I woke in the middle of the night with bad pain in my left leg. It felt like a muscle strain. I believe Mike tore the muscles in my left thigh when he injured me fifteen years ago. I've been dealing with the problem ever since. I lay in bed, making myself as comfortable as I could, thinking that I wasn't going to be walking very far in the morning. I was also thinking, yikes! Is this it? Will I need surgery to be able to walk without pain after this? I fell asleep again.
I had a dream about Mike this morning. I was in a room looking out a window. He was outside in a lip lock with another woman. It went on forever. I didn't feel betrayed or jealous. I felt a little sad today.
I made it pretty far up the hill this morning, further than I have been. Elsa walked behind me as we walked away from the house and pulled me when we were headed back home. Of course, she would get breakfast when we got there.
The day's big event was the Live Session with the Step-Up program. I got in a little late because I was confused about how to connect. I was looking for an invite in today's mail. I realized I had gotten a confirmation when I signed up, containing the Zoom invitation. Sure enough, there it was.
When I did get in, the video was up. I had figured out how to get that working. However, my audio didn't work. The host, Laura, kept telling me to click a button to be heard. I know about the mic; I clicked on it, on/off/on/off. Nothing made any difference. I wondered if I hadn't clicked on audio when I first entered the meeting.
There must have been something like twenty people. Most were in their twenties. Two or three were old enough to be my children instead of my grandchildren. As I suspected, the people running the program were all in the former group.
I did learn a few essential things. Jamboard, which they recommend using, is available to me as a Step Up Tutor for free. I also learned it would be up to two months before I could participate because the criminal background check for folks outside California takes that long. There were a couple of others like me in that category.
I felt self-conscious about my age. I think it is called a hidden bias, not against race, in this case, but against age. My inability to connect on Zoom didn't add to my creds.
As many of you know, I developed most of my methods. While they work, they, or I, are not always well received because they are unfamiliar. People are wary of the unfamiliar. They would only have my word that they work.
While working in Ohio, one teacher said I had a 'genius for teaching.' However, two other people referred to me as a quack. Mind you, they thought I was effective, and they loved me as a person. They were just uncomfortable with the unfamiliar. In that situation, I didn't feel bad because I was secure with my place and the staff's regard. In this case, I am scared I will be sent to a corner with a dunce cap on for my bad behavior. It doesn't feel very good.
I found an announcement on Linkedin that my niece Karin had been promoted in her job at Microsoft in Seattle. Congratulations, Karin. When I mentioned it to my sister, she told me that Karin's husband, David, was also promoted. Some people are doing well despite the impact of Covid, at least for the time being. Some people are doing better because of the effects of the virus. There are always unexpected consequences.
I did some vacuuming of the lanai carpet today. I do that only on the days Josh is not home. He is sound-sensitive. He works hard, and his two days off are precious. I did one section with water, which I vacuumed with my Rainbow. There was less dirt than I expected. Maybe it wasn't worth washing the carpet and risking removing any stain-proof chemicals applied in the manufacturing process. I continued vacuuming the rug without the water. I use the furniture attachment with the highest suction on the machine.
My prickly heat rash was fierce today. I had put on another application for the essential oregano oil. Man, that burned. I think I can only use it on closed bumps. The first application is good. After that, it's too much and only makes matters worse. I tried Makes No Claims and Dr. Willard's Water. Neither of those did much for me either. I suspect this rash may be a result of an allergy. Lemons or chocolate? Those are the only two foods I eat daily. I don't think the rash is all food-related, but it may contribute to the problem. Having experienced how much that oregano oil burns on an open wound, I realized I could not use it on Elsa's skin. I don't know why she didn't up and bite me when I used it on one of her open wounds.
For dinner, I had one of the frozen salmon patties. I cooked it the way I had done before with success. I threw it into a heated frying pan without any oil, covered it, and flipped it repeatedly. I ate it with some raw onion. It was delicious. Bonanza.
d that I wasn't sharing that with him, but no more. I thought of Sandra Day O'Conner's experience with her husband. He was in a nursing home with Alzheimer's disease. I don't think he even recognized her anymore. However, he had found a girlfriend among the other patients. SDO was happy for him. That's how I feel about Mike. I hope to God he's happy wherever he is. I only wish the very, very best for him.
The sadness I felt upon seeing him sharing such affection with another woman is comparable to when I see elderly couples walking along holding hands. The Richard Rogers song always comes to mind.
Hello, (old) lovers, wherever you.
I hope your troubles are few.
All my good wishes go with you tonight.
I've been in love like you.
In the dream, there was a man in the room with me. He was the husband of the woman. For some reason, I praised his legs. He had a good-looking pair. I told him what a wonderful man Mike was. When Mike and I were a few years into our committed relationship, I told him I would write him an excellent recommendation if he ever left me. It was a joke, sort of. It was my way of saying, in a funny way, how much I appreciated what he was in my life.
There's this perfect husband doll. He says things like, "I'd rather spend time with you. The ball game wasn't that important." "Let's talk about our relationship." "Honey, here's the remote. You choose what you want to watch." He actually did say those things to me. He also believed that both of us were equally responsible for the housekeeping. I wasn't the default housekeeper, and he was there to just pitch in. He made life so easy for me.
Were there problems? Of course. Were there ways that we disappointed each other? Of course. Some were bad enough for one of us to raise a complaint, but it was enough for the most part.
I had a tutoring session with D. I am enjoying it these days. We are doing more work on comprehension. His comprehension is pretty good when I read the book to him. He still makes mistakes. He doesn't think things through logically, like the example from Wednesday. He could imagine the characters switching from one setting to another and back again. It was a little like time travel the way he viewed it. Beam me up, Scotty. I believe the significant change in D.'s work started once he realized that he shouldn't rely on memory alone when answering questions. He has to observe and come to his own conclusions.
Clearly, he has a great deal more trouble understanding what he reads when he reads a book for himself. I am hoping as we work on his word recognition skills, this problem will clear up. To that end, he kept saying all the letters in a sentence of my or his choice and then identifying the basic sound units (the phonemes) in each word.
I finally got hold of my Microsoft support person, or better said, he got hold of me. I started using Mike's tablet when I use Zoom for tutoring. I can write on that screen with a stylus instead of having to manipulate the mouse. It seemed that I needed Mike's password to get into Word. That's why I contacted them in the first place.
I particularly want Microsoft Word installed on the tablet so I can use it when I tutor. The tech told me that I cannot extend my current subscription on my computer to the tablet because it is an entirely different processing system. However, Mike bought programs when he purchased the tablet. His subscription should extend to me. I think I will have to check on this company before I put out any more money.
I cleaned the lanai screens instead of doing more weeding in the area between my plumbagos and my neighbor's fence. I needed to stay in the house to go back to my computer if the Microsoft tech needed me.
I did get around to cleaning out the "forever" closet in the hallway. Items I rarely used, like paper plates and napkins, I put in the drawers under my bed. That allowed me to reorganize the closet more conveniently.
Scott called up to ask if the cotton string I offered him yesterday was still available. He was tying meat together for cooking. He offered me some. A wild pig that he shot and butchered himself. I'm not a fan of pork. He said it would be delicious. These pigs feast on mac nuts, not the trash the commercial farms feed their pigs. Plus, he had some special sauce. I must admit it sounded good. I offered to let him use my oven since Yvette doesn't have one. He said, no worry. It was being cooked in a crockpot. It would be ready tomorrow morning. Sounds like I'm on my own for dinner tonight. That pork will be available tomorrow.
As I did my evening walk, a young man passed me in his car. He slowed down, as he does every time he passes me, and made a point of greeting me. This evening he said, "Aloha, auntie." This is the first time he's spoken to me. I have been wondering why he is so interested in me. I suspect I remind him of his grandmother. I would love to know.
Talking about young men showing a peculiar interest in me, I received a strange response to my tutoring ad on Craigslist. The ad clearly says that I am offering elementary reading, writing, and math. One response was, "Do I do life coaching." He was an emancipated minor, living on his own. It was freaky. It was either a peculiar young man or the police phishing for pedophiles and human traffickers. No worry. I didn't respond. I deleted it.
For dinner, I planned broccoli and Paul Chang's Sweet and sour chicken. When I went to turn on the right-hand burner, nothing. At first, I thought the Sears man had messed up my burners. I hadn't used the one on the far right since he left. I tried the one on the far left. I had used that last night. It, too, didn't work. I realized I was out of propane gas. The canister had to be changed. I called Yvette and Josh for help.
They were up in a few minutes. Josh switched the tank over to a full one. It just took a minute, but it had to be done in the dark. I still had another full tank, but there were two empties. Next time B. goes to town, I'll have him get them filled. How lucky am I? I have so much support.
While Yvette was up, I talked about my work on that strip between the plumbagos and the neighbor's fence. I had asked him to trim the top of the fence. I can't reach it. He hadn't done anything. He might be depressed because of the impact of the virus on him. He is a professional farmer and was selling 150 lbs. of lettuce a week before the shutdown. Without the restaurant and hotel business, he has nothing. I noticed his fields are either covered with black plastic or weeds.
I told Yvette that I thought I would go down with a ladder to reach the top of the fence. She said we would do it together. She can spot me while I'm on the ladder. Actually, she can probably reach the top of the fence without a ladder. She's 5'11" versus my 5'3".
My credit card bill arrived today. I checked all the Amazon charges. I found five I'm not sure about.
My prickly heat seems better. The powder is working. I use Makes No Claims to get rid of the remaining little bumps. I have been off the lemonade for a few days. Is my prickly heat being caused by or made worse by the lemonade? I'm enjoying the water. I always love water. I don't miss the lemonade as much as I thought I would.
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Musings:
I have been reading When Things Fall Apart. It was the book that someone read that altered her life. It winds up; it's a primer on Buddhist ideas. Nothing I wasn't well familiar with. Because of the familiarity, it made for tedious reading. Nonetheless, I pushed through. There could always be a nugget hidden in there I hadn't heard before. And, there was.
She defined the Buddhist concept of 'emptiness' in a way I hadn't heard before. It evoked an image in my mind. The 'self' is like an empty container. What came to my mind was a box, not unlike the one sent by the crematorium, containing Mike's ashes; it was a little narrower and taller. I once bought a pewter vase for a wedding present. It reminded me of that. This container is me.
The contents of that container is my ego. The container gets filled over time as our understanding of ourselves because of this and that. I am an eighty-year-old white woman, a widow living in Hawaii. I belong to the Catholic church. I am an educator. On, it goes on and on forever. My life is good.
As Mike lay in the hospital, unable to get up even to go to the bathroom, he said he wasn't a person anymore. His vessel was emptied. He was still a seventy-eight-year-old man, a Catholic, and my husband. But all the things he did with his life, deaconing at church, president of the board of directors of Habitat of Humanity, cooking for me, etc., all these were gone. His vessel wasn't totally empty, but I would say it was 2/3 gone. Things had fallen apart.
To empty yourself is to realize before things fall apart that you are not the container's contents. Knowing that allows for flexibility in the face of change.
All forms of change are stressful. I once heard the following: If your husband loses his job, you lose your dream house, and your daughter has a winter wedding to a man you don't like, you have an 8 out 10 chance of getting sick. However, if your husband gets a much-wanted promotion, allowing you to buy your dream house and your daughter as a June wedding to a man you adore, you have an 8 out of 10 chance of getting sick. We are vulnerable in the face of change. If we fix on
a single version of self, we're screwed.
I heard a story of fixation that's pretty stunning. The man responsible for dealing with the financial crisis had to tell people in the banking world they had to take a pay cut. He had to tell men who earned $5,000,000 a year they would have to make do with $1,000,000 a year. (Yes, all those zeros are correct.) He was expecting to hear, "Well, I guess I will have to sell the yacht and the two vacations houses." But what they said was, "I can't earn $1,000,000 a year. I am a man who earns $5,000,000 a year." That's what they filled their vessels with. Yikes! How's that for a definition of self.
Do I think ego, which is what I believe the filling is, is nature versus nurture? The emptiness of the vessel and the drive to fill it are both driven by nature. We all need to fill that space unless we are seriously mentally disabled.
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