Saturday, June 27, 2020

    Sleep was not an option for most of the night. I was so angry about the nonsense going on with the insurance company. I felt so trapped in this unreality. I was obsessing. I finally got up and folded some laundry. I also wrote notes about actions I can take: get the police report for Adam’s car accident and Mike’s, call Shivani, ask why she called for road assistance, and contact the DMV to find out how to get the abstract report. I was twisting and turning. I tried meditating; I tried to exercise, but nothing worked. Finally, I asked God why I was put in this situation. I got my answer. “You wanted to work on your temper issues. Here’s your opportunity.” Great. And oh, so true. I had already failed miserably. I kept telling the people I was talking to that what they said made no sense. It didn’t, but that was not helpful behavior. I should have focused on what I wanted. 

    I was up at 2:30 a.m. when Judy texted me. Her brand new grandson had been born, and she had forgotten to include me in the group text. I was indeed a little worried, hearing nothing. I thought something might have gone wrong, and texting everyone was the last thing on her mind. 

    Not only had everything gone smoothly, but it was an easy delivery. Judy called me about 4:30 pm yesterday to tell me labor had started, and the baby was born at 8:35 pm, 9 lbs. 15 oz. Jazzy had a home birth in a tub. Judy sent me videos. Her five-year-old grandson, Leon, was there for the event. He spent time in his dad’s lap. Judy said that, at one point, he had gone up to his mom, and she kissed him. If I haven’t told you, these kids are great parents. 

    One Progressive Claims customer service provider told me something that did make sense. She said it was absolute authority. Only it was complete bullshit. She must be used to deflecting customers like me. She was the one who told me that the insurance on the Ford was more because it was an SUV. But my insurance costs almost the total value of the car each year. I got the answer: you must consider the vehicle it may hit. What about the car the Prius may hit or my new Kia? Don’t they count? Any of these vehicles can hit a BMW and create an expensive repair bill. 

    Here’s what I have discovered: 1) if the DMV has three accidents listed against the names on your insurance premiums, your personal insurance premiums will go up. Therefore, don’t bother getting that insurance with your rental car. Doing that adds an extra expense. Second, even if the people and the cars involved in the accidents are no longer on your insurance, your premiums will not be reduced until the five-year period has passed. Insurance premiums are increased - even if that insurance company never pays a cent for accidents. Got that?? 

This is crazy-making, at least for me. I am going crazy. I don’t like it. Are your eyes flying wide open in amazement? Mine did. I’m not overly optimistic about being able to get these accidents removed from my abstract. 

    I called Shivani because her name was attached to one of the accidents. She had trouble remembering the incident. Somehow, I thought she had borrowed my car and run into trouble. Fortunately, her memory was better than mine. I had an accident on the 27th when I rear-ended a pickup truck with a hitch sticking out. It only damaged my bumper and pushed out the fenders. I had already had an accident with the front end of the car. I figured nothing inside the car had been affected. Then, as Shivani and I drove up Kaiminani on the 28th, the air conditioner went, and the triangle warning light came on. The car slowed down. 

    The next day, I used Mike’s car to go to Bikram and had Shivani call the insurance company to pick up the car. Unfortunately, Shivani called the claims department instead of the roadside assistance number; I probably gave her the wrong number. She must have told them there was an accident. I would have done the same thing. I believed that if no claim was made, there would be no penalty. As I discovered, no such luck.  

    I didn’t do much for the day. I did walk 6,000 steps for my morning walk. I limited my path to the street I live on. I didn’t takSaturday, June 27, 2020

 

    Sleep was not an option for most of the night. I was so angry about the nonsense going on with the insurance company. I felt so trapped in this unreality. I was obsessing. I finally got up and folded some laundry. I also wrote notes about actions I can take: get the police report for Adam’s car accident and Mike’s, call Shivani, ask why she called for road assistance, and contact the DMV to find out how to get the abstract report. I was twisting and turning. I tried meditating; I tried to exercise, but nothing worked. Finally, I asked God why I was put in this situation. I got my answer. “You wanted to work on your temper issues. Here’s your opportunity.” Great. And oh, so true. I had already failed miserably. I kept telling the people I was talking to that what they said made no sense. It didn’t, but that was not helpful behavior. I should have focused on what I wanted. 

    I was up at 2:30 a.m. when Judy texted me. Her brand new grandson had been born, and she had forgotten to include me in the group text. I was indeed a little worried, hearing nothing. I thought something might have gone wrong, and texting everyone was the last thing on her mind. 

    Not only had everything gone smoothly, but it was an easy delivery. Judy called me about 4:30 pm yesterday to tell me labor had started, and the baby was born at 8:35 pm, 9 lbs. 15 oz. Jazzy had a home birth in a tub. Judy sent me videos. Her five-year-old grandson, Leon, was there for the event. He spent time in his dad’s lap. Judy said that, at one point, he had gone up to his mom, and she kissed him. If I haven’t told you, these kids are great parents. 

    One Progressive Claims customer service provider told me something that did make sense. She said it was absolute authority. Only it was complete bullshit. She must be used to deflecting customers like me. She was the one who told me that the insurance on the Ford was more because it was an SUV. But my insurance costs almost the total value of the car each year. I got the answer: you must consider the vehicle it may hit. What about the car the Prius may hit or my new Kia? Don’t they count? Any of these vehicles can hit a BMW and create an expensive repair bill. 

    Here’s what I have discovered: 1) if the DMV has three accidents listed against the names on your insurance premiums, your personal insurance premiums will go up. Therefore, don’t bother getting that insurance with your rental car. Doing that adds an extra expense. Second, even if the people and the cars involved in the accidents are no longer on your insurance, your premiums will not be reduced until the five-year period has passed. Insurance premiums are increased - even if that insurance company never pays a cent for accidents. Got that?? 

This is crazy-making, at least for me. I am going crazy. I don’t like it. Are your eyes flying wide open in amazement? Mine did. I’m not overly optimistic about being able to get these accidents removed from my abstract. 

    I called Shivani because her name was attached to one of the accidents. She had trouble remembering the incident. Somehow, I thought she had borrowed my car and run into trouble. Fortunately, her memory was better than mine. I had an accident on the 27th when I rear-ended a pickup truck with a hitch sticking out. It only damaged my bumper and pushed out the fenders. I had already had an accident with the front end of the car. I figured nothing inside the car had been affected. Then, as Shivani and I drove up Kaiminani on the 28th, the air conditioner went, and the triangle warning light came on. The car slowed down. 

    The next day, I used Mike’s car to go to Bikram and had Shivani call the insurance company to pick up the car. Unfortunately, Shivani called the claims department instead of the roadside assistance number; I probably gave her the wrong number. She must have told them there was an accident. I would have done the same thing. I believed that if no claim was made, there would be no penalty. As I discovered, no such luck.  

    I didn’t do much for the day. I did walk 6,000 steps for my morning walk. I limited my path to the street I live on. I didn’t take Elsa for the whole walk because she was limping again last night. I picked her up last night, flung her over my shoulder, and carried her home. I thought she injured her leg by jumping off the bed each morning. I rethought that. When I picked her up yesterday to give her an infrared treatment, I grabbed her by her shoulder joints. Maybe I’m the one causing the injury.

    I did record the items I plan to donate to Habitat for Humanity. I checked on the three cheap sprayers I had bought before I got the slightly more expensive one, which I blew out by allowing it to sit for weeks with vinegar in it, destroying the plug in the pump.

    I did some reading and some writing. But I felt the way I do when I’ve been lying around all day recovering from an illness. Of course, I listened to my Saturday shows. I wrote an email I had been putting off.

    I took Elsa for a walk before bedtime. For the last few nights, she has wanted to go for longer walks. It used to be that I put the leash on, we went out the door, she peed in the nearest spot she could find, and she turned back to the door to go inside. Tonight, despite the longer walk, she didn’t do anything.

    When I walked into the bathroom, the wee-wee pad was soaked. That’s why Elsa didn’t have to pee on the walk. While the pad was soaked, she also got quite a bit on the bathroom floor. Not a problem. It’s tile; very easy to clean up. I think the problem is that I got it on the edge instead of the middle when I marked the pad with her pee. I had rushed out to catch her flowing pee when she went out the back door a few weeks ago. She only uses a wee pad once every several weeks. In the meantime, the pad lies on my bathroom floor, waiting.  

   e Elsa for the whole walk because she was limping again last night. I picked her up last night, flung her over my shoulder, and carried her home. I thought she injured her leg by jumping off the bed each morning. I rethought that. When I picked her up yesterday to give her an infrared treatment, I grabbed her by her shoulder joints. Maybe I’m the one causing the injury.

    I did record the items I plan to donate to Habitat for Humanity. I checked on the three cheap sprayers I had bought before I got the slightly more expensive one, which I blew out by allowing it to sit for weeks with vinegar in it, destroying the plug in the pump.

    I did some reading and some writing. But I felt the way I do when I’ve been lying around all day recovering from an illness. Of course, I listened to my Saturday shows. I wrote an email I had been putting off.

    I took Elsa for a walk before bedtime. For the last few nights, she has wanted to go for longer walks. It used to be that I put the leash on, we went out the door, she peed in the nearest spot she could find, and she turned back to the door to go inside. Tonight, despite the longer walk, she didn’t do anything.

    When I walked into the bathroom, the wee-wee pad was soaked. That’s why Elsa didn’t have to pee on the walk. While the pad was soaked, she also got quite a bit on the bathroom floor. Not a problem. It’s tile; very easy to clean up. I think the problem is that I got it on the edge instead of the middle when I marked the pad with her pee. I had rushed out to catch her flowing pee when she went out the back door a few weeks ago. She only uses a wee pad once every several weeks. In the meantime, the pad lies on my bathroom floor, waiting.  

    

Friday, June 26, 2020

    I woke up at 6:30, even though the alarm was set for 5:30. I have a remarkable ability to sleep through anything. I did wake up to pee during the night. I felt urinary tract irritation again. I immediately took an AZO pill so that I would be able to function during the day. My problem is clearly not an infection because it clears on its own. I gave the pineapple to B, so that couldn't have caused the problem. I ate some of Amy's frozen enchiladas last night. They were delicious. It may be the peppers in her food that trigger the problem. What a shame! I like her food. I like Mexican food. 

    My leg still bothered me. I walked up and down my street, staying close to home in case I had to pee. However, my leg was much better today. What did I do differently? I used Yvette's trigger massaging machine on my glutes, the muscles on the left side of my back, and the left side of my abdomen. After that, I could bend my left leg further without discomfort. This has always been the question, how much of my hip problem is caused by the loss of cartilage in my hip joint, or how much is caused by soft tissue issues all over my body? I've been aware of problems with my left leg or the left side of my body since my early thirties. When I was in my late forties, a massage therapist commented that the muscles on the left side of my back were actually swollen. I had no problem with my hip at that time. Conclusion: there is more going on with my body than meets the X-ray's eye.

    I spoke to Dorothy as I walked. We shared family stories. She has different stories about family events than I do, and I love hearing them. I also learned more about my mom as I heard how Dorothy experienced her. 

      I have to call Progressive today. Oh, boy, was I not looking forward to that. I have identified why the insurance on Mike's Ford is $400 more expensive than the other two cars. He had an accident in May of 2018 in Kauai in a rental car. I vaguely remember it. I would call the car rental company because I was sure we had insurance with them. I thought I would have to check with National to prove that, but that was unnecessary. When I looked up the incident on Progressive, it said there was no charge to Progressive. That means National had to have informed our insurance company. In addition to the rental car insurance cost, I have put out $1500 for my own car insurance. It was a bumper dent. I could have paid it out of pocket, and it would have cost less. Besides, I took Mike off the insurance. I have no idea why the insurance penalty was still in effect. Every conversation I have had with Progressive goes like this: the accident is attached to the VIN number, period end of sentence. Does that mean if I sell the car to someone else, they will be charged higher insurance premiums because that car was associated with an accident? No, of course not. This is crazy-making.

    I screwed my courage to the sticking point and called Progressive. I got one woman who did the usual, "There's an accident reported on this vehicle." Then she got rid of me and sent me off to some irrelevant department. That guy sent me to someone who seemed to know what she was talking about. She said the higher charge wasn't a penalty charge; it was because the car was an SUV. I will have to check with my local insurance broker if that makes sense. Josh looked up the Blue Book value on the car. It's $1800. How can there be such a high premium on such a car? More research is called for.

    I kept myself busy while I made that call. I cleaned my stovetop and made tuna fish salad for tonight's dinner. That helped a lot to comfort me and keep me calm. I felt better because I was moving and doing something productive. I felt stronger. 

    At 9:00, I started running a wash. Solar energy kicks in during the summer, so all the electricity I use is free. At 10:30, I had my Zoom tutoring appointment with D.

    This went much better today. I wasn't exhausted, and D. did somewhat better. This is a slow process, two steps forward, one step, and sometimes two or three back. When he makes a mistake on a word, he stops more frequently, and sometimes, he will figure it out on his own. However, today, he had to decode two words, and I had to remind him of the procedure from scratch. He read picked for plucked. The good news was it was the correct meaning. I told him that he had made sense and gave him a choice if he wanted to decode the missing words. He said he did. He started with the first letter in the word. P. That only works if the reader is secure with large chunks of the word beforehand. For example, if he had seen luck in the word, starting with the p and adding on luck would have made a lot of sense. But he didn't, so it didn't. The procedure is, if you are still determining the word, START WITH THE VOWEL. I don't know how many times I have said this to this boy. I would think that he would qualify as learning disabled by any standard measure. The question is still, can I help him overcome his memory problems? If I can't, let's classify him as learning disabled. If I can, well, he's not learning disabled. The term only means, "I don't know how to help this student." Maybe no one knows.  

    Again, Daniel asked to work on the reading before the math facts and the sequencing exercise. I visually cue the math facts. That was much more successful. He said he had been working on both the math facts and the sequencing exercise on his own. I asked him what he was doing so I could pass it on to other students. Often, students will think of things I haven't.

    While today's work indicated that his visual memory may be better than his auditory, that does not mean that he shouldn't develop his auditory recall skills. He needs both. We all do. One can be better, but D.'s problem creates limitations for him.

    After the session, I spoke with his mother today. I want her to post the math facts we are working on in various places in the house: one sheet with the multiplication fact 9x4=36, one without the answer, 9x4=, one with the addition fact 9+4=13, with the answer, and one without. She asked about having him repeat the problem. I had found that his repeating the problem didn't work for him.

    I distinguish between active and passive rehearsal. Active rehearsal involves speaking or writing. Passive rehearsal consists of hearing a voice or seeing an image in our minds. It's different. They involve other mental circuits. When D. said the problem out loud, he had no recall. When he remembered my voice in his head, he did. As I spoke to his mother, it occurred to me, how about saying the fact and then hearing 'his own voice' in his head? The trick is hearing the facts in his working memory.

    At one point, his mother offered to buy multiplication flash cards. I told her not to do that. I advised her to work with just the four facts we had been working with. I explained that we were working on getting the memory circuit built, not learning math facts. Once the circuit was secure, then we could add more facts for him to remember. If too many facts are added, his system would feel overwhelmed, forcing him to revert to old, familiar, safe circuits. Those don't work for him. 

    After I got off the phone, I called Josh and told him I wasn't willing to pay that much more for the insurance for a car he was driving. I held on to Mike's Ford because Adam was borrowing it. Then Adam offered to buy it. Damon asked me not to because he wanted to drive his dad's car when he visited Hawaii. Damon only visits twice a year for four or five days at a time. I told Damon if he wanted me to keep the car so he could use it when he visited, he should contribute to the insurance bill. He wrote back, saying there's no point in holding on to it only for his sake. He can rent a car when he comes. I don't want to be without a car altogether. Is it worthwhile getting my Prius fixed for that purpose?

    I just heard from B. today that Hertz is selling its whole fleet. It went bankrupt and is going out of business. I told Josh he should look into that. He contacted me and said he had checked the Bluebook value for the Ford. It's under $2000 for the car. He offered to pay my $2000 and take the car off my hands.

    Adam, who hadn't been driving the car for a while, skateboarded over to my house to give me the key to the Ford and money to cover his share of the car insurance. Okay, another chapter closed. We talked about his wife and the wait for her labor to start. We have been waiting since the 4th. They decided they had miscalculated. It was due between the 19th and the 23rd. Judy called me at 4:30 to tell me the labor had just started. She was putting out an APB for prayers.

    After Adam left, I drove to town to drop off my broken Rainbow vacuum at the repair shop. I broke it when I poured water into it, trying to get a plastic filter out to clean it. With Scott's help, I did get it out, but it never worked again afterward. I waited for several days and tried again. It still didn't work. I had given up.  

    The lady at the shop, who is not the technician but knows a great deal about them, plugged it in. It purred away, and water poured out of the bottom of it. Where that water came from is your guess as good as mine. I wanted her to let it keep running to see if it continued its good work. She was upset by the water pouring out on her desk. Instead, I took it home. I made one more stop at the bank to cash Adam's check.  

    When I got home, the 'miles' available on the car's electric motor was 6. I had used 18 miles. It is still remarkable. I had used zero miles on the three-mile drive down the hill, really mountain, from my house to Queen K. I plugged it in first thing because I wanted to use the solar while it was available. Then I got the vacuum cleaner out of the car and plugged it in. Again, it ran like a happy animal. A little bit more water came out. Wow! This is good news. 

    Before I took my nap, I cut off a slice of the sourdough bread Steve and dropped off the other day, slathered it with butter, and popped it in the microwave for thirty seconds. Hmm! 

    While driving to town, the illogic of that high insurance premium on the Ford. The yearly premium on the Ford is equal to 2/3 of the value of the car. That doesn't make sense. I tried calling my local Progressive agent. She's a lovely lady but no more equipped to deal with logic than anyone else I've spoken to. 

    She told me that my rate was high because of the accidents with the car. Mike's in November 2018, Shivani's call for roadside assistance on 11/27/19, and Adam's accident in February 2019. It took me several times for her to remember that I said that not only was Adam not driving Mike's car when he had his accident, but his car was parked, and he wasn't even on my insurance at that time. If that accident counts against the insurance, that means that if someone hits you while parked, the repairs are paid for by their insurance, but it still counts against you. What!!??? She went back over and over, saying he was driving Mike's car. I had to start all over again. She was rearranging the facts to fit her narrative. Then she told me to call Progressive and straighten it out. I told her that no one at Progressive had any idea. She really had done all she could do to help me. She knew no more than anyone else did. She finally hung up on me. I should learn not to argue with people who insist on rearranging facts to suit narratives. She was trying to help me, but she wasn't. She just had a bad rhetorical habit.

 

Thursday, June 25, 2020

        I was up by 5:30 and out on the street with Elsa. I walked only up and down my street as I have been doing. Between my left leg and my urinary urgency, I didn't dare get too far from home.  As I walked, I passed a woman looking at the property on the corner. I assumed she was looking at the mangos lying on the ground.  These were the mangos  Judy had asked me about the other day.  I told her the story. The property was a vacation rental, and I knew a friend who would contact the owner and ask if people could pick the mangos and lychee.

    The woman joined me as I walked. When we came to the end of the block where I turned around, she turned around with me. She visited her son, his girlfriend, and the one-year-old child. Now that inter-island travel was open again, she and her husband took turns coming over for a week to help out.  

    When we came to my house after I completed my 5,500 steps, the driveway gate was closed, meaning the dogs were already in the driveway. Yvette was setting up for the Thursday driveway yoga class.  I asked the woman if she wanted to join.  Yvette provided her with a mat.  It was when Yvette asked that I learned her name, Naomi.  She was heading back to Oahu tomorrow. 

    After the class, I cleaned the table on the lanai and myself quickly.  I had a healing session with one of the yoga students.  When that was done, I went outside to plug in the car to finish its charge while the sun was up, utilizing the solar panels.

    I was already exhausted but had a 10:30 Zoom tutoring session with Daniel.  I hoped that I would get energy in the session, but that didn't happen. I've been feeling sluggish and downright tired.  I worry that my age is catching up with me. However, I hear that many people feel this way. 

    D. had no memory for the multiplication facts. He even had trouble remembering that they were multiplication problems versus addition. I asked him what he thought we could do that would help him remember the facts. He suggested doing the math facts at the end of the session. It was worth a try. More importantly, I wanted him to ask himself the question, "What can I do so I will remember my facts better?" Just asking the question has an impact.  I told him that if we couldn't solve his memory problem, someone in his lifetime would. 

    We discussed his feelings about his limitations.  He wasn't very distressed about his inability to remember things.  However, he was reasonably interested in improving his memory. I have no idea what to do to help him.  He did do well on his reading today.  Also, his mother said she sees an improvement in his self-confidence when he reads. There were several points where he caught his mistakes. There were also two incidents when he misread words but substituted words with the same meaning.  

    After I got off the Zoom meeting, I went to lie down for a nap. I lay down shortly after eleven and got up again around 1:30.  I was still tired and lay back down for another half hour. I did get something done today. I squeezed all the lemons I had, threw the remaining T-shirts into the washing machine, and folded the shirts I had taken off the line the other day. I also called the vacuum repair store. The answering machine gave some weird information. I sure didn't sound like the repair shop. 

    About half an hour later, the lady who owned the shop called. They run on aloha time, which means whenever the spirit moves them. I asked how I could know when the shop was open to drop off my vacuum cleaner. She told me to call first. She also told me it would cost me $50 to examine it. She said repairing it wouldn't cost more except for the replacement parts. I told her how I had the carpet attachment repaired twice, and it never worked properly. She said she would look into it and get back to me.  Now, I have to consider putting out $50 to have the vacuum evaluated. 

    I have been thinking about the Progressive bill on the Ford, which is $120 a month versus the $79 a month for the Prius and the brand-new Kia.  When I called the adjuster, I found out that the extra charge was for an accident Michael claimed for an accident he had in a rental car.  I checked. Progressive hadn't paid for that accident. We had insurance on the rental car. If Progressive didn't payout, why were they charging us more?  

    I will call Progressive tomorrow to ask about this. I hear them say the penalty was issued because of the VIN number. Okay, let's say I sell the car. Does that mean the next owner will get charged more for his car insurance? Does the charge follow the VIN number? If it follows Mike, why didn't the extra charge disappear when I took his name off the insurance? It's unlikely that he's driving the car anymore. It is equally improbable that the car will be responsible for another accident. 

    Yvette texted me to tell me that today was the sixth anniversary of our move to Hawaii. 

-    - - - - - - - - - -

Musings:

I remember a woman in Licking Heights expressing the belief that black people have more encounters with the police because more criminals are in the black population.  I have difficulty believing that there are no whites who commit petty crimes, make small drug purchases, or pass counterfeit $20.  Anyone who argues that blacks are treated the same way whites can post police videos of how they treat whites in similar situations. 

     I was once stopped for speeding.  I pulled over and said, "Oh, shit. I know perfectly well this is a speed trap." He let me go. I'm a white woman. Could it be better?  

    I had only one bad encounter with the police. The siren went off in the car behind me after using an access road to get onto a highway.  I pulled over even though it was an unmarked car. A well-dressed man got out of the car, came over, and gave me hell for driving slowly. Really? I think he was a cop, but what was he on? Other than yelling at me, he didn't do anything else. Although he threatened to give me a ticket. I doubt he would have done that to a man.  

Wednesday, June 24, 2020

    I went to bed very late last night. I thoroughly enjoyed the movie The Healer (2018). It is a feel-good movie. Ah! Enough of TV shows showing crazy cops chasing crazy criminals. 

    I must have slept right through my alarm this morning. When I went to bed, I gave myself permission to sleep later. None the less I woke up around 7 and headed out with Elsa. I suffered from urinary urgency again this morning, but it was not as bad as yesterday. Our walk was just up and down and up and down our street to be on the safe side. I stopped each time I passed the house to go to the bathroom. Because I didn't take Elsa's leash off when I stopped by the house, she waited for me to leave again. I had never done that before, but she intuited the plan. I managed to get 5,500 steps in. My gait was more symmetrical today.

    I continued listening to TED talks as I walked. I also called Dorothy. I love calling her whenever even several times a day. So far, she hasn't objected. Unlike Judy, she usually answers her phone. Judy puts her phone down and then doesn't hear it ring. Maddening. She did order an earbud. Then she won't need to find her phone – unless she takes it out and leaves that somewhere, too. She did order one, but it didn't hold a charge. The brand she ordered is known for that problem. She ordered a new one.

    I worked on the updates. I also called the adjuster from Progressive. She told me that the extra charge for the Ford was due to Mike's accident with a rental car when visiting Maui. I want to know the name of the rental agency. Mike and I always got insurance whenever we rented a car. Why, then, would we be charged extra on our car insurance? How did Progressive even find out about it? I have another question for Progressive. Since the increased premium was because of an accident a driver had rather than the car, does it make a difference that that driver is no longer on the insurance? No less, no longer alive?    I called the adjuster to get the name of the rental company. Now, I have to get the bill out of them to see if Progressive was charged.

    My therapist/life coach from Ohio called. I told her how I've been feeling, blah. It is mainly about the political situation. Everyone is upset; we see everything from opposite perspectives. My problem is not being able to run away from the horrible reality of how black people are treated, particularly black men—this is malicious treatment. One guy was shot in the back for running away from the policeman. Was he resisting arrest? Yes. The policeman wanted to arrest him because he wanted to walk home while drunk rather than accept a ride from the police. I have sympathy for the police, who have to fear for their lives in their jobs. How about some sympathy for this poor black man who had good reason to suspect he would be in worse shape if he surrendered to the arrest than if he ran. He panicked, too. And the only weapon the man had in his hand was the policeman's taser. Remember, he was running away, not charging the police officer. The police are seriously undertrained. 

    I have a long history of low tolerance for contempt and cruelty. I have friends who refuse to watch movies with me because they know I will leave a room when the going gets rough. I've been known to charge up the aisles of movie theaters in an involuntary run. 

    It drove Mike nuts. He would say, "It's a movie. It's not real." I would say, "The behavior represents a possible behavior of human beings." I can't stand seeing it, even thinking about it.  

    I am more disturbed by my internal problems than what is happening in the world. I can be calm and accepting of what may occur when there is political upheaval as things become more equal among people. It's not that I will like the impact. It's that I understand what caused the change was unjust. 

            What I can't accept is my own anger from intolerance. My intolerance doesn't manifest as an annoyance of whole groups. I don't mean that I am comfortable with everyone. Not at all. The intolerance I am uncomfortable with my intolerance for those around me, my spouse, a child, and my students, when I don't get things my way. When they do something that I don't think is 'right,' my way. I don't like the anger that grows out of what I consider my ego's intolerance for not getting my own way.  

    My mother was like that. She was comfortable acting out and attacking me to relieve herself of stress so she could feel better. I didn't have children because I was terrified of being like her. Much of the limitations I have put on my life result from harnessing that type of anger. There are other types of anger, righteous anger. Of course, it is not so easy to discern the difference. 

    A white person might consider his anger righteous when he shot a black man for not stepping off the curb when he walked by. I remember a story about Sidney Poitier. He had been raised on a small island in the Bahamas. Things were relaxed there.

    Then, he moved in with a relative in Miami. He got a job as a delivery man. One evening, the KKK surrounded their house. His family said, "What did you do?" He had the nerve to deliver a package to the front instead of the back door. Those white men felt that their anger was righteous. They were entirely in the moral right to lynch the whole family if necessary. Discerning the nature of our anger is tricky, tricky, tricky.

    I plugged in my car to get it fully charged. If I get it fully charged once, I will have some left after most trips to town, and it will take less time to recharge it. When I got in the car, the total charge was 24 miles, not 26, as promised. Is this one of the variables Damon was talking about?

    I drove to town to get my license plates and registration. Someone from Kia called yesterday to let me know they were in. While there, I asked how to change the position of my rearview mirror. I just had to apply force, but I wanted to do that when I was sure that was the case. Also, I discovered there are some buttons on that mirror. I had pushed one by accident, and it announced it was calling for roadside service. Fortunately, I could cancel.

    When I got home, the first thing I did was plug the Kia in to recharge it. The electric motor still had 9 miles available; I had used 15 miles. It's not really linear miles. I don't use any electricity when going down Kaiminani; I use double the charge on the way up. 

    I finally put all the rubber floor pads into the Prius and took pictures. I washed the trunk and closed it. I thought we had the problem of opening it solved even though the latch had fallen off. Scott and I had figured out there was a small strip with a little red button that could be pushed. It just took knowing where it was. I couldn't get it to work. Therefore, I didn't get any pictures of that area. Once I take those final shots, I will send them to Scott to post on Craig's List. Judy said she doesn't even bother looking at an ad unless there are pictures. I hope there will be more responses once the photos are posted. 

    I also took all the clothes off the line. They weren't dry this morning, but they were now. The day was bright and sunny.

            

Wednesday, June 24, 2020

 

    I went to bed very late last night. I thoroughly enjoyed the movie The Healer (2018). It is a feel-good movie. Ah! Enough of TV shows showing crazy cops chasing crazy criminals. 

    I must have slept right through my alarm this morning. When I went to bed, I gave myself permission to sleep later. None the less I woke up around 7 and headed out with Elsa. I suffered from urinary urgency again this morning, but it was not as bad as yesterday. Our walk was just up and down and up and down our street to be on the safe side. I stopped each time I passed the house to go to the bathroom. Because I didn't take Elsa's leash off when I stopped by the house, she waited for me to leave again. I had never done that before, but she intuited the plan. I managed to get 5,500 steps in. My gait was more symmetrical today.

    I continued listening to TED talks as I walked. I also called Dorothy. I love calling her whenever even several times a day. So far, she hasn't objected. Unlike Judy, she usually answers her phone. Judy puts her phone down and then doesn't hear it ring. Maddening. She did order an earbud. Then she won't need to find her phone – unless she takes it out and leaves that somewhere, too. She did order one, but it didn't hold a charge. The brand she ordered is known for that problem. She ordered a new one.

    I worked on the updates. I also called the adjuster from Progressive. She told me that the extra charge for the Ford was due to Mike's accident with a rental car when visiting Maui. I want to know the name of the rental agency. Mike and I always got insurance whenever we rented a car. Why, then, would we be charged extra on our car insurance? How did Progressive even find out about it? I have another question for Progressive. Since the increased premium was because of an accident a driver had rather than the car, does it make a difference that that driver is no longer on the insurance? No less, no longer alive?    I called the adjuster to get the name of the rental company. Now, I have to get the bill out of them to see if Progressive was charged.

    My therapist/life coach from Ohio called. I told her how I've been feeling, blah. It is mainly about the political situation. Everyone is upset; we see everything from opposite perspectives. My problem is not being able to run away from the horrible reality of how black people are treated, particularly black men—this is malicious treatment. One guy was shot in the back for running away from the policeman. Was he resisting arrest? Yes. The policeman wanted to arrest him because he wanted to walk home while drunk rather than accept a ride from the police. I have sympathy for the police, who have to fear for their lives in their jobs. How about some sympathy for this poor black man who had good reason to suspect he would be in worse shape if he surrendered to the arrest than if he ran. He panicked, too. And the only weapon the man had in his hand was the policeman's taser. Remember, he was running away, not charging the police officer. The police are seriously undertrained. 

    I have a long history of low tolerance for contempt and cruelty. I have friends who refuse to watch movies with me because they know I will leave a room when the going gets rough. I've been known to charge up the aisles of movie theaters in an involuntary run. 

    It drove Mike nuts. He would say, "It's a movie. It's not real." I would say, "The behavior represents a possible behavior of human beings." I can't stand seeing it, even thinking about it.  

    I am more disturbed by my internal problems than what is happening in the world. I can be calm and accepting of what may occur when there is political upheaval as things become more equal among people. It's not that I will like the impact. It's that I understand what caused the change was unjust. 

            What I can't accept is my own anger from intolerance. My intolerance doesn't manifest as an annoyance of whole groups. I don't mean that I am comfortable with everyone. Not at all. The intolerance I am uncomfortable with my intolerance for those around me, my spouse, a child, and my students, when I don't get things my way. When they do something that I don't think is 'right,' my way. I don't like the anger that grows out of what I consider my ego's intolerance for not getting my own way.  

    My mother was like that. She was comfortable acting out and attacking me to relieve herself of stress so she could feel better. I didn't have children because I was terrified of being like her. Much of the limitations I have put on my life result from harnessing that type of anger. There are other types of anger, righteous anger. Of course, it is not so easy to discern the difference. 

    A white person might consider his anger righteous when he shot a black man for not stepping off the curb when he walked by. I remember a story about Sidney Poitier. He had been raised on a small island in the Bahamas. Things were relaxed there.

    Then, he moved in with a relative in Miami. He got a job as a delivery man. One evening, the KKK surrounded their house. His family said, "What did you do?" He had the nerve to deliver a package to the front instead of the back door. Those white men felt that their anger was righteous. They were entirely in the moral right to lynch the whole family if necessary. Discerning the nature of our anger is tricky, tricky, tricky.

    I plugged in my car to get it fully charged. If I get it fully charged once, I will have some left after most trips to town, and it will take less time to recharge it. When I got in the car, the total charge was 24 miles, not 26, as promised. Is this one of the variables Damon was talking about?

    I drove to town to get my license plates and registration. Someone from Kia called yesterday to let me know they were in. While there, I asked how to change the position of my rearview mirror. I just had to apply force, but I wanted to do that when I was sure that was the case. Also, I discovered there are some buttons on that mirror. I had pushed one by accident, and it announced it was calling for roadside service. Fortunately, I could cancel.

    When I got home, the first thing I did was plug the Kia in to recharge it. The electric motor still had 9 miles available; I had used 15 miles. It's not really linear miles. I don't use any electricity when going down Kaiminani; I use double the charge on the way up. 

    I finally put all the rubber floor pads into the Prius and took pictures. I washed the trunk and closed it. I thought we had the problem of opening it solved even though the latch had fallen off. Scott and I had figured out there was a small strip with a little red button that could be pushed. It just took knowing where it was. I couldn't get it to work. Therefore, I didn't get any pictures of that area. Once I take those final shots, I will send them to Scott to post on Craig's List. Judy said she doesn't even bother looking at an ad unless there are pictures. I hope there will be more responses once the photos are posted. 

    I also took all the clothes off the line. They weren't dry this morning, but they were now. The day was bright and sunny.

            

Tuesday, June 23, 2020

    I woke up to acute urinary urgency. UTI? The last time I had an attack like this, it cleared up. I walked up and down my short street to be within reach of a bathroom if I needed one. 

    I had moved my car to the side of the driveway before my walk to clear it for Yvette’s driveway yoga. I set up my mat when I came home. Then, I felt so lousy that I didn’t participate in the class. Lying down flat, relieving the pressure of gravity, was more comfortable. I watched a video Dorothy sent me of a couple improvising dance. I looked for more of that on YouTube. There are competitions for improvisational dance. I would think the dancers have to audition for this competition to participate. All the dancers I observed might be professionals. The couple is matched right on the screen. They can choose whether to dance to fast or slow music. There is no time to prepare. They have to follow each other’s moves and add their own touches. 

    When the AZO kicked in, I felt much better. I headed downtown to drop off my donation to Memory Lane. As Scott promised, there were two men out front to help unload the car. They gave me a receipt form. I drove to Kia. I had been promised a tutorial on the various gadgets in the car. The saleswoman, Paulette, sat in the car with me without a mask. I mentioned that hers was missing. She said I had one on, and that protected me. I dealt with it by leaving the car doors open. This is unusual for Hawaii. Most people are cooperative. It’s not like in Ohio. A friend of mine tells me that a substantial number of people in her neck of the woods refuse to wear masks and scowl at people who do. Wonderful! 

When I got home, I plugged in the car and took a long nap. When I got up, I still felt like a deflated balloon. I sat and meditated nonstop, hoping something would change. I remember thinking that if Mike died, I would go on an extended meditation retreat. I guess I’m doing that now. 

    I didn’t feel different after sitting for an hour or so, but when I got up, I got some stuff done. I took the clothes off the laundry line, folded them, and put them away. Then, I emptied another drawer of shirts that had been sitting there untouched for five years and tossed them into the laundry. 

    Then, I got to work on the PowerPoint slide show for the cover image for the Phonics Discovery System audio file. August couldn’t work with what I had given him and had no idea how to make a PowerPoint slide. He said he couldn’t convert the single still slide to the YouTube cover shot. It had to be a video. The first thing I tried was taking a video of the still shot. August told me that the print was too small. I tried to make several slides but didn’t know how to format them. I also couldn’t find anyone who could help me. I looked online. I saw videos that told me how to use PowerPoint, but none told me how to format a single slide differently, which I needed. I did what any twelve-year-old would do; I started hitting all the buttons to see what would happen. Hey, I found what I needed to reformat a single slide. I figured it out. I distributed the information that I originally had on one slide onto three.     Elsa and I went for our walk. I was satisfied with the day. I had done something.

    Judy called while she was on her way to the doctor to get a check-up before getting her colonoscopy. She has to have one once a year for the next five years to ensure the cancer is gone. She told me that her sister Paulette took a nasty fall and landed on both her knees. One knee was slightly bruised, and the other was a total mess. It was severely swollen. Judy asked if I had a crutch she could use. No, but I had a walker. I could get one from Memory Lane for free tomorrow for her. Judy said she would try.

    I called Paulette. She had tripped walking into her house with her arms loaded with trays of food she was preparing for the homeless. She and Judy make food for the homeless once a month. Judy delivered the food, and Paulette stayed home and nursed her knee. I called the number listed for Memory Lane. It was disconnected. I told Judy to pick up my walker on her way home. That way, Paulette could use it for the night. 

    After, Elsa and I went on our walk. I had started watching Marcella on Netflix last night. I thought it might be something I could watch, but it got weirder and weirder. I tried a few other shows; they were also weird, disturbingly weird. Where are the more straightforward, less disturbing shows? Why does every show have to have a psychologically disturbed person or persons? I finally found a movie called “The Healer” about a poor schmuck who discovers he’s got the gift of healing and freaks out. He doesn’t have much time to consider the changes to his life that come with this gift and rejects it. Later, he regrets having done so. Through some miracle, he regains the gift of healing. 

Monday, June 22, 2020

    I awoke around 4:30. I heard a racket outside. It sounded like a crowd on the street, chanting, “Black Lives Matter!” I live in a quiet residential area. Why would a big crowd be walking these streets at that hour? When I was sufficiently awake, I realized it was my neighbor’s roosters crowing their heads off. Something must have spooked them for them to be making that much noise.

    I got up at six and headed out for my walk. I ran into one woman I have seen occasionally. She commented that she had missed seeing me for a few days, and she and another woman were concerned. We exchanged names and the location of our homes. She reminded me that she had mistaken me for someone else several months ago whose name was Valerie. So far, I know of two others with that name who live in the neighborhood. We commented that it was an unusual name to occur so frequently. Her Valerie had lived on Kaiminani and had recently moved to Arizona after selling her house. People come and go. The only way I go will be feet first.

    Dorothy called. She reported feeling somewhat better. She tried to vary her activities instead of doing one thing for four hours straight. I did a little better yesterday, too. I made a point of getting on my vibrating platform at intervals and lifting the weights I had on top of the chest of drawers. They’re the three lb. ones. They give my arms a bit of resistance, and I get a full range of movement in my arms.

    I tracked down the customer service department for my 2-gallon garden sprayer. I had left it standing with vinegar in it for quite a while. I had put water in to clean the system out. I use the water in the spray bottle to clean my 8 x 4-foot screens on the lanai. They are too hard to remove to clean. It worked for a while, and then the water geysered up through the handle. I figured I had done something wrong, but what? I emptied the container, cleared the pump, and started again. Again, I got the fountain effect. I gave up. 

    The customer service for the sprayer was fantastic. She told me to unscrew the pump and check the O-ring. That was fine. Then she told me to look at the bottom of the pump. Did I see that little orange button? Yes. Was it smooth or puckered? It was puckered. That happened because I had left the vinegar in the container for too long, destroying the material. The customer service rep took my name and address and made arrangements to send me several replacements. I like using straight vinegar and Clorox occasionally for weeding. I will be puckering more of those plugs. Hopefully, I’ll remember not to leave the liquid in the sealed container forever.

    I discovered more books in the Very Short Introduction series. I found duplicates and made arrangements to sell the extras on Amazon.

    I also called Hawaiian Solar. I had two questions. First, what was the wattage, if that’s the term, of my household electricity? I thought it might be 220, but no household electricity is 110, except for the dryer outlet. That has to be specially installed. Hm! Have I discovered the problem with my new electric car? Is the problem that I didn’t charge it long enough? I should have a dedicated outlet or charge it anytime I’m home between 10 and 4 pm when I can count on free electricity as it draws on my solar panels.

    I replaced the water filter in my refrigerator as instructed, but no water came out. I tried to remove the filter. I was afraid to pull too hard. I didn’t know what I was dealing with and didn’t want to make it worse. I would have to call Sears for a service call. It would take a while for them to get to me. So I called Brian, the Sears repairman we had, over to our house repeatedly.

    Mike used to pack the refrigerator and freezer. Refrigerators need breathing room; without it, they get sick. Ours got sick a lot. Brian, the Sears repairman, was almost a member of the family. I had his cell number in my address book. So I called him, hoping he could give me some directions over the phone.

    When I reached him, he told me he had just quit Sears. Yesterday was his last day. He had already started his new job. He said he could come over. Within the hour, he showed up with his 3-year-old son, JJ. He reached in, applied force, and pulled out the filter. I hadn’t installed it correctly. I knew I wasn’t prepared to apply pressure when I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t make it worse. Brian told me he was starting a repair service on his own, too, and he was planning to set up a remote tutoring program that would be free for students. I told him I was interested. 

    After he left, I drove down to drop off the loaner and pick up my Niro. They told me that they had charged it. They stopped the charge when it was time to go home for the weekend. When they came in on Monday, it had held the charge. There were 19 miles on it. That would get me around and home again.

    Then, I went to Target to return the vacuum storage bags. I finally found travel compression bags on Amazon that didn’t require vacuuming or pumping. You can squeeze the air out of these. I haven’t had a lot of luck with the other ones.

    I planned to go to the Kia salesroom for a tutorial on all the special features. I was too tired. I was tired when I left to get the car, but I wanted to get home, plug in the car to charge it completely, and nap. 

    I left it in from 3 to 5, after which the sun wasn’t strong enough to power the solar panels. Today was a busy day for those panels: three loads of laundry, car charging, and running the dryer for 15 minutes.

    When I walked Elsa, I ran into Darby, someone in the neighborhood with whom I became friends. She had joined us on a walk once or twice, and we had exchanged numbers. Then, one day, out of the blue, she called to ask if I could come over and be with her while her husband went out. I didn’t ask what it was about. It was clear there was a problem, and I went. She was recovering from a stroke and didn’t want to be alone.

    After that, I stopped by every day with Elsa to visit. I figured her life was limited now, and she needed some stimulation. She told me today that she didn’t even tell many people that she had a stroke. She didn’t want people telling her what to do to recover. She was in physical therapy, had a great one, and did, indeed, take advice from me. Tonight, she expressed her gratitude for what I had done for her. I saw her every day for several weeks, and when she started working again, we returned to normal. Now, we run into each other every once in a while and enjoy each other’s company.

    Yvette came up before I had my dinner. She went through an old album I found with pictures of her and her family. If she takes them, they’ll be safe. When I’m old and drooling, she can bring them back up for me to look at.

-    - - - - - - - 

Musings:

I  know some believe that terrible things happen to people of color at the hands of the police because of their behavior.

Two questions:

1.    Does anyone believe there are no white people who commit similar crimes? Selling illegal cigarettes, passing a counterfeit twenty-dollar bill?

2.    If the police treat whites the same way they do people of color, where are the videos to prove it? Many blacks are killed because they resist arrest. People justify the police action, pointing out that they fear for their lives. Can those people understand that black people fear for their lives when confronted by the police?

       Someone spoke on the radio about his experience: he was sitting in his car for a minute when the police came by, ordered him out of his car, pointed a gun at his head, and said, “Make a move, and you’re a dead man.” The man was an adult and a lawyer. It took everything he had not to run. He wondered how a young man in the same situation would find the strength to stay calm, which is essential if you want to survive.  

    There had been robberies in that neighborhood. People came out and told the policeman to ask what he had done with their possessions. The man kept saying, I live in that apartment building. Look at my driver’s license. The policeman refused to do that.

    We need videos where police officers approach white people the same way. I heard a story on the radio of a young man who was confronted because he was warmly dressed on a hot day. He wasn’t feeling well. Someone called him in as being suspicious. He had committed no crime. No one reported a crime in the area. He was just warmly dressed. The police wanted to arrest him for the way he was dressed. He resisted arrest. They killed him. Show me situations where white people were treated that way. I don’t mean treated the same when they resist arrest; I mean treated the same from the very beginning of the encounter. I am sure there are some cases out there. Real cases, not faked ones. If they existed, they would already be out there. What an easy way to refute bias.  

            

Sunday, June 21, 2020

    Despite napping forever, I fell asleep quickly and slept well for most of the night. Here's another blessing: Mike and I always slept like babies. I hear from peers in my Golden Age Club that sleep does not come easily. I woke up around 5:30 a.m. and decided to get up and do my morning walk with Elsa. We walked a reasonable distance today. I had completed over 5,000 steps when I got home.

    I went out to check the laundry. It was mostly dry, just a little damp around the edges. I took some underpants to dry inside the house but left the rest. Then it started to sprinkle. I went out to grab a pair of shorts and my T-shirts. The rest are long-sleeved shirts, most of which I plan to give away and none I anticipate ever wearing while I live in Hawaii. I throw on a sweatshirt when it gets cold enough for a long-sleeved shirt.

    I discovered a gift from Elsa on the lanai. The wee-wee pad was lying open and waiting in the bathroom. She used it once for a bowel movement, but the lanai won out today. I decided to smear a little poop on the wee-wee pad along with the touch of urine, hers, of course.

    I am still feeling blah. It feels like I have nothing to do. Judy reports that she does a lot of shopping, taking care of her grandson, participating in Zoom meetings for the church, and doing household chores. I have a lot less stimulation. Dorothy is complaining about the same state. Lethargy is taking over. She calls it boredom. Household projects have lost their meaning; I think I need something challenging.

    If this is bad for me, I can't imagine what it must be like for elderly people who have nothing in their lives except going to the grocery store once a day and watching television. I have so much more. I don't know how much of my malaise is due to what is happening in the world.

    I appreciate that my life may suffer if things become violent in this country, but I can't blame people who have lived under the gun as people of color have. I know that many whites fear that people of color will become the political majority. What goes around comes around, even if you're not directly responsible for it. Ignore climate change, and the world becomes uninhabitable. Ignore the suppression of others, and then, oh, dear, surprise, they don't like the people who benefited from that suppression. What a surprise! I may not like how I will have to live at the end of my life, but, man, I get it. 

    Right now, I couldn't be better situated in relationship to anything. I live not only in Hawaii but on one of the outer islands. Not only that, but the Big Island has no new cases of Covid. I want to say that people of color live peacefully with whites, but that's not exactly the case. Native Hawaiians are not given the advantages that whites get. 

    Some say that the lack of economic success among people of color is their fault. For starters, does anyone know what constant threat does to brain development? I knew a Guatemalan man who was tortured as an adult and experienced a drop in his cognitive abilities. Your mind is forever devoted to protecting you from something terrible happening. You can't focus on abstract concepts like 2+2= 4 if your brain is whirling with fear. Not to mention all the ways whites have systematically limited educational and economic opportunities to people of color. If they were too successful, they were considered uppity, reaching beyond their status, and everything was taken away from them. 

    Why we need an underclass is beyond me. I do not fear losing what is considered' white privilege' if everyone becomes equal. I assume everyone will have the same privileges that I currently have.

    If the alarm goes off as I leave Macy's, announcing that some item is unpaid, the security guard will approach me and say, "Excuse me, miss. Could I please look in your bag? It looks like one of the gadgets may not have been removed by the clerk who checked you out." I wouldn't expect to be tackled without another word.

    But that's what happened to a woman I know in Princeton, NJ. She left Macy's with her four young daughters in tow when she was tackled in front of her children. If you're thinking this woman looked like some street junkie, think again. She was a middle-class woman with straightened hair. She had a Ph.D. in psychology and taught at Rider University. Oh, yes. Her skin was sufficiently dark to categorize her as a person of color. Why would there be a difference in how I would have been treated versus how she was?

    I decided to go with the mood of the day, to go toward it instead of away from it. I meditated for an hour and spent time catching up with the NY Times. 

    At 8:30, Damon and Cylin hosted a Zoom meeting with his mom, Jean, his stepdad, John, and me for a Father's Day get-together. We wished Mike a happy Father's Day. Cylin dropped out quickly, and Damon took his tablet up to his 16-year-old son's room. Guess what he was doing at 11:30 a.m.? What do you expect an adolescent to be doing at that hour of the morning when he doesn't have to go to school? He was sleeping. Damon sat on his bed, keeping the camera on the poor boy. When asked what time he went to bed, he said it wasn't that late. Damon said he got up to go to the bathroom around 1, and he was still up, and Cylin had gotten up around 3 and reported that same thing. August pleaded innocence.

    Damon walked down to the pool area with his mom because she hadn't seen the pergola he had installed. She loves to swim; she would be doing so now if the public pool in Princeton wasn't close to the virus.

    Cylin asked how my car was doing. I told her it was in the shop for the second time since I brought it home on June 8. I've only driven it twice. The first time I tried to drive it, it was dead as a doornail. It wound up that the starter battery was dead and needed to be replaced. The service was excellent. 

    The car drove well this time, but after charging it the required time, I only had 5 miles available on pure electric versus the 26 advertised. Damon told me that the electric batteries charge inconsistently. Inconsistent is one thing, but less than one-fifth of the total amount. I couldn't even make it to town, no less back, on this much. I bought the car thinking I could drive on pure electric most of the time. Since Damon told me that inconsistent charging is a feature of these cars, I'm freaking out. They may say, "That's what you got." But this isn't a child I gave birth to that has some severe limitations. It's a car.

    August has been working on attaching a PowerPoint image to my audio file for publication on YouTube. He keeps saying he's working on it, but I suspect it isn't getting a lot of his attention. Beggars can't be choosers. He is my go-to tech guy, and he's the go-to tech guy for the whole family. I reminded him of my project in the middle of the Zoom meeting, and then Jean chimed in with a problem of her own.

    Most of the Zoom meeting was devoted to discussing the political situation. We're all on the same page. I don't think anyone in this group favors disbanding the police department altogether, but maybe. 

    I am a supporter of the police and the unions; both these organizations have abused their power. Unions have even less of an excuse than the police. One can say that the police have to make split-second decisions to protect their own lives. It's just that they're more frightened of black men than white men, regardless of size. The police have been overly militarized. Even the military said that the armed forces should not be called to police demonstrations; they're not trained. I'm all for more training and reorienting the police force to serve the community.

    I heard a program the other day saying that you can predict the police force's action by the degree of prejudice in the community. You don't have to poll the police themselves. Some communities have more discrimination, and their police force reflects that.

    I spent time catching up on back issues of the NY Times before I downloaded today's paper. I didn't make it to church today. I'm programmed for the 9 a.m. mass at Saint Michael's, but I had to skip it today to join the family Zoom meeting. I thought I would be anxious to get out afterward, but no. Staying home was just fine with me. 

 

Saturday, June 20, 2020

   The days have been slow and empty. If I weren't writing, I would think I had done nothing, ever. I woke up late for me, around 7 am. I slept long and deep, and that's after having a long nap and going to bed at a reasonable hour. It's getting hard. Dorothy is complaining about the same thing, an empty, bored feeling. If I got back to work on writing about the teaching methods I developed, I would feel better, but then I didn't do it. I didn't even reread what I wrote to see what I think about it. 

    Elsa went for a walk with me this morning. I walked up the hill to the first fire hydrant, which I hadn't done for a while. When I got to the hydrant, I checked the pedometer. It was blank. The battery had run out. I walked back down the hill, heading to the house. I wanted to walk longer, but the sun was high already. It gets too hot to walk. 

    Today was the Saturday shows on NPR. I like them all except for the cooking show. I washed the kitchen and hallway floors with my Bissell while that show was on. Then I napped. When I got up, I  folded a huge black quilted blanket I planned to give to the Friendly Place for the homeless. It will serve as a bed and a blanket for someone. Since it's black, it won't show dirt. I sat around playing FreeCell. I edited and emailed two updates. I wrote one for today. I sent out one for the 21st for the blog. I washed Elsa. 

    During the day, I went out to check the laundry on the line. The clothes weren't quite dry, so I gave them a chance to dry further—a big mistake. Shortly, the sky opened and did its thing. It has been raining every day, which is unusual since it's not the rainy season. However, it is good news for the plants and our water supply. 

    While out there, I noticed my surprise pineapple was drooping over. It was ripe and ready for picking before it hit the ground and sent out invitations to everything that crawled the earth. I grabbed it. This was the fruit of the pineapple top I planted several years ago. Nothing happened after two years. I was told I hadn't prepared the top correctly and would never get a pineapple from that plant. Not only do you have to cut the top smoothly off the fruit, but you also have to crop the 'leaves' at the top of the plant. Lo and behold, patience, or better neglect, paid off. Not only did I get one pineapple out of this deal, but there may be two more growing behind it. Triplets.

    Elsa and I didn't do our before-dinner walk. Just as we were about to, the sky opened up, and there was another downpour. While I was watching Bosch, I did some infrared light treatment on Elsa. I had her slung over my shoulder to get her into the library. When I sat down, she was so happy to be there; she snuggled up behind my head and stayed there. She may not be the best dog I ever had, but she's mine and good enough.

_____-____-____    

Musings:

I heard another TED talk about improving yourself. I tried to find it again, but I couldn't. I wanted to take notes.

    He spoke about the difference between being in 'performance mode' versus 'learning mode." In performance mode, you work to make no mistakes. In learning mode, you work to change what you do. Doing something unfamiliar requires taking risks. Taking risks requires making mistakes. A person who is open to learning sees the benefits of errors. They are the real teachers. Instead of groaning when we make mistakes, we should welcome them and then explore how they differ from the "right' way and why we would do it one way versus another. 

    For me, this ties in with learning with creativity. Creativity requires exploration, risk-taking, and valuing the mistakes you make.

    Traditional education emphasizes performance over learning. The aim is to get the correct answer. Errors are not valued. I had an experience with a supervisor when I was teaching Title I classes in a Catholic school. Children who needed extra help came out to a trailer in the playground to work with me. I had taught one lesson; my supervisor was thrilled with the class.

    Then, a second group of sixth graders came in. They announced that the teacher wanted me to go over two-dimensional shapes. I drew several on the board. I had trouble drawing an octagon. I asked if any of the kids could do it for me. Students happily volunteered. I did a fantastic job. It is a teacher's job to model the learning process. A teacher's job is to model how to respond to errors and their own mistakes, not just model perfection. This same supervisor tore me a new one because I wasn't prepared for the class. I don't know how she expected me to be ready when I didn't know the objective of the class before the kids entered the room. I could have insisted that I teach what I had prepared instead of being flexible and responding to the teacher's request. I was shocked by her response. It was 1995, after all. The need for teachers to present as perfect was behind us. Do we want our children to learn, or do we think teachers are models of perfection to imitate? I know my preference. Saturday, June 20, 2020

    The days have been slow and empty. If I weren't writing, I would think I had done nothing, ever. I woke up late for me, around 7 am. I slept long and deep, and that's after having a long nap and going to bed at a reasonable hour. It's getting hard. Dorothy is complaining about the same thing, an empty, bored feeling. If I got back to work on writing about the teaching methods I developed, I would feel better, but then I didn't do it. I didn't even reread what I wrote to see what I think about it. 

    Elsa went for a walk with me this morning. I walked up the hill to the first fire hydrant, which I hadn't done for a while. When I got to the hydrant, I checked the pedometer. It was blank. The battery had run out. I walked back down the hill, heading to the house. I wanted to walk longer, but the sun was high already. It gets too hot to walk. 

    Today was the Saturday shows on NPR. I like them all except for the cooking show. I washed the kitchen and hallway floors with my Bissell while that show was on. Then I napped. When I got up, I  folded a huge black quilted blanket I planned to give to the Friendly Place for the homeless. It will serve as a bed and a blanket for someone. Since it's black, it won't show dirt. I sat around playing FreeCell. I edited and emailed two updates. I wrote one for today. I sent out one for the 21st for the blog. I washed Elsa. 

    During the day, I went out to check the laundry on the line. The clothes weren't quite dry, so I gave them a chance to dry further—a big mistake. Shortly, the sky opened and did its thing. It has been raining every day, which is unusual since it's not the rainy season. However, it is good news for the plants and our water supply. 

    While out there, I noticed my surprise pineapple was drooping over. It was ripe and ready for picking before it hit the ground and sent out invitations to everything that crawled the earth. I grabbed it. This was the fruit of the pineapple top I planted several years ago. Nothing happened after two years. I was told I hadn't prepared the top correctly and would never get a pineapple from that plant. Not only do you have to cut the top smoothly off the fruit, but you also have to crop the 'leaves' at the top of the plant. Lo and behold, patience, or better neglect, paid off. Not only did I get one pineapple out of this deal, but there may be two more growing behind it. Triplets.

    Elsa and I didn't do our before-dinner walk. Just as we were about to, the sky opened up, and there was another downpour. While I was watching Bosch, I did some infrared light treatment on Elsa. I had her slung over my shoulder to get her into the library. When I sat down, she was so happy to be there; she snuggled up behind my head and stayed there. She may not be the best dog I ever had, but she's mine and good enough.

_____-____-____    

Musings:

I heard another TED talk about improving yourself. I tried to find it again, but I couldn't. I wanted to take notes.

    He spoke about the difference between being in 'performance mode' versus 'learning mode." In performance mode, you work to make no mistakes. In learning mode, you work to change what you do. Doing something unfamiliar requires taking risks. Taking risks requires making mistakes. A person who is open to learning sees the benefits of errors. They are the real teachers. Instead of groaning when we make mistakes, we should welcome them and then explore how they differ from the "right' way and why we would do it one way versus another. 

    For me, this ties in with learning with creativity. Creativity requires exploration, risk-taking, and valuing the mistakes you make.

    Traditional education emphasizes performance over learning. The aim is to get the correct answer. Errors are not valued. I had an experience with a supervisor when I was teaching Title I classes in a Catholic school. Children who needed extra help came out to a trailer in the playground to work with me. I had taught one lesson; my supervisor was thrilled with the class.

    Then, a second group of sixth graders came in. They announced that the teacher wanted me to go over two-dimensional shapes. I drew several on the board. I had trouble drawing an octagon. I asked if any of the kids could do it for me. Students happily volunteered. I did a fantastic job. It is a teacher's job to model the learning process. A teacher's job is to model how to respond to errors and their own mistakes, not just model perfection. This same supervisor tore me a new one because I wasn't prepared for the class. I don't know how she expected me to be ready when I didn't know the objective of the class before the kids entered the room. I could have insisted that I teach what I had prepared instead of being flexible and responding to the teacher's request. I was shocked by her response. It was 1995, after all. The need for teachers to present as perfect was behind us. Do we want our children to learn, or do we think teachers are models of perfection to imitate? I know my preference.  

Friday, June 19, 2020

 I put the harness on Elsa this morning, thinking I would try to walk her. I got her out on the street, and she stood there with her left paw raised like a pointer. One of my neighbors was walking by.  I asked her to watch Elsa walk to see if she was limping. She said yes. I turned around, brought Elsa back into the house, and continued my walk alone.

 However, when I entered the house, I discovered Elsa had no trouble chasing balls thrown around the house or jumping off the bed.  I suspect that she faked the limp because she wanted an early breakfast. I got a text from Yvette telling me that Elsa barked nonstop while I was gone.  Was she upset that I left without her or that I hadn't fed her yet?  She is a piece of work. Smart! 

 On that note, she has worked out a way to inform me when she has to go out.  She looks at me over her shoulder, signaling that she expects me to follow her. She then goes to the shower door leading to the yard.

 I spoke to Dorothy while I walked. I am enjoying our relationship. We talk more about ourselves than we have ever done before, reconciling differences. She had started reading the article I had written. She said it was an improvement over what I had done before. 

      She told me how she had an enjoyable driveway get-together with a couple who live in her development. The man had been a copy editor for a Philadelphia newspaper. Dorothy told me that she didn't like correcting the details; she liked editing work for clarity. Boy, is she ever a gift for me. I wanted someone to do that. Most people only read it for missing commas, which are valuable but not quite what I was looking for.  

    I had to get off the phone to shower and get ready for my dental appointment. When I got in the car, I checked the EV gauge. It is on the dashboard and looks like the gas gauge; it's an arch going from L to H with bars that appear and disappear accordingly.

I had charged the car on Wednesday afternoon. As I remember it, the connecting wire monitor said, "Charged." I assumed that the EV would be completely charged. However, when I looked at the gauge, there were only a few turquoise bars and the number 5 next to them.  I wasn't quite sure what this meant.  As I drove down the hill, well, more rolled down Kaiminani, another bar popped up, and the number went up to 7.  The number went down as I drove on Kaiminani, where I had to apply gas. Hmm!. Why was the battery considered fully charged at 5, meaning 5 miles of driving on the EV alone?

 I stopped off at Target to buy more clothing storage bags.  I started going through my own drawers, sorting through my clothes, and getting rid of anything I didn't think I would use. I have multiple turtleneck shirts. I have not used one since I moved here. I will hold on to two, in case, so I have one to wear when I travel.  The shirts that have been sitting in drawers for the last six years smell musty.  I planned to wash them and store them in clothing storage bags.  Unfortunately, all Target had were those that needed to be vacuumed to reduce the air in them instead of rolled. I haven't had a lot of luck with those bags. I like the kind you can roll up to push the air out of and then seal—those work. I bought two packages for a total of 6 medium-sized bags. When I got home, I checked on the Internet to see if I could find the simpler ones.  No. It looks like they don't even exist anymore.  I can't think why that would be.

 After Target, I returned to Kia to ask about the EV.  The guy who came out to the showroom didn't even know where to look for the EV gauge.  I had to go up to the service area. I tried to explain what I had done and what I experienced with the indicator.  There was only one guy who worked on these cars.  He didn't know what was going on. Oh, dear. I only hoped he was willing to tell me he didn't know, which means to me he will make every effort to find out. It doesn't make sense that the charger should read as fully charged after the battery is less than a quarter charged.  

 The serviceman told me to leave it, and they would figure it out.  The shop gave me a loaner.  I called Yvette to tell her that I would be driving an unfamiliar car. I went to Home Depot to find soft clothes to wipe down my new car.  It is a very dark color. It looks black in most light, but it is called Gravity Blue. In the late afternoon sun, you can see the blue.  

 I went to Costco to do some shopping. Judy called as I pulled into a parking spot.  As I talked to her, I had difficulty with the car. It kept buzzing, and I couldn't lock it. I got back in. The screen message read, "Put the car in park." Oh, dear. I have had this problem with the other car, too.  The gear shift device is very different in the Kia than it is in the Prius. In the Prius, I had a button to put the car in park.  The Kia has a traditional gearbox.  I  had a few occasions where I had forgotten to shift. One time, I rolled a bit.  I see an accident waiting to happen. It would be just my style; the car would be moving well below the magical 5 mph that marks the range for car accidents for me. 

 I told Judy the story of my car.  I was reasonably calm. I've had the car since June 8, and it's been in the shop twice already. The first was trivial. The starter battery was dead because the car had spent a lot of time sitting in the car lot. But this is a different story. The whole purpose of buying this car is to be able to not use gas.  I should only need gas if  I drive across to the other side of the island, which I do not anticipate doing frequently.  When Damon is here, he will want to drive the new car. He wants the best. I love that guy. It's impressive how the quirks of those we love are just adorable.

 When I got home from Costco, I hit the sofa for a nap after unloading the car. Man, I love to sleep and do it so well.

-    - - - - - - - -  -

MUSINGS:

 Creativity in the schools. 

 I heard a TED talk by Ken Robinson asking if schools kill creativity. He says yes. His sole explanation is there is not enough art, music, dance, and theater. While these are important subjects and help people connect to their right brain functions, they are not the only source of creativity. And yes, I do believe school does kill it. Creativity has become ever more critical in our changing world. We will have to teach creativity to our students if we are going to prepare them for the world they live in.

 Creativity doesn't just manifest in the arts but in every area of life. Robinson describes creativity as an original idea that has some use, but he doesn't discuss what an 'unuseful' idea might be.  

    I heard another talk today on pursuing curiosity in science, exploring something just because you're curious. Thompson discovered the electron, a subatomic particle. It had absolutely when it had no useful purpose. According to Robinson, no creativity was involved in the discovery. All our modern-day electronics are dependent on that discovery. Did the discovery of the electron only become creative after someone found a use for it? 

 I have another issue with some of the definitions of creativity. Many argue it has to be an original idea. Are we really saying that we want to teach our students, all our students, creativity so they can produce ideas unique to all of us? Boy, that would be nuts. Let's define creativity as an idea that is new to that person, one they haven't learned whole from another person. If that's our working definition, we teach our students problem-solving and adaptability. Given our rapidly changing world, those are the traits we need our students to develop. They must be flexible enough to develop a novel response to a situation.

 All subjects can be taught to encourage curiosity. No, we do not want our students in a position where they have to reinvent the wheel. We want knowledge passed down and students to absorb what their elders know, even if it won't apply to their lives. However, we should teach them creativity and problem-solving. In that case, they can figure out how to utilize their parents' knowledge to adapt to their current lives.  If we teach them just to learn what we know, we teach rigid thinking.

 All subjects can be used to teach creativity if students are allowed to explore and make mistakes. This can even be done with spelling. Memorizing is excellent, but taking your best shot is also good. The current procedure is to mark the word wrong if a single letter is out of place. What if we gave credit for each correct letter in words? Getting it 'right' is still a goal, but encouraging students to explore and pay attention to what they know to get 'closer' is also an idea. Also, they examine their mistakes so they can learn from them.

 Some students learn to read on their own. Unless they have some special connection with God, they do it by discovery. We can encourage this type of discovery learning in our students. They can explore the relationship between the sounds in the words and the spelling. They don't have it handed down by us as if it were the Ten Commandments written by God himself on two stone tablets, there to be memorized and repeated verbatim.