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.
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