Tuesday, April 30, 2019

    I was still tired when the alarm went off this morning at 6:00, even though I was in bed by 9:30 last night. I hit the snooze button and considered not going to Bikram.  I had two other appointments today, so I had an excuse.  I got up after I hit the snooze button for the second time. I made sure to put on my new pedometer.   It is 1200 steps from my house to the end of the street and back.  Since I wear the pedometer all day, I'm sure I do more than 4,000 steps a day.  I noticed that I was not missing Mike as I walked.  I almost feel that I was so comfortable with him, and he became so much a part of me that I can't conceive of him not being around.  It sounds a little like the same thing I felt when my mom told me my dad was dead when I was 15. I thought, "He can't be dead. I'm still breathing."

    I'm also thinking I can still feel good about myself because he did something to affirm me every day.  I don't actually hear his voice saying, "You're so pretty," and "I love you." But that feeling of being enjoyed stays with me. I figure if I can still hear my mother's voice criticizing me and putting me down after all these years, why shouldn't I hear Mike's voice praising me?  But I don't hear the words. I'm just left with the feeling, the afterglow, which comes when someone smiles at you with unrestrained pleasure.  

    I continued working on relaxing the left hip in Bikram. Concentrating on this means there are things I used to be able to do I can't now.  Once I get my hip correctly aligned, then I will discover what my range of motion is from this new perspective. It's a gradual unwinding. 

    During class, JJ crouched down beside me. I expected him to say something. I looked at him expectedly.  He said, "You just do your thing, and I'll do mine." As  I worked, he pushed the tissue of my right thigh up.  This caused me to contact those thigh muscles as I hadn't before. I felt my abs tighten up, and my spinal curvature change dramatically. OMG, my whole posture changed. It is incredible how a small change can create such a big one.

    JJ came out to the car as I was packing up my car to ask me if I would be interested in participating in a private class on Friday from 9:30-11. You better believe I would!  He is the most fantastic teacher.  I can't wait to hear what his insights are. He has told me in the past that he is aware of the way I work.  I suggested to him that he point this out to the other students in the class.  While many come up to me and tell me that I'm an inspiration, I think they are only thinking of my stick-to-itness.  They think of me as an old lady with a handicap who keeps on coming. They are not aware of how carefully I work, how precisely. I have objectives. He walked back into the studio, turned around to tell me that like me, his grandmother loved Hersey's Milk Chocolate bars with whole almonds.  Wow! He's still reading the blog.  

    I went to Safeway after Bikram.  I needed more salad and didn't have time to wait for Costco to open at 10 to do my shopping there.  I bought a bean soup and an apple.  Of course, I checked to see if the Hersey bars were still on sale. Sadly, no. 

    Driving home, I thought of the files sitting on Mike's desk in his desktop file rack.  I could use the stand to organize my work, but the idea of throwing out his work is just too much for me. When I think of doing that, grief hits.  Will I really never be able to tell him again how much I love him, tell him I love him so much it's silly, or that the best part about him is he's mine and see that grin of pleasure on his face?

    I read something in NY Times last night about people dressing up like puppies so they can behave in openly affectionate ways.  Apparently, it is prominent in the gay male community.  How sad that anyone needs to pose as another species to have an excuse to be childishly affectionate. I'm the one who said the silly stuff, Mike didn't do that. But it was clear that he loved having me behave that way.  I guess it's a man thing. 

    I went home, showered, washed my Bikram stuff,  and got myself ready for my 11 o'clock healing appointment.  I actually forgot to do MELT and use the Tiger Tail.  While waiting, I took pictures of my driver's license and the address part of a document to prove my residence for the Princeton Health Department to secure my marriage Certificate.  I tried to download the pictures into the application form.  The whole thing disappeared.  When I went to start again, it wouldn't allow me access. I had no way of finding what I had done.  I gave up, printed out the application form, and the two photographs and put it in the hard mail. It's done. Hopefully, this is good enough. Yes, I remembered to put a check in the envelope, too. It's interesting, I don't feel "why me?" when it comes to the tragedy of losing Mike; why not me? But these technical problems do evoke my self-pity.

    My 11 o'clock appointment didn't answer.  My first concern is for my client's welfare. He's in his twenties. I have to consider that for him, just not answering is answering.

     I got busy with domestic chores.  Since I am at home, I am never at a loss for something to do.  I took out the recycling and heated up at least 3 more pots of water for my weeds.  They really got out of hand. Our growing season is 12 months, but I see a difference between how the weeds grow in the 'winter' versus how they grow in the 'spring.' Trust me, those seasons exist here, but they look nothing like they look in New Jersey or Ohio.

    I've been getting notifications from Apple that my credit card wasn't viable anymore. I 

couldn't figure out why, nor did I know my password or how to reset it. I tried to fix it on my computer.  I finally followed the prompts on my phone. It listed the credit card as expired.  I figured out how to update it. Done.

    My tutoring student arrived.  I see improvement in her word attack skills; she is decoding multi-syllable words with much greater ease.  I also see she is willing to stick with a word she doesn't know and figure it out.  She doesn't just look at a word and immediately say, I don't know.

    She has responded well to the comprehension activity I do with her focusing on deconstructing each sentence and how each sentence relates to every other sentence in a paragraph.  Her teachers at school have her reading on a low first-grade level.  My first thought was that this is too low for her, but I have learned she doesn't do well on the comprehension activities, even at this low level.  I have no idea why. Her aunt is going to have her teacher call me.  I am hoping to have access to her reading exercises so I can figure out what she is doing wrong.  I don't believe it is because she has trouble with word recognition skills. In the meantime, I will continue working at a higher level, so she has exposure to grade-level vocabulary and sentence structure. 

    I worked on the blog. I walked Elsa and called Judy while walking.  I called my friend about her grandson, who was my 11 o'clock no show. I wanted to know that he was all right.  I did consider that he was just of the new generation and letting me know he didn't want to or couldn't keep his appointment was not on his agenda. He had told her he found the session interesting and was looking forward to our Tuesday session. Why didn't he call? I'm still a little worried about the boy.

    Mike got his bill a from Kaiser for 2019. The total bill was $589,479.13; our share was $3,400. Mike and I love the Kaiser health plan. It's the best medical coverage we've ever had.  We also found the service excellent.

     I did more work on the blog and took Elsa for the final walk of the evening.  I went to bed and then said, "Goodnight, Elsa. Goodnight, Mike."

Monday, April 29, 2019

    While I set the alarm for 6, I woke up at 5:30. It's the season when the birds start their workday early. It's something to do with the sun. As I walked Elsa, I continued working on relaxing my left hip.

    I called the Princeton Health Department to follow up on the proof I need to get the marriage certificate.  I called sometime last week and was told that the person responsible was on jury duty and would only be in on Mondays and Fridays.  Today, I got the registrar and asked her if the signed scroll from my wedding would do as proof we were married.  She had no idea what I was talking about. Her reaction was pretty much the same as everyone else's. "Huh?" She said all I needed was a copy of my driver's license and one other document with my name and address on it. Da-da-da-da. Da-da-da-da.  

    I'm pretty sure I didn't dream that exchange with someone from Princeton.  I remember the clerk asking if I had anything from the venue and not even knowing what she was talking about. The best explanation I can come up with, other than a psychotic break, is that I spoke to someone other than the official registrar, and she made it up as she went along. The application is for more than a marriage certificate. It is also for birth certificates and certificates of adoption. My guess is parents do have to prove their relationship to the child for whom they are requesting a birth certificate. The proof I needed was that I knew the name of my husband and the date of our marriage.  I had that covered.

    I made my Juice Plus smoothie and boiled two pots of water for my creeping weeds. I drank two cups of water and went to Bikram. I'm still focusing on relaxing my left hip.

    I had a 9:30 chiropractic appointment. The yoga class ended at 9. I rushed into the rinse shower, leaving my mat and walker in the studio, got into the dressing room to get my wet yoga clothes off, and with a towel wrapped around my body, went back into the room to get my equipment. 

    I wound up getting to the chiropractor's office early; I sat in the car and called Judy. No answer. I  got a call from Melissa, who said she was going to put an article on the fMRI that I might find interesting in my mailbox. She knew I was interested in the correlation between blood flow and brain use. I told her that I had audited classes in neuroscience at Princeton University, but welcomed her article. Auditing a few classes did not make me an expert. With everything I read, I learn something new. 

    Kim worked on my upper body as Yvette had the night before.  She did something new. She had me sit on the table, put my arms behind me, and grab the edge of the table. Then she did Graston on my pectoral muscles. All the tension in my shoulders melted. 

    At home, I threw my Bikram stuff and Yvette's into the washing machine.  When I went out to the lanai, I discovered that Elsa had pooped.  I don't get it, I had just walked her an hour ago. She pooped then; why again?  I ignored it for the time being. It's a screened-in porch; there's no smell. I'll get to it later.

    I boiled water for my weeds and my soup. I took a nap. When I got up, I boiled another pot for my weeds and drank my smoothie.

    There were two packages at the side door, one for me and one for B.  The one for me was the pedometers I ordered shipped in a box the size of a small bread box.  Maybe a bag would have done?   I opened the box midday and put the pedometer on.  I love it. It only records steps, nothing fancy. I don't have to deal with multiple options. The digital image is extra-large. Another yeah. And it's pink. A third one.  I had trouble finding the reset button. The directions said it's on the back of the pedometer.  This means I have to take it out of the clip holder each time, but this is easy to take out and put back in. I have had pedometers where removing them from the clip was an athletic event.

    I called Adam with a solution to sharing the car with Josh.  Adam has been using the car for Uber driving.  He had been driving his own car for that purpose, but someone back into him while he was parked and totaled it. I offered Mike's car since it was sitting idly in the driveway while we were in Honolulu. Mike's car is a hybrid and gets good mileage. Adam has asked to buy the car. Damon asked me to keep it so he could use it when he visits. 

    Josh had been driving Mike's car occasionally while we were away.  He discovered that driving a car is really much nicer than riding a motorcycle, particularly in the rain. I worked out a solution that seems to suit both the boys. The car is to be left in our driveway each night. When Josh leaves in the morning, he can decide if he wants to take it. If not, he will text Adam, and Adam can use it right away.  If Josh takes it, he'll text Adam when he gets home so Adam can choose whether to use the car right away or only at night. I get the impression that neither of these guys is very good at negotiation. They're both saying whatever the other one wants.  They would rather get nothing than talk to each other and work out something that works for both of them.  Maddening from my point of view.  

    I spoke to my friend, who is suffering from ungrateful family members.  We had worked on her anger using the gargoyle image. She was wondering what would soothe the gargoyle. She thought of allowing it to express its rage.  In this case, I would say no, at least, not yet.  If rage is going to be expressed, it has to be done to heal everyone involved.  That changes the outcome.  None of that expression of rage can be shown in the real world.  This is all done through imaging.  This doesn't mean that anger should never be expressed.  It just means that she should wait until she has offloaded the rage she's been building forever before she lets loose. I taught her the Vipassana meditation technique.  I have now taught it to two people after a brief instruction, and they got it, at least well enough to help them deal with their strong emotions.  

    Vipassana was developed by Buddha. It's simple and brilliant. You observe sensations on the physical body without evaluating them as either good or bad, desirable, or undesirable.  The effect is stunning.  I have used it to heal physical pain, no less psychological pain, anguish, rage, sadness, hopelessness,  you name it.  

    In the case of the two people I worked with, they were both experiencing emotional flooding. I had that experience while on a meditation retreat. Usually, the instructions were to do the meditation sitting. But, in this case, the retreat leader told me to lie down and just observe the sensations on my hands and feet, and nothing else.  It took a while for me to calm myself, but it happened.  The trick is to observe these sensations not as pain or pleasure, but as temperature, tension, tickling, tightness, whatever.  All sensations are related to our strongest feelings. Whatever we observe refers to emotions, even if we are not classifying it as such.  If we observe these sensations calmly, they resolve. Brilliant process. There's a reason Buddha is a big deal.

    Elsa and I went on our walk.  I had dinner, did some more work on the blog, and watched tv. I took Elsa for the final walk of the evening.  I went to bed and then said, "Goodnight, Elsa. Goodnight, Mike."

Sunday, April 28, 2019

    I got up at 7 am, no Bikram today.  I walked Elsa.  I squeezed a dozen of the ripest limes before they went bad while doing the oil rinse. Then I washed last night's dishes. I worked on the blog while drinking my two cups of water. I am committed to getting the blog up to date.  Once that is done, I have other chores.  I need to follow up on all the financial stuff and get to work on Mike's book and get back to work on mine.

    I showered, did MELT, used the Tiger Tail, and dressed for church.  Judy and Paulette picked me up.  It is always cold in the Holy Rosary church. It's a small building.  Maybe it holds 75 people. Sometimes there are chairs set up on the small lanai at the top of the stairs at the entrance or out in the parking lot.  I once saw people out there on a rainy day holding umbrellas.  

    On Easter Sunday, there was a sizeable group.  Today it was a small one; all the seats inside the church weren't filled.  Judy was a lector and wanted to sit on the aisle. It's coldest there because you get the breeze coming in the front door, moving right through the building to the open windows in the backroom.  I moved over to the wall. That got me out of that draft. I'm sure I will appreciate it more in the hot and humid days of August, September, and October.      

    I took a nap when I got home.  When I got up, I heard Mike say, "Hon?" It was just as if he had come home and was looking for me so we could greet each other.  It was an ordinary moment, not a dramatic one. I started to move toward the voice - and remembered. 

    Judy came over. I had told her that Catholic doctrine has little meaning for me. Judy is a cradle Catholic who left the church for a while and came back to it with enthusiasm. She holds beliefs which I think would be hard for someone who wasn't raised in the faith. I really don't know what beliefs Mike held.   Sadly, we never talked about it. I hope he never thought I would put down his beliefs just because I didn't share them.  

    Judy presented stories and videos of miraculous events. I told her after the first one that her stories had no meaning for me. She tried another one. I finally had to just put a halt to her evangelizing.  I told her that I found her approach to sharing her faith stories in hopes that it would ignite a similar feeling in me a painful experience. I am very sensitive to people who want me to like what they like, think what they think so I can be more like them.  I had that aplenty in my family of origin. Thanks, but no thanks.

    What has come out of this is a deep sensitivity to the boundaries of others when I am in a position to teach or counsel them in any way. I encourage people to tell me if what I have to say has meaning for them. If my intent is to teach someone for their sake, then I'm not going to push my ideas. I have to be sensitive to what they want to learn and if they're ready to learn.  Teaching and comedy share the need for knowing your audience and good timing.

    After we finished with that discussion, I did some healing on Judy for her nausea, which is caused by the chemotherapy. There clearly is a physical component here, but there is also a psychological component that compounds the original problem.  

    I developed a procedure for helping people preparing for surgery to reduce stress. It involves the conscious mind informing the nonconscious mind about what would happen during the surgery and its purpose.  Our primitive mind never experienced a scalpel. For it, the scalpel is a sharp claw, ripping at its flesh; the anesthesia is a poison that can kill us, and the intubation tube is someone trying to cut off our air supply.  Most surgical procedures can be confused with torture. To calm the nonconscious mind, I have the conscious mind speak to the nonconscious mind directly and explain each of these procedures and the intentions behind them.  It is essential for the nonconscious mind to understand these intentions and that these procedures are administered in controlled ways.  It is a little like explaining it to a child who also is unfamiliar with these procedures. It may sound remarkable to you, but in fact, this works. With Judy, we worked on communicating to her nonconscious mind the purpose of the high level of toxicity in her body from the chemotherapy. This should at least reduce stress; with any hope, it will reduce her nausea as well.

    Damon called twice while Judy and I were busy. I tried to call him back when we were finished.  He said he wouldn't answer if he busy working with August to complete a video for his Spanish class.  I sat down to work on the blog.  I am determined to catch up. I'm making a few changes in how I work on it.  In the past, if I hit a section that seemed difficult, I would drop everything a play FreeCell. Now, I look for a passage that looks easy for me and work on that one. Then when I get back to the more difficult one; then, I have some ideas about how to write it. I'm also working at night more instead of watching TV and cataloging.  These strategies will serve me well when I am working on Mike's book and my book.  

    I called the lady from church again, who also lost her longtime partner, who is considerably more distressed than I am. Again, she didn't answer.  I hope she is all right.

     I realize how fortunate I am in so many ways.  I couldn't be better situated to cope with the loss of Mike.  Those who have to deal with a prolonged illness have it much worse, be it from cancer or dementia, anything that requires someone to be a hands-on caretaker without a great deal of help.  Those five weeks in the hospital on Oahu when I was sitting there 8 hours a day with no life of my own except when writing the blog, I became even more attached to Mike. I poured love into him.  If there had been a long period of home care while I waited for him to die, I would have been even more attached, and my life would have been severely contracted.  Even in the hospital, I was not the only person responsible for his care, seeing that he was fed, bathed, turned, and all his physical and psychological needs attended to.  Also, I wasn't isolated. I must have met at least 10 new people a day. Then I didn't go home to an empty house; I was staying at the ashram, which provided its own social simulation and support.  Because Mike had such a large footprint on the Big Island and all through Hawaii because of the diaconate, he provided me with connections that sustain me now.  Even Judy, who has proved to be an invaluable friend, I met through Mike.  She was in his Bible study class. My financial situation is far from dire, and I seem to be attracting people now who are willing to pay me for my tutoring and healing services, which makes me more secure.

            I have a lovely home, a life routine that suits me, a dog, and Yvette and Josh to watch over me.  I must be the luckiest position possible for having just lost my loving life partner. I should also mention that that loving life partner has left me a much stronger person than when he found me.  Mike relished my strengths.  He loved it when he saw me become more secure and more competent.  From the beginning, I never felt that Mike would limit me in any way.  There were ways I felt limited, but that didn't come from Mike. That came from my own history.  Yes, in some way, I appreciate the new freedom.  I enjoyed being alone when he was away for one weekend a month. But I also know that I could have had that freedom if he had lived. He celebrated my successes.  What a loss he is, my one-man cheering squad.

    He used to tell me I was beautiful and he loved me every day. At the beginning of our relationship, he insisted that I was objectively the most beautiful woman in the world.  I was delighted with his flawed perspective on my looks, but claiming that everyone else saw me as he did was just too much for me.  I can handle only so much insanity.  He finally toned it down to claiming I was just beautiful to him.  He loved my face. As I look at photographs of myself now, I find myself thinking, "Maybe I was fairly good-looking." I find I like my own face. Maybe I have absorbed him into myself now that he is gone.  I hope this works out for me. 

    My mother thought being a loving, caring parent meant dealing out a constant flow of criticism.  I still sometimes hear her voice in my head.  Mike found me a good enough partner. He delighted in me as I did in him. I don't so much hear his voice as I have a general sense of well-being. God is in His heaven and all's right with the world. My time with him was a great gift. I was grateful to have him in my life.  We didn't do much about birthdays or anniversaries. Instead,  we celebrated each other and our union each day.  Does that mean there weren't down days or we didn't have differences or outright arguments? Don't be ridiculous. We didn't stop being human beings,  but the positive experiences vastly outnumbered the negative, uncomfortable ones. We were two fortunate people. No, I don't think it was all luck. We were prepared to seek individual and marriage counseling if there was an unresolvable glitch in our relationship.  God, I loved my life with that man. 

    When I feel sad, it's mostly for what he suffered only to die in the end. Or, when I think about all the things that would bring him joy that he can no longer experience.  So far, I haven't felt sad for myself.  I can't imagine that won't come with time. If others can ride it out, I'm sure I will too.

    My cell phone posted a video from December 2017. Mike and I were at St. Steven's for a diaconate weekend and Christmas party. It was the weekend we picked up Elsa from the breeder in Honolulu.  We thought we would pick her up at the end of the weekend, but then Kathy Coughlin said, "Sure, bring her here." We did. There were shots of Mike walking Elsa, lying in bed with Elsa.  Those two bonded immediately.   She made him so happy. 

    I finally made contact with Damon and had a lovely chat. He's been making a point of calling once a week, usually on Sundays.  At one point, when I tried to call him back, he was talking to his other mother, the one that gave birth to him. I guess this is the day of the week he takes care of us. I'll take it.  

    Cylin told me a dream she had about Mike. She was visiting me in Hawaii and helping me set up my blog. She went to sit in the reclining chair that Mike preferred, but decided against it because she thought it might be disrespectful. She heard Mike's voice saying it would be fine if she sat there. I came out on the lanai and found her crying. She assured me they were tears of joy. 

    I did have a question about the blog for Cylin.  She is a published author of several young adult books and one children's book.  I love her writing.  Whenever a book of hers came out, I always gave a copy to the middle school librarian at Licking Heights.  She told me Cylin's books were always checked out, and they were some of her favorites, too. (She writes under the name of Cylin Busby). She maintains a website and a blog.  I was wondering how to present the material.  Should the last entry be at the bottom or at the top as it is now in the emails I send out? She said the format I am using is the preferred one. I suppose I can easily format it both ways without too much fuss.  That way, people don't have to read through over 200 pages backward if they want to read the whole thing.

    Damon recommended some videos: Ricky Gervais in After Life and Fosse/Verdon. I saw a preview of After Life. I think I can enjoy that.  I would love to see Fosse/Verdon. I love his choreography, but I can't find a way to view it.  We ended our TV subscription to saved money and protect ourselves from channel surfing. 

    I did more work on the blog and took Elsa for the final walk of the evening.  I went to bed and then said, "Goodnight, Elsa. Goodnight, Mike."

Saturday, April 27, 2019

     I heard Yvette leaving at something like 4:30 am.  It wound up she went out to Matsuyama's to get Josh eggs for breakfast before he went to work. 

    I had set the alarm for 7 am so to make the 8:30 class. I woke up at 7:30 and jumped out of bed. I discovered that somehow I had turned the volume on my phone to zero. I  let Elsa out the back door and raced to drink my two cups of water in preparation for Bikram.  I did manage to take Elsa for a short walk and made it out the door in time to get to class.  Only a few people were in before I arrived. I got my place. When the class started, there were 21 people.    I met Yvette's friend Scott today. He is one of many people she brings into the studio.

    The two of them arrived together in her car.  I looked at her and said, "Is there something you want to tell me?" As it winds up, Scott doesn't have a set of wheels. Yvette picks him up and brings him to the class. 

    During the class, I continued doing everything without tightening my left glute and watching the effect on the rest of my body. Mark made some joyful comment, "Hawaiian humidity is back. Yeah!!" Maybe not so much. I think the humid days are a misery. Mid-August to mid-October. I'm planning to be in LA for Damon's birthday and Seattle for Karin's for part of that time in September.  I also hope to stop off and visit Shivani in San Francisco. 

    When I got home, I showered, washed my Bikram clothes by hand, hung them up, did MELT, and used the Tiger Tail.  I did some work on the blog, but I was too tired to do much.  In the past, when I was young and busy, I would push through. I had to. But now, I know I have the option of taking a nap, and that's what I do.

    Damon and Cylin called while I was napping, bringing me to the surface, but not enough to get me up and answer the phone.  I was too tired to consider a conversation, but I had a big smile on my face listening to their message as I lay there. I went back to sleep. 

    I got up and worked on the blog. Judy called.  I actually felt better, more energized after the call. I went down to the bottom of the property to pick limes.  I got 42 off the ground.  I didn't see flowers growing on the tree. Soon, I will have to buy lemons from Costco to get my limeade/lemonade fix.

    I noticed that some of the Haole Koa trees I doused with gasoline hadn't come back. These are skinny invasive trees that nothing kills. All you can do is slow them down. But, it looks like I had some success. Of course, I worked on my hands and knees to kill the ones I did. I cut them down as close to the ground as I could, and then scraped the surface of the roots and poured a large quantity of gasoline on them. 

    I walked Elsa early before dinner because it looked like rain.  I met Paulette coming down to pick up the family mail.  She walked with Elsa and me until we got back to her house.  I picked up our mail as I do every evening when Elsa and I come home from our before dinner walk. There was a check from TIAA Cref.  I thought I told them I didn't want them to take out the minimum annual withdrawal amount; I wanted Raymond James to do that.  Either I checked the wrong box, or they just ignored my instructions. Also, I'm confused about why they sent me a check rather than sending it electronically to Raymond James.  Nothing is simple. Everything requires follow-up.  So confusing. So complex. So annoying. 

    I ate dinner: leftover chicken salad from Zola's visit, leftover green salad from Costco, a slice of bread from Safeway with butter, and Judy's apple cake from Easter Sunday. I did more work on the blog.  

    After dinner, I cataloged more books. Mike's library makes me feel sad.  I don't know how he related to it. I think with pride.  I don't get it. There is no way he read most of those books. If I had all those books without having read them, they would accuse me every time I looked at them.  I hope Mike didn't relate to them that way.  Maybe he looked at them and thought, "When I'm ninety, I will have the time to read these all.  Yummy." I sure hope so. 

    Yvette came up to use the dryer. She is trying to get me to socialize with more people. She mentioned that her friend, Steve, who house-sat for us during the funeral, found me interesting. At first, I thought he told her he was interested in getting to know me better. A moment of panic. Among other things, he is young enough to be my son.  Old habits, etc., etc., etc. But no, this is Yvette's idea. She has both male and female friends with complete ease. She's a poster child for someone excellent at developing social relationships that are just friendly.   I liked Steve, but I can't imagine he'd really be interested in getting to know me better. This is a whole new weird world for me.  I can barely function on lunch dates with women friends I haven't known for a while.

    I must say that right after Mike died, I started looking at men in a different way. I even had a dream of coming on to the husband of a friend, a man I have never found attractive in that way. I'm beginning to understand why widows and divorcees were rejected from the groups they socialized with as a couple.  There must be something very primitive going on there.  I am enjoying my time alone and have no conscious need for a man in my life, certainly not as a miscellaneous man.  Mike and I spent 45 years building our relationship.  It was/is worth its weight in gold.  

    I took Elsa for our late evening walk, had some Hersey's Milk Chocolate with whole Almonds, washed my face, tried to brush my teeth to get all the Milk Chocolate and almond bits out of my teeth, went to be and said, "Goodnight, Elsa. Goodnight, Mike."        

Friday, April 26, 2019

    I woke up at 3 am worried about Kea and Elijah's application to Science Camps of America.  I got a copy of an email the director of the camp had sent her. This was the second one he sent. He was concerned that she wasn't responding. I concocted reasons why she didn't do it and made myself sick. I made a point of calling her by 7. She had responded immediately to his second email and faxed the application to him. The dramatic explanation for why she hadn't responded to the first was -she forgot.  All that worry for nothing. I decided not to go to Bikram because I was just too tired due to a lack of sleep.
    Since I wasn't going to Bikram, I decided to do that walk around the block and pick up the garbage I had seen the other day. I took a 13-gallon tall garbage bag with me.  Most of the street was clear. There was just this one stretch filled with litter,- and there was that blanket. I thought I could put it in the garbage bag.  No chance. It was a quilt and much too large. I had to drag it down the street and up the hills to get it to my trash barrel.   Besides the blanket, there were old newspapers and telephone books.  As I walked, I focused on relaxing my left glut muscles with each step.
    When I got home, I made my miso soup immediately. I  actually forget to do the oil rinse and drink my two cups of water. I sat down to write the Easter, Sunday blog,  and play FreeCell.
Then I showered, did MELT, and used the Tiger Tail.
    I had been planning to get my new tires after Bikram.  I decided to get down there now and take care of it and do my Costco shopping.   It would be a 2 ½ hour wait to get new tires installed. That long? The clerk checked out the tires I wanted. The Michelins were on sale, but he would have to order them; they would arrive in two weeks.  I went into Costco to shop.   I returned a large, and I do mean large, box of Poise Pads.  I don't know how long I've had it, but it didn't have a sell-by date, so it raised no alarms.  Then I did the shopping I had to do.  Of course, I checked out all the sample carts.  As far as I'm concerned, that's a way of scarfing down a free meal.  Also, I love tasting different foods in small quantities.
    While I was shopping,  I spoke to Brenda about the internment.  She told me I have to let Fr. Lio know 5 days before we do it so he can dig the hole.  She also told me that I have allowed the monument company two weeks.  The company is in Hilo on the other side of the island. I'll be going over there in August to buy school supplies for the children of one family. I'll check them out then.
    I was planning to drive to the church after Costco to drop off my 40 cans of food for the 40 days of Lent.  I was already on Queen K when it occurred to me that I could just drop the cans off at the Food Basket up the street.  I called Brenda back to find out if that would do. She explained to me that the Food Basket is different than the Food Bank that the church runs, but either would be fine.  I made a u-turn and went to the Food Basket because their facility is on the ground floor, and I could probably get help unloading.  If I took it to the church, I would have to carry those heavy cartons up a flight of stairs to get them into the office.
    When I arrived at the Food Basket, there was no one in sight.  I called out but got no response.  I called out louder. Finally, two people came down the steps.  I had expected someone to respond, "I'll be there in a minute." But, no.  There was no response until they appeared, and then I was criticized for calling out. I think the critic might have been teasing me, given several additional comments he made. Boy, was his comic timing off.
     Jean had called while I was on the road, I called her back. She recommended a British tv series to me that she has been enjoying, The Vicar of Dibley. We also talked about two others she had recommended to me, Miranda and DCI Banks.  Miranda is altogether too silly for my tastes. I find DCI Banks either poorly written, poorly directed, poorly acted, or all of the above.  I find the characters annoying. I have watched too many police shows;  I know the correct procedure. It's frustrating when the 'professionals' know less than I do.  None the less, I continued to watch it. It was good background noise while I cataloged the books. Jean also said that Social Security contacted her, saying that she may be entitled to some money because she and Mike were married for more than 10 years. She said she will only accept it if it doesn't take money away from me.  I don't know that she has a choice.
    I had unloaded perishables from the car the moment I got home. Now, I had to unload all the nonperishables. Then I sat down to write the blog and play FreeCell.
    My 12-year-old student arrived at 3.   I started working with her on a 5th grade Barnell Loft book.  I find her word recognition skills for multi-syllable words has improved.  Her aunt sees that she is more confident and more willing to read.  The school has her working on a low first- grade reading level. At first, I thought this was unnecessary.  Yes, she continues to misread words like, may, my, the, then, when, etc. but she can understand what she reads. Then I come to find out she fails miserably on comprehension questions in the Accelerated Reading Program Computer program at a first-grade level.  Why?  It sounds like a good idea that the school keeps her working on the first-grade level.  I can continue working on a higher level because I make sure she reads the material accurately and understands it.  The work I do allows her to be exposed to grade-level vocabulary and sentence structures.
    I still had the little plastic Peas sitting in the roasting pan awaiting disposal. Ah, I can just put them into a ziplock bag and use them that way.
    I took my afternoon nap. I had a dream of dying and Mike appearing to me.  I reached for him with some desperation, but he pushed me away. It wasn't time for me to join him.  While I observed my actions in the dream, I didn't have any strong emotions.  Very weird.  My dreams say one thing, and my feelings say something else. I'm not usually that out of sync with myself.  I must say I'll take this state of denial.  It works for me.  It allows me to build my new life. I'm not crippled by grief.  I know that Mike wishes me the absolute best.  He always did.
    I did some work on the blog. I was trying to catch up. I was still 5 days behind schedule.  I know I could just skip a couple of days. Who cares? But I don't want to.  Do I actually want this record, or am I just being compulsive? Whatever I do, it is not life or death for me.
    Yvette came up for dinner.  I still had plenty of leftovers from Easter Sunday and Zola's lunch.  Between the two of us, we hardly made a dent.  After dinner, Yvette did some Graston on my neck and shoulders. I'm finding that as my lower body is straightening out, I am feeling more strain in my upper body.  As she worked, my left glut muscles relaxed.  She could feel the change in my right glute muscles.  Now I have a new objective as I work: to relax the left glut muscles as much as possible to allow the rest of my body to respond to that change.
    I tried to watch the Vicar of Dibley, which Jean recommended.  It plays on Brit Box. I was asked to pay.  I thought I had already set up a subscription.  I will need to follow up on that with Amazon.
    I am getting notification after notification from credit card companies that I need to provide proof of the power of attorney or proof of executorship.  They also make clear that I am responsible for any money owed, but they don't ask me for evidence for that. Here's what I've learned: DO NOT let the credit companies know that your partner is deceased until you have claimed all bonus points. For most of the credit card companies, Mike got a card for me too.  This DOES NOT mean that it was jointly owned.  It just means that Mike said I could have one.
I have no authority to make claims on his credit card.  So unpleasant.
    I walked Elsa, washed my face, brushed my teeth, went to bed, and then said, "Goodnight, Elsa. Goodnight, Mike."

Thursday, April 25, 2019

I got up at my usual 6 am, did my early morning routine and went to Bikram. I got home quickly because I had an 11 am healing client. On the way home, I called my friend Carol Zimmerman.  I had received an email from her last night asking if I had gotten her email about her upcoming back surgery. Back surgery?  I will be praying for her.  In the meantime, she is In severe pain, needing her husband's help for all up/down movements. 

    When I got home, I showered, did MELT, used the Tiger Tail, and made my miso soup, and took my MakesNoClaims.  I boiled the weeds with the leftover water.

    I set the alarm for my 11 am client. I was the one to make the call.  I heard the radio announce it was 11 am, but never heard the alarm. I had set the wrong time. I'm getting clients coming to me for tutoring and healing. More are welcome.  So far, I'm dealing with PTSD and panic attacks. 

    After the session, I took another nap from 12:30 to 3.  When I got up, I worked on the blog. I had to leave at 3:30 pm for a haircut.  On the way home from the hairdresser's, I stopped off at Long's to buy a new Peas Hot/Cold Pack, and, of course, more Hersey's Milk chocolate bars with whole almonds because they were on sale, buy 2 get one free. I ate one on the way home.

    When I got home, I worked on the blog.  I took my blood pressure after working for a while. I got  127/72 on the first try. I still take one pill at night. While I was in Honolulu, I took 4 a day but couldn't get It down below 150/90. 

     I walked Elsa, washed my face, brushed my teeth, went to bed, and then said, "Goodnight, Elsa. Goodnight, Mike."

Wednesday, April 24, 2019

    I woke up at 5:45, 15 minutes before the alarm went off.  The Peas hot/cold pack was still warm.  These peas do their job.  As I walked Elsa, I called the Friends Society of Princeton about my marriage certificate because I am hedging my bets and pursuing another original. If I don't get it to SS within a month, I have to start the application process all over again.  My call to Princeton Friends was to see if they had a  record of our marriage I could use to prove we were married.  Mike and I were not Catholics in 1982 when we were married; we had been attending the Princeton Friends Meetings on Sundays for a while.  There was no one to answer the phone.  Their message said someone comes in to check messages twice a week.
    When I got home, I called the Princeton Health Department to find out if the scroll we made with our wedding vows signed by all the attendees would suffice as proof.  There is no official heading from the Princeton Friends, only what I wrote.  It says we were married in the Meeting House on February 20, 1982.  But of course, this is something we, I, wrote, and my sister transcribed on to the vellum scroll. It's nothing official from the Meeting. It's all very frustrating. I played FreeCell to comfort myself.    I was told that the person who could answer my question was on jury duty and was only in on Mondays and Fridays.
    I finally got up, did my oil rinse, washed my dishes, and drank my two cups of water in preparation for Bikram.
    On the way home from Bikram, a song came on that brought up the image of me and Mike (I know this is considered grammatically incorrect, but I love it.) dancing together in our kitchen. He would get this beautiful smile of almost childlike pride, delight, and love.  This is the first time I have seen his face in my mind since he died.  Before this, his image looked somewhat unfamiliar, even in photographs. I've had this odd feeling that he was a stranger I had seen frequently, like at Costco.
    I had seen this phenomenon before when my dad died when I was 15.  I was struck then that I could not have a clear image of his face. When I was teaching in Ohio in my 60s, there was a young woman with two young children who lost her young husband to a fatal heart attack.  I overheard her in a conversation in the lunchroom, saying that she couldn't envision her husband's face.  She was distressed by this.  I was able to tell her about my experience after my father died and tell her that I thought it was normal.  Now, as I experience this myself again, I'm sure it's normal.  When I see his face looking at me with love pouring out of his eyes, grief hits hard.  I will never see those loving eyes again. How will I live without them?  If I  remember all the wonderful moments, we shared,  will my life will seem barren?
I am looking forward to grief deepening.  I wish myself good luck and hope I come out the other side a better person, a stronger, more loving person.
    When I got home, I showered, did MELT,  used the Tiger Stick, washed my Bikram clothes by hand, and hung them on the line. Then I made my soup.  I haven't mentioned it, but I do something else regularly. I put Intrasound power in my mouth, hold it there and swallow it when I drink the soup.  Intrasound is a clay that is infused with sound waves.  I do know that it helps with skin conditions, pimples, skin tags, and maybe even age spots.  I don't know if eating it helps any more than an alcoholic who doesn't stop drinking knows if they can be better without it.  But I do know that it does no harm, and I do know that I am in good health.
    Intrasound products are known as MakesNoClaims in my family.  When Damon was in his adolescence, he looked at the jar and asked what it was.  I tried to explain it to him, as I did above.  He looked at the container and found the words "makes no claims" on it.  For him, like his dad, it was a clear signal that it was nonsense.   I thought his reaction was funny and adopted the name MakesNoClaims, or as Yvette refers to it MNC.  I continue to use it. If nothing else, it acts as a way of blessing myself, wishing myself good health.  I think that's good. But I have to say I have seen results.
    When I had rotator cuff surgery in 2003, I had to keep my arm in a sling nonstop for a week.  During that time, I applied MNCs to all the parts of my arm and chest I could reach without moving my arm. At the end of the week, I got to move my arm when I went into the doctor's office.  All the parts that I had applied MNCs to were yellowish; all the places couldn't reach were black and blue. Wow!
    What boiling water was leftover from the soup in the pot, I poured on my weeds. Then I had a telephone appointment with my therapist.  I don't feel I need therapy because I'm in good shape.  My therapist is someone I started working within Ohio, and I developed the best working relationship with I have ever had. It is continuously productive.  I find that now that I'm not struggling with my daily life, I can continue to develop and resolve old issues that don't serve me well.
    I had my telephone appointment with Shelly, my therapist. This woman is amazing because she sees that my methods work for me, and she supports me as I do my work.  This takes enormous ego strength. She is more concerned about benefitting me than feeling that she is in control of the situation.  I hope that I am that way when I work with people.  I start by telling clients that they are in charge. That the work has to feel safe, comfortable, easy, fun, and effective.  If I make a suggestion, they are not to follow it if it doesn't feel right.  It doesn't make any difference if I'm proven right in the long run.  This is a learning situation. The only right thing is what helps the client to learn at that moment.
     If it's not clear to you already, I have my own ideas on how to do therapy, and I don't like a lot of the available approaches. I had a therapist that thought I was incapable of holding a job. I think she had that feeling because she saw me as someone who had problems with authority based on my relationship with her. Here's the problem: I don't see a therapist as an authority; I see them as my employees, and it's their job to give me suggestions and work with me, not on me.   Most therapists saw that as an outrageous perspective.  I have been kicked out of more therapists' offices than you can imagine.  I knew I needed to do the work with another person. It's the therapist's job to hold a safe space.  Most of the therapists had their own idea of what that meant, which wasn't compatible with my view.  They, therefore, concluded that there was something wrong with me. Really!  How about we weren't on the same page.  My current therapist has told me that the profession has been changing their point of view. Halleluiah.!!
     I get clear images as I work to plummet the psychological depths of myself or others when I do healing with them.   Working on the growing sense of grief, I had the image of falling into a bottomless pit with a fairly wide mouth.  I was hanging on by my fingertips, grabbing for tree roots sticking out of the side of the pit wall.  I understood that this was the descent into the abyss that I would have to face.  I have not just lost Mike; I have lost a large part of myself.  My ego was not attached to Mike as my husband as Mike's mother's was to his father.  She told me that she felt she stopped being a person after he died.  She defined herself by him.  No. I'm not that way.  But, if one can experience grief for a loss of self when one moves from one city to another, one experiences grief with the loss of a constant presence that has moved with me from house to house, city to city, and state to state for 45 years. He was a huge part of my life, daily, weekly, monthly, and yearly.  I think this is a loss even for couples that don't get along. Mike and I were joyful with each other, able to appreciate what we gave to each other and grateful for the appreciation we received from each other.
    I have no regrets about what I did or did not do while he was alive, but I feel very sad about the loss of what might have lain ahead for us.  We both did our best for each other and ourselves, but we never reached the top of the mountain.  We were still making changes to aspects of our relationship.   That progression has been brought to a halt.  I will continue working to be a better person for myself and for others, but now I do it without Mike. It feels like I'm doing this in an empty room instead of one filled with our joint efforts.
    After the session. I cleaned up the microwave from the mess I made with the exploded Peas Hot/Cold pack.  I scraped everything into a roasting pan. I was concerned that those little plastic balls get into the environment. I looked for some container that I didn't think would break down quickly.  I couldn't find anything, so I abandoned the project.    Then I boiled more water for weeding.
    I did some more writing. Yvette came up. She had invited me to go to Kua Bay yesterday for today, but I was tired, and she had to get her car safety check inspection. Maybe some other day. I went back to writing and finished one entry.
    I finally ordered a new pedometer on Amazon.  I just need a simple one that keeps track of my steps, no more. I had read an article in the NY Times about the problems created if we sit more than 13 hours a day and walk less than 4,000 steps. I'm choosing to pay attention to the less than 4,000 steps, which I can easily measure. I don't know how long I sit. When I was in teaching, I was up on my feet a lot, or at least I was moving a lot.  Now, I'm not so sure.
    I spoke to a client who gets hurt a lot doing 'good' things for people and finds that the people she 'helps' are often angry at her, and she can't figure out why. There's something wrong with this picture.
    As I mentioned before, I use imagery in my work. It is through this imagery that the nonconscious mind can communicate with the conscious mind. I told the client that I had an image of a hissing gargoyle.  She responded to the image. She assumed this was an image of the rage her attackers felt.  I told her no, this gargoyle represents your rage.  We all have the capacity for this level of anger in us.  Our primitive minds respond intensely.  Those who feel that rage spark and are afraid of it, submerge it and make an extra effort to be 'good,' 'understanding,' 'compassionate.' Oy vey! Being 'good' to prove our 'goodness' to ourselves and deny our own rage backfires. Now, two disclaimers.  Not every good, understanding, and/or compassionate person is suppressing anger. "By their fruits shall  you know them." Look at the people they have a direct effect on: do these people become stronger, clearer, better, or do these people wind up not changing or even having greater trouble in life?
    This rage element is an essential part of our psyches.  We must learn to recognize its value without allowing it to rule us.   Our nonconscious minds inform us when our boundaries are being violated.  It gives us information about ourselves and our needs. This does not mean that once we see this aspect of ourselves, we walk around, growling at everyone who brushes past us in a rush. Quite on the contrary.  This nonconscious response is operating on a life and death level.  When someone just brushes past us in a hurry to get from point A to point B, our lives are not in danger. Intense rage is not appropriate.
    Another disclaimer:  Anger at people who have a history of mistreating us is appropriate.  However, launching a full-body attack is not. Avoidance is a good strategy here.
    This client is an artist and was excited about getting off the phone to draw and write about her gargoyle.  The gargoyle is like a barking dog. Most of the time, the dog's fierce barking at some passerby is inappropriate.  There is no danger.  But, we love our barking dogs both because they are, after all, making an effort to protect us and, as importantly, they are ours. We must love what is ours. That does not mean allowing unrestrained action, any more than we would let our dog bite the mailman just because he is at our front door.
    Coincidently, this client is reading my blog and also asked what the Tiger Stick was.  I looked it up so I could email her a connection only to discover that it is called a Tiger Tail, a poetic name.
    One of my readers commented on how well I write and asked if I think about the language.  You bet I do.  While I had people tell me in my 20s that I should write just the way I talked, my written work didn't come out that well. Mike pushed me to write clearly.  Another activity had a significant effect on my writing: I did co-writing with students.
    I started co-writing in the 1980s.  I was working with a third grader that couldn't read at all.  I thought if I can give him material that he has 'written,' he would be familiar with what was on the page and might find it interesting to read.  I had him give me something to write about, but I constructed the story and the sentences as I was typing it on the computer. Then I would print the stories out for him. The first story was short and simple, but rapidly the stories became more complex and longer. His mother called to tell me how impressed she was with his stories. "Well," I said, "He's not really writing them; I am." She said, "You don't understand; he is speaking better." Huh? I'm doing the writing, and he's improving?? This is worthwhile looking into.
    I have co-written at least 100 if not several hundred of these stories with students, and in each case, there are reports of improving speech, writing, and reading skills.  Parents will call me to tell me that they see these improvements thinking I don't know the effects.  If I describe the procedure to someone, I often have people say that it can't be effective; the student isn't doing the work.  I think I am modeling language for the students; I am modeling how they can express their ideas.  I have control of sentence structure and vocabulary.  It's pretty amazing, and it's fun. And I learn to improve my writing as well. It's win, win, win. Can it get any better?
    I did some more work on my blog before I did my nighttime routine.
    I walked Elsa, washed my face, brushed my teeth, went to bed, and then said, "Goodnight, Elsa. Goodnight, Mike."

Tuesday, April 23, 2019

     I was awakened by a pain in my inner left thigh muscle.  Okay, is my time up?  The doctors have consistently said that eventually, I will need a total hip replacement (THR).  One day I would be in so much pain, I would l have to take to my bed until I got the surgery several months later. But for today,  I could still walk up and down the block with Elsa. So far, so good.

    Before the Bikram class began,  I worked on releasing the muscles between my shoulder blades on the left side. Doing that relieved the muscle tension in the left thigh.  I find contracting the muscles between my shoulder blades also tightens my abdominals.

    When I got home, I washed dishes while doing my oil rinse and downing my two cups of water.  I loaded the car with my yoga stuff and with my computer. I had plans of stopping at Costco to get my four new tires on my way home.  I figured I could work on the blogs sitting at the outside tables until the store opened, and I could do my shopping.  

    I stopped off at Safeway to return the Dr. Scholl's inserts I found in Mike's drawer and some Hersey's Milk Chocolate Bars with whole almonds. This is my second try to return the inserts. Target said it wasn't theirs, and now Safeway didn't recognize the bar code either.  I only have one more place to try, Long's Drugs. It is possible that Mike may have bought them in Ohio, or even Princeton, and brought them here when we moved.  

    I decided I had too many other things to do today, and the tire thing at Costco would have to wait. I went home, showered, washed my Bikram clothes, did MELT, and used the Tiger Stick.  The inner thigh muscle I worried about felt fine. I guess I can put off the THR again.      I dressed and called Susan, St. Michael's secretary to see if she knew the name of a woman from church who was talking about suicide in response to losing her partner of 42 years. She recognized her immediately.  She gave me her number. 

    I was planning to donate the requested 40 cans to the Food Bank for the 40 days of Lent. I found 10 cans that I will never use in the house but had to buy 30 more to drop off at church or somewhere else. I called the church to see if it was too late to donate food.  Apparently, this is an ongoing ministry at St. Michael's, so any time in just fine. The Food Bank picks it up.  

    I also spoke to Susan about the arrangements for Mike's interment.  Fr. Lio always digs the grave himself. She gave me the name of a company that makes headstones. Here's the start of a new project.

    I boiled a pot of water for my soup and my weeding.  The creeping greens are taking over my front yard almost overnight. This will require many pots of boiling water to get them under control- for now.  

    Paulette had filled a recyclable bag with vegetable garbage on Easter Sunday.  As I carried it out to the composter, it broke.  If I wait long enough, the bottom of the bag starts to breakdown, but that's not what happened here.  The bottom of the bag ripped. What a mess!  I cleaned it up a little at a time each time I go out with another pot of boiling water. 

    I called Costco to see if I needed to make an appointment to get 4 new tires.  No, just come in.  

    I took my nap setting my alarm for shortly before 12:30 when the Social Security Department would call to interview me.   I get so tired from doing Bikram, but I would never give it up. It's probably the one thing that guarantees my sanity. It's my daily meditation. The interview which I figured would take 15 minutes to half an hour took 1 hour. In the end, I was told that I had to send in my tax statement from Licking Heights because they never paid Social Security. I vaguely remembered that was the case, but in retrospect, it seems really weird that an employer would not do that.  There were some claims that they gave very good retirement terms.  Hmmm!  Maybe not so much.  Or, at any rate, their pay scale was one of the lowest in the state of Ohio.  Apparently, they're not paying into  Social Security is going to affect my payment even though I am getting Mike's widow benefits, and his employers always paid his Social Security.

    The agent told me that I would have to send in an original copy of my marriage certificate.  I told him I had sent it into SS to get Mike's March payment.  I had called them about it and was assured I would get the documents back once they had been entered into the system. The guy on the phone checked; it hadn't been entered yet. Great! They could be lost in the mail or in the system.  He said to just order another marriage certificate.  I told him that Princeton wanted proof that I was married. He said, "Your marriage certificate is proof that you were married." Whenever I tell people about this business of needing proof that I was married to get my marriage certificate, I always get the same response. What??!!!  

     While I was on the phone, Zola arrived for our lunch date.  Since I had only found out that morning when my appointment would be, I had warned her I might be on the phone. She arrived with a cooler bag full of food.  Boy, have I ever trained people. Boy, am I ever grateful that they are willing to be trained.  I am one lucky lady that my friends accept me as I am and the conditions for being my lunch/dinner guests. Thank you to all of you. I am moved by your generosity of spirit, not to mention food.

    After Zola left, I had another nap.  Between Bikram and life, I need a lot of sleep.  I know grief is exhausting.  I don't feel grief, but my body knows things are different and is making demands on me.

    When I got up, Elsa and I did our walk.  I came home, had dinner, and watched the Collection on Amazon Prime.  I think it is well done even if it is a soap opera.  The clothing is fun to look at.  I wouldn't be caught dead wearing anything like that.  Those clothes feel like a burden.  Of course, if I were dead, I wouldn't have much choice about what I got to wear.  

    After Elsa and I took our before bed walked, I decided to heat up the Peas hot/cold packs I had bought in Oahu because my leg was still bothering me, I put both packs into the microwave at once.  I didn't have the directions on how to them up, but I remembered something about 30 second and 40 second periods. I heated them for two or three 30 second periods, and finally one 40 second one.  If you are wondering what can go wrong if you don't follow the instructions, I'm here to tell you.  I was in the bathroom, washing my face and brushing my teeth while the microwave was running for 40 seconds; I heard a pop. When I opened the microwave door, one bag had ripped open, and the other one was so puffed up it looked like an oversized loaf of Wonder Bread. Anyone remember Wonder Bread? I left the exploded one in the microwave, figuring I would clean it up sometime in the future. No hurry. The other one I took to bed with me figuring it would cool down quickly.  While the inflated clear plastic part of the bag dropped, the heat did not.  Every time I tried to use it, it was clear that 2 seconds of contact was quite enough unless I wanted to be burned.   

    I turned off the light and said, "Goodnight, Elsa. Goodnight, Mike."

Monday, April 22, 2019

     I was up at 6 and walked Elsa. I did my routine doing the dishes from last night while doing my oil rinse.  Then I drank my two cups of water, got dressed for Bikram, and left. 

    After class, two women who were new students came up and told me what an inspiration I was. They were airline hostesses who were passing through.  One had a bad hip problem, which would cause her leg to buckle.  I have had that experience, but my leg has gotten stronger as I have made my alignment changes and targeted weak muscles.  I can now trust that leg. The last time I had even the slightest buckling was as I walked in to do the hula at Mike's funeral, but I wasn't bothered while I danced.  My leg does feel weaker after I have worked it hard during the yoga class, but it recovers quickly and is stronger in the long run.

    I went to Long's after class because I was out of Hersey's Milk Chocolate bars with whole almonds. They had a sale, buy 2 get one free, but only had king-sized. They were out of the regular size. Okay, I'll take it.

    The bank is in the same shopping area as Longs.  I finally was able to deposit those two checks of Mike's.  Because we have a joint account there, and I haven't informed them of Mike's death yet, they accepted the checks with my forged signature without blinking an eye.  What the bank doesn't know won't go hurt them.  While there, I asked them if they had a Xerox service.  Yes, for $2.50 per page. I said, "Thank you." The clerk giggled, and I left. Really, $2.50 a page?.

    I went to Safeway to buy bread and butter for the next day when Zola was coming over for lunch.  I bought two apples while I was there. After I had paid, I noticed they had a sale on the regular-sized Hersey's Chocolate bars as I was walking out.  I decided I needed to come back the next day.  I had forgotten to bring in the Dr. Scholl's inserts I found in a drawer to try and return them there. Here's a good excuse to come back tomorrow and get some of those Hersey bars.        I still had to Xerox the notarized document for Kaiser's Release of Information Department so I could get the total for Mike's prescriptions for 2018 for tax purposes.  I made an estimate of $200 for the medical claims section of the taxes, but I need the document to back this up. At Office Max, there were two people on the Xerox machines, and I had to wait.  I actually like to wait. I find it peaceful. One person had a lot of professional Xeroxing to do.  On the other machine was someone who had no idea what they were doing.  I thought it was going to be a while and relaxed.

    The one doing the professional Xeroxing was finished first.  I wound up needing help. Which button did I have to press first? The one with the professional job was sorting his work, and he helped me.

     Today I had to wash both Yvette's and my Bikram clothes.  She was in class this morning. She had to go to work right away.  I offered to take her stuff home and take clean it with mine. 

    I called the Wellness Forum in Columbus to order more brewer's yeast.  When I lived there, my Bikram studio was located within the Forum offices. It was they, Pam Popper,  who got me started on having a Juice Plus smoothie each morning with almond milk, a tablespoon of green tea, a tablespoon of ground flax seeds, and a tablespoon of their particular brewer's yeast, as distinguished from nutritional brewer's yeast.  I have them mail it to Dorothy in New Jersey instead of me because sending it to Dorothy costs $5 with UPS, who then forwards it to me for $14. While sending it to me directly costs $50. It's one of the disadvantages of living in Hawaii.  Amazon Prime is worth every cent.

    I cleared the dishwasher from the dried dishes from last night and washed the next batch, stopping again once the dishwasher/drying rack was loaded.  I worked on the blog and sent one out, and then cleared the dishwasher/drying rack from the clean dishes and did another batch.

    I did more work on the blog and took a nap. I woke up in time for my 2 o'clock healing appointment.  Out of nowhere, I am getting paying clients for tutoring and healing.  I am enjoying both. I'm not up for going back to tutoring at the school. I'm still adjusting to my new life and find it exhausting. 

    I thought of a way of describing the verbal protocol of my healing. I do marriage counseling between the conscious and the nonconscious mind, or even the mind and the body.  It was Mark's comments saying that yoga is a marriage between the mind and the body, where it is "mind over matter."  Where's the mutual respect?  Mutual respect doesn't mean blindly following any suggestions of either partner.  Right now, the clients I am working with suffer from PTSD and panic attacks.  I know that there has been some success with the PSTD case. He has experienced staying calm in a situation that typically would have triggered him.  I am thrilled for both of us.  It is a wonderful feeling to know that I have skills that can help people.

    After the session, I cleared the dishwasher/drying rack of the clean dishes and did another batch. Then I sat down to play FreeCell and do some more work on the blog.

    I called the Kaiser department of Release of Information Department to get their address and mailed the form to get the full list of Mike's prescription expenses for 2018. 

    While I took Elsa for her walk, I spoke to Judy Glickstein.  She is feeling somewhat better but not 100 %. Her oncologist said to come up for her chemo appointment tomorrow, and he would determine then if she is good enough to receive it. 

     When I got back from the walk, I did more work on the blog and played FreeCell. Dinner was salad, and a couple of those super delicious stuffed cabbages Judy made using her mother in laws recipe.  I was prepared to fight someone to get most of those- they are that good.

    I watched Collection on Amazon Prime and cataloged books.  I thought it was going to take me a year to complete all these books.  It will only take me a couple of months at the most. It's going much faster than I expected.  I know what I'm doing now and have a rhythm.

    I walked Elsa. Tonight  I was wearing shorts. When I got back, sat down with my computer and played free cell and wrote on the blog. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, went to bed, and then said, "Goodnight, Elsa. Goodnight, Mike."

Sunday, April 21, 2019: Easter Sunday

     I woke up around 7 and walked Elsa.  I am not doing Bikram on Sundays but going to church instead. I did some work on a blog and sent it out. I'm still six days behind. I lost time when I was dealing with the funeral, the visiting family, and doing my taxes.  I can't catch up for love or money.  
    I walked Elsa, showered, did MELT, and used the Tiger Stick.  
    Paulette and Judy picked me up later than expected. While driving to church, I asked Judy for more information about what Mike had to say about the four qualities necessary to endure suffering, wanting to know how Mike interpreted them: acceptance, cooperation, humility, and docility. She said they only discussed docility because she was already familiar with the other three. Docility was the ability to learn from the situation.
    When we arrived at the parking lot, it was already packed.  Paulette had to park on the verge of someone else's driveway.  Judy and I had to sit in the front seats of the church; they were the only ones left.  Fr. Badding performed the mass.  Michele started the service by entering singing a song of worship in Hawaiian. She is a beautiful woman in every sense of the word: physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.  At the end of the service, Michele and another woman performed a hula.
    I had turned off the phone during the service. When I got home, I turned it back on and found I had no service.  I was too tired to deal with the problem and took a nap. There's always time after the nap.
    While I was lying down, Judy and Paulette came over to start cooking the turkey for Easter dinner in my oven.  Easter dinner was going to be at my house.  Judy and Paulette had trouble getting the top rack out of the oven. It's a super-duper rack, with two layers, one fixed and one which slides out, so you don't have to reach deep into the oven to get to something on the back of the rack and get par-baked yourself.  I tried to explain what they had to do from the comfort of the sofa.  That didn't work. I got up and popped it out.
    I tried to read some of the Sunday New York Times before I fell asleep. I hadn't had any downloads since the 16th. I had noticed it before but thought there might have been a problem with the Wifi. I read some of C.S. Lewis's Mere Christianity that I found while going through Mike's library.   I fell asleep.
    I thought Paulette had gone home.  Maybe she had, but when I got up, there was a fresh batch of limes sitting on my kitchen counter.  She and Leon had gone down and picked them. She needed some to garnish her key lime pie, and there was a whole batch left for me.
    When I got up, I did some more writing on the blog. Once everyone arrived to finish the cooking and set the table, I took Elsa for a walk. I stopped by Olga and Alexandra's house to drop off the bus pass I found on the street last night. I'm into picking up trash as I go, motivated by John Zimmerman.  I saw this bright white rectangular shape last night and knew it was man-made. At first, I  thought it was a credit card; it was made of that hard plastic.  When I read it, I saw it was a bus pass from the local high school.  I didn't recognize the girl's name, but I figured Alexandra, a high school student herself,  might know who she was or at least be able to hand it in at the high school office so it could be returned to the girl.    
    When I got to the door, Olga answered and came out to talk to me.  She didn't know the name on the bus pass, but she would give it to Alexandra.  Alexandra came out on the driveway shortly.  I mentioned the death of the tap-dancing teacher from the dance studio Alexandra went to.  They had not heard. They told me that Alexandra's piano teacher had died. I'm telling you,  I have never heard of so many people dying in my life.  What is going on?
    Alexandra told me about the spring dance concert. From her description, I think they will be dancing Coppelius, from The Tales of Hoffman by Offenbach, but I'm not sure.     There are a few details in the story she was telling that didn't sound the same.  She did a wonderful job dancing out the plot. She had this radiant smile on her face. Unfortunately, she will not be able to dance the performance I will be seeing. Or fortunately.  Her STEM project has been selected for competition, and she will be off-island at that time.
     I usually just walk up and down the block, but I had time, so I walked all the way around.  I was shocked by the garbage I found on one section of the street parallel to mine.  There was a whole quilt, unopened newspapers, unclaimed telephone books. It was a mess. I didn't have any way of getting that stuff home. I made a note to do it some other time.
    When I got home, Paulette came up to me and asked, "Do you have a wrench?" Huh?  The stovetop ran out of gas, and two grown men were trying to fix the problem. Adam and Brian, their tenant, had successfully found the canisters on their own and were trying to switch out the empty one for a full one.  They figured out that they didn't need the wrench; all they had to do was flip a switch from the empty one to a full one that was already attached to the pipes.   They told me that there were three full ones and one empty one. I can call on Josh to help me out if I ever have to change them out.  However, I haven't turned on the stovetop since I came home.  I am doubtful that I'll be running out of gas any time soon. Thank God for the microwave.  Someone suggested that I could learn to cook. What they don't get is I hate doing it.
    I called T-Mobile, my carrier, to see if I could figure out what was wrong with my phone. With all the changes, it is possible that the bill simply didn't get paid. No, my account was fine.  I owed nothing.  The customer service provider couldn't figure out what was going on.  He refreshed my phone, whatever that means, and told me that the problem was that everyone was calling at once, and the cell tower was overloaded.
    Almost immediately after my call to T-Mobile, my phone rang.  I was my niece, Karin, calling from Seattle.  I spoke to her and my sister, who was still there visiting to help Karin and her husband, David, deal with their brand new baby. It was mostly chit-chat.  I mentioned that I was thinking of visiting in August or September when it is stinking hot here in Hawaii.  Two years ago it was so hot that students in the high schools were passing out from the heat.  L told Karin about all the miles I had.  I thought it was one physical mile for each credit card mile.  Karin set me straight. Apparently, it is one physical mile for 5 to 15 credit card miles. I still should be able to make it Seattle and complete my west coast family visits, to San Fransisco and then Los Angles, before I head home again.
    I called Amazon next to find out what was going on with the Kindle. Finding the customer service number was particularly tricky. I don't know why they make it so hard.  I had called Amazon and canceled a subscription the other day. I thought it was Mike's.  No, it was mine that had been canceled.  They transferred the subscription to my email address. We're good now.
    If I haven't already mentioned it, Judy, Paulette, Adam, and Jazzy, Adam's wife, put together wonderful, wonderful meals. There was the turkey, stuffed cabbage to die for, kugel, stuffing, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, asparagus, apple cake, and key lime pie.  At the end of the meal, there were plenty of leftovers, and I got my fair share.  My guests helped to clear the table.  I had to wash the cooking equipment, but Judy insists on using paper plates. Poor Mike, he would die of embarrassment.  He set a gorgeous table.
    My guests sat around after dinner to talk.  I went into the kitchen to start washing dishes.  I love doing that. I'm still part of the conversation but somewhat removed at the same time.  I can jump in and participate whenever I like, but I don't just have to sit there. After I did as much of the dishes as the dishwasher/ drying rack could hold, I still needed to withdraw from the company. I felt a little bit awkward.  In the past, Mike would hold the fort representing the hosts of the house. I managed to slip away and found myself making some blog entries. As they left, someone made a comment about my withdrawal and asked they overstayed their welcome.  I said, absolutely not meant it, "As long as I can take care of myself, you're welcome to stay as long as you like."  I'm not the kind of hostess who feels I have to take care of my guests. But you may have figured that out already.  I could go to bed and sleep peacefully while my guests stayed and talked on the lanai.  The only problem I would have is if they stayed that long, they needed to move off the lanai to a living room, deeper into the house, so they didn't bother Yvette and Josh.  They can hear everything that goes on on the lanai. They get up before dawn every day and need their sleep.
    After they left, I watched some TV and cataloged books. Then I walked Elsa, washed my face, brushed my teeth, went to bed, and then said, "Goodnight, Elsa. Goodnight, Mike."