Wednesday, July 8th, 2020

             I slept well and was up before the alarm went off.  In June, it was light at 5:30, but now, it is not so much.  Being close to the equator, the swing between sunrise and sunset isn't as great as it is further north. There is about an hour difference in the sun's schedule between the dead of winter and summer height.  Paulette, who moved here from Detroit, misses those late sunsets. It is often still light in Detroit at 9 pm in the summer. Not here.

            Elsa and I went for our walk. I'm still walking up and down our street. While my leg is 'improving,' doing that puts a strain on my hip joint. When I came in, I meditated. Then, I went outside to do some gardening. I had a 10 a.m. appointment with my therapist. I had an interesting observation during my meditation, which I worked on in the session.

            Out of the blue, I thought of a friend who enjoys the admiration of men.  It occurred to me that she interprets that as having power. On the other hand, I see that kind of attention as an expectation I can't or don't want to fulfill.  It makes me feel powerless.  I realized that is what is going on with my work.  I want the work out there, appreciated and used, but I don't want the attention. My fear of being unable to fulfill someone's expectations is one factor that made me decide against having children. Where do I get this burden from? Let me see.  I had a father who hoped I would solve the problem of world conflict, and a mother who was afraid of everyone and expected me to protect her. I'm lucky I have any marbles left. I had only two choices: have no boundaries or keep everyone out.  My relationship with Mike worked because he wanted me to take care of myself and not satisfy his demands without regard for myself.

            I left for the DMV to file Josh's title. This was the last piece in getting the car out of my name and into his. Done! When I arrived, there was no one there. At first, I thought they were closed.  But the greeter's window was open.  I got my number and sat down, waiting to be called. I must have taken half an hour. No one's number was called.  No one came out of the office.  No, they were not at lunch.  I can't begin to imagine what they were doing.  When it was called, it took two minutes to get to speak to an agent. Then I headed home, plugged in the car, and lay down for a nap.

            I have been struggling with figuring out how to deal with the Tree man who massacred my lime tree, cutting a one-story tree down to shoulder height.  When I was dealing with the car purchase, Scott told me that he could help me if I needed him.  I called him and asked him if he would help me deal with this guy.  I figured if I called and complained, his only response would be, "Stupid bitch!"

            Fortunately, Scott came down to look at the tree before we made that call.  He told me the guy probably cut it down that far so I could pick the limes more easily, cutting it to the height of the keiki, kids. I should think of trimming the tree like a bonsai.   There is no way I can safely reach the top of the tree.  He told me to buy a pole pruner. B. said Elijah can easily do that work under my direction.  He also said he would contact a friend of his and determine the best fertilizer for a lime tree. He'll pick it up for me. 

            Judy called while Scott and I were at the bottom of the property.  When I called her back, I told her what was going on with the tree. I feel much better knowing that my wonderful lime tree isn't a lost cause.

            However, I am a gardener's worst nightmare. Nothing I plant, nothing I ask to have planted, grows well. It's absurd.  Now, that isn't quite true.  I planted some lavender in a tub, and it is doing beautifully.  Judy said she would help me distribute the fertilizer to deflect my curse.  She said she didn't know if she could do much better. I proposed that Paulette, the good gardener, be the one to put down the fertilizer, and Judy and I stand by singing hymns and shout Hallelujah! 

            Yvette came up bearing gifts: sourdough baguettes, two muffins, and a Ziploc bag with popcorn.  She had made a Costco run and was sharing the haul.

_  _   _ __ __ -__ __

Musings:

  I am reading Spiritual Bypassing by Robert Masters.  Spiritual bypassing results from using spiritual practices to avoid the negative aspects of self rather than facing them in constructive ways to heal. The goal of spiritual practice should always be to be a better person for oneself and others.

            I just read his chapter on Spiritual Gullibility and Cultism. This results from people looking for a shortcut, bypassing the problematic aspects of spiritual growth. (As I write this, I can picture people who wallow in their dark side, punishing themselves always for not being perfect- another form of spiritual bypassing.)  Masters defines a cult as any situation where beliefs cannot be challenged.  There can be a cult of one, where a person believes that their point of view cannot be contested.  Or a group with a charismatic leader who insists that their point of view is beyond question. 

            At the same time, I am reading a Very Short Introduction to Hobbes.  I knew something about his theories.  I knew he argued for strong central leadership, but I had no idea how far it went.  His theory is that human beings are impulse-driven and are incapable of making decisions that benefit the whole community. The solution is for a leader to determine what people should think and believe.  He argued for state control except in the case of religious beliefs.  He argued that religious leaders should determine what people should think or feel. Huh? Do these leaders transcend the human limitations the rest of us suffer from?

            We need to find a balance between a monolithic social structure that guarantees protection from others and thinking for ourselves. It's the argument being acted out now on a national level, if not a worldwide one. It's which group gets to be the controlling voice, defining reality for one and all.  If that voice can't be contested, it's a cult. As we all know, when a state becomes a total dictator, dissenting voices are eliminated by rather brutal means.    

Tuesday, July 7th, 2020

 Again, I woke up before 4 a.m. and had trouble falling asleep. I figured out I was cold. I put on a shirt and doubled up on my covers. I was out like a light. I have no idea why our mornings have been cold, actually cold, in July. This isn't our hottest month of the year. No, that is August, September, through mid-October. It always breaks right after Iron Man, around Yvette's birthday on October 10th. 

 I put on two sweatshirts for my morning walk. I only did 3,000 steps because my left hip was achy. It was not miserable, but it was not comfortable either. I am straighter, but that means putting more weight on that left leg. Again, we're at a juncture. 

 I called a clinic on Oahu that does stem cell transplants shortly after the pandemic started. They never got back to me.  I want to go through with that when it becomes possible. I will have to pay out of pocket, but I would much prefer that over surgery.

 I went out to check the items on the laundry line.  It had poured, really poured, the other day. The towel was dry, but the wee-wee pad I had hung up after use wasn't.

 Why do I hang out a dirty wee-wee pad? Oh, a multitude of reasons. I don't have that many.  When we first got Elsa, we had wee-wee pads. She never used them; they finally disintegrated.  As a result, it didn't seem worthwhile buying fifty pads for $45. Instead, I bought the ten-pack for $12.  The ones I bought are also biodegradable.  Neat. 

 Next, I hate to throw anything into the garbage. The county ended paper and plastic recycling because China refused our trash. Broke my heart. Then, I learned that the sun bleaches out pee, or at least human pee, out of pillows and mattresses. Here, parents just put soiled items in the sun and let it do its work.  I figured it could do the same job on the wee-wee pads. So far, that has worked fine. Only one problem: it takes forever for them to dry.

 These wee-wee pads are designed to hold liquid, and they do. Boy, do they ever. While a towel is dry after a severe soaking, the pad is still quite wet. This becomes an interesting question for me: how long will it take to dry?  I regularly check during the day to see the progress.  Today is a bright, sunny day with no threat of rain. Let's see if the sun wins or the pad does. Who wants that moisture more?

 There were only four students today for driveway yoga—four students and four dogs. One of the students informed Yvette that he had been exposed to someone who tested positive for the virus. He would be quarantined for the next two weeks. I also discovered that the server at Gertrude's tested positive for the virus and got it from her mother, who was visiting her from the mainland. Let's see if we can squelch this surge. 

 I spoke to Scott about selling the Prius.  He has been handling the sale online.  I want to be rid of it by the end of the month. I must keep it on my insurance as long as I own it. That costs a pretty penny. I told Scott to reduce the price. Then he told me he had many responses to the ad, even without the car's pictures. Wow! 

_____-_____-_____

 Musings:

 There's been talk of late of eliminating terms that remind us of racial discrimination. The terms black and white are two of them.  The terms black and white have cross-cultural significance as words describing good versus evil. The problem is that they have been misappropriated to depict skin color.

 'Whites' are not white, and 'blacks' are not black. 'Whites' are a shade of tan, and 'blacks' are a shade of brown. Even the darkest 'black' is only a very deep shade of brown.  

 These terms were imposed on the races by whites to reinforce their belief in their racial superiority. "Whites' were good, and 'blacks' were bad. It is the application of these terms that should be banned. The terms' white' and 'black' to describe racial differences should go the way of the word 'nigger.'  

 I did some cursory research on the history of white/black symbolism for good versus evil. I did find a reference to it in Homer's writings in ancient Greece. However, it strikes me that the symbolism runs deeper than that. It's the light of day versus the dark of night. A pitch-black night is more dangerous because it limits sight. You can't see your enemy. 

 Black is associated with death, not one of man's favored outcomes. We slip into darkness when we sleep.  When we faint, everything goes black.  Black has many frightening associations, having nothing to do with race.

 White and black also represent clean versus dirty.  A pure white garment without a stain represents purity.  A stain so bad that it blackens the garment is major. 

 I think eliminating the terms white and black from our use presents a huge challenge. We would have to overcome our associations with day versus night, clean versus dirty, and life versus death.  Instead, eliminate the use of these terms to describe racial differences.  We are all shades of brown.     

Monday, July 6th, 2020

             I went to bed early and was awake at 4:30, struggling to fall asleep again. I got up and 5:30 and went out for my walk with Elsa.  My left leg has been bothering me. When I get up from sitting or lying on my back, there is pinching in the hip area. It goes away after taking a few steps, and it doesn't even show up if I have been lying on my side.  Elsa wasn't up for the whole walk. 

            It was uncomfortably cold this morning.  I wondered if it was the weather or if I was getting sick.  I ran into one of my fellow morning walkers; she confirmed it was the weather.  It was cold enough that I stopped off at the house to put on a second sweatshirt.  This made for excellent weeding weather. I did more weeding in the yard area outside my bedroom door.  After I finished that, I meditated for half an hour. I must do more of this.  It helps me feel better.

            I had a 10:30 Zoom tutoring appointment. I was very frustrated with D. during the last session. Part of it was that he was working on a tablet, and I had the hard copy of the book; it was hard to help him find his place. I asked him to find the other books Mrs. B. had given him, which were on a lower reading level, but I had hard copies of them. 

            He read more words accurately today in the easier book, but he still made mistakes. 

D. is making slow progress in applying what I do teach him to do. He doesn't apply the decoding strategies I have taught him.  I have to remind him each time.  While he self-corrects more than he used to, he still slides over mistakes rendering the sentence nonsense. 

            I decided I was going to try a different strategy.  I was going to reduce the cueing when D. made a mistake. To begin with, I was going to use a sound to signal if he made an error.  I was going to use my voice only to praise him.  I had bought a dog clicker.  It wound up not being loud enough for him to hear as he read.  Instead, I banged on the side of my cup with a spoon when he made an error.  That worked better, but he still sometimes ignored the signal. It makes me think, does he ignore his internal signal when he makes an error?  Well, if that's what's going on, he's doing it less. 

            After I finished with him, it was off to the DMV to get the title for Mike's car put in my name to sign it over to Josh.  The line wasn't bad. Today I had to go inside the office.  Even that wait wasn't bad.  The whole process was easy.

            I brought a container of Clorox wipes with me to clean the counters at the DMV. We have had an increase in virus cases on the Big Island. We have jumped from zero to six.  Even scarier, one of the servers at a local bar was diagnosed with the disease. The bar was closed down. How many people did she have contact with before the closure? 

            The clerk at the DMV  was a lovely, intelligent lady. I wanted to ask her what I could do, so the courts put up a menu of possible forms and what they did so people wouldn't make the same mistake I had made.  I told her I had asked the greeter at the DMV what form I needed to get a list of accidents I had had.  She said, "Driver's abstract," without missing a beat.  I told her that was not the case. It is called a driver's history and costs only $9.00 rather than $20.00.  The Driver's Abstract provides information on traffic violations.  Maybe most people who get into accidents where they are responsible have violated some traffic ordinance.  This has not been the case with any of Mike's or my accidents.  

            As I left, I nearly ran over a woman.  It was a freak situation that I have repeatedly experienced. I didn't see her because the support beam on the car's left side window blocked her view. It was a 'freak' situation because of how often it happens.  I have had it happen several times. My way is clear; I pull out, and Yikes! There's a car, or in this case, a person, in my path.  Fortunately, I saw the other person she was walking with.  I braked to allow him to cross.  It was only then that I saw her.  He gave me a dirty look. I thought, What's his problem? I stopped. Little did I realize how close I came to doing damage. But all's well that ends well.

            On the other hand, I love the safety features on my car.  I have a backup camera.  Mike had one on his 2010 Ford, but I didn't on my 2007 Prius. The car beeps when someone's at my side, or I go out of my lane without putting on my signal.  But best of all, it brakes for me if I get too close to the car in front of me.  I love it. I need all the help I can get. 

            I went to Safeway afterward to pick up eggs, bread, and apples. I did some impulse shopping, California rolls, and an Amy's frozen food.  I like her stuff. Then I went to Costco to pick up salad and lemons.  The parking lot was jammed; almost every space was taken. I have no idea what was going on. Did people get paychecks, or was it the beginning of a new month for discounts and sales? I went home. I didn't need anything immediately. When I got home, I unpacked the car. I confess to having a slice of the in-house baked bread I bought at Safeway with some butter. 

            Paulette called when I lay down to tell me she had dropped off my face shields.  I had bought two at Ace Hardware. Judy and Paulette were painting the headbands, so they were more attractive. I had given them two; they painted one purple and one blue. 

            I didn't call the State insurance regulatory agency to complain about Progressive charging me for Adam's accident today.  It would only be two hundred dollars  I have to see if it's worth the aggravation. 

            I worked with K. on the phone today on comprehension. She's going into sixth grade and asked for help. She selected a book that was on grade level. As I always do, I start with sentence comprehension, which is the comprehension of a single sentence. 

            I have found that sentence comprehension isn't taught. You would think it is obvious, but it's not. This basic level of comprehension is skipped over. As a student said many years ago, "Oh, language is a puzzle." You'd better believe it.  

            Here's the first sentence we worked on.

            "Rachael lay in bed, reading, waiting until the last possible minute when she absolutely had to put down her book and get out of bed." The first step in sentence comprehension is answering questions about the sentence.  For example, 'Who lay in bed reading, waiting until the last possible minute when she absolutely had to put down her book and get out of bed," or "What was Rachael waiting for?" This sentence is jammed with information. I'd detail what I do, but it would be a whole chapter in my book on comprehension. It's basic sentence diagramming, identifying the relationship between the words, phrases, and clauses in the sentence by asking questions instead of making a chart.

            As with most people, it was confusing for K. at first. However, I could feel her brain changing after we had worked for fifteen minutes. For students who do not have clear-cut neurological problems, this is a quick fix. 

            I showed this to a Somali high school student many years ago whose word recognition was excellent, but comprehension was poor.  I asked detailed questions about a single sentence and told him to work on this at home.  He responded that the process took too much time. I told him to do one sentence a day, and his subconscious mind would quickly take over the process, and he would no longer have to think about it consciously. He came back to me a few weeks later and said, "Thank you."

 

   - - - - - - - - - -

  Musings:

        There was a lot of talk about defunding police. I can't imagine that anyone except for the most militant believes that the police force's guns-ablazing approach is the best.  There has been talk about redistributing the funding to other professions who would then respond to calls where mental illness or domestic situations were involved. 

The police departments currently have meter maids—or at least that's what they were called when I was young. It says a lot. The job of checking meters to ticket expired ones was delegated to 'maids,' 'women's work.' This has a lot to do with the macho image of the police department rushing into 'dangerous' situations. What we are seeing now is that if you approach a situation anticipating danger, it becomes dangerous.  

         Someone said it would be too expensive to have such a division of labor.  Well, there would be fewer police officers armed to the teeth going into 'battle.'  That's certainly true.  They would be reserved for situations that truly call for that. 

           In medicine, we have PAs, physician assistants, and trained people who don't have the training to be doctors. Why can't people be trained to deal with situations with the mentally ill? Hospitals have non-medical staff who deal with mentally ill patients all the time. They're not trained in long-term therapy like a social worker. They just respond to the immediate situation with empathy and kindness to calm an excited person.