Tuesday, June 30, 2026

Monday, July 1, 2024

 Monday, July 1, 2024

 

   My microwave gave out this morning for good. It’s been acting out for about a year now.  I’d turn it on; the lights went on, but nothing else happened. I learned if I spun the turn table, I could fix the problem. In anticipation of it dying on me one day, I bought a replacement six months ago. It’s been sitting on my kitchen counter in a box since it entered the house.

  I told Lutz about my problem. He came to check it. He told me some switch was affected when I spun the turn table. He told me to move it back and forth very gently instead of spinning it wildly. I’ve done that for a while and got it to work. I could tell when the mechanism was switched on again. Last night, I could tell the mechanism was too smoothed down to catch. I put the frozen meal I planned to eat back in its box and back in the freezer and opened a can of lentil soup, my favorite go-to meal. 

  I texted Yvette first thing in the morning, asking if she could come up and help me get the microwave out of the box. I had opened it and removed some of the packing but didn’t dare try to take it out of the box myself. I knew I would drop it. She came up shortly. We got it out of the box and onto the dining room table. We would get the old one out of the niche in the below-the-counter cabinet and move the new one in there some other time.  The new one is three inches shorter than the old one.  It won’t look as good, but I don’t need the larger version. Losing the old one is troublesome only because Mike bought it. Slowly, over the years, the things that were Mike will disappear.

      I do Chi Qigong on Monday mornings on the beach at Old A, which stands for the old airport. Our meeting site overlooks a bay with tide pools at a shoreline created by smooth black lava boulders.  It’s a fantastic site. The ocean smell is pretty strong here, too. I’ve never smelt it at another location in Hawaii. The Pacific Ocean smells nothing like the Atlantic. The Atlantic has a strong ‘salty’ smell, which I have learned is created by rotten seaweed rather than the salt in the water. The smell of the Pacific is ozone, refreshing but not salty. 

    When I arrived, Clyde was already on the bluff facing the water, taking in the view.  I took my place by his side and silently stood until he turned to greet me.  Besides, taking in the view, we noticed a young shirtless man in cutoff jeans in one of the tide pools. He had something in his hand, which he dipped into the water and retrieved. We couldn’t imagine what he was doing. The object looked a bit like an egg carton from this distance.  He was beautifully built, a poster child for an Esther Gokhale presentation on perfect posture.  I had no way of knowing anything about his background. We never did figure out what he was doing. 

   Clyde and I were the only two today, so we continued with the program.  It consists of three movements repeated 33 or 66 times. That’s it. It’s very relaxing.

   I’ve been struggling with a lot. This deep ache in my chest and solar plexus is annoying.  I can be distracted from it by activity or social contact, but it’s always lurking. Working with the theory that loneliness evokes a fear of death as well as shame.  I see shame and the physical pain that serves as a warning to the system that my life is in danger because of a social threat or because I am already alone. This is part of the memory of early childhood. However, I believe we have an inborn human fear of being alone because if disconnected from the group or tribe, our lives could be in danger. There was no one watching our backs- literally. That put us in life-threatening danger -literally.  When we don’t have one or more bonded relationships, someone committed to our well-being, getting scared is a logical response.

   I tried again to post an ad for my extra Purewick external catheter. I had trouble posting it on Facebook and Next Door; I checked the site rules. Ah, both Facebook and Next Door don’t allow health products. I posted it on Craig’s List.  

   My first exposure to the external catheter was in June of 2022, when I had my hip replacement. The nurse introduced me to it. They went that route rather than encourage me to get up and go to the bathroom because they were understaffed. I couldn’t safely go to the toilet on my own since I had just come out of surgery.

  This gadget is amazing. It has a wick that fits in your crotch that works much like that gadget the dental assistant uses to suck up saliva. I immediately thought of Mike and how much better it would have been for him than the inserted catheter. Unfortunately, it only works for women. There isn’t a version that can serve men,  but hopefully, it will come soon. I can even think of a way to modify the design for them. 

  When I was in the hospital in June 2023 with my broken elbow and shoulder, the staff used it on me when I first arrived. Then they ran out of wicks, and I had to use a diaper. When I got home, I immediately ordered the appliance for home use. I ordered two because I was told they don’t always work. I thought it meant the appliance could be unreliable. This appliance is a simple trouble free operation. The problem occurs when the wick isn’t securely placed.  I understand there is an online video that provides correct instructions. So now I have two of them, the one I used and one still in the box.  The appliance costs $329; I’m trying to sell it for $120. That’s less than half. At least I’d get some of my money back.

Sunday, June 30, 2024

  Sunday, June 30, 2024

 

It wasn't the best night's sleep. I was agitated about relationships. I struggled to find a solution. I always feel it's just out of reach. I did that with my mom. I solved that problem, but the solution was not one I had ever thought of until it came out of sheer desperation, with my focus on my survival instead of improving the relationship. I cut her off for what wound up being a year. I gave up any hope of a loving relationship with boundaries. But then I set them myself, and she respected them. She respected them out of fear, but it worked. She must have trusted my positive intent enough since she moved in with Mike and me for the last 18 years of her life.

    Toward the end, she brought up the incident. She complained of how I had hurt her. She never appreciated that I could never have taken her in if that hadn't happened. Oh, well. I won what I won; it was enough. The problem is I often solve the nagging problems. I often don't, too.  My approach worked with the two that meant the most to me, my relationships with my mom and Mike. I am grateful for what I had with both of them.

   I was up by four. Since I have incorporated laughter yoga into my morning gentle seated yoga routine, it takes forever. With each contraction, I 'laugh' until my breath runs out.  Yvette and I talked about the process the other day. She attended a Bikram class after a long hiatus. She was impressed by the difference in her breathing.  I used breathing today to help me deal with my sorrow. Both Yvette and I are seeing changes in our core muscles as well.

   I thought I would fall asleep at church today. I often do. When I get there, it is time for my mid-morning nap. I was swamped with feelings of loneliness. They are so painful.  Many of the people in church can find refuge in  Jesus. It appeared that Mike could, although we never discussed it. Too bad. Mike's trust in me didn't extend to sharing those feelings. His mother's contempt for his thoughts and feelings, when they differed from hers, colored his feelings about me. I would have found his feelings interesting even if I couldn't have shared them. I can approach differences with curiosity, free of judgment when someone isn't stuffing their opinions down my throat.  I've gotten even better at it over the years.

   I theorized that the feeling behind loneliness, besides shame, is fear of dying. Based on my embrace of evolutionary psychology, anyone alone was in grave danger of dying, either from hunger or from an animal attack. That is unless the group didn't take a more direct hand in the matter. I sat in church and kept saying, "You're safe; you're not in any danger," and breathing fully, filling my chest with air as much as possible.  Doing so changed my alignment. It helped.

  After mass, there was no one I immediately recognized to talk to. One of the servers said hello to me as I collected my glazed half donut and left. I was in somewhat better spirits when I got home. At least I wasn't in great pain, needing to sob uncontrollably. Weeding helped. I did a bit of that. Those spider plants are a piece of work. They're prepared to take over the yard and wipe out everything else.

  I had a session with going-into-fourth-grade M today as I do most Sundays.  She had a smile on her face for the first time in a long time. She had her dog with her, Moana. I got a glimpse of her. She looked like a black lab.  M said no, she was a Taffy. I just looked it up on the Internet. It was a Staffy Bull Terrier; Staffy is shorthand for Staffordshire.  We worked on Stuart Little again. There were some vocabulary words from 1940 when E.B. White wrote the book. Lapel was one of them. Stuart grabbed his lapel to look professorial.  No one in Hawaii wears suit jackets. A nice aloha shirt is formal wear. M's never seen a jacket with a lapel.

     Aisle was another word M was unfamiliar with. It talked about the students in a classroom filing down an aisle as they went to their seats.  Those were the seats I sat in in elementary school, desks with ink well and seats that flipped up. M said her grandma had a desk like that in her house. With an ink well? Yes.  She asked her grandma if she had used a fountain pen. She had.  As always, we continued working on decoding as accurately as possible. If the decoding is good but the pronunciation doesn't match the word, she has to figure it out. She does an excellent job with that if she knows the word. If someone doesn't have a word in their listening or speaking vocabulary, there is no way they can figure out what it is.  M decoded lapel as /lap-el/, an excellent decoding which produced a sound that is nothing like the word. It was a fun session.

 

 


Saturday, June 29, 2024

 Saturday, June 29, 2024

      I’m up-to-date on my updates. I have plenty of time to do the other things I want to do: more gardening, posting some items for sale and free on Next Door, Facebook Marketplace, and Craig’s List, and posting ads for my tutoring on all those sites. 

    I posted my Teaching Hacks Reading videos on Facebook yesterday. It netted one viewing of each. Last I knew, Facebook had banished me for violating their rules. I had a notification to that effect. The notification included a link to contact someone to challenge the block. The link didn’t work.  I had no idea why I would be blocked. Did they feel I was advertising for free when I should pay?  I did that for a while without consequences. I have reason to believe it was because I advertised dog food. One of the restrictions is the selling of animals.  It may have been flagged as an animal instead of animal food. Whatever, it does seem the ban has been lifted. 

   Shelly told me about someone she knows who has 28,000 followers on Instagram.  She sent me a link. The link leads to her Website, not the Instagram videos. I would love to get to the point where I can advertise there. I would love regular webinars to instruct people on my reading methods. They are surprisingly effective, easy to learn, and easy to use. I need to get it out there but don’t have the courage to do it.

   Over the past two days, I have trimmed my bougainvillea in the yard outside my bedroom door. I finished up the trimming that I started yesterday. I loaded the trash barrel in my compact SUV and took it to the transfer station to dump it. Today was a green waste day. It’s only open three days a week.

   I don’t pull my car into a slot. I park it and roll the trash barrel to the shoot. It was heavy; it had some difficulty lifting it up. The man in the truck in the slot to my left was sweeping out his truck bed. I didn’t want to ask him to help me. But he saw I needed help.  He reached down from his truck bed, lifted the container, and dumped it. I was horrified that he would do it from that height- his back!  I hope he didn’t hurt himself.

   Then, I went into town to go to church for the retreat. As I arrived, people came out of the church. I asked what was going on. It was a fifteen-minute break.  I spoke to one woman who volunteered to tutor at Ulu Wini as I did. She said no one needed help.  I have no idea how that happened. Well, I didn’t until I told her about what I did. I told her the kids had no number sense. They had difficulty with abstract thinking, as it was unnecessary in their lives on those small islands and atolls. They lived much simpler lives. The woman’s eyes clouded over as I spoke; she had the same reaction to what I had to say as the kids did when I explained math to them. 

   During the break, a woman I had never met sat beside me on the south lanai and started chatting. I asked her name, Mary Lynn, and introduced myself, and added,” I’m Mike Ross’s wife.” She said, “I know,” bestowing celebrity status on me. 

   She opened up about her experiences with Mike. She participated in his bible study classes. He had been part of her conversion experience. She felt seen by him.  He had encouraged her to join the parish council. She tried it, but she didn’t like it and dropped out. She felt Mike paid her less attention after that. She thought he might be angry at her. Probably, more like disappointed. Since his concern was primarily for the church, he had less interest in her. Several people have told me how Mike made them feel seen. Mary Lynn hadn’t felt seen as a child. Mike’s attention meant a lot to her; his subsequent lack of attention did also.

   She told me she experienced moments of connection with Mike when he was in the hospital those five weeks before he died. At one point, she felt inclined to ask God to shift some of the burden of his pain onto her. She had what I recognize as a unique experience. I was delighted that Mike had that connection with her and perhaps with other people in the parish. He was much loved by those who knew him. 

   This connection was significant for me as I didn’t have that connection with him while he was in the hospital. I was physically there, but the warm, energetic connection essential to our relationship wasn’t there.  I didn’t think about it while I was going through it. I was handling the situation from minute to minute. I’ve thought about it since and wondered why that happened. I had some sad feelings that I couldn’t give Mike more while he suffered so, but I decided to accept that’s the way it was meant to be and forgive myself. 

    His death was as mundane as a family dinner party.  It was drama-free. There were no tears on anyone’s part. Once all life support was removed, he died after six hours of waiting for it. The movie was over, and we all went home. “We” consisted of Yvette and me at his bedside and Daman and Cylin on Facetime. We had two phones. When one ran out of juice, we used the freshly charged one. The four of us engage in casual conversation. There were no tears when he gave his last breath

 . It took me a long time before the grief set in. I always felt his presence or thought he was just somewhere else.  It took three years for my nervous system to believe he was gone for good. 

   After my encounter with Mary Lynn, I was exhausted. I cried several times during our conversation. I figured that’s what I had come for, not the retreat, and headed home for a good sleep. 

  I had Adolescent D at noon. He divided a word into syllables before he started identifying the phonemes for the first time.  Now, he must do that in his head, not necessarily on paper. I  have no way to know.  

  I’ve been watching Never Have I Ever on Netflix.  I think it’s very well done. I can live with her errors of judgment; it’s her plaintiff, “I’m sorry!” that drives me nuts. She’s always ready with excuses. She’s not saying I’m sorry because she is sorry for what she did to the other person. Her ‘I’m sorry’ is just a plea for mercy. Embedded in that plea is an accusation. If you don’t forgive me, you are a bad person.

 


Friday, June 28, 2024

 Friday, June 28, 2024

    Today is the twenty-fourth birthday of the youngest of my friends, Isaac. I am blessed with a wide range of ages among my friends. I have a few who are older than me, too. By this age, most are younger.

   I still struggle with a problem that has plagued me since I was a child- my fear of -I'm not even sure what.  I spent most of my childhood crying, "I can't do it."   I believed it to be true when back then. Everything seemed too hard for me.  I haven't thought it to be true since my mid-twenties. Yeah! It took that long to overcome my mother's constant battering, reminding me always I could do nothing right.  I fear doing something I've already done successfully. If I do it for others, I usually get over my fear-driven speed bump.

   Today, I cut back one of the Bougainville bushes to access the forest of seeding haole koas flourishing in that corner of the yard.  I also trimmed a second shrub.  Good for me.

   Now, I only have to post ads online for my damaged 12 electric cord, my tutoring service, and the Purewick external catheter. I ordered two for that period when I was on 24-hour care while recovering from my catastrophic fall.  I heard bad reports about the mechanism while I was in the hospital; some fail. I was determined to use it, so I only had to be attended once a day rather than several times a day when I was in diapers. I discovered the problem wasn't with the mechanism but with the proper placement of the wick.

    I got caught up on my updates today for the first time ever. Yesterday's is already posted. Amazing! It made a huge difference when I started listening to the classical music station instead of the news station. I got much more work done.

  I worked with the Twins this morning. Today, Twin E struggled. She didn't remember the word road again. It seemed like every word was a struggle today. She was sniffling; she had a cold. Yesterday, she had a bad headache.

   With Twin A, I continued working on The Magic Tree House Book, Dolphins at Daybreak.  We're working our way through one word at a time. The emphasis is on word recognition, using memory, decoding, and inferring from context.

   Adolescent D was home again from his four-day vacation. I speculated a family camping vacation, a trip to Oahu, or an emergency trip to the mainland for a family event.  It wasn't any of those. D was at Boy Scout Camp. Did he have a good time? Yes.  Did he do any reading while there? Yes.  Did he read out loud? Thank God, no. Did he feel he could read enough of the words to be sure he understood what he read?  Yes. Did he think the work we were doing was improving his reading? Yes. The other day, he thanked me for sticking with him, appreciating he was a difficult case. Who was he? What spirit replaced the boy I worked with for the last three years? Where did the positive spirit come from?  This is a fantastic change for the better.

   Today, none of the students at Ulu Wini asked to work with me.  I sat quietly and did some work on the computer.  I find sitting amid the community very peaceful, even when the children are all screaming in excitement and the occasional fight in the playground.  Going into second grade KG was playing a game with his dad, who volunteers. I discovered that some people I thought were employees were volunteers. These people live in this low-income community and choose to be involved. Shauntelle is one of those people. She has been volunteering for years. She wasn't there when I first arrived because she was still recovering from the amputation of her right lower leg and getting used to the prosthetic. Just as she returned to volunteer, the current youth coordinator quit. Josephine asked her if she wanted the job. She's brilliant

   I called KG over. He came without smirking.  Last I worked on reading with him, he still struggled with memory problems. I did some exercises with him; he reported they helped. While I had a few sessions with him this summer when we worked on his handwriting, I hadn't worked with him on the sight word list since the end of school in May.

    I checked him on the first Sight Word List #1-50. He zoomed through the first 25 and read 26-50 at a good pace. I pulled out the following list, #51-100, which we had never worked on.  He didn't do %100, but he only missed a few. I tried him on the following list, #101-150. He recognized many of the words. Those he didn't recognize, I could lead him through the decoding procedure with ease. If his decoding efforts resulted in a close approximation of the word, I used the word -with his pronunciation- in a sentence. The first time I did it, he was insecure.  He became better at it quickly.  He figured out the word independently as we worked on list # 151-200. He accomplished this with only a few examples. I told him he had been working on the second-grade list. No, he didn't want to try the third-grade one. He will be just fine.

  I was surprised by how much improvement KG made. No, he hadn't studied. It was the work I did with him that improved his memory function. Once whatever blocked his memory was removed, everything he had learned up to that point was available. This is what I usually see as a result of my work. If there is a break in our sessions, I see no loss, and I often see improvement, as I saw with KG.  This is because I teach learning skills, as well as how to read and do math.

   I called KG's father over. The boy says he does nothing with him. His dad said yes, he's improved. "I gave him books and told him to read them."  I don't know if he really believes his son's improvement is due to his actions or if it was compensation for his guilt at having done nothing. It was striking that the dad commented on his behavior rather than praising his son or celebrating his accomplishments.  I know the father is very insecure. Which explains this behavior but doesn't make it great for the kid or me.

   I had an encounter with one of my walking companions.  He is an odd combination of traits. He reminds me somewhat of a younger, not necessarily better, version of Mike. When Damon met him, he had the same thought. They look somewhat alike, and they love to talk about their knowledge. They are both very knowledgeable in their own areas of interest. Mike's was politics and history in general and science. Mike was more into concepts; this friend is a master of details.  He has Mike's old arrogance. My friend still believes he is superior because of his knowledge. Or perhaps it could be said that he thinks people who don't know, or at least appreciate what he knows, are stupid.  He's very preoccupied with people's intelligence. I qualify as sufficiently intelligent because I find his topics interesting and ask insightful questions.  He has no interest in what I know or care about.

   This is fine with me, except when he goes off on tangents, which I find offensive, scary, or both.  He often tells of pranks he pulls on people for his amusement. He insists he's just being funny, and the other person laughs too. Perhaps he's right about his prank victims.  His problem is he has no respect for my boundaries when I ask him to stop.

   I always ask him to stop when he goes off on how the stock market is about to collapse. He believes there's protection in getting out of it and investing in commodities.  I have no such confidence. If the stock market goes, everything goes. There is no safe harbor.  I don't want to listen to someone going on enthusiastically about the fall of Western civilization, even if he does believe there's a way to avoid personal disaster.  I ask him to stop talking about it or walk away.

   He really hit hard the other day. He expressed support for Modi's treatment of Muslims. When I protested that nothing could be said about all Muslins, he said, "You obviously have never traveled." I find the 'all' mentality about any social group frightening," with or without the advocacy of genocide. He made it clear he had no respect for my need not to discuss it.

  I think he responded to the intensity of my response. It frightened him. He said I needed therapy if I responded that way to an 'innocuous' topic, genocide.

   Mike and I came from homes where our boundaries were not respected and our feelings were not considered. A strength of our union was that we could give that to each other. I introduced the " life-saving tap," a signal we could give each other when behavior was causing distress.

   I learned the life-saving tap when I learned water life-saving. You must practice with a partner in the water when learning life-saving. Since one person plays the role of the drowning person and the other is the lifesaver, struggle is involved. This struggle occurs in water and often under water. If one person is in real distress, they can't wrench free.  It's the lifesaver's job to control the drowning person; the drowning person fights against the lifesaver out of fear. The solution in the practice session is the life-saving tap; you tap twice anywhere on the partner's body. The practice session stops immediately, and both parties swim to the surface and get a breath of air.

   Mike and I  agreed that if one of us gave the life-saving tap, the other party would immediately stop what they were doing unless it was a life-or-death situation.   It worked for us. While neither of us did it perfectly, it was a fundamental underlying commitment. It became a foundational principle of our relationship. It made us both feel safe. While we used it a lot in the first years of our relationship, we didn't continue using the actual tap later. However, we continued our commitment to the principle behind the tap.

   Either late in the relationship or perhaps even after Mike died, it occurred to me that someone could use the life-saving tap maliciously to control the other person's behavior for the pleasure of it.  Neither of us ever misused it. I expect such respect from everyone I meet and try to give it to everyone I meet.  I have problems with people who can't or won't express their needs. I may mean something well or assume something trivial while the other person doesn't experience it that way.  I don't get along well with people who can't ask for what they want and can't set boundaries but depend on me to do the job for them.

  I anticipate the question, what if one partner delivers over twenty taps a day or makes you feel you can't be yourself. Get the hell out of that relationship. All relationships involve negotiating boundaries. No relationship is 100% perfect. However, if it falls below a certain level, there is no choice but to leave.

Thursday, June 27, 2024

 Thursday, June 27, 2024

  I had both girls today. This work is getting more and more exciting. I love working with people who have difficulty. I love thinking about how the mind works. Because I believe in neural plasticity, I focus on how the brain can change to improve at any cognitive task.  The work with these girls is becoming more interesting, and I have a greater grip on the job. I love it.

   With Twin E, much of it is memory, but there is more. Observation and logical thought are beyond her. I have worked on the same sentence and the same word with Twin E for several sessions. Whenever we encounter the word road, we must start from scratch. Each time, we begin again through the steps for decoding the word. She can tell me that oa are both vowels. When two vowels are together, do they usually make one sound or two?" I teach phonics as a form of statistical possibility, not certainty.  If you want certainty, move to Italy. "What sound is the oa combination likely to make? Could it make a long /e/ sound? She said yes. There were a lot of words with the letter o in the passage.  I went through each one with her and asked if any of those o letters represented the e sound.  She saw that none of them made that /e/ sound. She also recognized the in these made that long /e/ sound.

   Back to the original question: what sound might the oa make? She offered up the short o. Pretty good.  Did she know the long /o/ sound? She thought about it and retrieved it. Great. Now, we had the long /o/.  "Let's blend the long /o/ with the following sound." She thought the a would make the next sound, despite my having told her repeatedly that the two vowels together only represented one sound.

  I can hear many of you saying, "Is she stupid?" In conventional terms, absolutely. I'm sure all her teachers see her that way. It's not the way I think. I've only met two people in my life that I felt comfortable calling stupid and dismissing any possibility of them learning anything. The was a boy I worked with in NJ who was so mentally inadequate he wasn't able to get himself to school. Then, there was an adult I worked with in NYC. She may have been mentally deficient or just ignorant and arrogant, but the combination was impressive. Everyone else, I assume there's a block that can be broken through. I can help them improve. There are cases where I've brought some students from way behind to honor classes in high school. That's where teaching comes in. If the problem is with the brain, because it's plastic, it can be molded.  I love the puzzle of figuring out what the block is and how to overcome it. Impenetrable blocks exist in all of us, usually because we refuse to change.  We overidentify with whatever we are in the moment.

   I am working on a chapter book with Twin A, The  Magic School House Dolphins at Daybreak. We're working on 'fluency,' oral reading that approximates conversational speech. Some teachers think it has to do with speed; it doesn't. It has to do with the intonational pattern.  Someone can read the words rapidly without an appropriate intonation pattern and sound like a bad reader or at least a non-English speaker.  She has made some strides. 

   Today, A got stuck on the word tallest, a multisyllable word. I asked her to identify the vowel letters. She did that with ease. "Do they both make a sound?"  No. Only the a.  I can understand her confusion. The e in the suffix-ed often is silent. One rule for determining if a vowel is sounded is whether it stands between two consonants. An easy guide. But then there's the -ed rule. Oh, well. Did she know what a consonant was?  No. I probably covered it at some point.  It's not a bit of information that is useful as we age. I started writing out the alphabet.  Then, I had her dictate it to me. She did not know the alphabet by the end of first grade. She had some difficulty. It didn't flow smoothly.

     Moreover, when I gave her hi, she couldn't go on from that point.  Of course, that rock-solid knowledge of the alphabet is no longer necessary when you can look up a word on the Internet.  In my day, you had to find a word in a bound dictionary. You had to know how to locate a word in the morass of words.  

    Did she understand that a word could have more than one vowel sound? She said no. She may not have understood the question in the first place.  Once it was clear there were two sounded vowels in the word tallest, the next question was where to put the syllable division. The rule is the syllable division has to fall somewhere between the two vowels. I have marked all the spots that fill that requirement with question marks: t-a?l?l?e-s-t.  She chose to do tall/est.  A perfect functional division.  If she had done ta/llest, I may have intervened because a useful subrule is that every syllable should look like an English word. Of course, in this case, her division wouldn't have interfered with her figuring out the word.  It's English! What can I say! I find it fascinating.

   I had an appointment with my doctor at 9:30. I needed to get my blood pressure checked, and I wanted to talk to her about my osteoporosis.  I thought my blood pressure would be through the roof. Something upsetting happened yesterday that had me in tears. It was still impacting me. I worked on building my CO2 ratio, believing that it would lower my BP. It registered at 129/83, which is hardly high, especially since I hadn't taken my medication in the morning.

  I told the doctor about my theory of CO2's calming effect. Lutz had poo-pooed any ideas about its soothing benefits. He insisted that people with panic attacks breathe into paper bags not to calm themselves but to rebalance their O2 and CO2 ratio. Dr. Reed confirmed my theory. CO2 is known to activate the parasympathetic system. I wondered how Lutz would respond when I told him.

   The doctor gave me the results of my last bone density test. While I had been stable for years, I lost bone mass over the last year. Why? It could be because I spent a month with limited physical activity, at least three weeks of it exclusively flat on my back. It could be because others were feeding me and the diet change impacted me, or it could have been because I didn't take any supplements for several months.  It took me a long time to get back on the horse in big and little ways.   My first update after the fall was on July 1. That doesn't look that bad now. I'm surprised I started it up again that quickly. My arm was in a sling, and my left hand was numb; it still hadn't fully recovered. For my osteoporosis, she recommended vitamin K2 -7 and referred me to an endocrinologist. Dr. Reed is the best doctor on the planet. A wonderful, caring person, a brilliant diagnostician, always up to date on the latest treatments, and cautious about medicinal solutions when others are available. My kind of gal.

    I immediately drove to Island Naturals to pick up some of that vitamin K2, which is supposed to act as a traffic cop directing where the calcium should go and not go. Someone there was there to help me. He also took K2 and recommended a company he thought was a reliable manufacturer. I also picked up some fresh orange raspberry strudel bites—yum.

      It was a Ulu Wini day.  I introduced subtraction with regrouping to going-into- third-grade MV. When I started with her last week, she went brain-dead and suffered a freeze response whenever I talked about math.  Since then, we have progressed through addition without and with regrouping and subtraction without regrouping. She demonstrated she was secure with all three. Today, I introduced subtraction with regrouping, 23-19=.  I used the rods to demonstrate the process.  I crossed out the 2, replaced it with a 1, added the 1(10) to the 3, making it 13, and successfully subtracted the 9 from the 13. Then, I didn't understand why I was left with 1-1=0.  Here I was, dealing with a subtraction problem I had mastered in second grade and executed flawlessly for most of the last 76 years.

    Was I losing it?  

     My mind is sensitive to my students and views the problem through their eyes.  I like that this happens to me. I can see the confusion from their point of view. As I resolve my confusion, it helps them resolve theirs.  I asked MV if she noticed I asked questions about my confusion and the problem. Yes, she had. Did she do that when she was confused? No, she didn't. She just passively waits for someone to solve the problem for her. I told her it makes her a poor learner. If she holds the question in her mind, she opens it for learning. I didn't use those words. She wouldn't have understood them on a bet. She is still struggling to learn English, and as I found out today, she doesn't speak her native language very well either.

   When she completed her math work, I asked her if she wanted to take it home to show her parents. She said no. The children often say no with sad faces.  I asked her what the word for excellent was in Chuuk. She didn't know. How about very good? She didn't know. How about good? She didn't know. She explained she had trouble learning Chuuk because she is not pure-blood Chuuk. Holy cow!  I tried to explain to her that I would have learned Chuuk if her parents had raised me.  This girl has one lollapalooza of an auditory processing problem.  I have my work cut out for me.

   I chuckled at her explanation of her poor Chuuk language skills. Many years ago, I heard a story about a parent who never spoke to her son. The school advised her to talk to him more. She said she didn't because he only understood Spanish because his dad had been Spanish. She thought language acquisition was genetically transferred. Oh, boy! Maybe her parents really believe this. Perhaps they told her this to explain her poor language skills.

   I did another problem with MV.  I asked her the value of 2 in 26. She didn't have a clue.  Okay. My way of introducing place value is as a game. I lay out plaques with the numbers 1, 10, and 100 written on them, preferably on the floor, so the kids can move from one place to the next. In this case, they were just boxes randomly distributed over an 8 x 11 piece of paper.  On a smaller piece, I wrote the number 5. I moved the 5 from one place to the next. She had no trouble understanding the value of the 5 in each place. Then, I wrote the boxes in sequence on a horizontal plane. She had no idea what that meant. I said, "It's the same thing, just in a different order." Nothing. Was she unable to see the relationship between the two presentations?  Was she unable to see the relationship because she had developed an aversion response to anything she had already seen in school?  I went over it repeatedly, only changing the number in the ones place. She got it. When I changed the numeral in the tens place from a 2 to a 3, she could tell me it represented  30.  I did more, showing hundreds and thousands of places. She followed reasonably well.  I find this kind of work mind-blowing and mind-stretching. I have to understand how someone else views something differently from me. I love it. It's the most exciting work in the world.

   Going-into-sixth-grade ML joined us today for the first time in a long time. She continued working on long division. 600 divided by 200 using repeated subtraction instead of the division algorithm I learned. She forgot to use subtraction with regrouping. She redid the problem correctly without further assistance when I pointed it out.  I asked her if she wanted to learn the standard algorithm. Yes. I gave her 76 divided by 5.  I walked her through it. She caught on pretty quickly. Then I gave her 5268 divided by 5.  "I can't do that!"  I covered the six and eight and had her do what she could. Then, I exposed the six. Oh, she had no problem. I asked her if she wanted to take it home to her parents. She said no. Most of these parents can't read. Their elementary school-age children act as their translators.  I asked her if her mother wanted her to do well at school. Does she understand it when you tell her you have done well?  She wasn't sure. I wrote 'Excellent' on the paper and signed it "Auntie Betty." I told her to show her mom and report her mother's reaction. These poor parents feel so helpless. The difference between their life on those Micronesian islands and here is enormous; it's like landing on a different planet.

  Going-into-sixth-grade CL also worked with me. She continued working on subtraction with regrouping, using Cuisenaire rods to assist her. The significant change was getting her to write the changes on the problem as she worked with the rods.  Once she did that, she was fine on her own.

 

 


Wednesday, June 26, 2024

 Wednesday, June 26, 2024

    I slept right through from 10 to 4 am.  Wow!  I am racking up some good sleep- and that's with frequent naps yesterday.

   I shared my CO2 theory with Shelly.  She found it interesting and saw connections to what she learned in other contexts. I  also discussed my discomfort with people who need hierarchical relationships. Some people are comfortable as the caregiver or the one cared for; they can't be both simultaneously. I know someone very caring when in the position of the superior caregiver, but she has to make all the decisions. They love that position because of the person they can be their best selves, tolerant, loving, and caring.

Elsa and I went up to visit Paulette. She is a fantastic gardener. She cares for the property around the upper house and deals with mechanical breakdowns. I don't know what they would do without her.

I had a session with Mama K's crew. They had a problem with the iPad, so we had to do the session on the phone. Whenever anyone called, we lost visual contact.  

I covered the phonics rule on when a c= /s/ versus when c=/k/ with Twin A.  For those of you who don't know the rules: 

c=/s/ when the c is followed by an e, i, or y, as in reception, city, or bicycle. 

c=/k/ when followed by an a, o, u, or any consonant. When c appears at the end of a word, it is pronounced as a /k/ too, as in picnic.

A similar rule applies to g: g=/g/ versus g=/j./  

g=/j/ when followed by an e, i, or y, as in gesture, giraffe, or gyroscope. Exceptions: get, girl.

g- /g/ when followed by an a, o, u, or any consonant, as in gather, go, gut

 

With Twin E. I had her say each letter in the word before she said the word. As we moved along, I allowed her to say the word as long as her reading reflected her attention to the letters. We returned to saying all the letters if she stopped doing that.  

   Adolescent  D said he would have to cancel for today.  When I wished him a good time, he explained he had to go to work earlier than he had in the past. He could do an earlier session. 

Let's talk a bit about this job. D got a job as a cashier's assistant at Costco, placing items back into the carts after they've been checked. I asked his mom if she had pushed the idea. No. Both she and D knew that a kid from his class at school had gotten that job. D had thought about getting it for himself at the same time his mom did.  While he had interviewed for the job with his hair flowing down his back, he got it cut to shoulder length before his first day on the job. Also, he stopped wearing a hat wherever he went. His mom told me he hated the way his hair looked.  These are all fantastic changes in this boy. 

   I am no longer worried D will be living at home at 28 without a job or a life. That has been a worry. He had the same concern for himself. He still has the video turned off during our Zoom sessions. I have only seen his face three times. Once when he was backlit a few years ago and twice recently. Once just before he got his hair cut and once just after. Neither one was long enough for me to recognize him confidently if I saw a picture of him, no less if I saw him in person. Would he recognize me if he saw me in person?

   I came across a categorical imperative statement again. Boy, those words mean different things to different people. In one place, I read it had to do with contrasting the person who has no inclination to generosity, who is so because it is moral, versus the man who does so because it is a pleasure to be generous.  An act of generosity makes the heart swell with joy. That's how I prefer to give, and I'm horrified by those who give to me as an act of sacrifice, especially when I don't think it's called for.  I guess they embraced the idea of self-sacrifice because it makes them feel virtuous instead of getting heartfelt pleasure.    I'm burnt out on that motif because I hear people using it to say, "See what I did for you? You have to be grateful. You owe me. "Yuck!."

I just checked the definition of categorical imperative and found a very different one. It is more in line with "Do unto others as you would have others do unto you."  Of course, that doesn't hold up under close scrutiny either. I may want one kind of treatment, and another person may feel being treated that way is terrible. 

Wiki's definition offered me the other definition. Check if your moral standards apply equally to everyone.   Something is rotten if you have one standard for yourself and a different one for others. Of course, these are broad definitions of moral behavior and do not apply to intimate circumstances in the same way.

  


Tuesday, June 25, 2024

 Tuesday, June 25, 2024

 I had another good night’s sleep, and I didn’t do any stinking thinking.

 It was a nothing day. I didn’t do much.  Ulu Wini doesn’t have camp sessions on Tuesday. I just had the Twins this morning at 8:30.

   I started Twin A on reading a  Magic Tree House Book. Reading the words was a challenge, even the single-syllable words.  Multi-syllable words were beyond her. I had her tell me the spelling of the word. I wrote it on a whiteboard screen and led her through the decoding process.  I’m not expecting her to remember what I tell her to do now.

    I did work on memory at one point. I told A the rule for pronouncing the e in the suffix -ed. As a rule, it is silent unless preceded by a t or a d, as in treated or dreaded. There are exceptions, as in wicked and crooked.  I have repeated the rule several times.  She’s heard it often enough, so it’s in there somewhere. Today, I asked her to repeat what I said. As I suspected, she was unable to repeat it. She hadn’t absorbed anything I said.  Is this an auditory processing problem independent of an attention problem, or is just an attention problem?  Is it attention because she doesn’t know how to focus or because she goes brain-dead when she doesn’t immediately understand? Or some combination of all the above?

  Dwelling on the subject of shame again. Some advocate total freedom from shame as if shame is nothing but a harmful emotion. Some believe, as I do, that shame is hardwired into most human brains. It is to social connection as pain is to physical injury. Shame and pain are hardwired into us as survival mechanisms.  They warn us when we may be in danger and prompt us to take action.  (Since there are people born without a capacity for pain, I assume it is also possible for someone to be born without a capacity for shame.)  Shame arises when we are out of sync with our social environment. We must be out of sync with our social environment if we are alone. The delibating feeling of loneliness is a crippling shame.  If shame is strong enough, it means we have done something so offensive to our social group that they will either kill us or we will wish for our own deaths to be free from that suffering. These feelings are very primitive. Our modern brains have some say in the matter. We are not living at survival levels among relatively small groups of people. Our conscious minds understand our circumstances are not the same as our ancestors. Question: how do we convince our limbic systems of this fact?

Monday, June 24, 2024

 Monday, June 24, 2024

     I made it to Chi Qigong this morning by 8 am. Clyde was there. Diana arrived later. The three of us stood facing the ocean and breathing it in. The view is particularly impressive at this spot, with large tide pools created by huge black smooth boulders of lava.  The smell of the ocean is the strongest for me here.  I usually don't smell it in other locations. My nose may become more sensitive after living here for 10 years.  The smell of the Pacific is disappointingly nothing like the smell of the Atlantic. Having been raised on the East Coast and enjoying many summer days at the beach when I was young, I associate the smell of the Atlantic with the sea and love it.  The smell here in Hawaii is only of the ozone. I learned the scent I love that I associate with the Atlantic Ocean is from rotting vegetation. There's very little to none here. It's a food desert. 

  I had plans to rush around doing some chores before I went home and met with twenty-six-year-old SL for a Zoom session. She texted to say she wasn't feeling well.  She was still recovering from surgery to remove a third breast from under her arm. 

  Yesterday, the topic of osteoporosis came up during our evening walk. I was diagnosed with severe osteoporosis at fifty.  I asked for a bone density test because I wanted a baseline reading at the beginning of menopause. The result was a surprise.  There was no apparent cut reason I should have had such bad bone density. The only thing I did wrong was smoke two packs a day for the better part of nineteen years, starting at age fifteen. While that is listed as a possible factor, it wasn't the worst offender on the list and doesn't account for the severity of my condition. I may have had trouble absorbing minerals. 

     Lutz, always a fund of information about anything historical, medical, or anything scientific in general, said, "It's a good thing you didn't have children. A woman always loses minerals that are never completely replenished during pregnancy."  I had other reasons for never wanting children. I was afraid I would be like my mother.  I committed to ending the cycle of abuse. I was not passing it on to another generation. 

   Mike and I shared that commitment. He felt the same way about his family of origin. We both lived nightmare childhoods, certainly not the worst possible, far from the worst, but lives that could have been better with a little effort on the part of our parents. 

   Lutz went on to say, "You know where the lowest incidence of osteoporosis is?" I didn't, and neither did Darby. "Bulgaria," Lutz declared. Darby piped up, "They eat yogurt." Yes, that was part of it, but there was more. They eat mushrooms, not just mushrooms but sundried ones. I put yogurt and mushrooms on my shopping list. I would have to sun dry them myself.

        I had no student for today. I was busy in the morning and couldn't see the Twins. Twenty-six-year-old SL wasn't feeling well, and Adolescent D was on vacation with his family until Friday. They either went on a local camping trip or to Oahu. No one goes to the mainland for four days for vacation unless it's an emergency. Well, this may be. I'll find out.

   I continue to be fascinated by the relationship between religious beliefs and population growth. I see a strong correlation.  When we lived in small, disconnected groups, we believed in local Gods who helped us with our daily survival needs. When a group got large enough, so it was impossible to know everyone's life story, things shifted to a God who laid down rules of behavior within the group.  When we see many large groups warring with each other, we see religions worshipping One God, the One True God.  That coordinates all those people under one banner.  At some point, the coordinating organization becomes based on a political unit under a king, for example. That's where we see the development of the conflict between religious leaders and political ones. Think King Henry VIII as a prime example of that. We start seeing a crack between church, or whatever the religious organization may be, and state.  As the population continues to increase and technology improves along with population growth, diverse groups are brought into increasing contact with each other. Religion has been replaced by the nation-state. (This by no way means I think a religious organization could do a better job.) The nation-state becomes a continent state, which becomes a global state. The larger the overseeing institution, the less voice for the individual, by necessity.  The US plan to maintain local government power had wisdom. Of course, deciding what to render to what is the thorny question not so easily answered.  With the alienation of all individuals from the governing body comes an interesting switch from 'religion' to spirituality. Individuals need personal contact with the powers that be; they also need comfort and security.  Having seen this correlation between population size, group integration, and religion, I can't unsee it. The more distant the governing agency is, the more personal contact with spiritual forces is needed.

  One caveat here: I think religions go through stages of development much like individuals do. Islam is several centuries behind the development of Western religions. Another possibility is that it just reached its retrograde stage before we did. We can't live under a single Godhead anymore when it's different for each religion.

 


Sunday, June 23, 2024

  

Sunday, June 23, 2024

 

   I was tired last night despite sleeping a lot during the day. I was afraid to go to bed too early, knowing I would spend most of the night lightly dozing. An alarm went off that I didn't remember setting. I was too tired to get up.  Many hours later, I was awake enough to get up. I realized I must have misset an alarm for an am hour instead of a pm.  Sure enough, that alarm had gone off at 2:20 a.m.

   I've changed how I've integrated the Laughter Yoga into my morning Gentle Seated Yoga routine.  Before, I adapted the amount of laughter to the length of the movement. I reversed it now, adjusting the pose's length to the breath's exhalation.  The benefit of the laughter is you continue doing it until you run out of breath. Other breathing exercises I've done emphasized the exhalation, which should be twice as long as the inhalation.  My breathing exercises to lower my blood pressure have also emphasized complete exhalation.

  I've also been listening to Mate's book Scattered Minds on my earphones as I walk. I read books like this in the morning primarily to get ideas on how I can help my students. This book has greatly benefited me, especially since I'm listening to it for the second time. I got tricked into that.

   Yvette turned me onto a free nonfiction book on Audible that she liked.  I listened to it. When she told me there was a sequel also for free, I listened to that too.  The stories were a pleasant relief from my own thoughts.  I have rarely used books in any form for comfort.  I always read for information.  Usually, something in a book will trigger an idea, and I'm off and running. Creating new ideas is my joy.

  Today, in church, I had one of those ideas triggered by the book and my breathing exercises.  Mate writes about the origins and healing of ADD.  Listening to his book, I think, "Is he saying these issues cause every other diagnosable psychological problem?" Nonetheless, what he had to say spoke to me.  He's big on problems caused by poor attachment between mother and infant. There's no question my mom wasn't the best on good attachment: attunement. There's attunement in the mother adjusting behavior in response to the child's physical needs. There is also attunement in the sense of synchronizing brain waves. My mom wasn't the best at either. She overly rejected harmonic synchronization, also known as bonding. I believe she thought there was something inappropriate about it, downright dangerous for the child.

   Mate says a child feels abandoned if there isn't appropriate attunement of either or both types. There are one of two responses. The child goes out into the world, seeks connection or retreats, and finds solace in some private activity.  I was the one who went out into the world looking for connection. I also lived in a constant state of terror. That I made it through school at all is a mystery. I don't know what asset of mine to attribute it to. Perhaps the same survival instinct that kept my mom going till two weeks before her 98th birthday despite all the blows that life had dealt her. She was a survivor. So am I. But staying focused has never come easily.

  I still find it hard to start something for fear of being unable to do it. I know it's a ridiculous feeling. I am capable of doing most things and capable of dealing with them if I fail. I do well with failure. I'm probably more afraid of success.

    Many of my fears were calmed when I was with Mike. He provided a comforting presence both passively and actively. He also provided protection. He made it clear to my mom that he would protect me from her attacks by calmly standing between us. All that is gone now; many of my old anxieties are back. It's made worse by having no one living in the house. However, an old friend made it plain that his gloves were off now I no longer had Mike's protection. He made my vulnerability clear to me. Wow! I hadn't realized how bad it was.

   I suffer from some underlying anxiety without immediate cause. I can always find something to blame it on, but I believe the anxiety precedes the disturbing thought. I just dredge up an explanation so I don't feel totally insane. Today, I thought of a way of dealing with that anxiety that worked in the minute. I will continue the experiment and see if my theory is correct. It's fun to knit together a theory, even if it's a bust. Nothing ventured; nothing gained.

   Putting together all the elements I mentioned above, it occurred to me that I could calm my anxiety by holding my breath and upping the CO2 volume in my body. When people have panic attacks, they are told to breathe in and out of a paper bag, upping their CO2 volume. When people feel upset, they often hold their breath. How many times have I heard a therapist yell, "Breathe! You're just pressing down your feelings." When the feeling is out of control anxiety, it should be shut down.  People must approach difficult issues with a calm, curious mind, not one racing for survival.  There's under-excitation and over-excitation. Both are dysfunctional, inappropriate states of mind.

   I held my breath. I felt calmer.  Wow! If this works, it is my drug of choice. It's not that I'm trying to escape all my feelings. I think my feelings are fascinating. I find the whole human condition fascinating. I love exploring how mind and body work together and how emotions impact everything.  I'm not using CO2 therapy to escape anything but overstimulation.

   Tying in what I experienced with what Mate has to say about the importance of maternal attunement to the infant, I had another thought. When an infant suckles at the breast, it breathes in the mother's CO2 with the milk.  CO2 can be a calming trigger as it reminds of early maternal attunement. Suppose that attunement wasn't sufficient in our early development. In that case, we can give it to ourselves by holding our breath to calm down. 

   This breath-holding exercise is nothing like some people's choking trick to get off. It should never feel uncomfortable, no less life-threatening, no more than breathing in someone else's CO2 should feel uncomfortable or life-threatening.

 Now to experiment with this theory and see if it has any value. Boy, I hope so, for my sake and everyone else. Big Pharma, be gone. Then, I shared my brilliant idea with Lutz, our local font of knowledge on everything scientific and historic. He said people with panic attacks were given paper bags to breathe in to regulate their body chemistry, not calm them down.  When there is too little CO2 in our blood, we become alkaline; when there is too little O2, we become acidic.  Hyperventilation reduces the CO2 in our blood; we become alkaline. Breathing into a paper bag restores the balance between the CO2 and O2 in our blood.  According to the Internet, breathing into a paper bag restores calm breathing and a calm mind.  The experiment is still on. (For anyone wanting to try the paper bag trick instead of just holding your breath a bit longer, check for directions online. If overdone, it can cause harm.

   I had a brief session with Adolescent D. Wow! Who is this kid? He decodes words perfectly and shows intelligent consideration. Most impressively, he consistently- did you hear that word?- places the slash consistently, marking the syllable division with consistent ease.

   However, D still needs help remembering. One day, I showed him the phonics rule for the vowel sound in child, mild, wild and bold, cold, sold. Yes, there is a rule. The next day, he not only had no recall of the rule but also of ever seeing the words. I read something about the role of attention in recall.

   I shared what I learned with D. Did this sound right to him? Was his inability to pay attention the cause of the problems with his recall?  He said, "Yes," quickly and decisively.  I was excited. Maybe we would solve his memory problem. I didn't think he deliberately didn't pay attention. I thought he didn't have control over his attention function.  

  The next thing was to get more information. Then, D started equivocating as I asked more questions to get details.  I assured him he didn't have to know the answers to my questions. I  also assured him I would be fine if this didn't solve his problem, and we got nowhere with it. Then I asked if that made a difference. He said yes to that, too. I didn't have any ideas of how to approach the problem. I would have to sit with it until something occurred to me that felt right. I pay careful attention to that inner voice. It has rarely led me wrong. I can't think of a single time when it has.

   I had going-into-fourth-grade M today. Her father confirmed her appointment at the last minute. We continued working on Stuart Little.  It's peat and repeat. She really doesn't need me for academic purposes. She needs me to affirm her right to see things as she sees them.  When we encounter vocabulary she doesn't know, I encourage her to make a 'logical guess.'  It doesn't have to be correct; it has to make sense in the context. The words she chooses have to fit into the sentence the way the original word did. This is how we learn most words. We make a good guess. When we encounter the words a second and third time, the definition we chose for the first word will or won't make sense in the new context. Then, we have to adjust the meaning of the word. That's how we learn most words. If you're concerned they've guessed the wrong definition, don't' be.  Teachers present wrong information all the time.  Most of what we learn has to be constantly modified and/or refined- if we live with open minds and hearts. If we need the world to be static, well, good luck.

   I sent information on the number of sessions I met with M for May for the second time. M's mom insisted she paid me.  They used to pay me on time, but I'm an old shoe to them now, particularly the mom. My guess is she doesn't think my sessions with her daughter are necessary. I don't think she needs me for academic reasons, either. Sometimes, our sessions wear on me because I don't see myself as having a meaningful function. I'm there as a support object versus someone making a meaningful educational difference. I've asked M several times if she is happy with her sessions with me. She says yes. Otherwise, I would push to end them.

   M's mother is a problem. I don't know this from my experience with her in the past, and I'm concluding it now because of our issues with timely payment. The older daughter told me her mother is considered nuts by the family. Apparently, she is harsh with the girls. Sounds a bit like my mom. M's mom argues that's how she was raised; it was good enough for her, etc.

   M's mom sent me a list of checks from January. I checked them against the number of sessions. Her mom was right. The problem was she had overpaid me in May and confused me. She paid for four sessions when I only met with M twice. I owe her money. I wrote her, "You're right." She responded, "Thank you."  I appreciated that. I hate the no-response-necessary approach to interpersonal communication.  It leaves the response open to my imagination. My imagination is not always kind to me.

 


Saturday, June 22, 2024

 Saturday, June 22, 2024

     Slept very well.  Then I woke up at 4 am. I should have gotten up. I did some stinking thinking about whatever. I don’t think it makes much difference. Stinking thinking is natural to humans, as explained by evolutionary psychology theory. We didn’t have to think about what went well. There was no survival benefit. We had to think about near misses. We had to learn how to survive them. However, it doesn’t explain our excessive stinking thinking.  It’s up there with sweets, gambling, and all addictive behavior. There are biological explanations for each of these inclinations. It’s just they’ve lost their natural enemies. The environment no longer exercises control over our tendencies. We have to. Good luck! We’ve turned ourselves into Zoo animals. We have guaranteed ourselves physical safety- except from each other and ourselves.  Negative thinking is a virtue when faced with challenges to our physical survival.  Here’s the problem: we can’t get rid of these inclinations any more than we can get rid of the inclination to eat.  Food is a must. Probably all of us abuse it to some extent. No one had unlimited access to chocolate-covered almonds.  In my ‘natural habitat,’ my access would have been limited.  Now, I have to consciously control my impulses. Damn!

   Darby called to say they used my trash container as a pig block. Did I need it back today? To have a post installed for their new fence, they had to cut back on a shrub that acts as a block when it is in full growth.  Until it grows back, there is an opening around the installed post a pig can slip through. Some of you are wondering, pigs?  Yes, we have wild pigs, along with wild turkeys, partridges, pheasants, and the occasional goat wandering our streets. As my niece said, we live in a nature preserve.  Yes, I would like the trash container so I could reload it.

    I also weeded the mulched area where all the Ficus trees were excavated. I checked on the Shefflera Dan cut back. It was flourishing nicely- not what I wanted. Because Dan had left many cut-off branches lying around the tree, getting to it was treacherous.  I went and got my cane. No one likes to fall, particularly older people. I’ve been told all the metal in my body, one hip, left elbow, and left shoulder, makes me more vulnerable, not less. If I fall on my left arm, the rest of the bones in my arm will shatter. Scary!  I did make it to the tree. I’m beginning to understand why it is called the octopus tree. Besides the weirdly beautiful flower it puts out, the roots branch out like a spider plant, sending up new trunks.

   I had my cordless drill in hand and a squeeze bottle with Round-Up.  I managed to drill holes in some of the many trunks and squeeze controlled quantities of Round-Up. I cleared some of the debris Dan had left around the base of the tree so I could reach the rest of the trunks.

            Isaac emailed to say he brought up the 0-6=0 problem with his parents. His family likes to chew on a good conundrum the way my family does.  From a naïve perspective, 0-6=0 makes perfect sense. I come to you and ask you for 6 cookies. Sorry, you have none. How many cookies do I walk away with? None, which equals zero.  Question: how to help a naïve student make the massive leap into the abstract world of minus numbers. His family came up with the idea of using the image of submerging in water using the water’s surface as a zero point. The students I work with all come from islands; water submersion would be an ideal image. However, why bother with the minus number when you can say I was 1 foot under the water. Under serves the same purpose as minus. Why would I use a ridiculous word like minus when I can use an easy-to-understand word like under?  Good question. I thought of the TV program Six Feet Under, renamed as Minus Six. The whole minus business is beginning to sound pretty silly to me, too. 

 Adolescent D is flourishing.  He put in all the slashes in all the right places at all the right times with speed. Amazing! It’s only been three years. I’m not being sarcastic. He was almost fourteen when I started working with him and tested as a first-grade reader. I think that was generous.  He couldn’t consistently tell the difference between her and here and couldn’t recognize the word they.  He tested at a sixth-grade level last year and has since improved his accuracy and rate of word recognition.  Yes, it has only taken us three years.

   I invited Yvette to play Rummikub with me.  When she came up, I begged off that game and asked if we could play. Sorry. My brain wasn’t up for Rummikub. We played three rounds. A good time was had by all. I hope we can make this a tradition.

  I’m listening to delicious podcasts on the human condition- my favorite topic.  David Brooks talked about his book on the art of seeing others deeply and being deeply seen. Most of the talk was about saying the right things and asking the right questions to get to know another person. In the end, he said being truly seen is people's deepest desire, and he finally said it is the thing people fear the most.  I love it when people prescribe behavior. It’s not a one size fits all. What to do when people don’t want connection and don’t want to be seen. Those folks fear it not because they’re hiding something but because they’ve experienced people using that knowledge against someone. It’s tricky.  It took me years to learn to respect boundaries and believe I had a right to set my own. I couldn’t have had the marriage it did if I hadn’t learned how to do that. 

 

Friday, June 21, 2024

 Friday, June 21, 2024 

 Another good night's sleep. Yay!

   I started listening to Gabor Mate's book Scattered Minds for the second time because I had nothing else to listen to. It was as if I was hearing it for the first time. Mate diagnoses a whole slew of symptoms as ADD and attributes most of the problem to poor attunement with the primary caregiver. The attunement is up to the caregiver, not the infant. It concerns how well the primary caregiver responds to the infant's needs. Obviously, it can't be 100% perfect. The infant learns to survive disappointment and abandonment, which is what is for them in that early stage. I am sure my mother didn't attune to my needs. I watched her with her grandchildren. Oh, boy. She was as well-intentioned as any human being could be; it wasn't in her wheelhouse. I recognize myself in many of the problems he describes.  I must admit it's a little like seeing a Rorschach ink blot. You can see anything you like in it. However, it gives me insights and possible ways to approach my remaining wounds and those of others.

   I work with Mama K's Twins every day I can. I continue working on 'fluency' with Twin A. Fluency is reading, so it sounds good. The teachers often think it means reading faster and tell the students to do that. It doesn't. It means connecting words to sound like one word – to a foreigner. Learning the rhythm and melody of a phase, clause, or sentence. This is not metaphorical. I don't know if speech developed out of song or singing developed out of speech. Someone must have a theory about why we don't just say one word at a time in a monotone but 'sing' instead.  A's word recognition is still better than E's. Both are doing remarkably well with comprehension, particularly given where they were when I started working with them.  Mama K says she sees a difference in their speech at home and how they solve daily problems. All good news.

  I mowed the large lawn in the lower half of the property. I love, love, love that battery-driven lawn mower. What a pleasure! It makes it a fun chore.

   It was a Ulu Wini day.  Only two students came to work with me,  going into-first-grade-TR and going-into-fifth-grade CL. CL came running across the open lawn from the playground when her name was called.  She had a big smile on her face. Wow! That was some change from the day before when she couldn't talk to me or even look at me while I tried to explain subtraction with regrouping. Today, she followed me perfectly. Once I dealt with her fear, everything she had already learned from her schoolteachers was accessible.TR continues writing simple one-digit addition problems and counting on her fingers from one. I keep modeling counting-on using a number line. The change was close to miraculous.

   I talked to Shauntel about counting objects in the environment instead of ones commercially made to help the younger children associate numbers with familiar objects in their environment. Another important exercise is a +/—one activity for all children and +/—10 and then 5 for the older children. I'm thinking about how to make this into a group activity. Developing group activities. 

    Our house is near the airport. I can watch airplanes take off and come in for landings from my lanai. Usually, I  don't hear a sound. Of late, we've been hearing loud airplane noises. When we heard them in the past, we always thought they were military planes. The domestic ones don't make that kind of noise. There have been so many of them lately,  and I thought a change in the atmosphere must have caused this effect. But no, it was military planes. The military 'rents' the Kona airport for take-off and landing practice for their aircraft, which are larger and heavier than the piddling domestic ones.

  When I passed my hall closet, I noticed a blue liquid oozing onto the hallway floor.  A giant economy-sized bottle of Dawn Dish Detergent had cracked and leaked its contents. I had quite a mess on my hands. I cleared out all the bottles on the floor and took them to the bathroom shower with plans to hose them down. I took out 10 blue microcloths and sopped up the amount of the soap I could without adding water.  I rinsed the soap out of those cloths, wrung them as dry as possible, and did several more rounds of that exercise. I didn't do it all in one day. I was in no hurry. Just rinsing the bottle and boxes I had in the shower was a several-day project.  When the dry/very damp clothes weren't picking up a lot of soap anymore, I started using slightly wetter clothes to wipe up what I could. After doing that for several rounds, I poured water into the area. I sopped up the soapy water until the clothes rinsed out quickly and easily. The final step was to pour a generous amount of water into the closet and get that up with the Bissell wet/dry vacuum. The container quickly filled with soap bubbles. I did that repeatedly until there was more water than soap bubbles. Then I was done.  I learned one thing from this exercise: washing white tiles with a large amount of Dawn Dish Detergent gets them clean like nothing else.

  I finished the season three of Bridgerton.  I thoroughly enjoyed it. Some complain about the false depiction of blacks in noble society. They fear someone will believe blacks had it good. If they do, I have a bridge to sell them. (That's a New York City joke. It means they are so gullible to believe a fictional story accurately represents what happened in that time.) There are other anachronistic touches in the series.  I doubt women were given the freedoms depicted in these scenes. 

   I went to Pet Co. to ask about Elsa's haircut. When I picked her up yesterday, I was shocked at how long it was. I asked for a puppy cut. That was always close-shaven before. Fortunately, I spoke to Judy, who said that's what a puppy cut is.  She basically didn't cut her hair at all.  It was very upsetting. I get her hair cut when it gets tangled. Her hair will get tangled at this length. I spent $90 for nothing.  When I spoke to the groomer, she confirmed what Judy said. I was so glad I talked to Judy first. It prevented me from putting on the irate customer act and upsetting the groomer and myself. This is the second incident where I haven't read

the 'fine print' and screwed myself. The PetCo incident wasn't a hustle/scam like the skin care incident. The groomer said she pointed to the hair length sample display.  I hadn't looked. 

 


Monday, July 1, 2024

  Monday, July 1, 2024      My microwave gave out this morning for good. It’s been acting out for about a year now.  I’d turn it on; the lig...