I woke up at 6 but only got up when I absolutely had to. I told Judy and Paulette that I was passing on church because I was too tired to consider doing both the church and fulfilling my commitment to usher at the Kona Choral Society concert.
When I walked Elsa, I turned left coming out of the driveway instead of my usual right turn. The other day, when we passed the house where Brian and Amanda live, their four BIG dogs came charging down from the house right at poor Elsa. I stood in the street, screaming for help because I wasn't sure of their intent. It was clear that Elsa wasn't either. One of the dogs licked her privates, and she peed herself. How do I know? Because I managed to pick her up around that time and my leg got wet. These dogs had met Elsa before and were just glad to see her again. Apparently, they don't bother dogs they didn't know because someone else walked their dog past that house, and the dogs didn't make an appearance. More upsetting than the dogs running loose was the lack of response to my cries of help. I wouldn't have expected that in this neighborhood. Of course, it was early in the morning still. Many folks may not have been up, or they just didn't hear. This is not Queens; it is Hawaii known for its aloha, concern for others.
These four BIG dogs are usually safely behind a fence on the property. Their owners, Brian and Amanda, went on a short holiday to Maui. The dogs, who are generally well behaved, broke out of the fence with little effort. Adam, their landlord, tried to fix the fence, but they broke it again. He tried to confine them to the house; they broke out of that, too.
When I got home, Shivani made some eggs for me, so I didn't have my usual breakfast: miso soup and my Juice Plus smoothie. After breakfast, two-year-old Sidney and I went down to the bottom of the property to pick limes. It took a short while to get through to him that he was supposed to pick up the yellow balls (yes, ripe limes are yellow) and throw them in the bucket. We picked 32 off the ground and a few that dropped down while we were picking up the others. On the way back up to the house, Sidney decided he wanted a lift. I'm in pretty good shape, but carrying a heavy bucket and Sidney at the same time up a very steep hill was beyond me.
Josh was standing in the driveway. I asked him if he could carry Sidney. He came down and said he would take the bucket. I was prepared to pick up Sidney, but he put his hand on the handle and helped Josh with the carrying chore. I wish I had my phone with me to take that picture.
On the way up, I spoke to Josh about my plans to usher at a choral concert that afternoon. I mentioned the name of the hotel, the Sheraton. He then told me that there were several Sheraton Hotels in the area. Good thing, I had the wrong one in mind. Mike and I had gone to one up north, and I thought it was in the same location. I checked my email from Judy Chaput, who organized the ushers, and sure enough, it was not the same one we had gone to. It was half an hour in the other direction. Phew!
Josh walked the bucket into the house and then placed it in the kitchen sink for cleaning. I filled the pail with water so I can make sure to kill off all the animals I bring into the house with the limes. Josh stayed and talked with us for a while without sitting down, standing in the opening between the kitchen and the lanai watching Sidney and enjoying him.
We had some drama. Shivani thought her sick feeling was because she was having a reprieve of strep throat that she had before. She had called her doctor in California; he was going to call back. Because she didn't have her phone, she had given the doctor my house phone number. When the phone rang, the receiver she had picked up didn't work. She grabbed another one. That didn't work either. I ran to the bedroom to pick up the third receiver. I got there in time to hear him say that he would try the other number he had, but that was Shivani's phone, which she had left in the Lyft car on her way to the airport in California. Fortunately, the doctor must have heard me at the last minute and called back on the house phone.
I was so tired. I went to bed to nap. I got up from my nap, showered, no time for MELT, and dressed. I took some of my breakfast soup with me to the concert. Paulette drove; I was so tired. We walked to the ballroom, which was not too far from the parking lot. Judy Chaput gave us name magnetic name tags. I was assigned to give out programs, and block the door I was at once the concert started, so it wouldn't distract the singers. We had to direct folks who had to go to the bathroom to go to the far door.
I brought something to read with me, expecting to have time before the concert started. The chorus rehearsed for the hour before the performance. Now that was interesting. I heard the director giving final directions and making corrections. Then I got to listen to the whole concert. I think I enjoyed it more for the preview. I have never been someone who enjoyed music for itself in my youth. If I couldn't choreograph it while I was listening, I couldn't enjoy it. Music for just music's sake, except as background sound, this is new for me.
This young couple was sitting at the back of the auditorium right in front of me. They had a two-month-old baby with them. While the mother went to the bathroom, the dad held the baby and walked up and down. The fear in his eyes was memorable. The baby was fine, but the couple left early. This was obviously their first. Nervous!
Paulette and I didn't take the highway back home, we drove along Ali'i Street along the shoreline. I knew we were going to pass Huggo's, which serves this delicious poke tower. Shivani had proposed going out her first or second night here. That's where we were going to go, but it got too late, and we winged it at home. I tried to call Shivani to see if this would be good with her, but there was no answer on the house phone despite me yelling out, "Shivani, answer the phone." Before we reached Huggo's, Yvette texted me to tell me she was out. I stopped off to order two poke towers to go. How bad could it be? When I got home, Shivani had just arrived herself. She had found out about a keiki's, children's, beach, and went there. On her way home, she had picked up Thai food. After I walked Elsa, we attacked the poke because it was fresh, and the Thai food would hold.
After dinner, I retired to the library to watch some TV and catalog books. I walked Elsa before going to bed, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and went to bed. Good night, Elsa, Goodnight, Mike.
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Musings: I’m putting this separately so those who are not interested can choose not to read it.
Yvette recommended the book, "happiness is an inside job." I was familiar with most of the concepts and didn't find the writing a particular delight but read on. There might always be a nugget tucked away in the book that triggers a new thought or realization or confirmation.
Almost at the end of the book, I found a confirmation of some of my thinking.
"Any challenge, even a small one, is a potential cause of confusion."
This is the language I use; I call our response to any new or unexpected situation' confusion.' That means all learning situations cause some confusion. Now, this confusion can be described neurologically. It means our wheels start grinding when it a small challenge to our current thinking about ourselves or the world around us. (The exact neurological description is probably something closer to blood starts flowing to areas of our brain that might hold some related information on the topic at hand.) If it is a big challenge, we talk about a flood of information, making our heads spin. There is no upbeat term, that I know of, for the initial confusion effect of something new.
People who are good learners, love this feeling; some stimulation set the gears into motion. They think it is fun. I'm that way in certain circumstances and not in others. I think we all have areas where 'confusion' is comfortable for us and where it is not. I think we can measure a person's expertise in a field by the degree of confusion they can tolerate. The better they are at a skill, whether that skill is cooking, language learning, or personal transformation, the more confusion they can tolerate. The skilled learner sees the state of unknowing as an opportunity to learn something new. It's exciting. They trust their ability to come out the other end in better shape than they entered the state of confusion.
Many years ago, at the end of a 10-day silent meditation retreat, I found myself conversing with two other women who were psychologists. One woman said, "Don't you just hate it when your client doesn't take your suggestion." The other woman and I simultaneously said, "No, it's an opportunity to develop something new."
I work with children who have trouble learning. They dread confusion, the very thing they need to tolerate to learn successfully. I approach this problem directly. I ask them how they feel about confusion or uncertainty in learning. Now, there can be many reasons to want to avoid this experience. For some, it is that they didn't learn quite as quickly as their classmates. For others, their minds are overwhelmed with confusion before they even came to school because of their life circumstances. Survival comes first; school learning comes second. With some, I can help them to realize that they are physically surviving in their chaotic home lives and will survive until they get out on their own. However, for some children, this is not a given. They have parents who regularly physically attack them or live in neighborhoods where they have seen their peers randomly killed. Preoccupations like that keep the mind whirling around, making learning simple things impossible.
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