Thursday, June 18, 2020

    I heard the water running hard when I went to bed last night. It sounded like a good-sized leak. Our water supply pipes run above ground. We don't have to bury those lines; it never freezes. Burying them requires a lot of work; it's all solid rock. Putting anything underground is a major deal.  I texted Yvette and Josh so they could start looking for it when they got up. I also texted B. to let him know. Next thing, my phone rang. It was B., and he was on his way up to deal with the problem. I never meant to wake him up. I figured he would sleep through the texting as I would have. But it woke him. 

    He appeared outside my bedroom door in my backyard with a miner's flashlight attached to his head. There are two levers to turn off the water going down to Yvette, Josh's, and B.'s areas.  He turned them off. We talked about turning the water back on at 5 am when Josh took his morning shower. How do I know? Remember, I can hear the water running when it's in use. I know the way the toilet sounds versus a shower. He takes a twenty-minute shower every work morning. 

    The plan was for B. to come back up around 5 am.  I thought the levers might be difficult for me to reach. I woke up before 5 and decided I had to try. I found they were easy to reach and easy to turn. I texted B., telling him I had taken care of it, and he was to go back to sleep. Later in the day, Yvette texted me to say the 'leak' had been a running toilet and no more. Ah! That was an easy fix. 

    I left Elsa home again as I walked, allowing her to rest her leg. I only did the street I live on, walking up and down several times. My hip and the surrounding muscles were tweaking.  Again, is this discomfort part of the healing process, or is this the end of the road?  I wasn't able to do much in Yvette's driveway yoga class.  I spent most of the time relaxing the muscles in my pelvis and legs while sitting in a chair in the driveway. The rest of the participants followed Yvette's directions.

    After the class, I had a chance to do a healing session with a client, working on body tension. Some of it was straight healing, and much was the bodywork I developed, which I call MicroMoves. This uses very slow movements of the fingers and toes, moving up as far as the wrists and the ankles. It has a surprisingly relaxing effect.  

    Before the Virus shut down, I had a cranial sacral treatment from someone at the Hawaiian Physical Therapy group. I have had such treatment before, but this was completely different. The therapist put one hand on my sacrum and another on the back of my head, sending energy. This practitioner put one hand on my spine and then made small moves on the front of my body. It had a fantastic effect and reminded me of the work I do with MicroMoves. 

    Shortly after that, I had an appointment with D.   He got all three multiplication facts we had been working on wrong on the first try. On the second attempt, he got two correct, 6x7 and 4x9, the two that could not be easily figured out. His brain did produce them. He forgot 3x3=.  I have no idea what happens in this boy's brain. 

    He got most of the before/after answers correct. Then he missed one and didn't know he had gotten it wrong. Repetition is the only solution I can think of to get this information into his brain. Repetition is the most common method for memorization. I work with students who need help with this skill. I have had success with the BrainManagementSkills, finding different pathways through the brain circuitry than they used. I've had only minimal luck with these methods with D. 

    I spoke to him directly about his ability to learn implicitly. I didn't use that word. I called it learning that slips in without thinking about it versus learning that has to be consciously thought about. Does he have an auditory processing problem? I asked him if, when his mother gives him a list of things to do, he can remember them all. He said yes. I have to check with his mom.

    We reread the same paragraph in the book we have been working on. This must be the fifth or sixth time we covered the same words. Good news! He got one of the words he had trouble with correctly, and he decoded the word fascinating, using the procedure I taught him and getting the word much more quickly. Bad news!  He still couldn't remember a conceptual point we had repeated every single time we did this paragraph.  The words are, "Socks was unaware of the hard feeling between brother and sister." Again, he read the words as "brothers and sisters" and said it referred to the other kittens.  Today, I read the preceding paragraph describing the 'bickering' between George and Debbie before he read the target paragraph.   We have been over this six times, and still, he said that the brother(s) and sister(s) are the other kittens.  He cannot remember what we discussed.  

    Then he read a sentence substituting a word that made no sense. I asked him if the sentence made sense to him as he read it. Sometimes, a substitute word will make sense to him even if I don't understand it.  However, what he said made no sense to him either. I slowly, painstakingly led him to substitute a word for his misread word that might make sense. When he did that, he came up with the correct word, combining it with decoding. 

    As we did the work described above, Zoom froze. He left the meeting. This is very interesting. He is resistant to doing anything that requires conscious processing. It's just too hard—it's hard for all of us. It is much more delightful when thoughts and learning flow through us, requiring no effort. I am going with the theory that he has problems because the conscious system is so underused. Another question is why people wind up with different mental patterns.

    In my experience, some of it is just an accident. Some stumble upon a functional path, and others don't. Another possibility is that a child imitates a parental brain pattern. That's sometimes confused with genetic inheritance just because it runs in families. I have found cases where a person becomes overly dependent on one way of using their brain and avoids using it differently. 

    After I finished the tutoring session, I went down for another nap. I am sleeping way more than I usually do.  I feel a little lost, dislocated, purposeless. I wish I had more tutoring students, particularly ones that are not too frustrating. I don't put down frustrating students. It is with them that I learn the most about how the human brain works and doesn't. 

    I have put out more information. Judy says I should advertise on Craig's List. I'll see.

    I felt lost; I couldn't do what I needed to do to find myself again.  I took another nap. As I lay there, I hung my left leg off the sofa.  Some people have told me to do this. It never felt right. I know why now.  The purpose of the position was supposed to be a psoas stretch.  My inner thigh muscle is so tight the stretch never reaches my psoas. I tried releasing my right psoas by hanging my right leg off the side of the bed. When I do that, it's a whole different story.

    When I got up, I treated Elsa's skin with infrared light. Her belly hair was too long. It took her to the yard with a scissor in hand and clipped away. At first, she was tense. Then, as I managed not to nick her with the scissors, she relaxed completely. She lay there, draped over my lap. 

    I fed her and went for a short walk. I'm not even up for that. I don't know what is wrong.  Yvette came up before I ate dinner.  We talked about the political situation since George Floyd's death. It's good that we're all talking about it. There has been a sea change.

    I've been aware of how blacks live in the country forever. But I had the advantage of forgetting about it until the following incident came up; now, it was in my face again. Now, no one can look away. It's the way it should be, but it is unpleasant.  This is the way many people have to live constantly. I do not believe I'm entitled to live blind to the pain of others. 

    Sandor called. I had texted him earlier to say my reduced oxygen count was caused by a problem with the device, not my health. He had a busy day and was exhausted. 

    I texted D.'s mother asking if we could postpone the session until 11 so I could do some shopping before I came home after my 8:30 am dental appointment. She texted me back that she was going to have to cancel anyway. She was going to let me know in the morning. I will have to ask her to let me know sooner. Usually, it doesn't make a difference, but for this upcoming appointment, it did.

    Thursday, June 18,2020

    

    I heard the water running hard when I went to bed last night. It sounded like a good-sized leak. Our water supply pipes run above ground. We don't have to bury those lines; it never freezes. Burying them requires a lot of work; it's all solid rock. Putting anything underground is a major deal.  I texted Yvette and Josh so they could start looking for it when they got up. I also texted B. to let him know. Next thing, my phone rang. It was B., and he was on his way up to deal with the problem. I never meant to wake him up. I figured he would sleep through the texting as I would have. But it woke him. 

    He appeared outside my bedroom door in my backyard with a miner's flashlight attached to his head. There are two levers to turn off the water going down to Yvette, Josh's, and B.'s areas.  He turned them off. We talked about turning the water back on at 5 am when Josh took his morning shower. How do I know? Remember, I can hear the water running when it's in use. I know the way the toilet sounds versus a shower. He takes a twenty-minute shower every work morning. 

    The plan was for B. to come back up around 5 am.  I thought the levers might be difficult for me to reach. I woke up before 5 and decided I had to try. I found they were easy to reach and easy to turn. I texted B., telling him I had taken care of it, and he was to go back to sleep. Later in the day, Yvette texted me to say the 'leak' had been a running toilet and no more. Ah! That was an easy fix. 

    I left Elsa home again as I walked, allowing her to rest her leg. I only did the street I live on, walking up and down several times. My hip and the surrounding muscles were tweaking.  Again, is this discomfort part of the healing process, or is this the end of the road?  I wasn't able to do much in Yvette's driveway yoga class.  I spent most of the time relaxing the muscles in my pelvis and legs while sitting in a chair in the driveway. The rest of the participants followed Yvette's directions.

    After the class, I had a chance to do a healing session with a client, working on body tension. Some of it was straight healing, and much was the bodywork I developed, which I call MicroMoves. This uses very slow movements of the fingers and toes, moving up as far as the wrists and the ankles. It has a surprisingly relaxing effect.  

    Before the Virus shut down, I had a cranial sacral treatment from someone at the Hawaiian Physical Therapy group. I have had such treatment before, but this was completely different. The therapist put one hand on my sacrum and another on the back of my head, sending energy. This practitioner put one hand on my spine and then made small moves on the front of my body. It had a fantastic effect and reminded me of the work I do with MicroMoves. 

    Shortly after that, I had an appointment with D.   He got all three multiplication facts we had been working on wrong on the first try. On the second attempt, he got two correct, 6x7 and 4x9, the two that could not be easily figured out. His brain did produce them. He forgot 3x3=.  I have no idea what happens in this boy's brain. 

    He got most of the before/after answers correct. Then he missed one and didn't know he had gotten it wrong. Repetition is the only solution I can think of to get this information into his brain. Repetition is the most common method for memorization. I work with students who need help with this skill. I have had success with the BrainManagementSkills, finding different pathways through the brain circuitry than they used. I've had only minimal luck with these methods with D. 

    I spoke to him directly about his ability to learn implicitly. I didn't use that word. I called it learning that slips in without thinking about it versus learning that has to be consciously thought about. Does he have an auditory processing problem? I asked him if, when his mother gives him a list of things to do, he can remember them all. He said yes. I have to check with his mom.

    We reread the same paragraph in the book we have been working on. This must be the fifth or sixth time we covered the same words. Good news! He got one of the words he had trouble with correctly, and he decoded the word fascinating, using the procedure I taught him and getting the word much more quickly. Bad news!  He still couldn't remember a conceptual point we had repeated every single time we did this paragraph.  The words are, "Socks was unaware of the hard feeling between brother and sister." Again, he read the words as "brothers and sisters" and said it referred to the other kittens.  Today, I read the preceding paragraph describing the 'bickering' between George and Debbie before he read the target paragraph.   We have been over this six times, and still, he said that the brother(s) and sister(s) are the other kittens.  He cannot remember what we discussed.  

    Then he read a sentence substituting a word that made no sense. I asked him if the sentence made sense to him as he read it. Sometimes, a substitute word will make sense to him even if I don't understand it.  However, what he said made no sense to him either. I slowly, painstakingly led him to substitute a word for his misread word that might make sense. When he did that, he came up with the correct word, combining it with decoding. 

    As we did the work described above, Zoom froze. He left the meeting. This is very interesting. He is resistant to doing anything that requires conscious processing. It's just too hard—it's hard for all of us. It is much more delightful when thoughts and learning flow through us, requiring no effort. I am going with the theory that he has problems because the conscious system is so underused. Another question is why people wind up with different mental patterns.

    In my experience, some of it is just an accident. Some stumble upon a functional path, and others don't. Another possibility is that a child imitates a parental brain pattern. That's sometimes confused with genetic inheritance just because it runs in families. I have found cases where a person becomes overly dependent on one way of using their brain and avoids using it differently. 

    After I finished the tutoring session, I went down for another nap. I am sleeping way more than I usually do.  I feel a little lost, dislocated, purposeless. I wish I had more tutoring students, particularly ones that are not too frustrating. I don't put down frustrating students. It is with them that I learn the most about how the human brain works and doesn't. 

    I have put out more information. Judy says I should advertise on Craig's List. I'll see.

    I felt lost; I couldn't do what I needed to do to find myself again.  I took another nap. As I lay there, I hung my left leg off the sofa.  Some people have told me to do this. It never felt right. I know why now.  The purpose of the position was supposed to be a psoas stretch.  My inner thigh muscle is so tight the stretch never reaches my psoas. I tried releasing my right psoas by hanging my right leg off the side of the bed. When I do that, it's a whole different story.

    When I got up, I treated Elsa's skin with infrared light. Her belly hair was too long. It took her to the yard with a scissor in hand and clipped away. At first, she was tense. Then, as I managed not to nick her with the scissors, she relaxed completely. She lay there, draped over my lap. 

    I fed her and went for a short walk. I'm not even up for that. I don't know what is wrong.  Yvette came up before I ate dinner.  We talked about the political situation since George Floyd's death. It's good that we're all talking about it. There has been a sea change.

    I've been aware of how blacks live in the country forever. But I had the advantage of forgetting about it until the following incident came up; now, it was in my face again. Now, no one can look away. It's the way it should be, but it is unpleasant.  This is the way many people have to live constantly. I do not believe I'm entitled to live blind to the pain of others. 

    Sandor called. I had texted him earlier to say my reduced oxygen count was caused by a problem with the device, not my health. He had a busy day and was exhausted. 

    I texted D.'s mother asking if we could postpone the session until 11 so I could do some shopping before I came home after my 8:30 am dental appointment. She texted me back that she was going to have to cancel anyway. She was going to let me know in the morning. I will have to ask her to let me know sooner. Usually, it doesn't make a difference, but for this upcoming appointment, it did.

    

Wednesday, June 17, 2020

    I didn't take Elsa on a walk this morning because she was limping. Something was wrong with her left front leg. I treated it with infrared light. I'll take her to the vet if it's not okay by Thursday. I am concerned because I think she injured it when jumping off the bed. She has stairs at the foot of the bed, which she uses to get up, but she jumps down. They may be too steep for her to climb down—poor baby. Two people asked where she was on my walk.

    While on my walk, I called Damon and Shivani to ask if they had gotten my email about Phil Rosenthal possibly being a member of Mike's paternal family. I couldn't get either one of them. While eating my breakfast, I called Shivani again. Yes, she got my email, and she knew about the show. She had heard it was relaxing. She also told me that the family name isn't Rosenthal but Rosenblatt. When I checked the genealogical information in the hardbound book Mike's sister put together, it said  Rosenblatt. I'm so disappointed. 

    Shivani said all Ashkenazi Jews are related to each other. So, the resemblances between Mike and Phil become irrelevant. There had to be a great deal of inbreeding because it was a closed community for generations. She also told me that her mother had been in touch with someone from that side of the family. They had played together as children.

    I got an email from a friend in England. She mentioned my realization that I'm on a moving body, earth, and the sunset occurs because of that rotation. Of course, I knew that, but I didn't know that. I had another experience like that when I hit menopause.

    I discovered that I was going to die. I know, I know. I knew it, but I didn't 'know' it. By the time I was fifteen, I had four male relatives die, one a year, the last being my father. Also, a cousin through marriage had visited a very distant cousin of mine in the hospital as she was dying of cancer. The dying woman said, "I can't die. I've never lived." Ow! I swore then and there I would live my life preparing to die at any moment so I would not have to cry, 'I've never lived." That frame of mind had a significant impact on my life. As wise as I might have been about the understanding that I could die at any moment, it never occurred to me that death was inevitable at the 'knowing' level. 

    When I hit menopause, I experienced this visualization. I made a sharp left turn, and at the end of that road was... maybe a cliff, but not another turn. That's when I realized that dying was not a possibility but a certainty. I thought of myself as a very aware person. I had to reexamine that concept after I discovered my blindness. It was very funny.  

    I looked for the Car Title again yesterday. I looked at all the flat surfaces in the house. I had already gone through the garbage, and now I looked through piles of discarded paper and under the sofa. Still no title. I sat down today to figure out how to get another copy from Ohio. I got clear information from the DMV there and had the application on my screen. I walked to the library to print it out, and there it was, the Title,  sitting on top of a box on the desk. Now, I looked at the office repeatedly. Since I was looking for the title, I would have seen it, right?

    I had already been suspecting that Mike had something to do with this. I'm not sure what he has been trying to tell me: don't sell the Prius? Do what I can to return the car I already bought? I don't know. Is he only responding to my stress in dealing with the situation, knowing I wouldn't be dealing with it if HE WERE HERE? Every once in a while, I hear, "Who gave you permission to die?" That was a wisecrack comment we'd make to each other when bad things happened. Like, "Who gave you permission to be sick?" Problem: I am the one who gave him permission to die. Given the shape he was in, his permission alone wouldn't have cut it. The hospital had to have my permission, and I was the only one with the power to do it. And I did it. I don't regret the decision for a minute. He wasn't going to survive on his own. He would have to be kept alive by extreme measures for the rest of his life. He must have felt terrible. He wanted to go once he got some assurance that I would be okay. He had no other reason to stay alive. I am only grateful that he is dead and not facing what life is today. He would have been worried sick about me and the burdens I had to carry. I would have had to carry his guilt about being a burden. Sweetheart, I am so glad you're dead. I love you to bits and pieces, pieces and bits. I regret nothing. What a gift you were for me from day one to now. I love you; I love you; I love you. 

    I took a nap rather than do some more work on writing more about my teaching methods.

    I called Progressive's claims adjuster earlier in the day. She called me back in good time. Okay. This has been quite a ride. When my rates would be lowered because I hadn't had an accident in a while, I discovered that the monthly cost for the Ford was much higher than the monthly charge for the Prius and my brand-new car. That was weird.

    My conversation with Progressive had a Kafkaesque tone. They told me that there was no way to check why there was this difference in the rates; it just was. VIN numbers are put in and out pops your insurance rate. No explanation. Adam had been through that when he went on my insurance. There was a dramatic leap in the bill. Progressive said that he had been in an accident, which was his fault. Yikes! Yes, he was in an accident, but he was sitting there legally parked with his motor turned off when someone hit him. How could this be his fault? 

    This is what happened: Beware. There is a company independent of the insurance companies that records all accidents and makes that information available. All accidents are reported immediately, assuming it is the fault of everyone involved. Corrections are made only sometime later. Adam came on my insurance in that interim period. He got the police report proving that he wasn't responsible. The claims adjuster testified that he wasn't accountable. Sorry, said Progressive, we can't rerun the number. Adam mentioned that his father was a personal injury lawyer. Guess what? They changed it. I thought I might be caught in a similar situation.

    There was an accident listed on 11/27/19 and one for 2018. I had an accident on 11/27/19. I checked my update entry, and it was confirmed. That was the day I had rear-ended a truck with an illegal hitch, denting my license plate and front bumper in an interesting way. However, the only thing we exchanged was a hug. How did Progressive get that information? And how did it wind up credited to Mike's Ford instead of my Prius?  

    I had a full-blown paranoid vision. Someone recognized my car, a grey Prius with large white flower appliques around it.    Mike occasionally drove my car, and Mike was a well-known presence in the community as a deacon in the Catholic Church and president of the board of Habitat for Humanity. I had some crazy vision that someone reported an accident in his name to get their car fixed. How would they have obtained the information? They had a relative at the DMV who helped them get the VIN number, etc.

    Progressive had given me the claim number, which I left on the voicemail for the adjuster. Okay, the accident on 11/27/19 was when Shivani had a breakdown and called the wrong Progressive number for roadside assistance. I vaguely remember that. The one in 2018 involved Mike's accident in Maui with a rented car. I don't remember him mentioning it to me. I think he may have, but I wouldn't have made much of it. So, I dropped it from my list of concerns. Then I started thinking about the time we were on Maui together for a Deacon and Wives retreat. That was the trip where he dropped his pants in the Honolulu airport and mooned everyone. (I'll explain that below.) Again, I don't remember having an accident, but Mike helped me respond calmly to such events. It's up there with not eating fruit before it goes bad. Who remembers that?

    The only problem is that we always got insurance coverage when renting a car. So why is this claim on our insurance? I have to follow up on this.

    Okay, the mooning story. Mike was casually dressed, wearing board shorts without underwear and a T-shirt. He was carrying a backpack. As we walked through the Honolulu airport, he moved to put his backpack on his back. That thinned his midsection as he raised his arms, and down came his pants. I thought it was funny.

    Another couple, Italian tourists, was also checking in when we checked into our motel. The guy said, "Aren't you the guy who dropped his pants in the airport?" Go figure.    

    I had a 1:30 pm appointment at Kaiser for a vital signs check and some lab work. I got a pulse oximeter on the recommendation of my family. My results were shocking, a high of 94 and a low of 89. I called my doctor. She recommended that I get my pulse oximeter and myself checked. They are often inaccurate. Mine was off by three points, so my 93 was 96, and my 94 was 97. Now that's much better. I went ahead and got the blood work done, too, although it was unnecessary. My low oxygen saturation problem was solved. 

    After I was through at Kaiser, I headed to town to do some chores. First, I checked Memory Lane's hours of operation. Then, I had Scott help me load the car with donations. There were two large signs in front of the shop: Shopping only M, W, F from 8:30 to 4:40; donations only T, Th from 8:30 to 1:30. I'll drop off the boxes on Tuesday.

    Then I went to Kia to get a tour of all the car's features. The woman who does this wasn't in. One salesman set up my Bluetooth and Siri. I had questions. One was how do I get to the starter battery in the trunk if the battery is dead. They told me to call Kia service, and someone would come out and tow the car. Excuse me, I'm touring with house guests. I didn't want my car towed. I just wanted my battery charged. The remote key doesn't work if the battery is dead. I learned that the other day. One of the fellows opened the hood and saw a way to charge the car in the front that would give enough power to allow the key to work. I had other questions about how to tell how much power I had in the EV battery. There are only two batteries. The starter battery and the hybrid. Then how does the electric battery work without gas? The relationship between these two batteries was still unclear. It sounds like the gas motor kicks in when the EV battery/motor/whatever has lost half its charge. I need more information—nothing like closing the barn door after the horse has run out. 

    Then I went to Safeway. I needed small quantities of things. I got three apples, a bottle of salad dressing, chicken bouillon cubes, rice pudding, tapioca desserts, and some impulse buys. I bought a chicken noodle soup, a sourdough baguette, three Amy's burritos, and some Hersey Milk chocolate bars with almonds on sale. Emptying the cart, I realized I hadn't paid for the chicken soup. I will go back and pay for it some other time. The fellow who took the cart from me spotted it and said, "You forgot your soup." They will think I'm weird when I go to pay for it, but what else is new.

    I headed to Costco for my final stop. I couldn't find my mask in the car. I assumed I must have lost it in the Safeway parking lot. I had to head home. When I unpacked the car, I found the mask lying on the floor in the back of the car. I must have flipped it off and flung it back there. 

    I plugged in the car. It was four o'clock, which was not an ideal time to do it. After four pm, we're on Hawaiian Electric. Before that, we're on solar. It doesn't take long to charge. It's not a huge battery. It's supposed to run for 26 miles, enough for me to get to town and back exclusively on electricity. I am hoping I never have to buy gas. 

    Once I got home, it poured. It stopped in time for our before-dinner walk, but Elsa didn't want to go. She hates getting her feet wet. She did go out in the backyard once today, but I couldn't find any signs of indoor activity.  

    I tried to teach Elsa to get off the bed by going down the steps Mike and I provided. She uses it to get up on the bed but just jumps off. That's probably how she injured her leg, which looks much better this evening. I did treat it with the infrared lamp this morning. I don't know if it helped. I also had Yvette, who, as a massage therapist and used to detecting injured muscles and tendons, check her. She couldn't find anything. I'm still going to let her rest until the weekend just to be on the safe side—no long walks for her. 

 ____-____-____

Musings:

 

    I've been listening to TED talks as I walk. There's lots on neuroscience, which I love. I learned new ways to think about the brain, and with that information, I developed new ideas for teaching students how to modify their brains. 

    Today, I heard a talk by Uri Hasson, Your Brain on Communication. He showed how our brains synchronize when we all hear the same message. Some parts of the brain synchronize in response to sounds; others synchronize when we hear a story. Our brains respond in similar ways to others when we all hear the same message. 

    He also says we crave this synchronization. He showed a video of his wife and young son synchronizing their voices, mainly his wife mimicking his son. He said in doing this, they were synchronizing their brains.

    This explains a lot of things. First, this explains how we learn a language. That need for synchronization drives us to model our brains on those around us. We want to be 'in tune' with others, literally. We imitate the sounds made by those around us to be in sync with them.

    This also suggests a theory I have been working with. We make copies of the brains of those around us. If people are 'intelligent' and use their brains for abstract thinking, our brains learn to be good at that skill. I also suspect that this is an explanation for what is considered genetically acquired learning disabilities. We imitate the brain patterns of those around us, both the best and worst of their brain patterns. 

    My work with the BrainManagementSkills is based on the idea that the brain is a tool that can be modified by the mind. Brain plasticity is a commonly accepted concept today, but it works mostly through exercises that strive to use the brain differently. My approach is to figure out what part of the brain they're using for a particular activity and tell them to use a different part or help them remedy a problem with the correct part of the brain that is causing interference. Yep, it works. I have resolved a large number of problems using this approach. It can be as easy as a fifteen-minute fix or take repeated efforts, depending on the problem and the person. Unfortunately, some people are very resistant to the skills required to make these changes: lack of self-awareness and a willingness to change. I can teach the first, but the second is the tough one. If someone doesn't want to change, good luck. Besides conscious and unconscious resistance, there are difficulties with parts of the brain. Sometimes, the switch is easy, sometimes it takes work, and sometimes there are small changes, and sometimes, I can't figure out how to solve the problem for love or money.

Wednesday, June 17, 2020

   

    I didn't take Elsa on a walk this morning because she was limping. Something was wrong with her left front leg. I treated it with infrared light. I'll take her to the vet if it's not okay by Thursday. I am concerned because I think she injured it when jumping off the bed. She has stairs at the foot of the bed, which she uses to get up, but she jumps down. They may be too steep for her to climb down—poor baby. Two people asked where she was on my walk.

    While on my walk, I called Damon and Shivani to ask if they had gotten my email about Phil Rosenthal possibly being a member of Mike's paternal family. I couldn't get either one of them. While eating my breakfast, I called Shivani again. Yes, she got my email, and she knew about the show. She had heard it was relaxing. She also told me that the family name isn't Rosenthal but Rosenblatt. When I checked the genealogical information in the hardbound book Mike's sister put together, it said  Rosenblatt. I'm so disappointed. 

    Shivani said all Ashkenazi Jews are related to each other. So, the resemblances between Mike and Phil become irrelevant. There had to be a great deal of inbreeding because it was a closed community for generations. She also told me that her mother had been in touch with someone from that side of the family. They had played together as children.

    I got an email from a friend in England. She mentioned my realization that I'm on a moving body, earth, and the sunset occurs because of that rotation. Of course, I knew that, but I didn't know that. I had another experience like that when I hit menopause.

    I discovered that I was going to die. I know, I know. I knew it, but I didn't 'know' it. By the time I was fifteen, I had four male relatives die, one a year, the last being my father. Also, a cousin through marriage had visited a very distant cousin of mine in the hospital as she was dying of cancer. The dying woman said, "I can't die. I've never lived." Ow! I swore then and there I would live my life preparing to die at any moment so I would not have to cry, 'I've never lived." That frame of mind had a significant impact on my life. As wise as I might have been about the understanding that I could die at any moment, it never occurred to me that death was inevitable at the 'knowing' level. 

    When I hit menopause, I experienced this visualization. I made a sharp left turn, and at the end of that road was... maybe a cliff, but not another turn. That's when I realized that dying was not a possibility but a certainty. I thought of myself as a very aware person. I had to reexamine that concept after I discovered my blindness. It was very funny.  

    I looked for the Car Title again yesterday. I looked at all the flat surfaces in the house. I had already gone through the garbage, and now I looked through piles of discarded paper and under the sofa. Still no title. I sat down today to figure out how to get another copy from Ohio. I got clear information from the DMV there and had the application on my screen. I walked to the library to print it out, and there it was, the Title,  sitting on top of a box on the desk. Now, I looked at the office repeatedly. Since I was looking for the title, I would have seen it, right?

    I had already been suspecting that Mike had something to do with this. I'm not sure what he has been trying to tell me: don't sell the Prius? Do what I can to return the car I already bought? I don't know. Is he only responding to my stress in dealing with the situation, knowing I wouldn't be dealing with it if HE WERE HERE? Every once in a while, I hear, "Who gave you permission to die?" That was a wisecrack comment we'd make to each other when bad things happened. Like, "Who gave you permission to be sick?" Problem: I am the one who gave him permission to die. Given the shape he was in, his permission alone wouldn't have cut it. The hospital had to have my permission, and I was the only one with the power to do it. And I did it. I don't regret the decision for a minute. He wasn't going to survive on his own. He would have to be kept alive by extreme measures for the rest of his life. He must have felt terrible. He wanted to go once he got some assurance that I would be okay. He had no other reason to stay alive. I am only grateful that he is dead and not facing what life is today. He would have been worried sick about me and the burdens I had to carry. I would have had to carry his guilt about being a burden. Sweetheart, I am so glad you're dead. I love you to bits and pieces, pieces and bits. I regret nothing. What a gift you were for me from day one to now. I love you; I love you; I love you. 

    I took a nap rather than do some more work on writing more about my teaching methods.

    I called Progressive's claims adjuster earlier in the day. She called me back in good time. Okay. This has been quite a ride. When my rates would be lowered because I hadn't had an accident in a while, I discovered that the monthly cost for the Ford was much higher than the monthly charge for the Prius and my brand-new car. That was weird.

    My conversation with Progressive had a Kafkaesque tone. They told me that there was no way to check why there was this difference in the rates; it just was. VIN numbers are put in and out pops your insurance rate. No explanation. Adam had been through that when he went on my insurance. There was a dramatic leap in the bill. Progressive said that he had been in an accident, which was his fault. Yikes! Yes, he was in an accident, but he was sitting there legally parked with his motor turned off when someone hit him. How could this be his fault? 

    This is what happened: Beware. There is a company independent of the insurance companies that records all accidents and makes that information available. All accidents are reported immediately, assuming it is the fault of everyone involved. Corrections are made only sometime later. Adam came on my insurance in that interim period. He got the police report proving that he wasn't responsible. The claims adjuster testified that he wasn't accountable. Sorry, said Progressive, we can't rerun the number. Adam mentioned that his father was a personal injury lawyer. Guess what? They changed it. I thought I might be caught in a similar situation.

    There was an accident listed on 11/27/19 and one for 2018. I had an accident on 11/27/19. I checked my update entry, and it was confirmed. That was the day I had rear-ended a truck with an illegal hitch, denting my license plate and front bumper in an interesting way. However, the only thing we exchanged was a hug. How did Progressive get that information? And how did it wind up credited to Mike's Ford instead of my Prius?  

    I had a full-blown paranoid vision. Someone recognized my car, a grey Prius with large white flower appliques around it.    Mike occasionally drove my car, and Mike was a well-known presence in the community as a deacon in the Catholic Church and president of the board of Habitat for Humanity. I had some crazy vision that someone reported an accident in his name to get their car fixed. How would they have obtained the information? They had a relative at the DMV who helped them get the VIN number, etc.

    Progressive had given me the claim number, which I left on the voicemail for the adjuster. Okay, the accident on 11/27/19 was when Shivani had a breakdown and called the wrong Progressive number for roadside assistance. I vaguely remember that. The one in 2018 involved Mike's accident in Maui with a rented car. I don't remember him mentioning it to me. I think he may have, but I wouldn't have made much of it. So, I dropped it from my list of concerns. Then I started thinking about the time we were on Maui together for a Deacon and Wives retreat. That was the trip where he dropped his pants in the Honolulu airport and mooned everyone. (I'll explain that below.) Again, I don't remember having an accident, but Mike helped me respond calmly to such events. It's up there with not eating fruit before it goes bad. Who remembers that?

    The only problem is that we always got insurance coverage when renting a car. So why is this claim on our insurance? I have to follow up on this.

    Okay, the mooning story. Mike was casually dressed, wearing board shorts without underwear and a T-shirt. He was carrying a backpack. As we walked through the Honolulu airport, he moved to put his backpack on his back. That thinned his midsection as he raised his arms, and down came his pants. I thought it was funny.

    Another couple, Italian tourists, was also checking in when we checked into our motel. The guy said, "Aren't you the guy who dropped his pants in the airport?" Go figure.    

    I had a 1:30 pm appointment at Kaiser for a vital signs check and some lab work. I got a pulse oximeter on the recommendation of my family. My results were shocking, a high of 94 and a low of 89. I called my doctor. She recommended that I get my pulse oximeter and myself checked. They are often inaccurate. Mine was off by three points, so my 93 was 96, and my 94 was 97. Now that's much better. I went ahead and got the blood work done, too, although it was unnecessary. My low oxygen saturation problem was solved. 

    After I was through at Kaiser, I headed to town to do some chores. First, I checked Memory Lane's hours of operation. Then, I had Scott help me load the car with donations. There were two large signs in front of the shop: Shopping only M, W, F from 8:30 to 4:40; donations only T, Th from 8:30 to 1:30. I'll drop off the boxes on Tuesday.

    Then I went to Kia to get a tour of all the car's features. The woman who does this wasn't in. One salesman set up my Bluetooth and Siri. I had questions. One was how do I get to the starter battery in the trunk if the battery is dead. They told me to call Kia service, and someone would come out and tow the car. Excuse me, I'm touring with house guests. I didn't want my car towed. I just wanted my battery charged. The remote key doesn't work if the battery is dead. I learned that the other day. One of the fellows opened the hood and saw a way to charge the car in the front that would give enough power to allow the key to work. I had other questions about how to tell how much power I had in the EV battery. There are only two batteries. The starter battery and the hybrid. Then how does the electric battery work without gas? The relationship between these two batteries was still unclear. It sounds like the gas motor kicks in when the EV battery/motor/whatever has lost half its charge. I need more information—nothing like closing the barn door after the horse has run out. 

    Then I went to Safeway. I needed small quantities of things. I got three apples, a bottle of salad dressing, chicken bouillon cubes, rice pudding, tapioca desserts, and some impulse buys. I bought a chicken noodle soup, a sourdough baguette, three Amy's burritos, and some Hersey Milk chocolate bars with almonds on sale. Emptying the cart, I realized I hadn't paid for the chicken soup. I will go back and pay for it some other time. The fellow who took the cart from me spotted it and said, "You forgot your soup." They will think I'm weird when I go to pay for it, but what else is new.

    I headed to Costco for my final stop. I couldn't find my mask in the car. I assumed I must have lost it in the Safeway parking lot. I had to head home. When I unpacked the car, I found the mask lying on the floor in the back of the car. I must have flipped it off and flung it back there. 

    I plugged in the car. It was four o'clock, which was not an ideal time to do it. After four pm, we're on Hawaiian Electric. Before that, we're on solar. It doesn't take long to charge. It's not a huge battery. It's supposed to run for 26 miles, enough for me to get to town and back exclusively on electricity. I am hoping I never have to buy gas. 

    Once I got home, it poured. It stopped in time for our before-dinner walk, but Elsa didn't want to go. She hates getting her feet wet. She did go out in the backyard once today, but I couldn't find any signs of indoor activity.  

    I tried to teach Elsa to get off the bed by going down the steps Mike and I provided. She uses it to get up on the bed but just jumps off. That's probably how she injured her leg, which looks much better this evening. I did treat it with the infrared lamp this morning. I don't know if it helped. I also had Yvette, who, as a massage therapist and used to detecting injured muscles and tendons, check her. She couldn't find anything. I'm still going to let her rest until the weekend just to be on the safe side—no long walks for her. 

 ____-____-____

Musings:

 

    I've been listening to TED talks as I walk. There's lots on neuroscience, which I love. I learned new ways to think about the brain, and with that information, I developed new ideas for teaching students how to modify their brains. 

    Today, I heard a talk by Uri Hasson, Your Brain on Communication. He showed how our brains synchronize when we all hear the same message. Some parts of the brain synchronize in response to sounds; others synchronize when we hear a story. Our brains respond in similar ways to others when we all hear the same message. 

    He also says we crave this synchronization. He showed a video of his wife and young son synchronizing their voices, mainly his wife mimicking his son. He said in doing this, they were synchronizing their brains.

    This explains a lot of things. First, this explains how we learn a language. That need for synchronization drives us to model our brains on those around us. We want to be 'in tune' with others, literally. We imitate the sounds made by those around us to be in sync with them.

    This also suggests a theory I have been working with. We make copies of the brains of those around us. If people are 'intelligent' and use their brains for abstract thinking, our brains learn to be good at that skill. I also suspect that this is an explanation for what is considered genetically acquired learning disabilities. We imitate the brain patterns of those around us, both the best and worst of their brain patterns. 

    My work with the BrainManagementSkills is based on the idea that the brain is a tool that can be modified by the mind. Brain plasticity is a commonly accepted concept today, but it works mostly through exercises that strive to use the brain differently. My approach is to figure out what part of the brain they're using for a particular activity and tell them to use a different part or help them remedy a problem with the correct part of the brain that is causing interference. Yep, it works. I have resolved a large number of problems using this approach. It can be as easy as a fifteen-minute fix or take repeated efforts, depending on the problem and the person. Unfortunately, some people are very resistant to the skills required to make these changes: lack of self-awareness and a willingness to change. I can teach the first, but the second is the tough one. If someone doesn't want to change, good luck. Besides conscious and unconscious resistance, there are difficulties with parts of the brain. Sometimes, the switch is easy, sometimes it takes work, and sometimes there are small changes, and sometimes, I can't figure out how to solve the problem for love or money.

Tuesday, June 16, 2020

    By eight a.m., I had walked 2.4 miles and taken over 6,000 steps, talked to Dorothy, done an hour of yoga, and spoken to Kia when they called to make arrangements to drop off my new car and pick up the loaner. 

    As I walked, I came up with an idea about what happened to the Prius' missing Title. Last Thursday, I found it exactly where I thought it would be. I set it aside for easier access, and that's the last time I saw it. I had been driving myself crazy looking for it. Yesterday, I found a copy of Mike's death certificate on the eating counter. As I walked, I remembered that and wondered what it was doing there. Oh, yeah. I remember looking for it to have it with the Title. I am hoping that the wind blew it somewhere. The day will be devoted to tracking that down.

    Today, there were nine students in Yvette's driveway yoga class, plus four dogs. So far, that's the largest group. There were two new students today, and most old ones, too. Kia called me in the middle of the class, telling me they would drive my car up to the house to exchange it for the loaner. I said yes and then thought, I must tell them they can only get in once the yoga class ends. First, there are students all over the driveway, and second, there are four unrestrained dogs we don't want on the street. I ducked into the house so I didn't disturb my fellow yogis, and I tried to call them back to tell them not to come until after 8 am, but the switchboard was still closed.  

    Elsa had ducked in with me. I assumed she had had enough of the driveway and didn't think to let her out when I went back out. During the final poses, I heard this whining. At first, I assumed it was Liner, one of Yvette's dogs, but it sounded like it was coming from behind me. When I looked, Liner was by Yvette in the other direction. Then I assumed it was stomach sounds from one of the yogis. When the class ended, it became clear that Elsa was whining at the side door. I had never heard that sound from her before. When the door was opened, she ran out to join the crew as we cleaned up.

    As we were lying there doing the savasana at the end of the class, I worried about the Kia serviceman arriving, opening the gate, and having the dogs run into the street. Scott was working near it, and I was prepared to yell for him to stop them. When the class was over, it came out that the Kia guy was right at the gate, and Scott knew about it. I have to find out how he managed to stop the guy from opening the gate and coming in, for that matter, how he even knew he was there. While people were clearing up, I went out to the street to give the driver the key to the loaner and a signed withdrawal slip for $3500 that I found in the car. I ripped it in half in front of him, figuring that the guy who wrote it initially could fill out another one.  

    After yoga, I meditated for half an hour. Then, I called Kia to make sure the withdrawal slip had been reunited with its owner. The person I spoke to in the service department had no idea what I was talking about. I'm glad I followed up. It's not that the slip can be used to withdraw money, but I imagine that the person who wrote it would like to know where it is. The guy I gave it to would have thought nothing of throwing it out because it was no longer usable. He was too young to have empathy for the owner of that slip. I hope it works out.

    Last night, one of my teeth started hurting. Biting on it hurt, but I don't feel any swelling around the tooth. I am hoping it is a result of a sinus infection. 

    Around 11:30, I realized that I had an appointment at 9:30 to have my vital signs checked and get some blood work done. With encouragement from my family, I ordered a plus-ox meter. My readings were surprisingly low. I had a telephone consultation with my primary; she told me to come in. She told me to bring the meter with me because it may be wrong. I called to make another appointment.

    I feel pretty lost today. When I brought up my daily log, I felt somewhat better. That was something that I do regularly and actually got done. House cleaning isn't doing it for me. I would like to get some more students to work with. Passing the word around doesn't seem to be helping. I will call the school tomorrow and let them know I'm available. I am reluctant to just post something on Craig's List because who knows what I'll be dealing with. When I had a private practice in Princeton, I placed ads in the paper and had some success. Now, I wouldn't have people coming to my house. I will only work remotely because I don't want to be exposed to the virus. Kids can be carriers even if they don't suffer from it.

    I got around to vacuuming the trunk section of the Prius. Then I folded up a blanket I washed last week that I just threw onto a chair in the bedroom. Once it was folded, I put it away with all the other blankets I had in storage. I must have at least five blankets for the five guests I don't have. I also have six pillows stored under my bed and two more stored in the guest room closet that Damon bought. When he came last time, he ordered new pillows and a blanket for his bed. I don't think he would have done that if Mike were still alive. It's a compliment to me that he felt he could.

    Thoughts on D. for the day: His inability to remember words he has seen several times and his multiplication facts showed me that he had problems using his left-brain skills. In our last two sessions, he demonstrated difficulty remembering details in the story we had covered twice before. I mean that we reread the same paragraph three times, with me giving corrections twice, and still, he needed help figuring out what the words meant or remembering what I told him. Hmm! He also needs help with all explicit learning. He does learn implicitly because he has made considerable progress. 

    You ask what the difference between implicit and explicit learning is. The best example I can think of is a case study of this poor guy, H.M., who suffered from anterograde amnesia. He had a conscious recollection of things that happened to him before he had surgery to relieve severe seizures but had no conscious recollection of anything that happened to him afterward. A doctor would walk into the room and talk with him. If the doctor left the room and returned in five minutes, HM would have no recollection of having ever met him. They did a little experiment. One doctor pricked HM with a pin when he shook his hand, causing discomfort. When that doctor walked into the room after an absence, HM responded defensively. That recall is implicit memory. HM had had his hippocampal formation removed. He could not get information from his working memory, which he used at the moment, into his long-term memory.   

    D. has undoubtedly made progress in his learning, but something is missing in his processing. I have dealt with students who are consciously unwilling to change. D. has elements like this. In his case, I don't suspect conscious resistance; he avoids using his brain in specific ways because he has learned to associate it with something unpleasant and possibly not good for him. I was able to figure out what his resistance was to using the left brain. This does not mean he automatically became skilled. He had avoided developing this side of his brain for nine years. He has some catching up to do. As I worked with him, I focused on creating the necessary pathways in his brain instead of memorizing several multiplication facts. 

    OMG! I found Mike's long-lost paternal family. When Mike's father died in 1962, his mother cut off all contact with that side of the family. Mike said they weren't crazy about her to start out with. I wouldn't want to hang with people who didn't like me either. However, Mike's father had a huge family. He was the youngest of 14 children from two mothers. Phil of the Somebody Feed Phil Show may well be a relative.

    B. told me to watch the show, saying how much Phil reminded him of Mike. I checked out Phil on Wiki when he made some comments that revealed that he was Jewish. When I checked, I found that he had the same last name as Mike's father's family, Rosenthal. Mike's father changed his last name to Ross because an older brother had done so, and he thought that meant he had to, too, or at least that was the story I was told. Phil was raised in Queens. That ties in, too. I immediately wrote Damon and Shivani, who would be directly related to Phil, assuming he is what I think he is. This is very exciting. 

- - - - - - - -

Musings: What does it mean to have a learning disability?

    I think it means, "I don't know how to help this student, and I hope there is someone out there who does. But, even if they can't, I hope that the categorization will take pressure off the students as they go through school."

    It is painful for a teacher to have students they can't help. I always assume it is because of a lack of skills on my part; I don't care what the problem is. This is not because I can fix everything. I can't. 

    The son of a good friend gave birth to a Fox1G child. He is missing most of the white matter in his brain due to some fluke genetic mutation. As a result, he will never be normal. Children born with this condition won't be normal until genetic engineering finds a way to fix the problem. Nonetheless, he continues to make small degrees of progress. Between the progress he made developmentally, the professionals who work with him, and the attention and devotion of his parents and grandparents, he now functions almost as well as a two-month-old child. Only he's nearly two years old.   

    Between medical and educational advances, it is possible to see some people currently classified as LD (learning disabled) as missing skills. However, once they have those skills, they usually function. So, does that mean they were LD just because they hadn't developed some mental skills?

    There are two types of skills; compensatory and corrective. Compensatory skills are something like teaching the blind to use their sense of touch and hearing to compensate for their blindness. I am exploring corrective measures. In the case of blindness, it would involve making the person sighted.

    . I'm proposing that some of what we see as a learning disability is only a misuse of the brain. I think of the brain as a tool. You have to learn to use it correctly. I watch the toddlers in my life pick up objects with no sense of which ends up. Their parents slowly show them the 'correct' way to hold and use the tool. I show people how to use the brain 'correctly' much in the same way. While I don't know anyone else out there who does what I do, I'm sure there is someone who does. It will also become a commonplace practice, although probably not in my lifetime. 

    I tell kids that if I can't help them solve their learning problem, someone will come along in their lifetime who will. The 'disability' is with the educational and medical system and the student. Classifying a student who cannot conform to expectations as disabled is an old pattern necessary when dumping those who couldn't cut it for the survival of everyone else in the group. 

Monday, June 15, 2020

During my morning walk, I worked on stretching my left leg out fully on the push-off. My body held up. When I got home, I called JAWS to get information on what the implications were of the door key on the new Kia not working. I spoke to Tasha, the receptionist.  She told me that they didn’t have a lot of information on electric cars.

    Then I called Sandor. He had volunteered to deal with folks at Kia for me.  I was concerned that I would have some man decide that I was a flaky old lady who didn’t know how to turn the car on.  When I didn’t hear from him, I called him back to find out what was going on, and there was some other piece of information I had for him.  He told me he had called, and the Service Department at Kia had called me back. But no. There was no record of a call from them. I called them. The guy who answered the phone knew who I was, even my address. He had the wrong number.  He said someone would be out to my house within the half-hour. Wow!

    While I was waiting, the house phone rang.  I rarely answer that phone; they’re always cold calls.  Today, I chose to answer it. Good thing. I had a telephone consultation with a doctor from Oahu about my macular pucker. Like the other ophthalmologist  I spoke to, he said he wouldn’t recommend surgery for me.  My vision now was something like 20/50. Surgery would only repair it to 20/40, and it was a six-month recovery. I risked a detached retina. He also said that if I were 59, he would anticipate noticeable changes in the following years. Since I was 79, my rate of change would be considerably slower.  He felt that a retinal detachment resulting from the existing problem was thin, not impossible but unlikely. 

    Ophthalmologists from Oahu come over once a month to see people here. The last doctor who I saw had some unpronounceable name. I believe it is German in origin.  I made no attempt to pronounce it and referred to her as the doctor with the weird name. Then I commented about his name being weird, Latino, and another doctor’s being weird, Chinese. I have no idea what possessed me. I tried to assure him I was joking and acknowledged that it wasn’t a very good joke in the current environment.  I have to write this man a letter.  I don’t want to leave a bad taste in his mouth caused by me.  He has enough of that without my input. I would like to say it was me expressing my adverse reaction to the current situation. I have been imagining making sarcastic comments to those who support police violence by making exaggerated ‘supportive’ comments, hoping they would be understood as criticism.  Obviously, that can only happen in the right context. People who I side with might misunderstand me, as this doctor did. Even worse, people I disagree with might interpret my comments as support for their biased positions.

     I have been concerned about how minorities have been treated in this country since the 50s  I went to an interracial camp.  I was made aware that all things weren’t equal for all people long ago.  However, even I haven’t been aware until the last ten years of how unequal things are. It presses on my gut. It’s painful for me, someone who isn’t directly involved in the situation, someone who has the full benefit of white privilege.  Whatever my minority group is, and I do belong to a few, I haven’t experienced the full blast of group hatred.  I have lived a very sheltered life.

    The servicemen arrived promptly and were out in the driveway for a while.  They were still there when I got off the phone with the good doctor.  They told me that the starter battery had died.  They showed me where it was in the car.  It was weak because it had spent a lot of time sitting in the dealer’s lot. It is a 2019.  The serviceman also assured me that the hybrid battery didn’t work the same way.  This reassured me that I hadn’t destroyed the hybrid on my Prius by not driving it enough.  The servicemen drove the car to the Kia service center.

    Because I had dealt with the eye doctor and the Kia servicemen in a timely way, I was ready for my 10:30 Zoom tutoring.  I had learned earlier that day that someone had tried to call my cell and hadn’t gotten through. I had already called the cell with my house phone and had a similar experience. I had the serviceman call my phone, and he ran into the same problem. I had dropped my phone on the tile floor yesterday.  It all looked okay when I picked it up. I guess it wasn’t—something else to deal with.  When I finally called T-Mobile, they told me that they were having trouble at their end, something with their transmission system. I can wait for another day or so. I do get texts. 

    I got a call from Kia saying that they didn’t have the battery in stock; they would have to order one. In the meantime, they would give me a loaner.  Shortly, the car was in my driveway; they handed me the key.

    I took a short nap. I had set the alarm for 1 pm. My original thought was that if I was going to drive my Prius to get to my 3 pm hairdresser appointment, I should give myself a good hour in case the car died on me. When the alarm went off a 1 pm, it finally dawned on me that I didn’t need to have an hour to get there. I had a working car sitting in my driveway.

    On my way there, I realized I had forgotten a mask. When I opened the door to the salon,  I announced my dilemma. Randee said they had disposal ones. I told her that I had received compliments on my recent haircut that week after five months. She had given me one hell of a haircut. I told her she could do what she wanted, as usual. She’s great; if I don’t like it, it will grow back. No worries. She left it longer on top after shaving the back and sides. I’m not sure, but I think she left those areas a little longer than usual too. There are a few strands of hair that hang over the shave section.  I need to get it cut, or the top part gets too heavy. I look like I have a lid on my head. That section needs to be thinned as well as cut. All the folks that work in the salon are great to me.  It’s fantastic being in a place where I am loved.

 

Sunday, June 14, 2020

    After my walk, I did some work around the house before I got ready for church. I was planning to use my new car today, but it was dead as a doornail.  I resorted to my Prius.  It got me there and back with very little trouble. Queen K looks flat, but there is a slight angle. It was all downhill on the way there; the car ran without a hitch. 

    On the way home, the car was exhausted when I got to the turn-off for Kaiminani and that steep climb.  The car made it up the hill at a steady 11 mph.  All I had to do was pull over and let cars pass me.

    I checked my phone when I got home; I saw Damon had called, but I wasn't up to calling him back. It was nap time.  As I woke up when I heard someone call me from the side door. At first, I thought it was Sandor, but it was Scott.  I had texted him and asked him to stop by and open the Prius trunk to get my stuff out and clean it.  He had to crawl in through the back seats to reach a latch at the very back of the car on the inside.  Once the trunk was open, I took a good look at the latch.  It didn't make sense to me; there was nothing I could press to open the hatchback from the outside.  I saw a blue strip with a red dot in the middle.  When we identified that, we knew where it was; it was easy to hit it to open the trunk from the outside.

    Once Scott had my trunk open, he turned his attention to my dead new car.  The remote key didn't even open the doors. Fortunately, I had left the front door open. He was able to open a rear door by reaching in and flipping a lock. Then he could reach the electric charger.  Plugging it in was the first option. There is a possibility that I left the car on when I got out and ran the battery down.  We couldn't get any information on how many batteries there are in the plug-in hybrid.  The Prius has two batteries, one starter and one hybrid.  Scott was betting on there being no separate starter battery in this Kia.  The Kia dealership was closed today; all the car dealerships are closed on Sundays here. I will call tomorrow and find out if there is a starter battery and where it is in the car.  The location of the Prius starter motor was a surprise. 

    Yvette got a phone call from a friend saying that she lost access to the office she was using for her massage. Could she use my house temporarily? Sure. 

    I called Kea again for the second time today. The first time I got Sariah.  I asked her to read through the book I'm using with Kingston and find where the action starts in the Magic Tree House book. Kea's observation that he might be finding the book boring was a good one.  I asked Sariah to send me pictures of those pages.  I got nothing. When I called, the family was on a hike. 

    Damon called again. He had called when I was in church. He was walking in Griffith Park, which is near his house. He goes on regular hikes.  We mostly talked about his work. He's an executive director on an animated film. He and his team have all been working remotely. He loves it, but it also creates some problems. Damon's good about his phone calls. He always tries to do them when he's driving or walking.  That way, he is rarely on the phone when he's around the family.  Good man, my step-son. 

    Elise arrived around 4 pm to check out the space for her massage work. It's clear she doesn't think it's ideal, but it will do for now until she finds another office space.  When she left, I checked the car. Nothing. Absolutely dead. I spoke to Sandor earlier.  I wanted to tell him that I'm offering tutoring for donations instead of setting a price. I am more interested in helping folks from poor educational backgrounds anyway. In the meantime, I told him about my car buying experience.  He said that all car dealerships are a problem. He told me his buying remorse stories. These stories are coming out of the woodwork as I share mine.

    I realized that this is the first time in my life I bought a car on my own. The first car I had; I got a hand me down from my mom. That took me through my two years of teaching on Long Island and my five years in Madison, Wisconsin. When I returned to New York City in 1969, I didn't need a car. The next car I got was after Mike, and I moved to Princeton.  I did without a car for a while, riding my bike wherever I needed to go. We finally bought a second-hand car from a commercial pilot. 

    The second car I bought was my Toyota.  I loved that car.  I finally had to give it up and get another second-hand car.  I don't remember if I took a car out to Ohio or not. I remember driving in the car with Mike when we moved. The car was loaded with plants and our dog, Chantey. It must have been my car we took.  Mike had been working in Ohio for a year already before we moved.  He must have had one car out there, and we drove mine together for our final trip.  At some point, we bought my Prius.  Mike again did all the negotiations.  I even slept while he was doing it. He took care of everything. He never expressed buyer's remorse. He made it seem easy.  

    Tomorrow I have to call Kia and find out if there is a starter battery as well as the plug-in and the hybrid.  If there is a starter battery, I can call roadside assistance to charge the battery once I know where it is in the car.  If it's in the trunk as it is with the Prius, someone is going to have to crawl in there again to access it. 

Saturday, June 13, 2020

    I had to get up early, so I finished my walk in time for Yvette's driveway yoga.  I continued to turn my right hip out to put more weight on my left leg. I think it is helping strengthen my left hip, but it also exhausts those muscles.

    I got home in plenty of time. First thing, I had to move the new car out of the driveway. This is the second time I've driven it. It's a smooth, comfortable drive. There was a new student in class today. We were five students. Two of the regular students weren't there today.  I wasn't able to do much, having exhausted my leg muscles during the walk. I did most of the class lying down, doing what I could from that position. At the end of the class, I asked, "Are there any volunteers?" Scott and Yvette knew what I needed. Scott hauled me up from a lying position, with my legs wobbling underneath me. After a few seconds, I was good to go. 

    After class, I meditated for half an hour. When that was over, I was still tired and lay down for a nap.  I finished meditating by nine; I woke up from my nap around 11.  I did get up at 5:30, walked two miles, and did yoga, and I am almost eighty. I forgive myself. 

    I called Dorothy to wish her a happy birthday. She was 75 today. We're both surprised by our age.  I remember a comedian commenting on how she was surprised when she turned 40.  She assumed she would always stay in her 30s. Being forty was a genetic condition she didn't have. I thought she was some sort of idiot. Now here I am, surprised that I'm almost eighty.  I think Jack Benny had it right. He was always 39.  I guess if you're feeling reasonably well, that's the age you still think you are.  If you feel lousy, even if you're twenty, you feel old. 

    I spent the afternoon listening to the Saturday shows on NPR and catching up on my updates and the blog.  Then I started sorting out the stuff I had piled up in the corner for donations.  I have a large box ready for Memory Lane.  I will get someone to help me get it into the car and then help me get it out of the car when I get to Memory Lane. It certainly isn't going to be one of the employees there. They're all old ladies like me. I'll have to wait till someone young comes along.

    Then I went out to finish cleaning the Prius.  I had to wash the remaining two tires. I tried to get the trunk open.  The latch is broken, but there has to be some way to stick something up into the lock a pop it open. As it stands now, I will have to wait until Scott comes over to open it for me.  I can't crawl into the trunk through the back doors to get to the release latch.

    Then it was time to do the before-dinner walk Elsa and feed her. I took a shower before I ate. The hot flashes have been bad for the last two days. 

    I continued reading Hobbes during dinner. There is a lot of talk about Descartes in this book. I was surprised to learn that Descartes and Galileo were alive at the same time.  I knew Descartes was active in the 17th century. That sounded right. But I thought Galileo was more like the 14th century. 

    I watched Bosch and worked on the updates and the blog. I've gotten good about posting the next day's entry on the public blog while watching TV.  

            Sunday NPR shows:  New York Radio hour Southern Baptist Convention. Really? On Being with Krista Tippet and New Dimensions with  Justine Willis Toms and Travel with Rick Steves. 

 

            Shit. Shivani commented about doing the video with the full screen instead of the slides on the side. Of course, I was assuming they could be eliminated afterwards. Not.  I will have to redo the whole video from scratch.

 

Friday, June 12, 2020

    I have been rereading the Hidden Face of God. Last night, I read that the earth turns from west to east.  I finally realized the sun goes down because the earth turns away from it. Now, I am not a flat earther.  I have always understood that the sun does not move around the earth. Instead, the 'movement' of the sun is caused by the movement of the earth. However, now, I have a physical sense that I am on an object which is turning. It's like riding on a wonder wheel. It's just a conceptual difference, but it feels completely different. There is so much left to learn, so much left to understand that I thought I already knew. It amazes me that I can learn something new every day. Sometimes it's something mundane like how to squeeze the miso paste out of the package with the least amount of waste and the least amount of mess. I press the packet against the inside of the cup and use a spoon to squeeze it out.  Look at that. Sometimes, it something monumental, like finally experiencing the earth as rotating sphere under my feet.

    I called my friend Carol from Maryland while I walked. I hadn't been following her on Facebook. If I had, I would have known that she and John had gone camping and hadn't received their mail yet with the picture I sent them of Mike and me. It makes sense for Karin and Shivani not to have notified me when they received their packages; they're of that generation. However, Carol and John are of mine and let people know when they receive something. 

    When I got home, I meditated for an hour. I thought I would be good when I got up, but no. I was exhausted. I lay down for a nap. I certainly don't suffer from insomnia. I sleep like a baby. I got up in time for my Zoom tutoring session.

    D. remembered the several multiplication facts we had been working on over the last several weeks, but not the one we included last week. So, we had to refresh that. Instead of telling him the steps in embedding something in his long-term memory, I asked him what the steps were after we got through them. The instructions were to listen to my voice in his head, saying the fact, instead of saying it himself.  He remembered to push the save button and send it down into long-term memory.  He did pretty well. I gave him a distractor first then, another multiplication fact, and then I gave him the new one.  He was able to remember the first one. 

    When reviewing the before-after exercise with the numbers one through 4, he got two correct and then missed the third. I have taught him to associate after with his right hand and before with his left.  When I told him he made a mistake, He said, "Oh, yeah, and raised his right hand." This is good.  He is associating before and after in his body without needing me to remind him to do that.  Eventually, maybe I will present the items in a vertical format instead of the horizontal one we have been using. However, I need to wait for one or two more sessions until his response is automatic and correct. 

    I taught D. a strategy for decoding unfamiliar words in the middle of the school year. Yet, each time he comes across a word that he gets wrong, I have to walk him through the strategy step by step by step.

    It occurred to me that he may be rejecting the procedure because it doesn't feel good;  he did that with the left-brain associative recall. He overtly rejected using his left brain. It wound up that he feared he would lose access to his right-brain activity. The left brain represented something colorless and static; the right brain represented flowing, colored streamers.  When I told him, he could have more right brain activity if he strengthened his left brain.  This produced a significant change. He is now using his left brain to remember his multiplication facts, which it is designed to do. However, learning the facts is going slowly because his left brain is underdeveloped. That means that the necessary pathway for memorization of abstract facts is still weak. I use only a few facts at a time because the goal is strengthening that neural pathway rather than learning multiplication facts. That will come once the path is sufficiently strengthened.

    I asked him how he felt about following the decoding strategy I had taught him.  He said he didn't like it.  That makes sense. When he follows this procedure, he has to work slowly. This makes him look like a' bad reader.' Good readers, he knows, read the words rapidly. Yes, some students magically learn to do that; this child is not one of them. He has to use his conscious mind to train himself. 

    I told him that his conscious mind has to decide if the bad feeling, dictating avoidance sent out from his nonconscious mind, should be followed or not. For example, touching a hot stove is not a good idea.  Following my directions to decode words is not dangerous.  I pointed out that he had to learn to discern the difference between what to avoid and what not to avoid, even if they do feel bad at first. I told him that if he did that, he would find it hard to hold a job.  He would not be able to follow directions for his boss and wind up not doing the job he was hired for. 

    I also told him that the purpose of this slow strategy is not to do it that way forever but to learn to read words quickly. Because he is a big video game player, I went through the stages of learning a new game or a new level of the game. When he made an error, he noticed what he did and tried not to do that again. He might make the same mistake a few more times, but he would stop making those errors. Then magically, he wouldn't make that mistake again without thinking about it.  If he didn't go through that stage where he made a conscious effort to move differently, he would never have improved his game. He got it, but it didn't make him feel lots better.  I assume it's because his slow reading has made him feel bad, probably ashamed.

    We worked on the paragraph we read on Monday. He made fewer mistakes.  We managed to finish that paragraph today. When he came across words that he didn't know, I directed him to remember the decoding strategy I taught him.  He had to struggle to remember it at first, but he got better.

    When our time was up, he said, "No,. I want to keep going!" That's great, but our time was up. I recommended that he read on his own. 

    The other day, his classroom teacher, who arranged for me to work with D, told me his mother called and said she doesn't have to work with him anymore now; she's satisfied with my work.  I'm going to take that as a compliment.

    After I was through with the tutoring session, I went out to finish cleaning the car. I got carried away. The car looks like new. I think I did a $300 detailing job.  I had a blast.  I have been looking at my dirty car forever, thinking I would like to clean it. I couldn't get myself off the dime, thinking it would be too much work. It was a lot of work, but it was so much fun.  What is this procrastination about?

    I didn't clean the tires because I needed a rest. Fresh Air came on, and I wanted to stay inside and listen to it.  I decided I would clean the handles on my kitchen cabinets. I tried once before.  I had used metal polish several months ago. It didn't do much for the handles, and it left a residue.  Today, I used the stainless-steel cleaner a friend gave me and went over all the handles. Great! I cleaned the wood of the cabinets with Murphy's Soap Oil.  I am going to have the cleanest house in Hawaii soon. 

    I washed the tile floors in the common rooms of the house. Then tomorrow, if it rains, Yvette's driveway yoga will be in the house. I love my Bissell vacuum cleaner. The suction may not be as good as on my Rainbow, but it is easy to manage. Therefore, I use it regularly and have a clean house. I am becoming a crazy housekeeper.

    As Elsa and I took our evening walk, Yvette came around the corner. She was coming home from Bikram.  Because the studio is closed and the heat on, I don't feel comfortable going for the time being. 

 ______-______-_____

Musings:

    I heard a program on the Hidden Brain about the 'us versus them' impulse.  This impulse served us well when we were wandering the savanna as our primitive selves, but no more.  Back then, we needed to bond to those around us or risk death. Of course, we don't need restricted bonds these days to survive, but the impulse is part of our evolutionary make-up.

    The talk has generated a lot of thoughts.  I guess the first one I want to address is the idea of the expanding/ expanded 'us.' It has to do with the size of the group we identify with.  

    On the savanna, we identified with those who supported our lives. It was a reciprocal arrangement assuring everyone's survival, and that created powerful bonds. The military comes to mind, where everyone in a unit is dependent on everyone else. We were designed to love that connection. Unfortunately, the full effect surrounding us, penetrating every nerve ending in our bodies, is only felt when we are in life-threatening situations or at rousing sports events.  It is heightened by opposing forces. We bond together to fight the enemy.  It is more challenging to feel that close bonding when it is peaceful , and there are no threats of a common enemy.  Learning to embrace the subtler forms of connection is a challenge for our species. Learning to feel connected in a non-threatening situation with someone other than our very young children.

    When they talked about expanding our sense of 'us' on the show, I got an image of concentrate circles with individuals in the center. For some, that radiating circle ends at the boundaries of their own skin. Some people are only in this life to serve themselves, the takers, the sociopaths; they are constant victims with no evidence of being victimized.  The next is those nearest and dearest to us, our immediate family and closest friends. After that come members of a community with which we share an identity, a religion, race, nation, gender, or some distinguishing characteristics, like a handicap or a particular interest. It's moving beyond those boundaries that is a challenge to us.  We are much more comfortable staying within our own group.

    Does that mean we have to believe that our group is entitled to more, more life, more material goods, more health care, more justice, etc.? We live in a world that has become too large to not include everyone. We create groups of 'them' at our own peril. Everyone's life is affected by everyone else's life.

    While the impact of everyone's life on ours has become obvious to everyone, I think it has always been that way.  My father raised me to believe that even if I couldn't do something to help someone on the other side of the world, I shared the responsibility of what happened to that person.  My mother had a very different perspective and hated that I felt concerned for people, basically, other than her.  She was a wounded animal.  

    My 'us' included every human being, even as a child, and I started including animals when I was introduced to Buddhism.  Some branches of Buddhism make it impossible for people to walk on the ground for fear of crushing some insect.  I would say that is an overly expanded version of 'us', which verges on excluding the 'me' from the mix.  This is what makes this whole theory so complicated. Whether we're overly 'us' oriented with a small exclusive group, maybe of only one person, or overly 'them' oriented, excluding the survival of the self, either is out of whack. 

    An ad that ran on TV many years ago just to mind. It doesn't do much to illuminate my point of view, but I thought it was funny. It was for the Yellow Pages, for those of us who remember the days of the paper telephone book.  Some clever soul made up these incredible images. The only one I remember was the one for 'vanity cases,'  referring to a piece of furniture you could find in the Yellow Pages. They were two people talking. One talked a great deal about himself and then said, "Enough about me. What do you think of my tie?" or some item of clothing. A vanity case! It was a scream. But that gets back to someone's idea of being us meaning those who serve me and not also those I serve.

    I think the problem comes in with those who emphasize the 'them' part of the equation. For these folks, those who belong to the 'them' group are less than, at best, and downright evil or nonhuman at worst.  Those are the ones who scare me; those who believe the members of their own group are genuinely superior to those who don't belong to their group. 

    While I can see the downside of too much emphasis on the limited 'us', there is no doubt that there is also danger on those who overemphasize the universally expanded 'us.' I have learned in my lifetime, there is nothing that can't be perverted to the cause of evil.  Too bad. It would be nice if there were a simple solution.

    Here's mine. I think there is value in a limited 'us' and an expanded 'us.' We each have our role to play in this drama. If we play it with 'love' as our primary commitment, we cannot do too much harm.  Note, I said, 'not too much harm." Some damage is inevitable.  We remain human. 

    Is it possible to go to combat against an opposing group and not hate? It makes combat action more difficult.    How much easier it is when our fight is fueled by hatred—Yay for adrenalin! Sometimes we have to do harm to others to preserve ourselves.  The question comes up about how much I need to survive. Do I need a five million dollar a year salary to feel that I'm worthwhile, as I heard some of the bankers who had to take pay cuts to only one million a year said during the banking crisis?  What do I really need?  Do I need others to suffer so I can have/ be what I want to be?  There are situations where the answer is yes. It may really be my survival versus another person's. But making that judgment is no easy matter. If it is fueled by hatred for the other, I say that judgment is in question. Do we have the right to our five million while others go hungry because we judge them worthless?  

    Mike would talk about people as having moral imaginations and those who don't. Many live around with a template in their heads handed to them by their families of origin. That worked on the savanna. That worked well. But as we live in a world where we are increasingly exposed to people who are different from us, and we have to make moral decisions, the old rules don't work as well. Just because someone doesn't look like us, speak like us, value the same things we do, are they worthless human beings? I'm not asking if we shouldn't fight them on issues we think are moral., like the overconsumption of rhino horn for a bogus remedy. The question comes up does someone's consumption of rhino horn makes them a worthless human being. I'm sure those who consume rhino horn have something to say about my lifestyle, my values. I can understand conflict, but I do hope they don't say that I'm worthless. 

    The program introduced a couple that represents two points of view on the topic.  It was both the difference and the similarity which bonded this pair. The similarity was their concern for morality and ethics. Their differences! She is an 'us' person. Your first commitment is to your immediate family.  He followed Peter Singer's Utilitarian ethics: good is what is best for the greatest number of people and would put a group of strangers before his own family.  You think this out on a statistical level, not just intuitive. 

    Neither of these folks mentioned hating a group of 'them.' It was just who you help first. Who do you give your support to?  For the wife, it was clear: those near and dear to her.  For him, it had to do with numbers, the greatest number of people that would benefit.