Mike's death; Betty's life...: 01/24/26

Saturday, January 24, 2026

Wednesday, December 22, 2021

My ankle bothered me so much during the night, I thought it was time to make an appointment for hip surgery. Then I remembered three years ago, one of my feet hurt so much I could barely walk. Mike and I were visiting my niece, Karin, at the time. Her mother had had successful hip surgery. She had little patience with my suffering; she thought I should get the surgery. I was sure it was a temporary condition caused by body changes. As I had thought, the problem was resolved. Whatever this problem is, it is different from the one I had before.

Instead of fighting the cramping, I went with it as I lay in bed. I turned my foot in, allowing the whole leg to cramp. When it got bad enough, I allowed for a little release. Then it released on its own, and I went back into the cramp. I repeated the process. The ankle felt much better. I was able to fall asleep.

While eating breakfast, I emailed my primary doctor, saying I wanted a consult about my ankle. I wasn't sure if the problem was with the ankle or an outcome of the hip problem. I wanted her opinion; I also want to make an appointment for the surgery. It will be three or four months from now. If things improve, I can cancel. The orthopedic surgeon suggested that I always have an appointment three months ahead- just in case. Unfortunately, he never informed his appointment secretary. She called every three months and made the appointments six months in advance. I canceled at least six times before she just stopped calling me.

Since I didn't meet with adolescent D on Saturday, and I wasn't going to meet with him on Thursday because he was attending his sister's dance performance in The Nutcracker, we had an appointment today. I usually go every year to these dance performances. The local dance studio for kids puts it on. I love them. It's more dance theater than dance. I find it as if not more pleasurable than a professional concert. Nah, I love both. In this local performance, the fun is in the choreography. How does the choreographer deal with the varying level of competence to produce a delightful performance? Also, the costumes are fantastic. D said he didn't want to meet on Friday, Christmas Eve, or Christmas Day. Understandable.

For today, D wanted to work on the healing. I started but had this weird reaction. I was overwhelmed with thoughts about another relationship. I told him I had this reaction. I have been doing healing for years, and I have never had an experience like this reaction before. I told him I couldn't do anything because of this reaction. I believe everything happens for a reason. I didn't know what the reason was. Was I simply not supposed to do healing with him today? Was the interference from my intuitive self, him, or some external force? I often don't know what to do because my intuition hasn't given me a clear signal. I always have strategies I can use as a formula, but my uncertainty means something. I have to wait for a clear signal.

When I face uncertainty, I sit and observe or pray. Most children I have worked with love that I do that. They know that I am willing to face uncertainty rather than push them into something. It helps them trust me. Do I think children can articulate their feelings as I just did? No. But I think they intuitively know my willingness to not blindly forage ahead makes me trustworthy. Was this what was happening with D? I finally asked him if he just wanted to stop. He gave an emphatic yes. I'm not sure how this played out of him or will impact our relationship. Was this s good experience or a bad one for him? We switched to using Phase III. The difference in his reading was incredible.

D read a paragraph he hadn't read before. He started out haltingly. I thought to record it because the last time I recorded something to show his mother, she asked if he had read it previously. He had. This was the first reading of this paragraph. As he continued reading, he picked up speed. He was reading at a low level, but I hadn't seen him read with such ease and fluency before. I asked him if he was surprised. He said yes. Wow! this is the first time he has acknowledged improvement.

Then we did Phase III sentence by sentence. He had to read the sentence, recall it without looking back and dictate the spelling of each word letter by letter. Writing is a more complex neurological task than reading. He did so well with remembering the words and spelling them. I thought he could see the word written on the page. I actually tried to check. The difference was stunning.

At the end of the session, I told D I had recorded his reading and asked if I could share it with his mother. He said, "Yes, but only her." I didn't understand what he meant. Did he mean I couldn't share it with someone I knew? I asked him. He meant only his mother, not his father or his sister. Yes. I didn't ask if they had heard the last one I sent to his mother and made some hurtful comments.

I had Mama K's crew. We continued working on story writing. Their skills have developed impressively. K, Twin A and Twin E each wrote a story with a beginning, middle, and end with details. They developed a single idea that could be covered in the length of the story. I had mailed them copies of their first stories. Mama K made sure the kids got them. (I have parents who don't do that. They think it's just for their read.) Mama K told me they loved reading their stories. One of the Twins took it into class to show her teacher. Given the quality of their stories and their reactions to seeing them in print, I printed out four copies of each story and put them in separate envelopes addressed to the author. I put a piece of red cardstock in each envelope with Merry Christmas written on it. The hope is this will make them feel special and empowered, and they pass them out to friends and family.

I had Mama K's crew earlier than I usually do because they were doing something else in the afternoon. After finishing with them, I headed out to Holualoa to get bread from the Sun Dog Bread company. Their website said they were open from 1-4 on Wednesdays in the Holualoa parking lot. I checked my iPhone maps when I got into town. I didn't have a connection. I asked someone. She waved me on down the street. Someone had said the town parking lot was near the school. I knew where the public school was. That didn't sound right. I saw a pop-up tent with two people laying out baked goods as I drove down the street. I pulled into a small unpaved parking lot. It was 12:45, and there were already six people on line. Some people came along and stood at the front of the line. I reminded them to get to the end. The woman behind me said, "There's no credit for waiting in your car?" I told her to go ahead of me.

We stood there and watched while this hippy couple laid out their wares. There must have been thirty people on the line by the time they opened. Someone said they used to have the stand Wednesdays and Fridays, but they got too busy. Huh? Hotels and restaurants started placing large orders with them. Ah. When they were ready, the woman announced, "People who preordered first." Only two people responded. After that, I was served quickly. This incredible sourdough rye only cost $9.00. Yes, they have no overhead, but they could get away with more. They are artists.

I had to pull out of the small park lot, backing my car out toward the line of waiting people. I have all my car accidents when driving 5 mph. I was concerned. I asked if someone on line could help me get out safely. This one woman stepped up. I had seen her arrive with two other people. I remember trying to figure out the relationship between the three. This woman could have been a sister to the other girl. She asked me, "Are you the woman who walks with her dog?" Yes. Where do you live? "On Kukuna." I introduced myself. Her name was Shannon. Oh, aren't you Steve's wife? "Yes, and these are my kids." I look forward to running into her more frequently. She and her husband are both friendly. She guided me out.

Then I went to the post office. The main office is in Kona. This one in Holualoa is a little substation. It had no line. The wait in line in the main post office is at least an hour. I mailed my Christmas card for David and Marlies in London and David's birthday car. I also brought those three envelopes for the 'authors.' Yes, they were all overweight. The clerk didn't have a stamp with the correct amount. He had to print the stamp. I also got two strips of stamps. The clerk didn't have any pretty ones like they do in the main post office.

Damon called to cancel the family's Christmas visit. I'm not surprised. Covid and travel don't go together. He said Cylin wasn't feeling well, and he and August needed to decompress, he from his London trip and August from his first semester in college. I was disappointed but not surprised. He promised to be out in March. I'm not holding my breath. I wouldn't be surprised if I never see anyone from my family again for the rest of my life. It's just the way things are these days.

When I went for my last walk of the day, I saw this spectacular cloud formation in the western sky. I stopped a passing car to share the experience. It was a young woman who looked nervous. Poor thing. She thought I was stopping her because she had done something wrong. I would think her first concern would be that the old lady needed help. She calmed down and enjoyed the view as I did. She said it looked like someone had used a paintbrush to form the clouds. It was a formation I had never seen before. Lutz passed as I stood there, taking in the view. He said it would be more spectacular as the sun got lower in the sky, lighting up the clouds with a red glow. That never happened. The sky grew dark; the clouds only became darker.

At the end of the day, my ankle was visibly swollen. I iced it as I watched With Love on Amazon. It's a nighttime soap opera about a Latino family. It's a delight. I have no room for edgy in my psyche.

I've been reading about and watching videos about the Durrells. Many of them are about the show, but some talk about the original family members. Lawrence is an award-winning author that I read many, many years ago. I don't remember anything about the book; I don't remember finding it fun to read or interesting. One of the YouTube videos was Laurence talking about Henry Miller. Many in the audience asked him about his own writing. Wow! he was a deep thinker, and I love his language. I might try rereading him. Besides having a deep point of view, he was funny.

His brother Gerald was knighted for his work saving endangered species. There was a video of a This Is Your Life segment. Margo, his sister, was on the show. His brother Lawrence made a video segment. His brother Leslie didn't appear, and he wasn't ever referred to. I read he remained a lost soul who kept making bad decisions for the rest of his life. He always wanted money from the family. They didn't even let him in the door after a while if I had it right. Sad. Gerald wrote the books the series The Durrells in Corfu is based on. I checked Amazon for a kick. Gerald's books are purchased more frequently than Lawrence's right now. I bought them. The TV series has been a great advertisement for Gerry's books. Given that Lawrence doesn't have the same publicity, his books aren't doing half bad.

I joyfully watched more of With Love.

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Musings:

On NPR today, they had someone talk about a cure for deep depression. It's some gadget that provides electrical stimulation to the brain's frontal lobe. It saw it as a mechanic method of doing BrainManagementSkills because it stimulated a particular part of the brain versus promoting a hormonal change.

Tuesday, December 21, 2021

When I went to bed last night, my ankle felt just fine. During the night, it started bothering me. I was able to crack it. It immediately felt better. Then it hurt in the morning; it bothered me so much that I had to cut short my morning walk.

I finished washing the remaining window screens. Yvette got on the roof and did the outside of the guest room windows. I replaced the screens and finished vacuuming the wall-to-wall carpeting. I also took on Mike’s library. I have never cleaned it. I doubt Mike did much. Because the windows were generally closed, the room never got very dirty. I dusted some shelves and washed the stone floor. I was amazed at how little dirt I found.

As I sat working on my updates and blog, I realized that my ankle hurt more while sitting than it did walking. That suggested the problem was coming from my hip. I felt the tightness in the muscles on the back of my thigh. Instead of focusing on my ankle, I put a tennis ball under my leg as I sat. Bingo! Much better already. Because I was desperate, I made an appointment with my chiropractor today. It felt like the problem could be fixed if the ankle was forcibly adjusted. Now, I see the problem is with those leg muscles. The appointment is for January. I may be able to cancel by appointment. I wish I had such an easy fix for my crazy hammer toe on my right foot. My second toe has gone crooked and is climbing over my first. Yikes!

Yvette sent me a joyful text thanking me for gifting her a facial with the Cryotherapy lady. What! That was my Christmas present for her. The owner had no business telling Yvette about my gift. I was furious. So unprofessional. I texted the lady and let her know. She got back to me, apologized, and said it was a misunderstanding. I never said, Let Yvette know when she comes in.” I have no idea what she could be thinking of. She knew I bought other gift certificates as Christmas presents.

I got my Covid test results by email from Kaiser. Negative. This is not a surprise, but it is a relief to have definite news.

I had two tutoring sessions today, one with third grade A and one with adolescent D. I continued working on Phase III with adolescent A. He was making tons of mistakes. Then he had trouble remembering some words he had recognized automatically in the past. I started working on the memory problem by asking him which part of his brain he used for reading the words. He pointed to his forehead. Ah! That again. He overuses that part of his brain. We know from fMRIs that good readers use the auditory section in the left hemisphere. Frequently, students will switch after one session. It’s like removing a log that blocks the flow of water. Once they experience that easy flow, they don’t even have to think about using it. A is resistant to change. Doing something differently than he usually does makes him feel weird. Doing something differently than we are used to doing makes us feel somewhat weird. Good learners love the feeling; bad learners hate it. A hates it. I have to bully him into using it. “If you want to become a good learner, you’re going to have to use that part of your brain.” “Oh, okay,” in a resigned tone. The immediate difference in his reading surprised even me. Of course, his mother had been playing The Phonics Discovery System 5 Stories audio file from YouTube while he sleeps. Today I asked her if she d been playing it. She said not every day, which means less rather than more. All she has to do is turn it on on her way to bed. There is a chance the difference I saw today may be related to her playing the audiofile at all, even once while he

slept.

Once he switched to using the left side of his brain, I saw a more significant difference in A’s behavior. He often displays ‘weird’ behavior, the very thing he dreads. He moves his head around in inappropriate ways, looking up at the ceiling, tilting his head, so his face is to toward the ceiling, and giggling inappropriately. I had asked him what was funny when he giggled, careful to make my tone one of neutral inquiry rather than judgment. He said, “I just thought of something funny.” He has always looked lost, out of it; he had that look the first day I met him, and he has never lost it. Today after he switched, he didn’t have that look. He held his head appropriately, and he didn’t giggle for the rest of the session. I hope this happens more often.

I had adolescent D later in the day. We continued working on healing his self-hatred. I didn’t write it up immediately and can’t remember anything specific.

Monday, December 20, 2021

Great night’s sleep. However, my ankle bothered me in the middle of the night. I got up and took an Ibuprofen. My ankle continued to bother me when I did my morning walk.

I heard that the food you break your fast with in the morning is very important. Pretzels have been my go-to breakfast food for several years. I decided I needed to do something better. I chose whole-grain tacos with salsa and a large glass of water. I asked Yvette what she ate for breakfast. She does bagels and sometimes an egg. That doesn’t sound better than whole grain salsa chips. Also, those bagels are fattening.

I posted the blog update for the day. My high numbers are holding. Over 150 people sign on each day, and over 1,000 pages are consistently read over seven days. The folks in Germany and Indonesia read 100 to 800 pages a week. The USA readers have dropped to under 100 pages a day. I’m still expecting a precipitative drop once classes are over for the season.

Instead of going for one of my short walks, I devoted my time to cleaning. I washed the screens from the guest room and finished cleaning the sliding doors in my bedroom. I got started on the library. I haven’t cleaned in there ever. I doubt Mike did much if any cleaning either. The windows were generally closed, so there wasn’t much dirt blowing in.

I called Kaiser to figure out how to get a Covid test. When I got to the Kaiser site last night, it said to call to make an appointment. Other than that, as far as I could figure out, all their information was about Oahu. I called today. The agent I got said there was one appointment left for today at 3:15. I grabbed it. I would have been exposed on Thursday. Today it will be four days. We’ll see if that’s enough incubation time or if I’m going to need another test. On the radio, someone was warning about the continued vulnerability of older people. Will Damon and company choose not to come to protect me? The house is wide open. They would never be around me in an enclosed space.

I started vacuuming the guest room. It should be finished by today. The carpet attachment on the Rainbow hasn’t worked in years. I have tried to have it repaired repeatedly. I use the upholstery attachment. I only have short, piled carpets and rugs.

Yvette came up to help me with some of the cleaning. She crawled across Mike’s desk into the bow window, removed the screens, and washed the inside of the windows.

She also asked me if the woman who gave us facials could stay. The place she usually stayed wasn’t available. Of course. She will be here just for a week in January. She lives in Honolulu and comes over to the Big Island for a week a month.

Sandor called. He has been on the mainland dealing with one crisis after another in his family. He has come home to a medical problem. His poor wife and business partner is suffering from some mysterious eye ailment. My heart goes out to her.

The gardeners arrived today. They don’t have as much to do as they usually have. We had a two-week drought. Scary. I asked him to trim the ficus trees. They grow huge and block my view. They can be pruned like shrubs without harm. I want my regular gardener to do the job rather than a tree specialist. I also had him look at my suffering orange tree. He said to wait a week before I cut it back. I will check on the internet. That doesn’t sound right. I finally asked him to distribute the soil amendment I bought. It was just too hard for me.

At 3:15, I had my Covid test. Kaiser had a tent set up in the parking lot. It was a drive-through service, just like Taco Bell. The line wasn’t long. The nurse who gave me the test was dressed in a full hazmat suit. I had to keep my window closed until the moment she was ready to administer the test. She asked me to roll down my window and stuck long Cottom swabs up my nose.

I went to town to the post office to mail two letters to my nephew in London. Ten cars were pulling into the lot in front of me. Forget it. I decided to go to the Roasted Toasted Café by the Club, where I get my physical therapy to get one of their Greek salad open sandwiches. While the door was open and I could walk in, there was no one in. I waited a few minutes. I asked someone sitting at the curbside table if they knew what was happening. She pointed to a sign saying they would be back at 5:30. I assume someone left the door open by accident. Later in the day, I called to ask where they got their incredible bread from. The answer was SunDog Bread in Holualoa.

I headed to Safeway to buy chips, soup, and a head of lettuce. In the chip aisle, I looked for whole-grained chips. Forget it. They were all name brands of corn, potato, and wheat products. I was surprised. When I mentioned this to Judy, she said I could have found a whole grain brand in the deli section. The check-out lines were off the charts. The man in front of me explained that there was an influx of tourists for the holidays. Judy explained that people were buying out the store for their Christmas meal.

When I got home, I had adolescent D. He chose to continue working on healing his perfectionism. We were going to do half and half, half healing, and half reading, but we wound up doing the whole session on healing. We worked on his self-hatred. I always determine the most outward layer of a defense to work on. In D’s case, his hatred was surrounded by his hatred of his hatred, etc. We went out to the third or fourth ring, hatred of his hatred of his self-hatred. While focusing on that layer, we did the two complementary releases, releasing anything negative about his hatred of his hatred, keeping anything good or anything he still needed. Any the inverse, releasing anything negative about his love of his hatred for his hatred, etc. He was surprised by the latter. He couldn’t believe he could love this hatred. I pointed out if he didn’t love something about it, he would have gotten rid of it a long time ago. I asked him periodically if he felt more relaxed. That is the sign we’re going the correct work. He said somewhat, but it didn’t sound dramatic.

Sunday, December 19, 2021

I slept very well last night. I contemplated the next series of steps in the Hot Honey Rag as I awoke. I’ve watched the video often enough. I should have known what the steps were and executed them. I was astounded to see I couldn’t figure them out even in my mind, no less making my feet perform the steps. I have never been uncoordinated. This is quite an experience. I can see why people would give up after one try. I am so far from being able to do this. If I hadn’t had the experience of success in my memory, I would give up too. I can use my conscious mind to teach myself how to do it. If I will ever be able to do up to speed is another matter. While I am shocked at my lack of coordination, I am interested in experiencing what others do. Should I ever have to teach a movement to someone, I’ll have a better understanding of their experience.

Jean, my hanai sister, is doing physical therapy three times a week. She has painful sciatica. She will be seeing an orthopedic surgeon in a few days. Jean has ignored her body for all her life. I have always had a high degree of body awareness. Jean is my extreme opposite. Now, she reported she loves PT and is discovering muscles she never knew she had. Damon and I talked about this change in Jean in our conversation. It is close to miraculous. While I exercise a lot, I get my 10,000 steps in a day, so I neglect my upper body. I started doing pushups while leaning on the counter. I believe I should get myself a personal trainer too.

As part of the deep cleaning in preparation for the Damons arrived, I partially cleared the top of Mike’s desk so Yvette could crawl over it and clean the bay window. I found some items to get rid of, small things. I threw out those data storage devices that preceded the CD. Mike had about 20 of them. Then there were loose bits of paper I hadn’t thrown out yet too. This is the first time I did a clearing of his desktop. Slowly, slowly, I will clear evidence of Mike out of my life. So sad.

Yvette texted me to tell me her friends down with Covid were feeling better. This was a huge relief; one was unvaccinated. The other one was also feeling better. I don’t know how many others from the My Bar crowd were affected.

I spoke to my friend Jean. Her mother died recently. She and her husband are felled with grief. They would visit her mother every Tuesday. Her husband would play games with her. She meant a lot to him.

I went to the bottom of the property to pick limes and oranges. The branches were loaded with oranges, but the tree looked dead. The lime tree only had a few limes, but it still had leaves. We had a bad two-week draught. The lime tree is roaring back. I see small leaves and small buds on reach limb. The orange tree didn’t do as well.

Went over to visit with Paulette while she worked on cleaning one of Mei’s Turo cars. This has turned out to be a lot of work. The good news is that Mei and Peter’s visas came through. They have a three-year work visa. They will arrive back in Hawaii on Friday. Then the work of running this Turo business with nine cars will be distributed between six people instead of two. Peter will be here to help pick up and deliver the cars. Their fourteen-year-old son and their exchange student can do some of the work cleaning the cars. Judy already arranged to do nothing on Christmas day.

I worked on the updates. I managed to think about the next video, but I didn’t work on the slides.

I spoke to adolescent D’s mother today. I wanted to make sure I had her permission to do healing with him on his perfectionism. I see him as a vulnerable child. I want to make sure I do nothing to damage him and make sure I don’t get screwed in the process. I also want to make sure she is aware of what is going on so if he appears upset, we can stop immediately. D is an extreme introvert, definitely with adults and I suspect with his peers as well. He takes pride in hiding who he really is. However, his mother told me he has always initiated interactions with peers. He wanted to skip our Saturday appointment because he planned to stay at a friend’s house. He made all the arrangements himself, including having the other child’s parent pick him up. She says she has always been that way. This is good news. If he can advocate for himself in one area, that means I can refer to it and foster lateral transfer.

Saturday, December 18, 2021

I slept well, only got up a few times during the night. Hobbling to the bathroom made me aware of how bad my leg was. While the hip is a problem, the ankle is worse. I have complained about it for a while to practitioners. I was told that the problem came from my hip. Regardless of where it comes from, I have arthritis in my ankle. That is not going to be fixed by a total hip replacement. It may even make it worse. Okay, I'll ask.

I've been learning the choreography to Hot Honey Rag, the finale from Chicago. I was shocked at the problem I had doing the Charleston, the opening steps. When did I become so uncoordinated? It's not just that it is difficult to make some of the hip rotations involved. I couldn't figure out the footwork. Damn! I'm going to conquer this. One of the problems is the traction of my crocs on the tile. My shoe gets stuck, resisting the foot slide I need to execute that move. I worked on the hand motions for the first sequence with the Charleston yesterday. Today as I came back from one of my short periodic walks, I could do the footwork with the arm movements in my driveway without holding on. I will get this performance under my belt by my next birthday in December 2022, when I turn 82. Ha! I also want to learn the shuffle that's all the rage on the Internet.

I took an Ibuprofen and beamed the infrared lamp on my calf. Voila! My ankle felt as good as new. Very confusing.

I had three appointments scheduled for today. All three cancel. Adolescent D texted me yesterday asking if he could skip. That was wonderful. He advocated for himself- or I hope so. I hope it is something he wants to do and not just a family event he will participate in. Not that he doesn't enjoy family events; he does. His family means a great deal to him. The other would be preferable because it would mean that D thought of D alone. I'll find out. We may reschedule for tomorrow.

I washed Elsa. The skin on her torso looked good. Her neck is a different story. I believe it is all from the flea protection. I will have to find another way.

This morning I got a text from M & W's mother. She wanted to cancel because she had to deal with her kids' ukus. I had to look it up -lice. Yeah, that's a full day's project.

Yvette called in the morning. There had been an outbreak of Covid in the My Bar crowd. The owner, Rocco, had brought it in. Two friends who were also participants in our driveway yoga were ill. Everyone was getting tested. Yvette had already been tested and was negative. She said it was inconvenient. I said it would mean that Damon and family might not come. That was way more than just inconvenient. It made me sad to think of them not coming. I felt I had to call Damon right away so they could formulate plan B for their Christmas holidays.

As I started to tell Damon about my situation, he interrupted me. He had been contacted and told he had been exposed. When I spoke to him last, I was under the impression the trip to London had been canceled. As it turned out, only Cylin and August's part of the trip had been canceled. Damon went on the work part. He said he was going nuts not traveling at all. He justified his trip since he was the executive producer on the movie. He didn't really have to go. As it was, he came home a day early because the director had to leave early. He was French; France was closing their border to England in a day. He had to get back home. I'm not sure if he went by the chunnel or the ferry, but he said some aspect of the trip took two hours. He compared it to the evacuation of London during WWII.

Despite the possibility of Damon not even coming, I continued washing windows. Damon's an excuse to get some deep house cleaning done. I washed a large window in the library - only four more areas to go: the bay window in Mike's library, the louver bathroom windows and shower door in my bathroom, the sliding doors to my bedroom, and one regular window in my closet areas. Then I will be done. Oh, no. I have two large double windows in the guest room. Yvette will help me with those and with the bay window. Those require some climbing and crawling to get to. The ones in the guest room require me to get on the roof to clean the outsides. I have to concede my balance is not what it used to be. How much is age, and how much is to a degenerating hip/ankle? I don't know.

I did some more practice on the Hot Honey Rag. I can coordinate my upper and lower body for the first sixteen counts. I think I have it, but am I able to do it fast enough to keep up with the music? Haven't tried that yet.

Last night, I started watching Season 3 of Durrells. I recognize a plot point; I had seen it before. Damn! I didn't remember a thing up to this point. That's the bad news. The good news is I got to enjoy it again.

Friday, December 17, 2021

I woke up around 2 pm and was wide awake and somewhat agitated. I got up to meditate. I put on a hooded sweatshirt, grabbed by fleece throw blanket, and headed to my old-lady chair. I wrapped the blanket around my body below my armpit. I never managed to calm myself, but I did get an insight.

I have been working on changing my voice. I had an old friend who criticized the loudness. She wondered if I had a hearing problem, which I didn't. I didn't know what I did that made my voice so loud. I think I have learned to quiet it since living in Hawaii. You know how long people have lived here by how loud their voices are. Since everything is open here, you quickly learn to keep down your volume unless you want everyone in the neighborhood to be privy to your conversation. I once passed a house early in the morning and heard a young man hiss, "You're not the boss of me." In any other environment, it would have been yelled.

I have been told that there is tension in my voice when I speak, forced speech. Or at least, that's what I think it means. Just checked it. I was wrong. It means talking rapidly and moving quickly from topic to topic. Someone just threw the term out at me, leaving me to figure out what it meant. Love that type of person. Not the least bit interested in really communicating. The comment came from a person who I was uncomfortable with. Being nervous and uncomfortable sounded like an appropriate description. I get anxious if I feel someone doesn't want to hear what I have to say or doesn't want to deal with me in general. Let me see. Do you know anyone comfortable in that position? But I do feel my speech is stressful for me and probably for others. When I get scared, forget it! I sound like a repeating rifle. However, I feel that my regular speech is stressed too. I want to approach this behaviorally. Just change the speech. I have had moments of success. If I speak more slowly, and my tone is more resonant. I find it more relaxing. I suppose it involves breath control. The slower the breath, the calmer the person. This is a hard switch. I have to think of talking that way. I have to monitor myself nonstop. Judy and Shelly both say they don't experience my speech in a bad way. Shelly says it sounds assertive but not bad. She's not uncomfortable with it. I'm stuck with many introverts in my life, family, and clients. I want to learn to do it differently. Those introverts understand my 'assertiveness' in the most negative light. I would like to expand my presentation range. It's my new challenge.

I told Shelly that I wanted to work on my voice during our session. I believe my voice is uncomfortable for many people because I always tend to sound like I'm arguing. An old habit from feeling that no one wanted to hear what I had to say. This is a hard shift for me. As we worked, I uncovered a deep feeling that made me uncomfortable. Like all deep feelings, we have to accept them with equanimity, and then they will sort themselves out. It's the craving and aversion that throw us off course.

At three, I made ready to pick Isaac up to drive him to the airport. He was heading home for the holidays. He picked up something off the seat and handed me my missing credit card as he got into the card. Oh, well. It's been canceled now, with a new one on the way. Isaac is anxious to get home to see his family. The poor boy, one of four kids, has been living alone for the first time in his life. He had no idea what he was getting into. While I had asked him to be punctual, he took another five minutes before we left. I got a little anxious but was able to keep it to myself. I texted M & W's mom to say I might be a few minutes late. As it was, there was no problem.

Usually, mom is asking me to sign in a few minutes early. Today, there was no response at the appointed time. I called mom. There was no answer. I texted her to say I assumed something had come up, and I was signing off just as she was signing on. Did the kids get home late? No, mom had just lost track of time.

I started with 1st grade M, as usual. We worked on Phase III with a piece she had written. Her reading wasn't as good as it usually is. Why these variations? With her, I can have her remember whole sentences or long clauses. She can retrieve the words without assistance and spell them. I remember Aylett Cox saying that the dyslexic students she used her Orton-Gillingham method with said they found the spelling the most beneficial aspect of the program.

With 5th grade W, I proposed writing a new story. I told her I was overwhelmed with the technical aspect of the story we worked on. She was describing how she and two of her cousins had made a fort out of a bunkbed, blankets, and pillows. Finding the words to tell how they fastened the blankets was just too much for me. She was happy to drop it too. She quickly came up with another story. It had a great macrostructure. There were three distinct stages to the plot. The girls are always cooperative and seem to enjoy the lessons, but something about them makes me tense. I have to battle with myself. I don't know if there is something in me these days or something about the girls. I do suspect that a lot has to do with me. I seem to prefer to be alone a lot more than I used to. Today, I actually experienced some deep psychological pain while working, which I'm sure had nothing to do with them. If I didn't believe these feelings could resolve and change, I would do drugs too. Thank God I have the Vipassana training I have. I have experienced change and resolution.

After the class, I took a nap. Sometime during that half-hour, the pain shifted. What makes it do that just from staying calm beats the hell of me. God bless Buddha for coming up with this brilliant insight.

Over dinner, I read a few pages of Number Sense by Dehaene. These days, children are not expected to memorize their multiplication tables as they were in my day. Dehaene says that most adults don't know the times' table perfectly. I had it drilled into me, so it has been inconceivable that someone wouldn't have them perfectly memorized. Dehaene gave this wonderful example to demonstrate how hard they are to learn. They are the same numbers arranged in a different order, and, in the case of addition and multiplication, the same problem can be arranged in four different ways: 6 x3=18, as 3x6=18, and 18-6x3, and 18=3x6. If you had your tables drilled as I did, these distinctions don't do much to through you off track, but for a young child learning them who does not have a perfect associative recall, these are hell.

I continued watching Durrells in Corfu. I thought I had seen the whole series, but I'm pretty sure I didn't see what I'm seeing now. I can't believe I wouldn't remember Larry's relationship with the town beauty.

On Hidden Brain last night, the topic was imposters syndrome. That's the belief that you're not as good as people think you are. It sounds like an extension of the problem we all have, fearing we won't live up to the expectations of others.

In the case of imposters syndrome, it's expectations created by previous performances. But we all deal with the problem of fearing people's reactions when we don't give them what they want. I know I'm a good teacher. I work with people who have no idea who I am. They don't know about my training, experience, or success rate. Some have unreasonable expectations. "What? After six sessions, you haven't gotten my child, who is two grades behind, up to grade level? It may be worse when we know others have seen our best and expect that as a matter of course.

I have dealt with people in my life who have what I consider unreasonable expectations. My mother regularly expected me to do what she wanted me to do without asking. I was supposed to know. If I didn't know, it was a sure sign there was something wrong with me.

When my niece was about nine, I observed an exchange between her and my mother. My mother was chasing after her saying, "You never do what you are asked to do." My niece said, "You never ask." My mom heard it for the first time in her life. Right, she never asked. She just expected everyone to 'know' what she wanted. Kafkaesque!

Thursday, December 16, 2021

I had a great night's sleep despite getting up to pee more than usual. The only person I ran into on my morning walk was Kelly with Bailey and Angus. Kelly will be the only one walking in the morning because Colin, a construction manager, is on the night shift until March. The local hospital is redoing rooms at night to reduce disruption.

I saw a difference in my range of motion in some of the postures in yoga this morning. Terry did some work on a small groin muscle, which I believe is Michael's muscle or part of a complex of muscles called Michael's muscles. She is the only one who has a method that relaxes the stress effectively.

Elsa was obsessed with her ball today. First, she perched herself in front of Jared, pawing at him, demanding he throw the damn ball. Yvette took it away from her and put it on top of the chest sitting in the driveway, covered in a worn moving blanket. Elsa clawed at it, making holes. Yvette threw the ball into the house. Elsa clawed at the metal door, creating an annoying sound; Yvette put her inside. That allowed us to go on with the yoga class in peace.

I asked Yvette if she knew what was under the moving blanket. Yes. It's a chest my mother designed and made in Germany before moving to the USA. I'm not exactly sure when she had, it made. It could be a hundred years old.

Why do I have an ancient chest sitting in the driveway under an old, worn-out moving blanket? The question is why I keep the chest in the first place. I tried to get rid of it about twenty years ago when Mike and I planned our move from Princeton to Ohio. In Princeton, the chest sat in our family room. Mike convinced me to get rid of the chest. Around that time, I suffered from a form of narcolepsy; I was falling asleep at the wheel. I asked my unconscious why this was happening. The answer had something to do with the chest. It had some connection to my mom. I told Mike that we had to take it with us to Ohio. There it sat in our garage. Now, it sits in our driveway. We're keeping it until staying alive is no longer an issue for me.

My niece Shivani lost her husband shortly after they were married. She told me she held on to his cell phone. I pointed to the chest and told her my story. She said, "Oh, boy."

Today, Yvette asked me if we couldn't get a better-looking cover for the chest. Sure. That should be okay.

After the yoga class, two of the participants distributed gifts. Elise had prepared packages of three homemade sugar cookies for each student. Joe passed out purchased packages of Lindt chocolates. They did it today, unsure if we would have class over the holidays. Not only will we have class, but Yvette has bullied Damon into participating in one of them -at least.

Scott came and helped me move my portable floor air conditioner outside. We have it in the guest room for Damon when he visits, and he was planning to come for Christmas. He hadn't been here since February of 2020, when we interred Mike's ashes. The air conditioner setup fell apart. B had cut the screen to put the vent in the window and cut a piece of plexiglass to cover the rest of the window. The tube that connected the air conditioner to the window vent broke. I thought I would go to Home Depot and find a replacement part. Good thing I said something to Scott about it. He said, "No. These parts have to be ordered from the manufacturer. They are very specific to the instrument."

I snapped a picture of the product information on the air-conditioned. What a luxury having a readily available camera on my phone. There have been several situations where I would have to be a gymnast to get myself into a position to read the product information plaque on a piece of equipment. However, I can easily position the camera and get a good shot. Then I have the information recorded for easy reference. I would have to write all the information down; I'd have to worry if I got it correct. Not now.

I put the information online, looking for a replacement hose to connect the air conditioner to the vent in the window. I found an item on the Replacement Parts site. The items cost $35. The shipping charge was an additional $65. That's Hawaii! It cost $15 to send it to LA. I texted Cylin. If I had the hose mailed to her, would she be good with bringing the hose with her when she came over Christmas? Of course. Just to be on the safe side, I contacted an agent. I gave him the model number on the air conditioner. He discovered I had identified the wrong item, and the shipping charge for that item was only $16.75. What!!??? Are you sure? He assured me with impatience in his tone. Great! It will arrive before Damon does. All's good.

At 3 pm I had third grade A. As usual, his parents signed him in late. As usual, they remembered because I texted and then called them to remind them. I followed up with Phase III. A. cannot remember more than three words at a time. In fact, he has trouble identifying the next word in a sentence when I say it. If we are working on the sentence, 'The dog chased the ball,' I have to repeat the sentence. After he has said the first word, I repeat the sentence and ask him what the next word is. I sometimes have to say, "What is the word after The?" Even that can be a challenge. His reading of the text was disappointing today. I finally asked him what part of the brain he was using. He pointed to his forehead. I reminded him that doesn't work as well for processing language. He had to make an effort to use the left side of his brain. Immediately, his performance improved. Even I was surprised at the difference that slight shift made.

At the end of the day, I had adolescent D. We had established on Tuesday that his perfectionism was an obstacle to his success at anything. I didn't know how to proceed. I talked more about why perfectionism is destructive. I gave examples from my own life. I talked about introversion and extroversion on a continuum. Both extremes are dysfunctional. It is destructive to the extent that either position is taken out of fear versus love, interest, or any positive motivation. He seemed to agree with my take on everything. Great. Without conscious agreement and a conscious desire to change, it is impossible to impact a person. However, I didn't know how to approach the process of healing with him.

I sat quietly until something occurred to me. I have many tricks in my bag, but I don't work by formula. I wait until it feels right to me. I also instruct the client that it always must feel right to them. It's their job to carefully listen to themselves. On a range of 1-10, their discomfort shouldn't fall below a 7. If it does, they are to tell me immediately. I don't believe in pressuring people to do something in the healing context. I sometimes see insisting as a good strategy in the teaching context to get someone over a hump. For me, it's up there with using a strong spice- only occasionally and sparingly. What came to me is for him to set an intention of healing the perfectionism and allowing me in through a recent annoyance, nothing deep.

I asked him to think of something that annoyed him. He did and said, "I'm okay." I told him I needed him to share it with me if I was going to help- him. "That's okay." He finally said he didn't want to tell me. Okay, could he think of another incident? He had the same reaction. This got me into asking him if he preferred to hide from people. Since March, I have worked with this boy on zoom, and I still haven't seen his face. He is a hider.

Rather than push him further on the annoyance question, I led him through a release: release anything negative about hating his inclination to hide and keep anything positive or anything he still needed. No release. I switched to the opposite: Release anything negative about his love of his inclination to hide, etc. That got a good-sized release. I asked him if he was proud of his ability to conceal himself from others. He said no. I asked if he liked his ability to conceal himself from others. Yes. I told him that was pride. It felt like he was playing 'gotcha' with people. He sees power in his ability to conceal himself from others. Not good. Connecting pride with a self-destructive skill is terrible news. Let's see where this goes.

I watched more of The Durrells tonight. Lovely.

Wednesday, December 15, 2021

I stayed in bed after the alarm went off despite a good night’s sleep. In my blog entry from last year, I read that I would complete 4000 to 6,000 steps before yoga. I guess I could complete 4,000 these days. This seems weird because I would say I walk faster now than last year. Something’s off.

I worked on the blog until 7:30, when I had to leave to drop Elsa off at the groomer. I arrived there ten minutes early. My appointment was at 8 am. The owner leaves clear messages that she won’t serve you or will charge you more if you arrived more than 10 minutes early or 10 minutes late for your appointment. Then she’s not there on time. She arrived 9 minutes late, according to my clock. No, wait. Was I looking at the car clock or my phone? My car clock is always three minutes fast. In this shop, there is only one operator, the owner. The shop is fitted out like a high-end beauty salon. It is very professional. Mike would have loved it as much as would have hated Dave’s place with its Gerry-rigged look. I told the woman, whose name I do not know, I would pick up Elsa around noon. I had a Cryotherapy appointment at 12. That just takes a few minutes. I thought I could be there by 12:15.

I sent out my Christmas cards to those I send checks to. I used cards that come from one charity or another soliciting money (I make whatever donation I make once a year. Otherwise, I never know what I’ve done.) I had a huge stack. I sorted through them, throwing over half in the trash. I selected cards from the pile for family members of the next generation. It made me very sad. I have almost no relationship with these people, except for my niece Shivani. She is the only one who actually makes an effort to have a relationship with me. Two are hostile. They don’t reach out to anyone. The remaining one once tried to establish a relationship with Mike and me, but as Mike said, “her heart wasn’t in it.” She couldn’t find a joyful way to relate to us. It’s all very sad. When I had Mike around, it was all mildly unpleasant. But now, it’s becoming unbearable. I will have to decide if I’m better off making an effort or just writing these folks off my list.

I also sent out sixth grade W’s recommendation to a private school reserved for children who have Hawaiian blood relatives. Her mother sent me an email on Tuesday asking me if I would. I started composing it immediately. The school had sent me a link. When I opened it, I discovered a form to be filled out. Some of the questions were for classroom teachers. I skipped those. Then when I submitted the form, it was rejected. I called the school. They told me the form was for classroom teachers only. Everyone else had to submit a written letter. I worked on it for two days, rereading it. W’s mother sent me an email address for the school. Fortunately, I thought to call the school to check. They gave me a different address. I emailed mom to tell her I had submitted it

The plan was to leave for town early to drop off the modem at the Spectrum store before scooting over to Cryo and picking up Elsa shortly after. The best-laid plans, etc. I left a few minutes later than I had planned. I had trouble finding a parking space at Kona Commons. I thought there would be a short line for a Spectrum agent. Boy, did I have that wrong! Spectrum started offering cell service. That puts them at a whole different level. I tried to walk to a counter. No, I was instructed to go back to the door. I had to check in on the monitor near the door. Did I have an appointment? No. One of the agents came over to help me. She filled in the information. She said it was at least a half-hour wait. I told her about my noon appointment. She told me to make my appointment for 12:45. I left for my Cryo treatment.

The door to the Cryo center was locked, which meant she was treating someone. As I sat there, I searched my purse for a brushy toothpick. I saw some of my cards were loose instead of neatly tucked up into their pockets. I found most of them but discovered my Chase Freedom card was missing. It didn’t make sense that someone had taken it out of my purse. Not possible. Where had I left it? That would be something to deal with when I got home.

When I got in the Cryo Center, I grabbed the bathroom key before doing anything else. As I walked back to the office, Nikki walked toward me to say she needed to take a pee; she would be right back. The door to the office was locked. I got some steps in while I waited. Nikki took much longer than I expected. Apparently, she and her husband were down to one car and had to figure out how to chauffeur their children. I went right to the dressing room. While waiting for the Cryo machine to be ready, two other women arrived. Nikki dealt with them, making me nervous I wouldn’t get out in a timely way. There was really no problem. I have been feeling somewhat shattered.

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I was back at Spectrum a minute after 12:45. I went to check in on the monitor. It asked for my keyword or email address. The agent hadn’t given me a keyword or asked for my email address. I was told I had to hand in the modem within 14 days. I was well within that limit, given the day I actually spoke to them the second time. Then it occurred to me the agent I talked to had canceled my service as of December 1, even though it was much later in the month. Would my two-week period start on the first or on the later date? It was the 15th now. Would I be penalized?

The agent who had signed me in walked across the floor. “Betty, it’s okay. I got you.” Ah! She pointed to a chair at the back of the showroom near her station. I could hear Melony working. My God, she was a calming presence. It was a pleasure to listen to her work with other customers. When it was my turn, she walked over to me and took the modem from me. However, she hadn’t asked me what I was there for. She was about to give me an updated modem. When she understood I had canceled the service and was just returning the one I had, she said, “Oh, that’s easy.” I went off to collect Elsa from the groomer and headed home.

Locating my Chase credit card was my first chore. I searched the floor in the living room around my old lady chair. No, not there. I had used it at Costco. I only have the card because Costco won’t accept my Master Card. I called them. How long ago did I lose it? It was over a week ago that I was in the store. No, they shred them after 24thours. I ordered a new one.

I got one of the transom library windows washed. I had a problem. I couldn’t get the screen out. I washed it by spaying a water and vinegar solution and wiping it down. Cleaning those smaller high windows was a challenge. In the process, I cleaned the top of the shelves, throwing away stuff that should have been thrown away years ago. Given that hadn’t been dusted since installed, they weren’t too dirty.

Tuesday, December 14, 2021

I went to bed after 10 last night and read a little before turning off the light. I slept peacefully through the night except for two trips to the bathroom. I woke when the alarm went off. Ah! Lovey! The morning walk was uneventful. I ran into no one. Now that's unusual.

Yvette was running a little late for driveway yoga today. Usually, the participants are at least Yvette, who leads the class, Scott, and me. Today, Jared and Casey were with us as well as Deb via phone from Seattle.

When the class was over, I asked Scott to detach Spectrum's equipment so I could return it. I continued working on the blog and updates while I waited. He came up at 11 after my appointment with Shelly. While I had struggled to undo the connections, he had it done in seconds. As he left, he put the equipment in my car. He also told me the drop-off spot wasn't in that weird building in the new industrial center but in the Kona Commons strip mall. He knew because Yvette discovered this change the hard way.

I had a session with Shelly. I worked on the Kafkaesque feeling of being told I've done something wrong, I am wrong, even that I'm a terrible person, but never being told what it is that I've done. Being told that "I should know," is crazy-making. Whether I should or shouldn't, I don't. How about telling me. It's just Guilty, Guilty! Guilty! My head spins with confusion as I try to figure out what I've done so I can fix it. I had the image of my mother 'going postal' stabbing me on the left side of my chest. Her face radiates a combination of anger, joy, and confusion. Quietly watching my mother's actions in the image was calming for me but not her. For me to be healed from the trauma of her attacks, both of us have to find peace.

Mike and I both found our families of origin confusing. Mike's response was to eliminate chaos, make sure order was preserved. My response was to find the Gestalt, which incorporated both views to create order. We both craved order. We approached the problem from different angles. We were a good enough match that our complementary and conflicting ways of dealing with the same problem could be used to help both of us learn from each other, grow and become better people with bigger hearts.

I started to work on the transom windows above the bookshelves in Mike's library. I couldn't get screens out. I had never tried to remove them since the day they were installed. I didn't have the patience to deal with it.

Yvette came to tell me that the on-loan massage table was going. It was stored here while Sharry recovered from her rotator cuff surgery. Her high school graduate son was supporting her while she recovered. It was good news that she needed the table back, but bad news for me. Having it here allowed me to have the acupuncturist come to my house for our sessions. The table sat in our large guest room with windows on two sides of the room, providing plenty of ventilation. Her room is small and windowless. I don't feel comfortable being in there without a mask on. Today, I found out that Sharry, the massage table owner in my guest room, would only use the table briefly and planned to return it. She needed it because she was interviewing to be a family massage therapist. Yvette said most people who get a regular massage in their homes get their own massage table. This is s win-win situation.

I had PT with Terry today. She made an observation Katie had made. I hadn't understood Katie's comment. Terry explained it. Katie said my left leg crossed my right inappropriately. My legs weren't in parallel. Huh? I thought you were supposed to put one foot in front of the other, like walking in a straight line. Terry explained this comment didn't refer to my feet; it referred to my knees. My leg turned in that much. Between all the work Katie, Terry, and my acupuncturist are doing on me, parts of my body are relaxing enough for me to get some change in alignment and movement. My focus now is on opening my right hip joint, the okay hip. I had no idea how restricted that was. I get more range of motion in my left hip as I stretch it out.

I had three chores on my list to complete before I went home. Since I got out of the PT after 2 pm, had to be home by 3 pm for a tutoring session, and had to reasonably calculate 20 to 30 minutes to get home, there was no way I could complete all three. I chose to go to Long's. I was going to make a return and a purchase; I had to abandon doing the return. Long's was priority because I had to get more of those spongy squares to put between my big toe and second on my right foot. Those two toes started going that-a-way on me. They want to cross No, no, no. That would be a disaster. I wear a sling around my second toe, attaching it to the third, pulling it back from its climb over my first toe. I need the spongy thing to help keep them apart.

I headed home to make my 3 pm zoom appointment with third-grade A, fuming in anticipation of signing on to -nothing. Then casually being told by his parents, "Oh, we're ------ whatever!" I don't mind if people don't remember the sessions once in a while, followed by apologies, but this family has done it several times. "We're very busy," is their response. I'm sure they are. I'm sure I'm not. I'm usually at home. Not canceling in a timely way is often only a minor inconvenience. However, that is not always the case. Either way, it is not okay to do this. I have resolved that I will tell them there will be a charge for sessions canceled less than three hours in advance. This is the only family I feel I have to do this with.

I continued with Phase III with third grade A. Up to now, I have said the next word and had him spell it today. I started giving him groups of words and asking him to recall them. Forget it! He has serious auditory memory problems. He had no idea how to remember what he had heard. This means he can't process what people say at his leisure. He has to grasp the meaning on the fly. Being unable to retain the sound of someone's voice, the words they utter, is a handicap. I asked him if his mother was playing the audiofile for him. He said, "Yes.!" Ah, I hope it helps, but, of course, but there is no guarantee. The only concern is that it do no harm. Can it do harm? Is there anything that can't?

I had adolescent D later in the afternoon. As usual, I started by asking him if he had done some reading. He said yes. Did he see this as an improvement over what he could do in September? "I couldn't even spell bread!" Wow! Why would he expect himself to spell bread. He only started reading regularly, an hour and a half a week in March of 2021, then only under my carefully structured guidance. Why would he expect himself to spell bread correctly; how many times had he encountered it in print? How many times had he tried to spell it?

I asked him if he wondered why he had the problems he did. He said Yes. I listed three possible causes. 1) genetic or physically determined, 2) he made a wrong choice at some point and started using his brain incorrectly, 3) he didn't want to do anything if he couldn't do it perfectly. Given his response, the third choice was a significant factor, even if the other two were involved. On the physical level, I told him that the brain was plastic.

I told him the story of what Paul Bach-y-Rita did with his father after he had a stroke and lost the ability to walk. Bach-y-Rita had his father go through the steps a baby goes through; he had him crawl. His father regained his ability to walk. Bach-y-Rita, a neuroscientist, did an autopsy on his father's brain when he died. The part affected by the stroke was dead. Some other part of this old man's brain took over the function. Anything is possible- with correct effort.

I asked D if he realized what a disaster his attitude was. He said yes. I know I can work on this. There is a possibility I am the best person too work on it. A) I have some skills, and b) D trusts me. I don't think he trusts many people. It's taken me nine months to get him to trust me to this extent. However, I do resent that his mother actually has told me that she expects me to get him to be someone who can ask for what he wants and advocate for himself. From where I'm standing, he can't even advocate for himself with himself. This family never hired a tutor for him until I came on the scene. The only reason I got the job is that I kind of pushed myself into that position. She operates like a fatalist. She doesn't initiate anything. She's just critical of people who don't give her what she wants, Incredible! She was outraged that the school had not provided her son with additional help as they had promised. Really!!! You did nothing for your son, and you're outraged that the school does nothing now? How does that work? I actually told her at one point that I thought he should see a psychiatrist. No response. Not even no. Just nothing. Maddening. And she wonders why her son is as he is. To boot, when I tell her about his improvement, her response is, "Is that all?" He still can’t . . . . . Instead of being ecstatic about the improvement. She wonders why he is so hard on himself. At some point, I may comment to her about her behavior. When I ask her to show me his work, she forgets. Oh! I can't help him with his handwriting if I don't have any information about his problems. Nothing. Very, very frustrating. I don't just have to overcome the boy's resistance; I have to overcome his mother's. She reminds me of a family member- passive-aggressive.

Isaac gives piano lessons on Tuesdays. He didn't join me for a walk. He texted me asking if I would print out something for him. Sue. He came over to pick it up. He told me he tried the "hounds of hell" visualization and had the same effect I did. It was easier to take their attack than one from people or himself. We also talked about the difference between Buddhism and Christianity. After he left, I thought about two biblical stories, Adam and Eve and Sodom and Gomorrah. I had a different take on both of them than I had ever had before.

As I understand it, one of the interpretations of the sin of Adam and Eve is that they wanted to be God or have the knowledge that God had. Other than the knowledge of good and evil and the power to have dominion over nature, I haven't heard any elucidation of what this might mean.

I'm not a scholar of this topic. I just did a quick Internet check. I thought about what it means to make ourselves into God. When we insist that our version of anything is the only possible one, we're making ourselves into God. "My religion is the only true one." I would say someone who says that is making themselves into God. They are claiming absolute knowledge.

This claim also applies to putting the toilet paper on the toilet paper roll. People fight to the destruction of a marriage over that issue and many other trivial ones. My way is the only way! And you shall have no other God! We have to be constantly reminded of our human condition. It's tough! Maybe the Dalai Lama. He may be better at it than the rest of us, but I can't imagine he has escaped our human propensity for hubris.

Monday, December 13, 2021

I slept well last night until about 3:30am. After that, I dozed on and off, but I was also tormented by thoughts that made me sad. I don't know which is worse, relationships that are not working out to my liking, or the lack of response to my work. The work is so simple, obvious, involves no additional cost, can be easily incorporated into other methods, and is frequently effective quickly. Will it work with everyone? I assume not. Have I had enough success with it to think it's worthwhile paying attention to? Yes. I understand; people prefer the familiar. I don't have a glossy package with familiar bells and whistles. As my niece likes to say, I'm weird. One of the teachers I the video links so wrote, "Betty, you're way ahead of your time." That doesn't make me feel good. Damon says I'll get recognition in two hundred years. I think he was just being snarky. I don't think he has any idea what I do. He did help me edit my first video, so he has some idea. However, this is not his area of interest or knowledge. Understanding the point of view of those who don't get it doesn't stop it from hurting. I need a hundred people who get it and want to learn what I do. Then I'll be happy. The rest can do whatever they want.

I am Orton-Gillingham trained and certified. I value every minute of that training. I learned so much. While it has influenced my own work, what I have developed presents a serious challenge to that approach to teaching. Orton-Gillingham emphasizes student-dependent learning. My method teaches students how to be independent learners. The Orton-Gillingham method I studied is designed to be taught over three years; that's an hour each school day for three years (180x= 540 hours). I started with adolescent D in mid-March of 2021. He was evaluated as reading on the first-grade level until September. The public school evaluated his reading on a 2nd-grade level. They said he had no phonics and had a processing problem.

When I started with D, he still couldn't distinguish between her and here and often had trouble reading the word they. As of this week, yes, only this week, he felt he had enough skills to read the material in his 8th-grade class. I have completed tops 41 weeks, tops (There were some vacation breaks and missed classes) at 1 ½ a week. That makes 41 x 1.5= 61 hours. Moreover, I have taught him how to teach himself. D was the most resistant to taking responsibility for his own learning. He is a bright child with good comprehension but incredibly passive. He did NO reading in school. I would ask him, "Did the teacher write words on the board?" "Yes, but I didn't read them." Record-breaking passivity. This week, for the first time, he reported making any effort on his own to use whatever knowledge he has to promote his own learning. Even with this difficult-to-work-with child, it only took 61 hours to get him to the point where he felt he could do some classwork at his grade level. Do I know if he got it all right? No. But I know he read some of it. I know I have given him the skills. I also know that someone will say he must have been misdiagnosed. There is no way he could have made this kind of progress, given how weak he was in September. You can see why I'm sad. If the tutoring company doesn't reevaluate him before starting, no one will know how much progress he made. The tutoring company will get all the credit. Yes, it is much more important that this poor boy improved, but it still makes me sad to be totally overlooked, to get zero credit. In terms of him, I hoped he was ready now to work with someone less qualified who could apply standard methods. Having another person work with him maybe the best thing that happened to him.

Darby called last night and asked if they could come to our house to connect on Zoom with Patrick's doctor. They had no internet connection at their house; it had been out since Sunday's storm. They were scheduled for noon. I had to check if I had any tutors requesting help with reading. I have my reading office hours at noon on Monday. No one signed up. The time was free. I got to work cleaning in anticipation of them using my tablet on my dining room table. I eat while on the computer. Need I say more? I detached the keyboard from the tablet, sprayed it with rubbing alcohol and wiped it down. Wow! That worked. Desperate times call for desperate measures, or is it necessity is the mother of invention? I would never have dared to clean the keyboard like that if I wasn't threatened with embarrassment. I also cleaned the table and put some books away that I had sitting there in case I needed them. I hadn't used them in months.

Around 9:30, Darby called to say the doctor was ready now. It took them a while to get themselves together and walk over. I had the tablet opened to the Zoom sign-in page. They didn't have a password; they had to call the doctor's office. The doctor had given them two numbers. They got a voicemail on both calls. They tried several times and were unable to get through. They finally called the doctor's cell. He answered right away and said Christine would send them the link.

They received it on their phone, just the link, no meeting id or password. They didn't want to do it on their phone; they wanted a larger screen for comfort. After some back and forth, with me repeatedly asking the nurse to give me the passcode, she explained that this wasn't going through on Zoom but on a secure service the hospital used. She could send the link to their email address. This meant I had to find it on my computer. When I signed into Gmail, it immediately connected to my address. I wasn't too sure how to get theirs. They finally resolved to do it on their phone. That wasn't great, but it was doable.

The connection on their phone was weak. It kept on going to 'trying to connect." The nurse asked them what kind of phone they had. "An android. "Ah, that was the problem. Did anyone have an iPhone? I did. I gave my number, the nurse sent the link there. They were in like Flynn. The conference only took a few minutes. The doctor wanted to see the wound. He okayed the removal of the stitches for the next day. Patrick was going to get that done locally.

Judy had called while twice while they were using my phone. I called her back. She was frantic. She and Paulette ran Mei's Turo business while she was gone. It is a madhouse. The cars had to be detailed between every rental; people changed their reservations. It's hard work. Those ladies are earning their money.

Judy asked how I was. I was doing better, but I still felt weighted with grief about family relationships and work. I have no idea what to do about the relationship problem other than withdraw. I don't hold out any hope of resolving those problems, so reconciliation results.. However, I can make an effort to put the work out there. I immediately posted The Phase I and Phase II videos on Facebook, my personal account and the Step Up Tutoring one. I watched the number of views of my videos jump by one almost immediately. I guess this is a way to go.

I had checked the Tutor Doctor service yesterday to see how they would serve me. It seemed that before I could get any information from them, I had to fill a police report with them. That costs money. I wanted to know what they could do for me. How much would they pay me? What were my obligations? I don't like to work with someone more than half an hour at a time and no more than 2 hours a week. Do they dictate all these elements? When I Googled the company, a search engine came up for online tutoring services. There used to be just one. Now there were four or five. Covid has made working online feasible. These companies have popped up like mushrooms after a shower.

I checked the prices this company advertised, $10 to $15 an hour. Tutors would be making between $7.50 and $12.50 an hour. That's less than the minimum wage. I assume no trained, experienced teacher works for this company.