Monday, April 1, 2024

Monday, April 1, 2024

 

   Darby called to tell me they had a dilemma. Remembering how efficiently I responded to the three lost French bulldogs she found in her garden, she called to tell me they had an unidentified sheep. Did I know anyone who owned one? I couldn’t think of anyone at the time. But of course, my next-door neighbor had a lamb. I didn’t think of them because Darby knew about their lamb as well as I did. Then I heard Patrick count, “ One, two, three. . ., and then both of them say, “April Fools!” no one has treated me to an April Fool’s joke forever.

     I planned to attend the Chi Gi Gong class on the beach that Alison and Gail had told me about. Because it was something new, I was hesitant. I had excuses. I got up too late to attend on time; I didn’t want to go until I had eaten something; I hadn’t gone to the bathroom. At eight-twenty, I forced myself to drive down there and at least get my feet wet. I would know where it was and get a feel of the group. I was so glad it did.

   I found them quickly. Once I had driven through the gate to the Ole A (The old airport) park, I saw a group up on the rise heading to the beach. I climbed up and was treated to this fantastic view of the ocean and the bay. I gasped.  

   I saw Gail in the circle with her back to me. I crept up behind her and put my arms around her waist. She looked at me and smiled. I joined in what turned out to be the closing exercises of the class. When it was over, Alison came over to greet me, too.

  She introduced me to the couple who led the class and a man named Clyde, who would take over the instruction when the couple left for Colorado for the summer at the end of April. I was definitely going to join this group.

   Gail proposed we all walk on the pathway. I had heard about the walkway at Ole A. I imagined it to be a small sandy path parallel to the waterfront. Nothing close. It was a half-mile, six-foot-wide paved circular road with tended gardens on either side. I had to leave because I had a ten a.m. class with twenty-six-year-old S.

   I made it home in time to eat something before the session. Again, S had done no work, arguing she had no time. I called her on it. She is home all day taking care of her three-year-old daughter. While childcare can be time-consuming, the girl goes to bed before her mom does. She can find two minutes before she goes to bed. Her progress would be much better if she did some work independently. I can hear she wants to avoid doing the work, but not that she has NO time. I know better.

   I asked her if she thought of doing it during the day, and she said, “I’ll do something else first.” Does she really think I don’t know this trick? Who doesn’t use it? In one of the podcasts I’ve been listening to, I heard a psychologist recommend asking yourself what you’re feeling when you choose to avoid doing something and procrastinate. I encouraged her to do the same thing.  

   Given what S has been through, I can fully appreciate her fear of reading. Besides being a crystal meth baby, the doctors put her on Adderall at four which caused seizures. Seizures reset the brain. All learning is eliminated from working memory before being downloaded into long-term memory. She couldn’t learn. She was seen as stupid and perceived herself that way. She got off the Adderall just before she turned eighteen. Her teachers reported a dramatic difference. I find her a good learner even when she doesn’t make an effort. While she doesn’t sit down with the reading in hand and read it, she must be doing something because I see an improvement from one session to the next. She reads the story we’ve been working on better with each session. 

Today, I pushed the envelope. I had S read a new story she hadn’t seen before. She had to rely on reading the words, not remembering the story. She saw the difference. Just thinking about the text helps. She may be doing nothing more than giving her mind permission to learn.

    I went down into the yard to work on the weeds in the plot of land where the Ficus trees had been. The ones I had poured boiling water came up easily. I pulled up by hand whatever I could.

  Earlier in the day, Yvette sent me something from the Internet saying how damaging boiling water could be for the land and how ineffective it could be for weeding. The site talked about making big pots of boiling water. Most sites I saw also spoke about adding salt to the water. The only solution they propose is hand weeding. Hand weeding 750 sq. ft. area is quite a challenge, particularly when you’re eighty-three doing all the work alone. Boiling water can kill off microbes in the soil, but can it cause long-term damage?

  I don’t add salt or dump large pots of boiling water. I target each plant specifically and pull out what I can. I found that plants that came out with difficulty initially came out more easily the day after I shocked them with boiling water. Yvette recommended I get weed barrier fabric.  

  I continued watching This is Us on Netflix. This show is right up my alley. It is wonderful. It won many awards. That sounds right to me. When I spoke to Jean, my friend, I found out that I am one of the last to discover this series. Well, better late than never.

   At 5 pm, I had first-grade B. She read he for has. She wasn’t paying attention to letters. I got a new lead on her problems. She likes to follow her thoughts rather than be affected by an external stimulus. I asked her mom if she was that way with her. Yes, she needs to do things her way. She needs her mom to give her all her attention. Given there are two other children, one just turned one last month, B is out of luck. I finally had a bead on her problem. Until now, I felt unsure of what I was doing with her. I couldn’t figure out why I felt that way. Now, I know. I wasn’t addressing the real problem. I don’t know if my conclusion is correct, but it gave me an angle to pursue. Whatever it is, it is more psychological than academic. She doesn’t have a problem with reading as much as her willingness to attend to the letters instead of her thoughts.