Saturday, August 17, 2024

 Saturday, August 17, 2024

   I woke up once or twice during the night. I struggle a bit to fall asleep again. When I woke, I saw the yard outside my bedroom sliding doors was lit up. My first thought was that the motion sensor lights had been triggered; I had that set up in my driveway. Then, I remembered it didn't have motion detector lights in the yard.  Why was it light?  It could only be because the sun had come up. I never wake up that late.

   The light in the yard was confusing because the sky was overcast. It wasn't the bright light of a clear day but a grey, cold light, much like the light of the motion detector bulbs.  Realizing how late it was, I immediately fed Elsa and headed out for our walk. 

   Kona summers have arrived. Our hot, sticky days start in August and run through mid-October. I experienced a rash of fairly intense hot flashes.  While I am a long-term hot flash sufferer, it has greatly lessened over the years.

  A long-term hot flash sufferer is one whose hot flashes continue forever. When I started, I had about 100 a day. I timed them; I had one every 15 minutes, and they were intense. It wasn't just the sweat; it was an electrical surge that felt like an anxiety attack. It was miserable.  In recent years, I might feel a mild rise of heat but not an electrical rush and no sweat.  These traits have returned now. I worried about the implications for my health. Why has my endocrine system returned to a previous pattern?  I needed to consult my doctor.  I mentioned the change to Darby. She said she is experiencing something comparable. She attributed the increase in hot flashes to the increase in heat and humidity. That was reassuring.

   I had no tutoring sessions today. I usually have the Twins and Adolescent D on Saturdays. The Twins weren't available because Mama K had to attend a major paddling event, and D had to start work at 10 a.m. at Costco. I hadn't heard from fourth-grade C's parents one way or the other. I considered the possibility that they didn't want to continue working with me. I sent a text asking if they wanted to schedule another session. The response was total silence. It was confusing. 

    The day started badly. I felt great sadness. My chest hurt. I've been feeling this discomfort on and off for a while.  Was it physical or psychological?  It leaves me feeling drained and weak, but not weak because I don't have muscular strength.  It's all in my chest. 

    I felt that way until Dean and Nina came over to play a few rounds of Sorry. This has become a Saturday afternoon tradition. On one of our walks, Dean mentioned Nina would be making lime tarts.  I started salivating at the thought of them. I love lime anything. 

   Nina sent me a shot of the ingredients laid out on her counter and then a shot of the baked item. It seemed large for a tart. I assumed a tart was a small pastry, three inches in diameter, whereas a pie is a 9-"12". Nina should bring over one or two for me. She arrived with a pie tin-sized tart, 9 inches in diameter. One of those would suffice. 

   I looked up the difference between a tart and a pie.  It is not the diameter; it's the depth of the tin. Pies are deeper with more filling in relation to the crust; tarts are shallower with less filling in relation to the crust.  What Nina brought qualifies as a pie. The crust was a graham cracker/ pretzel blend.  The filling was lime juice, carnation condensed sweetened milk, ice cream, and eggs sprinkled with lime zest. 

    We played one game of Sorry that went on forever. I kept being bounced back to start over and over. It was almost funny.  I play for the sheer pleasure of their company. The pain in my chest and the drained feeling disappeared immediately. I guess that answers my question as to the cause of it. 

   After we completed one long, drawn-out game, I offered them a slice of the lime pie. Nina cut three slices. It was incredible. Dean and Nina left after we'd scarfed down our shares.

  Joseph, the young man who will move into the guest room for an undetermined time, arrived just as Dean and Nina were leaving.  I introduced him to everyone. It occurred to me that most of my friends on the block would want to check him out. I am very optimistic this arrangement will suit me perfectly. His thinking is in line with mine. We will see if we can live together comfortably. Things seem to be moving in the right direction. I'm sitting in my old-lady chair typing away, and he's on the lanai doing his thing. We make connections without intensity or discomfort.  At least, that's how I feel. Since the situation is temporary, he is someone on tenterhooks, wondering if he will be okay.

   I spent part of the late afternoon showing Joseph where things were. He needed an ironing board and iron. The boy irons his shirts. He placed some food items on the counter. I have a few of mine laid out.  I cleared a pantry drawer for him with enough height for a tall box.

   At the end of the day, I felt drained, but in a good way. Having someone live here will help resolve my loneliness. I don't need much, just the sense of someone sharing space with me who isn't covertly or overtly hostile. When Mike was alive, we were happy to have people stay for a week or more, even if they did start smelling like fish (a reference to the three-day rule).

    I set out for my evening walk at 6:30 p.m., unusually late.