struck by the sacrifice of Arrion's parents. He is their only child. He will never have children of his own. Then, two young girls got up to dance. They are the twin girls of the head of the music ministry, Walter, and his wife, Thelma, who sings with him. Walter has the most incredible voice. It reminds Judy and me of Josh Groban's. I love hearing him sing. Thelma's voice is not the same quality, but the two sound good together. Their girls are now sixteen. They have become remarkably posed, beautiful young women. They also danced beautifully. It was one of the best evenings of hula I have seen. While it wasn't part of the mass, it was still significant and spiritual. As hula should be.
I headed home with my stash. Scott had fed Elsa at six-thirty, but he hadn't walked her. He had put her out on the back lanai. He said she peed. Well, better than nothing. I still had to clean up the poop stains from the piles she deposited on my indoor carpeted lanai a few days ago. I don't get it. She knows she can get out and back in through the doggie door; why doesn't she? I took her out for a walk. Good thing. I spared my lanai carpet unnecessary additional stress.
a wonderful night's sleep; I don't think I got up even once to pee. But who knows? I fall asleep so quickly when I return to bed. I got up to take care of a piece of business.
I bought bras from Amazon that promised to be the most comfortable things on the planet—a miracle. Okay, I thought I'd try. I tried one on. Wow! Had I gained that much weight? I measured the underband—twenty-three inches on a 36 DD bra. On my other bras, the underband was 33 inches—a ten-inch difference! Something was wrong. I had to check an email from Amazon called the "Try Before You Buy" policy. How was this different from what it usually was? Maybe they were enforcing a seven-day return policy. I went through the steps to get a refund. I packed the bras and put them in my car for delivery to UPS tomorrow.
I went to town to see my computer guy, Bailey, at Jack Be Click. I had problems with both my computers. I can't print from the tablet. When I press control P, the print option comes up, but it says I must save the document. I do, and it still doesn't print.
Also, I needed help getting Microsoft Word working on my new Apple. It asks me to put in my password. I do. It accepts it but doesn't allow me to use it. It accessed files from 2021 from the computer but not from the files on my current One Drive. And it won't let me type in a single letter. I did have access to the Internet, at least. I called Bailey today. He says he can help me figure out what's going on.
I thought I bought lifetime access to Microsoft 365. It's on my tablet without a problem. Why isn't it on my Apple? I got this program from some Microsoft customer service outfit out of India. At one point, the man I had the most contact with called to tell me there was a problem and they had to refund my money. I had worked with this guy for several years. I knew him well- I thought. When he said I was family and he was concerned for me, I should have known then and there.
The whole transaction was funny. Alex handed me over to some guy who would 'help' me. I drove him nuts. He told me to "Open your bank account." How do I do that? "Put in your PIN." I don't have one. "What do you mean you don't have a PIN?" I never use it. "How do you get money from your bank?" I go there. "When were you there last?" Yesterday! Oh, boy. I could feel the frustration coming through the line. One guy had me on the line, insisting I never close my computer. He blew up at me.
"You're so spoiled. I could live on $700 a year." That's how I remember how much I paid for my lifetime access to Microsoft. They put a new guy the next day. It was the oddest state of mind I've ever been in. One part of me knew what was happening and laughed at how ridiculous it was. The other part was taking the whole thing seriously. It ended when I received my final instructions while sitting in the Target parking lot with one leg out the door. "Go to the service counter and order $6000 in gift cards. "Don't be ridiculous. If I do that, they will call the cops. "Tell them it's for your grandchildren." I don't have any grandchildren. "Stay on the phone at all times, but don't let them know you are on the phone." Click! The penny dropped on both sides of my brain. I hung up and drove home. The phone kept ringing, and the texts kept coming. I answered the phone once to tell them I was heading to my bank to change my account. I never heard from them again. It was a fascinating experience.
On some level, I loved it. I asked two hunters in my life if there was an intimacy between the hunter and the prey. They said yes. That's what I felt. An intimacy I hadn't experienced since Mike died. I could see why people fall for romance scams and then defend the predator in court against charges. I still get a charge thinking about the whole experience, not just my escape but every minute of it.
A year or so after this experience, the company called me and asked me why I had yet to contact them. I told them they had their nerve after they tried to scam me. Poor guy. As it wound up, Alex, my primary contact, was in jail for his activities. Now, I have to find out what my status is with Microsoft. Do I need them? Can I work with Google Docs that so many others love? Can I transfer all my documents over? I will need access to something like PowerPoint. Does Google Docs include that?
I did some research. Google Docs is a possibility. It sure is cheaper than Microsoft, and I know many people who prefer it. However, I would have to get all my files shifted over, including my photos.
I had a session with Adolescent D today. No, he hadn't finished all his assignments. Did he get more done with me or without me? He said, "On my own." I doubt that. He is most proficient at avoidance.
I told him I had spoken to his mom, and she was impressed with his reading. "I doubt that," he said with disgust. "You don't read as well as the best reader at your grade level. You may not read as well as the lowest student above you. However, your improvement is mind-blowing. Your mother thinks I'm a miracle worker." Three years ago, he was on a first-grade reading level. In September two years ago, the public school special education teacher evaluated his reading to be on a second-grade level, heavily dependent on sight words. However, he couldn't recognize the word they and confused her and here. How could he be on a second-grade level if he couldn't remember those words?
He said he wanted to work on his book Investing for Young Adults. The improvement in his reading was mind-blowing. I have seen improvement since last week. "The rich get richer." The more we can do, the easier it is for us to learn more. His mother told me he was taking notes. I asked him if he had started working on reading multi-syllable words one at a time before blending them. Yes! My God, the boy is making an effort on his own!
He read exceptionally well and more than he had ever read before. Then he started making mistakes. He had worked hard. He had to tame his nervous system and rewire it so he could read. That he could read as much as he did was spectacular. He was suffering from brain exhaustion. I told him it was time to rest. Knowing when to take a break is an important study skill. It's also important to sit down and push yourself through the task. In this case, it was time for a rest.
I told him I would read the text. When I came to multisyllabic words, I would produce the individual syllables and allow him to blend them. In English, it is possible to decode the word 'correctly' but not pronounce it as it usually is. I read the syllables with an eye to producing challenging options. In the word interest, I pronounced the syllable as in/ter/est. We don't say the word that way; we drop the first e and say /in/trest/. He experienced cognitive dissonance as he wrestled with the way the word was written versus the way we usually say it. I presented the word aside as as/ide. Figuring out words using context clues is a necessity in English. Hebrew is worse.
I called his mom after the session to tell her about the improvement I had heard. She laughed. She had come into the room as he was reading and heard. She asked if we could work on practicing for the Learner's Permit Driver's written this summer. I had done some work on it a while ago, thinking it was material he might be interested in. Not so much. His mom asked him if he would be interested now. He said yes. I would be delighted to work with him on it. Besides reading skills, I can teach study skills.
I had a session with second-grade M at four pm. I continued working on reading comprehension. Her oral reading was pretty good. She did excellent work decoding multi-syllable words at a third-grade level. She misread some function words. I'd work on that over the summer. My biggest concern was her comprehension.
She and some of my other students confused reading comprehension with background knowledge. They answer what they think is true rather than what the text says. I usually start by telling them, "I'm a twelve-year-old boy with bright red hair. What did I say?" Is any of that true? No, absolutely not. When asked a comprehension question, the teacher asks what the story says. I see almost 100% improvement.
I called her mom after the session to tell her what I was seeing. I also asked her mom to recommend me by posting an ad on her Facebook page. She gave my number to her officemate, who is an educator. The woman observed me teaching M and thought I was fantastic. She recommended me to several people. I could expect parents to contact me. I don't count my clients before they hatch, but it would be great if I got some clients through recommendations. Maybe I could get this 'educator' interested in my teaching methods. I want them used by others.
I continued watching Firefly Lane. It's fantastic. I particularly love the adolescent scenes. Those actresses almost have me convinced they're not acting. Of course, I am vulnerable to suspending disbelief.
