Wednesday, December 11, 2019

    When I walked Elsa shortly after 6 am this morning, a huge orange full moon hung in a clear sky.  As I completed the walk, walking back downhill toward the ocean, the moon was gone. First, I thought it moved on. Then I thought, no, the earth moved on.  As I had that thought, the muscles in my legs switched.  I guess that makes sense.  When we anticipate a challenge to our balance, our muscles start warming up, so they're ready to make the necessary moves to keep us upright. It was a weird feeling, especially since what I was thinking about was the earth's movement. 

    My legs had been even when I got up this morning to go to the bathroom.  Amazing!  When I rolled over on to my belly after the long savasana, I had to pee.  I got up partway but needed Heather to haul me to my feet once I got them under me.  When I came back to the room, my back was so tight that I couldn't bend it enough to get back down on the floor—the price I pay for progress. I had to leave. I hoped it wouldn't last too long; I had lunch plans with a friend from church. I've already had to cancel several times because I was flat on my back for days at a time.  Now, the pain seems to clear more quickly. Thank God. I used the infrared light on my sore muscles and was good to go.

    When I got home, I started the laundry with the last of Mike's sweatshirts and long-sleeved shirts.  I was planning on giving them all to the homeless.  I had called Jean and asked if John would like some of the long-sleeved shirts. She had initially said no; he only wore short-sleeved shirts. Lo and behold, John would love them, well, the dark ones.  I set aside one dark one that seems unusually thick.  The homeless need warm clothes for sleeping in the winters here.  If I need a warm sweatshirt at 6 am, they need even warmer clothes during the night. I guess the homeless will have to settle for Mike's 12 (twelve) sweatshirts (Remember, we live in Hawaii.)  The clothing also provides them some softness and protection from critters.

    While I napped, Anthony from Toyota called to tell me my car was ready for pick up.  I texted Jeff and Deborah to see if one of them can drive me to Bikram tomorrow to get the Prius from Toyota. Both got back to me.  Jeff will be picking me up. I have to do something to remind myself not to just leave on my own.

    I got the clothes down from the line I put up yesterday and the load in the dryer to get the remaining moisture out. Also, to get the white lint off.  I suspect someone washed a tissue.  It will be a while before the laundry comes free of the little white specks.  I sorted all the clothes that I will be getting rid of: a bag of shirts for John, a large box for the Friendly Place for the homeless, and a smaller box, for now, for Memory Lane. I'll drop the stuff for Memory Lane and the homeless on Monday on my way home from PT.

    I had plans to have lunch with Jacqui and her daughter Jackie; mothers and daughters having the same name is a southern thing. The movers were there today.  They had anticipated being through by 12, but by 12:30, it was clear they were nowhere near done. We made arrangements for dinner.

    I found more sweatshirts on the top shelf and put them in the washing machine for tomorrow's load when I come home from Bikram. I now have empty shelves. I'm going to have to proceed slowly.  Once his side of the closet is completely empty- yikes! That hurts.

    I drove to Jacqui's house, and she drove all of us to Magic's for dinner. It was her daughter's choice.  She will be leaving the island on the 15th for a stopover in NYC to visit her husband's family. Then they both head back to Spain, where they have lived most of their married life and where their children live.  Well, actually, they no longer live in Spain. They moved to a small village in the Pyrenees on the French side of the border.  The daughter and I did most of the talking over dinner.  Our lives overlap a fair amount, literally. She and I were in the same locations, missing each other by a few years. 

    Can a dog become addicted to food and a ball?  I think Elsa is. She doesn't even want to go on walks anymore. She wants to stay home and play with this little multi-colored ball with plastic spikes that lights up when thrown. She also loves Dr. Marty's that I mix in with her regular food and doesn't want to leave until fed. 

    When I got Elsa from the breeder, she was three.  The breeder explained that Elsa was a grazer.  It winds up; she's just a fussy eater. She only ate as much of the food as needed to get her through to the next moment when she had to eat to survive. With Dr. Marty's mixed in, she is no longer a grazer; she's a gulper. She scarfs down that food at an impressive rate of speed. 

 

 

Musings:

 

    I have to repeat this message because it is so vital for those who have lost loved ones:

 

    It is difficult to impossible to get a clear image of the face of a loved one, alive or dead.  Jackie, the daughter, actually tried to picture the faces of people she knew well. She experienced what I have been experiencing, recalling Mike's face; all I see is a fleeting glance. 

    I have finally found an exception to this rule.  I can see Mike's face in the moments after he died.  It was a face I had never seen before. All the muscles of his face relaxed, and the outline of his bone structure looked chiseled. Since I had only seen that face once, it is easy to remember. 

    This is because, with those who we have been around a lot, we see so many different faces: different angles, different moods, altered states of health, etc., and variations on all those different states.   We don't have a single image. As I have said before, I have a very clear image of Meryl Streep's face, but not Mike's.     

    I first experience this when my dad died when I was 15.  I thought my inability to recall his face was due to grief.  There was a colleague in Ohio who lost her husband very young to a heart attack.  I heard her expressing concern about her inability to picture his face.  It left her wondering what was wrong. 

    I'm here to tell you one and all: There's nothing wrong with you.  You just knew that person too well to have only one face in mind for them.  

 

Tuesday, December 10, 2019

    When I got home from Bikram, I did some gardening. I boiled several pots of water and dumped them on some haoli koa I had cut back.  Nothing seems to kill these invasive trees. They have to be pulled out by the roots or forget it. Someday, they will take over the island.  

    Progressive called about the car accident. I told them I had canceled the claim. Shivani made the call for the road service. When she was asked was it due to an accident, she said yes. I had not told her not to do that. It added a layer of confusion but nothing more. The agent told me that just dropping the claim wasn’t doable.  I had to answer a bunch of questions.  She was concerned that the other party might sue.  I told her he didn’t have any information. Which, as I think of it, of course, is not true.  How many Priuses with a ring of white flower decals around the car are there in Kona?  Only mine. So if he wants to track me down,  he can.  Given how little damage there was to my car and the only contact with his was with his hitch, I doubt that there will be any problems. We’ll see. I suppose anything is possible. I’m not worrying about it.

    I called the medical alert company I found online that was rated #1, Mobile Help, to ask why the cost for the annual payment was $110 more than it would be if I used the monthly payment.  I calculated the relative cost of each manner of payment: monthly- $239.4 a year; semi-annually: $395.4 a year; and annually $ 359.40. Now that was a surprise. Usually, when you pay an annual lump sum, the cost is the same or less.  This was $110 more, and I wanted to know why.  I smelled a rat.  I suspected that they relied on addled elders to assume that the annual cost would be less and use that option without checking first. 

    My conversation with the salesman was interesting.  He refused to discuss it.  He kept saying that he was just the salesperson and didn’t set the prices, saying that the marketing department set them.  I asked him to give me the number of the marketing department.  He refused. I called the AARP to report the company, believing, incorrectly,  that they recommended this company.  Besides that wrong assumption, I also discovered that their fraud department wasn’t prepared to deal with this problem. They were there to help people deal with online frauds and help them recover their funds.  They told me to follow up with the Better Business Bureau and the Federal Trade Commission. 

    I arrived at school shortly before 1 pm.  I worked with the two boys in Mrs. D’s class. She had been feeling lousy on Friday.  I was surprised to see her back in school so quickly. She didn’t look good but could function. 

    I worked on comprehension with N. I think his problem is that he thinks he is supposed to find the answer in his head rather than from the words on the page.  When I get him to focus on the print, he does just fine.  I asked him outright if he looks for answers in his head rather than the page.  He said yes.  He also said he was fine switching. Great. I told Mrs. D to remind him to get his answers from the page instead of his own head when he had problems.

    I worked on spelling with B. He wasn’t up for much.  He looked like the prospect of working on spelling was altogether too much.  I did have him look for the phonics patterns in this lesson.  He was able to identify the pattern: oi, oy, ou, and ow.  This is good.   

    I asked him if it was okay if I did the work, and he observed. He said yes.  So I identified the phonemes and then the letter(s) that represented that sound.  Wow! Then I lapsed into just making the sounds so he could provide the letters which represented that sound. He has fundamental problems with identifying which letters represent which sounds. For the sound of [l] he gave the letter e. Really?  Well, one good thing came out of this.  I think I have narrowed down what his problem is.  He can identify the phonemes, but he can’t identify the letters. He’s not even close in many cases.

            In some cases, he is, as when he confuses that spelling for [n], providing either a d or t.  It seems to help when I tell him explicitly how the mouth position for these sounds are similar and different, showing him how [t] and [d] are pronounced with two mouth positions and [n] only with one.  Pointing out that [n] is nasalized seemed a little too much detail, but I did cover the voicing difference between [t] and[d].  But now I know what to work on and how to work on it.  I’m very excited.

    Mrs. D said she is seeing significant improvements in reading for both boys. She is surprised by how much. This is great. When she told me, I immediately thought, “Okay, where do we go from here?” But as I’m typing this, there is a smile of satisfaction crossing my face.

    I haven’t bought any food in over a week. I still have a salad item Shivani bought.  I finally finished the steak tonight that Steve made for my birthday, but salad and pasta were left.  I’m thoroughly enjoying this pasta.  It’s spicy the way Mike liked it.  I had a cookie leftover from Monday’s tea and only one Hersey’s Milk chocolate bar with almonds.

    When I got up from dinner, my back was in trouble again.  I used the infrared light on it and on my neck. Hopefully, I’ll be in good shape tomorrow.      

 

Monday, December 9, 2019

    It was a busy day.  First, Bikram and then physical therapy. As I got in the car after yoga, Anthony, from Toyota, called. He said the mechanic couldn’t find any damage to my air conditioner. It seemed to be working okay, although it wasn’t freezing cold. I wouldn’t know. I never run it that low.  He said the inverter pump still showed up as a problem.  I gave him the go-ahead to replace it. 

    The physical therapist worked on my head and shoulders because they have been bothering me.  She discovered a hot spot between my shoulder blades on the right side that I believe is the epicenter of many of my upper body problems. She gave me an exercise to loosen those muscles.  

    She also observed me doing other exercises.  I have been working on one where I have to tighten my abdominal muscles and breathe while I am holding that tension.  She had told me to think of drawing my belly button back to my spine.  That image has never worked for me.  The other day I heard another metaphor.  Draw your stomach in as you would if you’re trying to get into a pair of tight pants.  Got it! However, when I showed the PT how I did it, she saw something I was doing wrong.  She saw I was tightening the muscle, which runs up the center of my abdomen, the one associated with the six-pack.  She said I should be focusing on the muscles on the side of the abdomen that run along the hip bones.  What a difference!  I love this woman. She shares her knowledge of the body.  

    She is also coming up with entirely different explanations for why I have the problems I do. I made up my stories to explain my lopsided body; she’s working from her knowledge about the body in general.  She says my joints were hyperflexible.  I don’t ever remember feeling hyperflexible in my life.  She says the rigidity I adopted was a compensation for my hyper flexibility.  Possible, I suppose.  The cause doesn’t concern me as much as the cure.

    After PT, I went home to shower to get ready for Judy and Paulette to pick me up to go to church. Today was the celebration of the Immaculate Conception.  The mass was followed by the rosary and then a tea in Mary’s honor.  Traditional teacups are set at each table, and cakes and cookies are served.  Each person who signed up ahead of time got a gingerbread cookie with their name on it.  I am part of a woman’s luncheon group that celebrates birthdays.  It was decided that my birthday would be observed on this occasion.  The whole group sang happy birthday to me.

    On the way to the church, I told Judy and Paulette that I was already planning my 80th birthday party.  The location is a problem.  I’ve decided that it would be a good idea to reserve a pavilion from the Kona Parks and Recreation department.  Judy had just been to a massive event at one of them.  It was some child’s first birthday. In Hawaii first birthdays a big deal, up there with weddings, large weddings.  Of course,  most events around here are large because of the family networks. My dentist and his Hawaiian wife chose to have their wedding in Las Vegas to avoid having to invite 1,000 people to the event.  Yay, it can get pretty bad. Judy and Paulette said they would ask the woman who organized that first birthday event how to reserve a pavilion. 

    I also spoke about wanting to announce that a single mature woman who was a member of the church was looking for an ohana to rent. This is for this woman who in her late 80s who remarried 5 years ago whose husband just died. To complicate matters, she has to be out of her home by January 11. She has options on the mainland, but she loves the community here.  She has built a life for herself, independent of her husband.  It’s an upsetting situation.

    When I came home, I needed a nap.  I did some reading in the Karen Armstrong book on Mohammad. She was a nun but now is a lapsed Catholic. What she has to say about the role of Catholicism in creating a world full of conflict and hate is not pretty. 

    While I was napping, Shivani called. Sidney was in the bath and wanted to say hello.  Shivani told me that she had sent me some notes on the book. She said chapter one was too long. Is such and such valuable information?   My first reaction was,” Oh, shit!”  I read and reread that chapter.  I hoped I was done. But when I looked it over, I saw places that repeated information unnecessarily and appreciated what she had to say.  I was even excited about cleaning up the chapter. While I love communicating my ideas, I also enjoy the craft of writing.

  

Sunday, December 8, 2019

    I woke up before 6 am even though I can sleep in on Sundays.  I got up at 6:30 and did a long walk with Elsa.  It was a two-sweatshirt day. The Internet said the low in Kona was 600, which means up the mountain where we are, it was at least 5 degrees less. 

    I had some strange dreams last night. One was about an elderly couple. The wife was crying that her husband hadn’t kissed her in something like a year.  As it wound up, they a one-year-old baby, which the woman had born.  For some reason, kissing on the mouth was not on the husband’s list as one of the best things in life. I can appreciate the woman’s tears. It is one of the things I miss the most with Mike’s absence.

    People say how evident our love for each other was.  I think it was clear because we were affectionate. I don’t think it is possible to compare one couple’s love for each other with another by behavior.  Hollywood movies have to show couples being affectionate to show how they care for each other.  The subtle stuff is too hard to script.  

    Affection was a biggy for Mike and me.  Yvette commented recently that our public shows of affection were always innocent. It was a way for us to drink in the other’s energy.  That was the first thing that worked in our relationship- that energy exchange; it lasted until the day he finally gave up on living and retreated.  That was the Monday before he died. 

             I remember leaving the hospital room without kissing him good night and telling him I loved him.  I felt bad and went back to do it.  But the connection wasn’t there anymore.  He had left.  Even as he was dying, there was not that connection.  I think he hung on for eight hours after they took him off the life support because he had fun hanging out with all of us: Yvette and me in the room, and Damon, Cylin, and August on FaceTime.  When he was gone, we all left the scene as if something ordinary had happened and went on with our lives.  No drama. I’m not the emotionally suppressed type.  There really was no drama. 

    I am noticing that I am, if anything, more peaceful than when Mike was around. I like being alone. I like being with my own thoughts.  I know before he died, I noticed this in myself and worried about becoming totally isolated. That wouldn’t be good.  I remember, hopefully correctly, saying something about my concern to Yvette. She assured me that she would make sure I wasn’t completely alone. That was comforting. 

    I expressed my concern that I was more peaceful without Mike than with him.  I was wondering if something was wrong with me.  Paulette and Judy assured me that this was normal.  Even in the best of relationships, there’s the burden of expectations. I know that the burden was not heavy between Mike and me, but there were unresolved areas. Paulette told me that she felt that way after a while when her husband died. She didn’t at first because the responsibilities that he carried became all hers. In my case, I had been assuming those responsibilities more and more over the last year as Mike got sicker and sicker with his kidney disease. He loved that I took over.  He found it relaxing. 

    I think of all the good things I shared with Mike.  The energy exchanges were the big ones. Sometimes I sit and think of him hard and can feel his energy fill me.  It is just wonderful. There were many good things in our relationship and no deal breakers.

    I’m thinking of deal breakers as I observe another couple.  I’m thinking of two young people who would be perfect together, but there is a deal-breaker in there that makes their relationship impossible. They define the terms of a relationship so differently that they can’t make it work. You don’t just marry a person; you marry a lifestyle. 

    When I was single, I kept a journal; then it stopped when Mike and I got together. I have about 20 notebooks filled with my ‘thoughts.’ Most of the writing helped me deal with life crises in intra- and interpersonal relationships.  As you can imagine, there was a strong philosophical overtone.  It wasn’t the “yesterday I did” type of journal.  

    I have taken up journal writing in the form of this blog now that he’s gone. I started it as a way to keep everyone posted on his condition once in was in the hospital.  Several people told me that I should make it into a publicly accessible blog.  While I have a name for the blog, “With Mike; Without Mike,” it hasn’t yet been posted online.  I was led into writing again.  Very weird how it came about.  I doubt I would be as diligent about keeping it up if I didn’t know that I might have an audience waiting for the next edition. However,  I am often surprised to find that people do read it occasionally, if not regularly.  Either way, it is a good outlet for me, as it was when I was a young woman before I met Mike.  People think I’m so busy.  No, no. I don’t have a full-time job on top of what I write.  

    For all of you out there, if you feel you do nothing, keep notes on what you do every day.   I started writing down everything I did to combat depression when I was in my twenties. It worked like a charm.  “I got up; I had a cigarette; I brushed my  teeth; I made some coffee; I drank the coffee; I washed the cup; etc.”  You’d be amazed at how well this works when you think your life is nothing. Whatever it is that you do, it adds up.

    Yesterday, I contacted a medical alert company, as per John Zim’s suggestion and Judy and Paulette’s reinforcement. I had already felt some concern about my willingness to wear the damn thing all the time.  If it’s a necklace or a bracelet, I probably won’t. I wear a clip-on pedometer regularly. There’s room on my garments for another clip-on. I contacted the company Mobile Help, listed as the #1 company on some readily available list.

    When I wrote to John about deciding to go for it, to relieve the concern of friends as much as for my safety, he told me a story of a medical alert failure.  A guy fell in his house and lay there for a day and a half before someone found him because he wasn’t wearing his medical alert device.

  

Saturday, December 7, 2019

    Bikram this morning, as usual.  The class was well underway when I remembered that it was Mark's birthday. Usually, the instructor organizes the singing during one of the more challenging postures, but it was the instructor's birthday.  It was after the warm-up that I called out, "What's today's date?" When someone confirmed it was the 7th, I announced it was Mark's birthday, and we were going to sing to him during the triangle pose.  Then when that pose came up, I forgot. Fortunately, Deborah started singing.  It was a weak performance.  During the rest between sets, I announced, "Since we did such a lousy job on the first one, we will sing again on the second set." That was more enthusiastic.     I felt great after class. No aches or pains.

    I stopped off at Toyota on my way home. I wasn't sure that the service center would be open.  It was, but Anthony wasn't there.  The woman who was on call couldn't find my paperwork on my car.  She was very apologetic.  I figured, the longer I can put off the bad news, the happier I would be.  I went home.

    I showered and hand washed my Bikram stuff and a pair of tights for the young woman who lives here. It was an absolutely beautiful day, clear and cool.  Mike and I both said that we found Hawaii more beautiful the longer we lived here.  Familiarly does not always breed indifference, no less contempt.  

    I worked on catching up on the blogs I hadn't done while Shivani and Sidney were here.  A two-year-old takes up a lot of your sitting time.  I got many things done that required moving and being ready to chase after him if necessary. While I was sitting, Elsa decided that the only place to be was in my arms.  Love it! I am delighted to have her come to me for comfort and a sense of well-being. 

    I also cleaned the stovetop and the lanai carpet, cleaning up the spots where Elsa decided to do her business. 

    I walked Elsa around the dinner hour.  We stopped off to visit Darby, my neighbor, who had a stroke. This was the first time since Shivani and Sidney had come to visit. Her walk was already so much better.  Her left arm is also doing better.  She drove for the first time yesterday. She has been back to work for a while.  She is the piano tuner for the stars.  Yesterday, she tuned the piano for Alicia Keyes. Darby didn't really know who she was.  She has to come in and tuned the piano before each rehearsal and before the performance. Those pianos are temperamental things.  Patrick, her husband, was describing the scene. The drummer was tuning the drums at the same time Darby was tuning the piano. I learned that part of the tuning process striking the instrument hard to test to see if the setting will hold.   Patrick, Darby's husband, said the noise was deafening, but it didn't seem to bother either Darby or the drummer. 

    I came home to find that the young man staying with me left me some cooked kale.  I made the rest of what was left from Thanksgiving dinner.  I finally ate the tart Randee, my hairdresser, gave me for my birthday and, of course, three chocolate bars. The young woman came home.  She had a busy day driving a friend of hers visiting from Switzerland around the island. She told me the young man had gone to a party and would be sleeping somewhere else tonight.  Driving at night around here is a hazard.  We are also affected by the opiate crisis. Many people drive around that should not be behind the wheel, causing damage to themselves and others. 

    I walked Elsa and went to bed.

 

Friday, December 6, 2019

    My back was bothering me this morning.  I used a walking stick when I took Elsa out, but I went to Bikram.  I felt better afterward.  I have been working on some of the changes in my core muscles the PT recommended. While I can feel it’s good, it also puts a strain on muscles not used to being called on. 

    When I entered the yoga studio, it was dark inside, not just because the lights weren’t on but because it was overcast outside.  I love it when it is like that. It reminds me of the meditation hall in Shelburne Falls, Massachusetts, at the Vipassana center in the early morning before breakfast. There’s something comforting about it. 

    After yoga, I decided to stop off at Target. I ran into one of my yoga buddies, who had been in class with me in the morning.  She told me that she was a psychiatric nurse for the VA.  She said she was considering quitting because the demands of the institution were making it impossible to serve her clients compassionately.  She was so busy writing notes that she couldn’t even make eye contact with them while they talked. 

    I was in Target to check the price on cat pill pockets.  I could buy doggie pill pockets made by Milk-Bone at a much better price than the Greenie brand.  I wanted to check if they also had pill pockets for cats.  Those are smaller and perfect for a 12 lb. dog.  Also, you get more for your money.  They didn’t have them.  I went looking to buy Hersey Milk Chocolate with Almonds Kisses.   I have increased the number of bars I’m eating daily.  I’m up the 3.  Holy cow!  No, I’m not putting on scads of weight – yet.  How long can this continue?  It made Mike furious that I could eat sweets and not put on the pounds the way he did.  Of course, he didn’t exercise the way I did and keep in motion during daily activities as much as I did. The Kisses were on sale.  I bought 6 small bags. 

    Then I drove home. I showered, did Melt for my hands and feet, and called Jean.  She had called yesterday to wish me Happy Birthday, but I was so busy I didn’t have time to call her back.  We have tons to talk about. The more we talk, the more we have to talk about. It’s fun. I’m so lucky to have her in my life.   I also called a friend from church.

    She only came to the island about five years ago.   A friend connected her to a man who lived here. They hit it off and got married. They were both in their 80s.  She is now in her late 80s.  Her husband recently died.  She is living in the house they shared, which they sold to his son.  Unfortunately, his son wants her out of the house quickly so they can sell it.  Her life has been turned upside down. She has to move back to the mainland, where she has no home and no community. Even her recall of her mainland community is not as great compared to the community she found here.  I feel for her.  I am so lucky, in contrast. Even not in comparison, I am so fortunate. 

    I was so cold today, I put on long pants and two sweatshirts.  I spent the day napping and catching up on the blog.  I had fallen behind because of Shivani and Sidney’s visit. A delightful distraction. 

    I didn’t walk Elsa around the dinner hour because it was pouring. I ran outside to get my Bikram stuff off the line and hang it up inside, hoping it would be dry by the morning. 

            When I set the table for dinner, I noticed a wet spot on the carpet. Well, what was she supposed to do?  I can get it up with my Rainbow vacuum cleaner. I kept pouring water on the spot and sucking it up with the vacuum.  It will all be good. 

    I actually cooked broccoli tonight.  I checked the procedure on the Internet. I learned that I had to heat the water before putting the broccoli in and then cooking it for 5 minutes. In the meantime, I worked on melting some butter in a pan to pour over the broccoli to follow Shivani’s recipe.  We had set out two butter dishes for our Thanksgiving feast. One was the little plastic one that I used regularly. There was also a heavy Le Cruet one. Problem, I couldn’t get the top off.  I put the whole butter dish in the frying pan, hoping that it would warm up enough for me to get the lid off.  It took a while, but it worked. I melted the butter, poured it over the broccoli, and added some salt.  Success!!! Yes, this is probably the first time in my life I have cooked broccoli. I have been getting away with murder; Mike always did the cooking -but remember, I always washed the dishes. 

    After dinner, I went back to working on the blog. I didn’t watch any tv or work on the books in the library.  When I lifted them, it triggers back and neck problems.  Doing the asanas in a standing position and working on the books will have to wait.

Thursday, December 5, 2019

    I didn't feel like getting up when the alarm went off.  It was still dark enough at 6 am so it looked like night outside.  When Elsa and I made it out for our walk,  the stars had already been banished by the early morning light, but there were only a few streaks of red on the clouds. Sunrise in Hilo, on the eastern side of the mountain, must come earlier than sunrise on the west side of the mountain, and they're not that far apart.  The mountain blocks the sun's rays.

    When I arrived at Bikram, I told the teacher it was my birthday. The class sings Happy Birthday for everyone's birthday during one of the more challenging postures.  I wanted that—no need to have said anything. Yvette had arrived before I did and announced it to one and all. As I walked in, several of the regulars stood up to hug and say Happy Birthday.  Heather, the teacher, had the students sing it twice, once for each set of the triangle.  After class, people came up to me individually to offer congratulations. Deborah gave me a small jar of Ned's honey. It was a great start to the day.

    I went to Toyota after I left to speak to the technician coordinator, Anthony. Yes, we're on a first-name basis already. I had called and left a message.  While he told me that the inverter pump needs to be replaced, I am still suspicious.  I don't suspect that they're trying to rip me off, just that they are being less careful in this examination of my car than they could be.  I wanted to tell Anthony that the screen that provides the energy information had gone blank a while ago. I hadn't mentioned it earlier because it wasn't affecting the car's functioning as a whole.  I didn't need it, so I ignored it. Now, I wondered if it indicated a deeper problem with the electrical system. Anthony said he would tell the guy doing the diagnostic work and get back to me. This will be the second time they are checking the car. I wonder if they will charge me twice. I doubt it because he said nothing about more money.

    The next stop was at the Carpet Care shop to speak to the lady who orders the vacuum repair parts.  I have had the vacuum cleaner in the back of the car for at least a week, stopping at least once a day to see if I could catch her.  So Hawaii.  She wasn't in again. I drove off.  Dorothy called to wish me a happy birthday.  I was stopped at the light on Makala at the corner of Queen K, where I had my accident on Thanksgiving Day. My phone rang; I got a call from the Carpet Care shop to say the lady I was looking for just arrived.  I had to cross two lanes to get into the right-hand turn lane.  I was one of those touch-and-go moments.  I was driving under 5 mph, the danger zone.  I made it without incident.  When I got to the store, the lady was indeed there. She checked the model number on my machine. I had looked but hadn't found one.  So much for my eagle eye; it was where one would expect it to be.  She said she would have to order a new floor attachment, and it would take three days.

    I went home and showered. Just before I took off for school, Yvette came up and said that her friends Scott and Steve wanted to cook me dinner tonight: steaks and pasta. While I hadn't wanted anything at home because I was afraid I would be looking for Mike the whole time, this seemed okay. This is something that would never have happened if he was still alive.

    I took off for school. I worked with B and N individually on their spelling.  N has made more progress than B.  He was so thrilled by his success on his first test after I worked with him that he now considers studying his spelling some sort of game.  Great. I gave both of them pretests, as per their requests.  N got most of the words right.  We went over the few that he got wrong.  B might be able to pull off a 70% this time if he studies at home.  I think he is still finding it too frustrating to think of it as fun.

    Then I worked with R. She was doing better on reading Sassy the Cat.  She still has problems with his, reading it as him, or hit. But now she can correct it on her own, sometimes even catching the error by herself without having me point it out. She had more trouble with the second story than before.  I didn't push her.  She is prepared to work and work hard.  If she says she's had enough, her little 8-year-old brain has had it for the day.  She is making progress, nothing great, but in the right direction.

    Then I worked with D in Mrs. B's class.  He was able to stop himself from making some wild guesses, but he still has some problems in that regard.  I did get him to start writing down the words he was confused about, underlining the vowels and dividing the words into syllables.  As he did these divisions, it became clear he still didn't get the point that each syllable had to have a vowel.  If there are two vowel sounds in a word, there would only be one line dividing the word into two syllables. It is striking to see what he still finds confusing.  He is a bright child. I'm not sure why he has so much difficulty with certain things.  Mrs. B says he is doing much better, not just in reading but in all his schoolwork, particularly his writing.

    I headed down to Costco for gas before going off the Randee's at Salon Muse for my 3 pm appointment to get my hair cut.  School closed at 2 pm, so I figured I had plenty of time. However, by the time I left the parking lot is was already 2:20.  I managed to get gas and make it to my appointment by a few minutes before three.  I didn't need all the books I brought with me to while away the time.  I was starving. I stopped in at the deli next door to see if I could pick up something.  They had a spicy potato salad that looked good.  It took a while for the owner to come out and serve me.  She was on the phone. She apologized, explaining that her mother had just died and was on the phone with her sister. 

    The Salon is right next door to the deli.  Randee said I had plenty of time. I should sit down and finish my salad. I told her that she should cut my hair as she did it the last time by accident. She cut it even more radically this time.  If this continues, I will have a shaved head with a mohawk on top.   I announced it was my birthday, not expecting anything more than congratulations and a few hugs.  The next thing I know, the son of one of the operators walked up with a fruit tart with a candle in it, and everyone sang happy birthday to me. I told them that I had already started thinking about a big celebration for Mike's and my joint 80th birthday.  I guess that is out, but I would still like to do something big for myself.  They all declared they would like to come. It's a year away, and I already have people on my guest list. We'll see if I follow through on my big plans. When I went to pay, Randee refused my money, saying the cut was a birthday present.  I collected hugs from all the operators.  

    After my haircut, my next stop was at the counseling session for Yvette and me. So far, so good, this therapist is doing a satisfying job.  Yvette and I spent a lot of the session talking about our relationships with our husbands.  Not exactly on target for dealing with differences between us, but the therapist allowed us to continue in this vein.  I don't know what she was thinking, but I am grateful.  We learned a lot about each other's thinking.  Or at least, I learned a lot about Yvette's thinking. Toward the end, I brought up a significant financial proposal.  Yvette again was startled.  As I see it, she experiences all suggestions as demands.  I believe her family of origin was that way, but I'm not.  I kept assuring her that nothing would happen until we had a satisfactory solution for all involved.  She did not have to worry that she wasn't going to get what she needed. 

    When we got home, Scott and Steve were here cooking dinner.  I was exhausted and needed to lie down for half an hour.  When I got up, I was served steak, beautiful steaks, salad, and pasta. They had also bought a small cake from Safeway for dessert.  

    For some reason, we were talking about Steve's catering gigs.  I told them that I was thinking about my 80th already.  Now, I have the caterer, DJ, and B to do the party's lights. Yvette suggested that we have family come out too.  That would mean Damon, Cylin, August, Shivani, and Sidney. When I spoke to Jean later in the day, she talked about John and her coming out too.  I would really love it if Dorothy came out for the event.  If people are prepared to camp, I can get everyone in the house at once.  I should really get the third bathroom in place before next year, in that case, even if I don't have all the books out of the house yet.  I can't imagine having all the books out of the house by next year at this time. If I'm down by 500, I'll be happy.

    During the night, I started thinking of all the things that could go wrong during the party. I would love to have dancing, but the backyard is on a slant. I thought maybe I should rent a pavilion for the party.  I think you have to rent them from the parks and recreation department a year in advance; then the ground would be even for dancing. I thought if I had it on the property and it rained, it would be a disaster.  A solution would be to put up a marquee tent.  Then I envisioned a strong wind making even that impossible. Okay, I would be fine without the big party; just planning it was at least half the fun.  I would give all the food to the homeless the next day.  Done!.  These plans are not a result of worry.  I don't worry.  My mind goes through options with the ease of falling dominos, and I make plans. There's nothing to worry about. I don't need it to go one way or the other.  A joyful party would be nice, but I would be happy with just the planning and inviting. Thinking of planning and inviting now brings me joy.  The actual party might be nice, or it might not be great. Whatever.  I am so glad to be old and in a whatever frame of mind. So relaxing.

    I walked Elsa, went to bed, and read a bit of Karen Armstrong's book on Mohammad before turning out the lights.  

Wednesday, December 4, 2019

    A busy day.  I started by dropping off Elsa with the groomer on my way to Bikram. She wasn't going in because she was a dirty girl.  I had that appointment set up two weeks ago.

    I had physical therapy after 9:30.  I learn something invaluable from the PT, Katie Click, each time I work with her.  The first thing she did was check my hips. She said they were even.  This is probably the first time in my life that my hips have been even to start with. She checked me on some of the exercises she gave me. Then I told her how I was having problems with the standing bow even when lying on the floor on my side.  I just fall over; there's no stability.  I have it in mind that I will continue doing the postures while lying on the floor until I have gained that stability.  Katie was able to evaluate what I was doing wrong and give me suggestions. I practiced as much as I could, but I am sure that I won't do it correctly because there was a lot of information to process.

    After PT, I headed right up to the Coconut Groove shopping center to buy new Crocs.  While I wanted to buy a blue pair and a red pair, they only had the blue in stock.  The clerk said they don't get red in, just pink, but many people ask for the red.

    On the way home, I stopped off to pick up Elsa.  The groomer has a small hole in the wall, which is anything but professional.  Mike would have hated the place.  I, however, like the guy, his work, and his prices. Elsa seems good. The first time I took her, I had to leave her until after school.  When I came to pick her up, he was holding her in his lap.  Ahh!  

    When I got home, I thought to check for red Crocs on the Internet.  Ha! They are half the price of the blue ones I just bought. I'm not going to return them.  I want to support local businesses, and I got the information I need on my size so I can order it correctly online.  

    I didn't have that much time to get ready for my next appointment.  I was heading out to h Kwik Lube to get my brakes checked and changed. At least, that's what  I hoped the problem would be. A friend told me it could be other problems, like misalignment.  My imagination went to a bent chassis, meaning I would have to get rid of this car as well as my Prius.  It would take 2 hours to change one set, a set being both front brakes.  I came prepared with my computer and two books.  I called Jean before I went inside. Once inside,  I sat at a table on which were two copies of People Magazine.  I spent the two hours reading them from cover to cover.  The whole time I sat there reading, I worked on shifting my hips the way the PT showed me.  It felt like time well spent.

    I drove over to Toyota to check on my Prius.  I wasn't satisfied with the information they gave me.  When I spoke to the tech coordinator yesterday, he said that the air conditioner had not been affected by the fender bender, and there was no way it had impacted the pump.  I wanted to know why the air conditioner had shut down even before the warning light came on. I had asked him to check the air conditioning when I spoke to him yesterday. I hadn't made it clear that there had been a problem with the air conditioner. The tech coordinator said he would have the technician re-evaluate the car.  He also told me that the pump would only cost $550, not $5,500.  I think I assumed that we were talking about the cost being in the thousands because the rest of the system costs that much.  He said he would call me tomorrow. There's still hope that they got it wrong and I can salvage my car. 

    When I got out to talk to the guy at Toyota, my back was in trouble.  I did my crab walk over to him and leaned on the counter.  The work I did on realigning my hips while sitting waiting for my brakes to be fixed, reading two copies of People Magazine affected my muscles. After the guy said he would have his tech recheck my car, I hobbled back to the car and drove home.  

    I just got myself out of the car and made my way to bed.  I texted Yvette, asking her to get my briefcase with the computer and my books out of the car when she got home.  The kids made it back before she did.  They got my briefcase and fed me while I lay in bed. 

    I had napped a little. I didn't enjoy eating in a lounging position.  I was able to get up and sit at the dining room table.  I needed the walking stick to take some of the pressure off, but I wasn't wholly encumbered.  I set up my computer and worked on several blog entries while I finished my dinner and scarfed down three Hersey's Milk chocolate bars with almonds.

    Yvette came home and stopped in to say hello.  She asked for athletic tape and to use my infrared device to help with the pain.  Her knee was bothering her. She said it's a side effect of her tight hips.  My knees should be gone if tight hips are a cause of that problem.  I have no issues (knock on wood) with my knees.  Her asking for the infrared light reminded me that I should use it on my own back and neck. 

 

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Musings:

 

Been thinking more about McGilchrist's thesis that the left brain grasps and the right brain is connected with others and altruism.  Okay, let's say what he is saying that the left brain focuses only on the needs of number one, and the right brain is concerned about the needs of others, ergo altruism, a willingness to sacrifice our own needs for the benefit of others.

 

Here's a continuum from grasping to the other extreme.

 

1. Grasping.

2. Releasing the grasp, so others can have some of what you are focused on.

3. Actively inviting others to share in the stash in front of you.

4. Actively giving it to another.

 

#2- It may just be satisfaction. The lions have had enough of the antelope, and the hyenas rush in to finish up the rest of the meal.

#3-  involves an awareness of the other and an open invitation.

#4- this is what we usually think of a charity. Ah, here it gets tricky. This is what is consider charity, one of the highest acts of goodness.  But that charity assumes that what I give is rightfully mine to give to someone who has less.  One might ask if I have a right to have so much more than someone else that someone else needs me to extend charity in the first place. 

 

Perhaps something between #2 and #3 would be the highest.  That assumes I wouldn't have a disproportionate amount of wealth in the first place and that I wouldn't seek to have that excessive amount of wealth.    Having wealth distribution controlled by a political authority doesn't feel right.  However, in the hunter-gatherer groups, it was controlled by an external power.  However, it was something that the majority of the tribe had consented to.  If someone got overly grabby or graspy, they would be censored by the other members of the tribe.  Distribution was strictly controlled.

    I remember something about the factory owners in Japan not giving themselves disproportionately higher salaries than the workers.   Not like what's going on in the US now, where a $5,000,000 salary per annum for an executive is considered base pay while the online workers haven't received a salary increase in years.  Would you consider it charity for that executive to give part of his salary to increase the online workers' pay?  What is he doing with that salary in the first place? Who needs $5,000,000 a year to meet their needs? Whose work is so much more valuable than they deserve such a disproportionate salary differential?

    Mike and I had a friend who earned $4,000,000 in one year and declared her resentment of the tax schedule because she said she worked hard for her money. Really?  The poor have to hold down three jobs to feed their families. Can you say they don't work hard?  I don't have an answer for how to resolve this problem, but there is no question in my mind that there is a huge problem, and it's getting bigger.

Tuesday, December 3, 2019

    Bikram, as usual.  When I got home, I called my tech support to get my computer serviced. They said it would take 10 minutes.  I tried to set up a remote connection before I left. Because I was hurrying, I pressed the wrong button and disconnected.  

    At school, I worked with B first in Mrs. D's class.  His spelling was somewhat better, but not as much as I had hoped.  He spelled the word whereas whar.  I told him to ask his visual memory to bring up the image. We have worked on this before without success. This time it worked!!! And, he had the correct spelling.  This is a huge breakthrough. 

     Then, I worked with R in Mrs. D's class.  She is still reading on a K level but slowly making progress. She is a hard worker with some devil of a problem which interferes with her reading.  I have her working with the Carpenter materials. The stories are structured around sound units. The first story uses a lot of -at words: cat, rat, mat.  The second story uses -ad words: Dad, mad, sad, Taddy.  She is pretty good at decoding words.  Her problem is recall.  Even that is getting a little better.  My methods of fixing memory problems haven't been effective with her.  I am just using repetition, and she loves this approach.  We were working over and over and over with the first and second stories in the program. She asks for several copies of the work. Then she copies each word in the story over and over and over.  There are several words that she gets correct not only in the first story but also in unfamiliar contexts.  She persists in having problems with the word his; she reads it as him, or hit.  Today, she was able to self -correct, even in an unfamiliar context. 

    I worked with D briefly and then offered to word with K in Mrs. B's class.  She came out but did not acknowledge me and continued writing in her journal. She loves to write. I figured she was doing something to do with reading and writing; I wasn't going to fight with her. I asked to read what she had written. It was truly terrible.  It was mere repetition. However, I do appreciate that she loves to write. This may save this girl.  Before I left, Mrs. B. told me that she had jumped to 70 in her Dibels, a test for evaluating reading levels.  Whatever else, her reading has improved.

    When I got home, I reconnected with my computer tech support service. They had said it would take 10 minutes. Oh, yay. I  tucked my phone in my shorts and went out to prune the plumbago. I had worked so hard to cut back so it didn't infringe on my neighbor's farm before I left for the West Coast in September. Now, I am interested in retraining the shrub/vine. For the most part, I just shoved the branches reaching out to the fence into the bush, pinning them down with other branches. 

     It took four hours for the tech to finish the work with my computer. 

    Elsa was in the yard. She followed me to that area between the bush and the fence and rubbed her face in the dirt.  What is that about? A doggie facial? When we got back in the house, I had to rinse her down to get the worst of the mud off of her.  She also had flowers and leaves stuck in her hair.  I tried to comb some of that out.  She wasn't the most cooperative for any of it.

    I hadn't heard from Toyota yesterday about the deposition of my car, so I called them. I was told that they reset the communications system and did a computer check on the vehicle.  It showed that the inverter or converter pump connected to the hybrid had to be replaced.   I heard him say it would cost $5,500. The Bluebook value of the car in good condition is only $3500.  It wouldn't be worth it, especially since I was going to have to have bodywork done too. I asked how does one get rid of a car here on the island. This is no minor matter.  Many people abandon cars on the road.  Then the county comes and tows them away at their expense. People leave their license plates on because they have left the island. It's a real stick it to them attitude. Too bad.

    I  checked the soles of my Crocs sometime during the afternoon.  I noticed that the heel of the right foot is completely worn down.  I will have a hole in my right heel shortly; it's that thin. That way, I start my right step by putting my heel down with a flexed ankle.  I decided that I would do that with the left foot instead.  It completely changed my gait. When I forced my left heel strike, I didn't hit as far back on the heel with the right foot.  I planned to buy a new pair of Crocs in case the sole on the pair I have breakthroughs, but I also plan to keep going with the current pair to remind me to change my stride. 

    The young people who are staying with me came home after I had finished dinner.  The young man offered to walk Elsa.  I didn't give him instructions just to go to the end of the block and back.  He was gone for so long, I started to worry.  He had walked her all the way around the block. They made it home safe and sound.

    I didn't watch any television. Instead, I read and wrote.  I worked on the Introduction and Chapter 1 of my book on word recognition to send to Shivani.  I decided now that I have to reorganize the Introduction. I was going to do it before I sent it out.  Reading it through now, with what I imagine is Shivani's point of view, makes it all sound ridiculously overblown, although I know that process works. I texted her, saying that I would put off sending the Introduction. She asked if it would help if we spoke on the phone.  If she can tolerate the topic, she is going to be amazingly helpful.  I just emailed her because I couldn't stand thinking about it anymore and went to bed.

 

Monday, December 2, 2019

    When I came home from Bikram, Shivani was already packed up and ready to leave to catch her flight home. As they prepared to get into her rental car, Sidney gave me a big hug. I turned around to walk back into the house. Shivani said, "Don't I get a hug?" I guess I got what I needed.

    Having Sidney to look after was good for me. He energized me and kept me moving.  I got more housekeeping work done than I usually do, even slowed down by a 2-year-old.

    At school, I worked on spelling with B, and N.  N is already much better.  He used to get scores in the 30%, but he's doing better than that on a practice test now.  B, not so much.  Both boys had trouble discerning the difference between the sounds of /t-r/,/d-r/, /ch/ and /j/.  I showed them how they were formed differently, showing them how the face forms differently with each sound.  Once they were able to identify the sound in isolation correctly, I presented them in what sounded like words: trust, drust, chust, and just.  Both were able to do it. 

    I worked with D in Mrs. B's room too.  We worked in the 3rd-grade reading textbook. He opened the book to one of the stories for the end of the year.  It was way over his head.  He was frustrated, and so was I.  I didn't want either of us to be bummed out by more failure than success.  While he said he was all right, I switched to a story from the middle of the book.  Even reading well at that level is a significant improvement for him. He read it with fluency, missing only a few words. He still is inclined to just guess at the word, even if his choice doesn't make sense. For that matter, he doesn't use context clues as effectively as I would like. I have to use his incorrect pronunciation of a word in a familiar sentence, one he would use in conversation before he gets its meaning and the correct pronunciation.

    I didn't have time for K.  Just as well. I don't like her mind games. Yes, third graders can play mind games, deliberately frustrating you. 

 

____-____-___

    Musings:

 

    McGilchrist proposes that the right brain and the left brain's difference is that the right brain wants connection, and the left brain is grasping.  The right brain uses empathy, identifying with others, and is concerned about their welfare.  The left brain is only concerned about numero uno.

    Here's my problem: grasping and altruism are not opposites. The opposite of grasping is not grasping; the opposite of altruism is really being unable to see others as like self and, therefore, an extension of self. 

    For those familiar with my thinking, you know that the terms' altruism', unselfish, and sacrifice are bug-a-boos for me.  This was partly because of the experiment when I tried to be genuinely selfless when I was 16, only to discover that there was always something in it for me, even if others might consider the act unselfish, even sacrificial.  For me, the need to make connections with others is as much an individual need as air, water, and food.  Our need to have others be okay, like our children, is as much a personal need as any other need of ours.  We sacrifice for anyone we consider an extension of ourselves, our children, our group, our tribe, our football team, etc. Whatever it is, it is ours. 

    Sacrifice is a strange one because we must sacrifice whenever we choose between two desires, even if it involves the choice between chocolate and vanilla ice cream.  We sacrifice for ourselves all the time. We sacrifice A so we can achieve or get B. 

    The difference between people is not if they 'sacrifice' or not, but how broad the sense of 'I' is.  Is 'I' a tiny circle that includes only one person and everything else in the universe is an object to help 'I' get what 'I' want or to get in the way of 'I' getting what 'I' want. Is the sense of 'I' more extensive? Does it include other humans?  Do other humans mean only family members, tribe members, group members?  Does it include any living thing other than itself? Any living thing because it requires maintenance or it suffers or dies.  Even a plant will do for some people to expand their sense of self. 

    For most of us, that sense of 'I' includes family members and friends.  For some of us, it includes people we don't know, people of other social groups that do not share the same beliefs, values, or customs, no less skin color.  For some, that sense of 'I' includes animals but not humans. Whatever it is, if the circle of 'I' extends beyond the boundaries of the skin of a single human being, people can be considered unselfish.  People we consider truly giving have the broadest sense of self- in the sense of including others, not only all objects available or all power available. Those people can interconnect with others, co-create at any given moment without losing their sense of self.  Their sense of self is large enough. Even these people are grasping.  They grasp for the best for everyone. They pray for it; they work for it; they fight those who oppose it. They give their time and physical and emotional energy to it.  They are doing this for others, but they are still grasping.  

    So what is the opposite of grasping? Many years ago, I heard a woman say, "We always desire so passionately if only we could accept passionately." So let's assume the opposite of grasping is being satisfied with what is, not needing more.  We all have moments like that. We have had a satisfying amount of food, and we stop eating. It is enough.  Those moments of enough are the definition of peace, a sense that all is good with the world for the moment. 

    McGilchrist doesn't say that grasping is bad.  Without it, we would surely die, as would all animals.  We have to pursue our basic needs.  The issue is not pursuing needs, grasping more; the point is determining when enough is enough.  

    The second issue with grasping is knowing what to grasp for.  I remember a college roommate who went to a Catholic boarding school telling the following story: One of the girls said she was hungry.  A nun responded that what she needed was a divine love sandwich. Those are two different kinds of hunger, and knowing which one needs to be satisfied, when, and by how much is the trick.  All desire can be excessive and consequently destructive. 

    Also, all hunger can be constructive.  In the Buddhist meditation, I am familiar with, Goenka said that the goal is to get to the point where there is no craving or aversion, no grasping or rejection of life's little surprises.  Nirvana is achieving total acceptance of what is, being at peace.  But the irony is that this wonderful state of being can't be achieved unless you crave it in the first place unless you grasp for it. If you are satisfied with what is, you may never change and grow. For some people, that is actually their life goal, being permanently miserable.  They get their kicks that way.  What can I tell you? Again it comes back to choosing our goals wisely and knowing when enough is enough.

Sunday, December 1, 2019

    I had a poor night's sleep.  I wasn't tossing and turning, but I never sunk into that beautiful deep, refreshing sleep either. I was close to the surface a good part of the night, or at least it felt that way. As I was waking up, I was left with the feeling again that Mike had left me for another woman because he didn't love me anymore.  This time my despair was compounded by the thought that he was so glad to be rid of me; he didn't even think to keep in touch and let me know how he was doing.  I was still concerned about him.  I wanted to know that he was doing well. It made me very sad to think he didn't care about me at all anymore.  Do I know that is a ridiculous idea? Well, part of me does.  I think this is just a normal part of my grieving process for me. Every once in a while, it hits.  It causes a deep sadness. But this too will pass.  For the most part, I'm engaged in my current life and doing just fine.

    My left leg gave me some grief during the night.  Is this improvement or the beginning of the end? That's always the question as a new pain or a reoccurring pain happens.  Will I need to get a THR soon? Only time will tell.  I don't get why I should get it now -just in case. Since the end of September, the pain I've been experiencing has been on the right side of my body, on the top of my right hip, and in my right shoulder, neck, and head. This sounds to me more like something to do with my spinal curvature than my left hip. But we'll see.

    I still had the residue from the morning nightmare; I missed Mike.  I sat through most of the Mass, not following the up/down ritual. It's all good. Like Bikram, the Mass is a place where you can follow your own needs as long as you're not downright disruptive.  As I think of it, if you a crying baby, you can also disrupt.

    When I got home, I had a splitting headache.  People used to ask me if I got migraines.  No.  I rarely had headaches.  Boy, there has ever been a change; my head frequently hurts. I still believe that my neck and the plates in my head are shifting.  Will they move successfully at 79, or are they fixed in place?  Can you teach the skull of an old dog new alignment? We'll see, won't we?

    Shivani and Sidney were out when I came home.  I lay on the couch and read the NY Times from last week and started this week's. Sidney wanted to play outside. Now that I've taught him that gadget for playing with water, he wants to do it all the time.  Shivani tried to help me get the new harness on Elsa.  I wanted her to switch to the harness from the collar because when she pulls, she chokes.  We weren't successful, but Elsa rested in my arms, lying on her back.  She had lots of little dreads in her belly hairs.  She is being groomed on Wednesday. I cut out a few of them. I figured I'd be gentler than the groomer. Of course, I may have nipped her, which the groomer would not do.  After a while, we just sat together, enjoying each other. She has warmed up to me and spends time with me just for the pleasure of it, much the way Mike did.  She not exactly a substitute, but she's a hell of a lot better than nothing—something to pour love into. 

    I called Carol Z., my friend in Maryland. She and John had called me last week to wish me a happy birthday. A week early.  Then I was two days late for her birthday. I told them the story of the car accident on Thanksgiving day. They got a good laugh, mostly about the hug in the middle of a busy intersection. Carol said that the cars behind us must have been honking. Actually, no. No one made a peep.  It would be weird anywhere else, but it's Hawaii. Thank God.

    Shivani put Sidney for a nap around 3 pm.  I didn't hear a peep from him for hours. I worked on the blog and the book and hung up one photograph and took a few more out of the library, and placed them on a table in the closet area.  Sidney slept so long, I started to get worried. When I checked, I saw that his face wasn't buried under some pillow, and, being the considerate child he is, he moved, assuring me that he was still alive.  He was so quiet that I had repeated thoughts about walking Elsa and had to remind myself that I couldn't just walk out on a 2-year old. 

    Shivani came home around 6 pm. When Sidney heard her voice, he roused himself. She brought home poke from Huggo's, the best. I walked Elsa, but only to do her business. I think I've finally caught the cold that these two have had since they arrived.  What a surprise!  Also, I have this headache—great combination, but not debilitating like that backache I had.

    I did some work on chapter 1 today.  Shivani asked me to write about how this process is different from phonics, which most people are familiar with. I'll mail her the chapter tomorrow while she's in the air. 

 

 

 

Musings:

 

    Again, I am struck by how hard it is to remember Mike and who he was in my life. There was no single thing that Mike did for me or was for me that I am missing. He cooked dinners, but I'm not much of an eater.  I eat to live; I don't live to eat as he did. He cooked for the Russian army with each meal. As he got sicker, he became more conservative in his quantities.  He would cook one or two large meals, and we would do leftovers, which I was perfectly happy with.  We had very little waste. In the bad old days, when we were still living in Princeton, an adolescent student would check out my frig for something to eat.  He found lots of containers of food that had seen better days.  He said, "It was a refrigerator com compositor. " 

    Mike was my 'husband,' but my identity as his 'wife' wasn't that strong.  He was mainly my life partner, something he 'did 'every day rather than something he 'was' in relation to me in the broader community.  That doesn't mean that there weren't moments when I would say, "You know my husband. He's the deacon at church." But then I was just proud of him.  It wasn't that his glory spread to me.  I was proud to be with him.  I don't know how to tease those two concepts apart with words, but they are very different.  I was very proud of him.  He was a man of high integrity.  His views sometimes clashed with others, and they thought otherwise, but he was consistent with his own values, even if it meant alienating people.  

    I often said to him, "You know the best thing about you?" He would nod.  I would say, "You're mine." He loved that.  That is not lost, except for my occasional nightmares.  Otherwise, he is mine and always will be. If there is a way for him to look out for me from his current vantage point, he is and will always do so. 

    But back to the more significant issue.  It is hard for me to remember him, not because I don't want to but because there isn't a single image or act to hang on to.  If someone is a person in your life rather than a single function, they're different every day.  There was a line from T.S. Elliott's play,  The Cocktail Party,   "Always greet your loved ones as strangers every day." (I just checked the quote. Not even close, but the sentiment is the same.) I used to interpret that to mean that there is always something new to discover. But now I think it just that the people we spend so much time with and who serve so many functions in our lives are just different every moment. 

             If I had a fixed image of Mike in my mind, I might actually not recognize him if he came in with a different haircut, a different mood, even different clothes. Some people have this neurological problem for whom this is true.  I knew so many, many different faces of Mike's, so many.  I knew so many, many different, and ordinary moments with Mike.  There is no single one I can remember. 

    I had a contrasting experience as I was thinking about this today.  My niece Shivani has proven to be just what I'm looking for to help me edit my book to be more readable to a greater audience. She is the perfect person in so many ways.  I can't believe my good luck. But, as I was thinking about losing people today, I realized that if I lost her there would be a different kind of grief – right now.  I value Shivani as a person.  I love spending time with her. As with Mike, we share interests and values and can laugh together.  That remains transient, uncapturable. But her function as my editor does not. It's fixed. She's the only one who has responded to my request to read my book to see if it makes sense. If I lose her, it will be a different kind of grief.  It will be specific.

    Now Mike was the only one for me in so many ways. I can't think of replacing him. I don't know if I ever will. But no one thing stands out.  It was all good to fantastic. I don't even understand what I'm trying to say.  Maybe it's that I really don't 'need' him.  These last few years have been sheer gravy.  All wonderful, delightful but not necessary for my survival psychologically or spiritually no less physically.  Also, it should be noted that I have the most fantastic support system in the world. I'm not just referring to friends and the Bikram and church communities; I am referring to all of Hawaii. The wonderful aloha spirit that makes it possible for me to stand in the middle of a major intersection hugging a sixty-year-old man I've never seen before in my life after a fender bender with cars lined up behind us and no one was honking their horn.  The whole thing was so Hawaii. 

    I guess the one thing Mike offered me is the knowledge that he liked, loved, and delighted in me after 45 years together.  I think my mother lied to me when she insisted that no one liked me except her.  But that sound in my head still haunts me enough to generate nightmares and make me sad. As I typed this, there is still something inside of me that whispers, "I hope he really liked me." That is my greatest sadness. That doubt. After all, if he really liked me, why did he leave?