Mike's death; Betty's life...: 09/15/26

Tuesday, September 15, 2026

Friday, December 6, 2024

I got up late this morning, at 6 a.m. Usually, I'm awake by 3:30/4 and up no later than 5. I skipped my morning yoga exercises to get out and walk with Elsa before sunrise. I watered the shrubs, 10 seconds per plant for each one. I also did a bit of weeding while I was out there.

I was exhausted. I was hard hit with grief since my birthday. Too much loss. My mind was dulled. I tried napping to fix the problem. That didn't work. A good cry might have helped, but I was too well-trained to cry. I have to be pushed over a pretty steep cliff before I surrender to weeping. Then, I sob loudly. It sounds like I'm laughing.

I set out to town. I nearly made a fatal mistake turning onto Hiolani, and I nearly made a left turn into oncoming traffic. But I didn't. A miss is as good as a mile. I don't know how close I came, but my perception of the situation was weird.

Since it was clear I wasn't feeling well, I called Darby to cancel our birthday celebration lunch appointment for today. She proposed we reschedule.

Today was the last Hula session before the next session in January. I made it to the church parking lot and decided I didn't have the energy. Given I had attended every session so far, I was concerned that someone might be worried about me. I look out for others, so I anticipate that others may look out for me.

I had some chores to do in town, so I went to Lowes to return the 10 gauge 25 ft. extension cord. Besides not needing it because I got the dedicated line put in, it had a four-prong plug instead of a three-prong, so it was useless.

Then I went to Office Max to hand in the used toner cartridge, get my $2 credit, and have the 404-page 2019 update entries bound.

I walked down the strip mall to Island Naturals to pick up their tuna salad. On my way there, I had a weird experience. A young woman walking in the other direction said, "What a great smile you have!" I wasn't feeling well and thought I was grimacing instead of smiling. She made another friendly comment, and I turned to talk to her. She had the demeanor of a Mormon, a young person who looked like they were just bathed with ivory soap. She made some other comments. I asked her if she was new to the island. Aloha is one thing, but this was something else. She was in her missionary year with the University of Nations. Ah! She may not have been a Mormon but was cut from the same cloth. She asked me my name and gave me hers. She went on her way.

Afterward, it occurred to me that she may have thought I was homeless or mentally ill. I wore a sweatshirt and wasn't feeling well. I wear a sweatshirt most of the time. It's cool at my elevation but can also be very unpleasant and humid, especially when the trade winds take a break. By wearing warm clothes, I set my thermostat to have a high tolerance for heat.

I learned that trick from my friend David when I was a student at the University of Wisconsin in Madison. He told me that if I wanted to tolerate the extremes of temperature there, I had to avoid wearing warm clothing as winter came on and keep as much clothing on as I could tolerate as summer came in.

Then I went to Kia. The service manager, Joe, called this morning to say the parts were in, and he needed the car for two hours. When the plans for lunch with Darby were still in place, she would pick me up at the garage and drop me off after lunch. Now, I would spend the two hours in the lounge.

I drove to Kia. Joe greeted me warmly with open arms. "I feel like we're old friends." He is an amazingly warm, open, honest person. He offered me a ride home. I took the blanket from a car that I had stored there for the monthly sound bath and crystal healing and curled up on the couch in the waiting room. I didn't sleep. My troubled mental state interfered. When I sat up planning to work, Joe came in to tell me the job was done. However, he suspected a continuing problem. he said he sent the digital information to corporate. The information wouldn't be back till Monday. Before I left, I took a pit stop. When I returned the bathroom key to the parts manager. I talked about how great Joe was. She agreed. She said the change in the shop started six months ago when the new GM started. He made all the difference. He's the one who hired Joe. He cared about the clients.

I only had 6th-grade RC today. She was her usual withholding self. Whenever I asked her if she saw an improvement or how she felt about the lesson, she gave me noncommittal responses. She drove me nuts.

When I asked her about today's session, she admitted she didn't want to be there. She wanted to clean her room so she could visit a friend—a reasonable way to feel, especially for an adolescent. But she always behaves this way.

I asked her if she ever heard about passive-aggressive behavior. She sure did. I told her it was a good strategy when used appropriately. The slaves in the American South used it to thwart their masters. They pretended they were slow and incompetent to frustrate them. it was a way to take some control over their lives and regain their dignity.

My first question was, did she feel the tutoring sessions were potentially harmful to her. No. It was up to her mother if the sessions were to continue. Her behavior wasn't going to change that. All she was accomplishing was making all three of us, her mother, her, and me, uncomfortable.

I told her a story of a realization I had when I was her age. I faced a chore my mother thought was so horrible that she didn't want to do it. In those days, in the early 1950s, girls had to wear gym uniforms to physical education classes. They were jumpsuits with baby doll sleeves and shorts, baby doll pant legs. They were a nightmare to iron; we were required to wash and iron them every week. My mom took one look at that uniform and said, no way. So, I had to learn how to iron. I figured if she dreaded doing it, it would be worse for me, as I had never ironed anything before in her life. But once I got going, I discovered I could find a way to enjoy the task. I discovered the blue color of the uniform changed when I applied the heat of the iron. I enjoyed the color show. I learned there's always a way to figure out how to get something positive out of every situation. Since she wasn't going to get out of these tutoring sessions with her behavior, she might as well figure out a way to invest. She wasn't going to get to her friend's house faster with her negative behavior.

Thursday, December 5, 2024

Today was my 84th birthday. I felt no need to celebrate birthdays when Mike was alive. I was grateful for Mike every day of the year. A while ago, my niece asked me if Mike and I were as happy as we looked. Yes, we were, but that doesn't mean everything was perfect. Our relationship was a combination of a good-enough match and dumb luck. I had the image of jigsaw puzzle pieces. Is that a good metaphor for a perfect match? My guess is a good marriage match doesn't fit together as well as two puzzle pieces. We were both crazy in so many ways. We had the good fortune of not encountering stresses that would have pushed us over the edge.

I watered the shrubs with the handheld hose, which will work while the plants are still small. I have the materials to set up the drip hoses but lack the confidence to do the extensive work. I have to lay three lines, one for each row of plants. Then, I have to insert forty-two drip vents and the connectors.

Regis Electric responded quickly. They would be here at 10 to install a dedicated line. They called me twice to say they were running late. Wow! I was super impressed. Two young men in their twenties arrived to install my dedicated line. They looked competent. I was very impressed. And did I mention they were cute?

My breaker box was full. The electricians couldn't use that. Knowing I had a solar system, they checked out some equipment associated and said something about piggybacking on it. I had complete confidence in their knowledge and a complete lack of confidence in mine. They asked for access to the attic. They complimented the electric work Provision Solar did. It was neat. They criticized the workmanship of the solar water heater: the timing mechanism was mismatched with its case, making it impossible to close. They also discovered the installer had used a 12 gauge wire when he should have used a 10 gauge. They would come back to fix those two issues. I would love to have them do any work for me. I had such confidence in them.

One of the objects they had to move was the chifforobe my mother designed, made, and brought with her from Germany when she came to America to marry my dad. My dad loved well-designed objects. He loved my mom's chest. He had a mate made. I grew up with a twin set. She brought them with her when she moved from Great Neck to Princeton to live with Mike and me in 1983.

Mike didn't want to take the chifforobes with us when we moved to Columbus, Ohio, in 2003. I agreed. Then, I started falling asleep at the wheel on my commute to and from New Brunswick. When I meditated on the subject, I got I was distraught because I was going to lose my mom's chest. I told Mike we couldn't get rid of it. My well-being depended on it. It sat in the Columbus house garage until we moved to Hawaii. Then, we took it with us and parked it in front of the garage, which was converted to Mike's library, covered by the moving blankets that came with it in 2015.

When my niece Shivani visited, she talked about some of her behavior after her husband died after a few years of marriage. She said she held on to his cell phone, expecting me to think her behavior was weird. I showed her mom's cabinet. Oh!

Besides the chifforobe, there were several other miscellaneous pieces of gardening equipment. I used the front of the house as a dumping ground for miscellaneous objects I didn't know what to do with. You can imagine the look.

When the workmen moved the chest to run a wire and its protective tubing from the side of the house, they removed one of the moving blankets. It disintegrated in my hand, shedding blue flakes. I stuffed it into the trash barrel without placing it in a plastic bag first. Hopefully, these little blue particles won't wind up all over the neighborhood. I swept the exposed area and moved some of the miscellaneous objects I had stored there to the shed.

I did some more work on my neighbor's yard along the outside of my rock wall. Her weed-infested yard threatened everything mine.

I planned to go to Ulu Wini but was too tired. I was happy for the excuse; going there doesn't make me happy. Few kids want to work with me. It's probably not personal. I ask only those kids who want to work with me. I don't like to force people.

Yvette planned to come up for dinner for my birthday. She texted to say she was sick. She had started out feeling well that morning and then took a serious turn for the worse.

Judy called on her way shopping. Toward the end of the conversation, I reminded her it was my birthday. I didn't want her to realize it later and feel bad. She stopped by on her way home and dropped off a great birthday card and a two-foot Tuxedo cake from Costco. It's the favorite cake in her family.

Damon called. After, he sang a rousing rendition of Happy Birthday in the Ross mode. Damon said he had sent me a gift certificate from Huggo's, our favorite restaurant. Theoretically, I can use it alone, but I think he's counting on my not using it until he arrives. This way, he's killed two birds with one $100 gift certificate. I'll take it, especially since he's planning a visit in January. Yay! Again.

For the rest of the call, we argued over whether he could do more to help his mom recover her husband's medicare B health care insurance. She had neglected to pay while she was ill and refused to go on automatic payment. His insurance lapsed. It's been a while since the problem was discovered. I guess a provider discovered that his insurance policy was no longer active. Jean insisted she could take care of it on her own. I'm sure she could have written a brief for a lawsuit. Jean was a lawyer. But, I don't think she had the necessary skills to deal with the Social Security department and insurance company on her own. She finally agreed to accept help from John's daughter and Damon. Yay!

I was nodding off by 8:30 again. I think I'm responding to the change in sunset.

Wednesday, December 4, 2024

I was up at four this morning, working on the updates. I get the most done in the early morning hour.

I took an early morning nap. The distress caused by what the healer said hit me. I had to wonder why she framed my directness in negative terms. It triggered sadness and shame. This is what my mother always said to me. ‘No one likes you. I’m the only person who does, and that’s because I’m your mother. I’m the only person you can trust to love you enough to tell you the truth.” That ‘truth’ was never anything positive.

I can handle negative feedback from someone who is generally positive about me. I don’t expect people to like everything about me all the time. People who hang with me have to enjoy my directness, but that doesn’t mean they will like every direct comment I make.

Mike enjoyed my sense of humor, but there were moments he didn’t think I was funny when I meant it to be. He would say, “You’re not funny.” I would say, “ What I said wasn’t funny.” The best professional comedian has duds.

Eli, the gardener, came today. His son wasn’t with him. I anticipated communication problems because his English is weak. When he arrived, I asked him if he read Spanish. I brought him to the lanai, where I had my computer set up with a Spanish-to-English translation program. I wanted to ask him about the soil amendment.

Four large containers of product were sitting in my car trunk. Mixing the soil with that much product seemed like a lot of work. I wanted to know what Eli had in mind when he said he would bring what he needed with him. He smiled and said I didn’t need anything. We walked down to the plot, and he showed me why. He picked up a handful of the soil, let it fall through his fingers, and offered it to me to smell. “See how loose and how rich it is? You don’t need anything more.”

The area had been covered by large Ficus trees with massive roots, threatening the nearby rock wall and concrete driveway. Those trees had to go. I spent several thousand dollars to have them removed with a backhoe, removing roots as well as trunks, and the area covered with mulch several feet deep. Then I had to wait 8 months while the mulch broke down, creating this rich soil. When October arrived, I wasn’t prepared. I had to decide what to plant and how to get them planted. All overwhelming decisions.

Eli said the first thing he had to do was flatten the area. The chickens had created holes, making the surface irregular. Chickens dig holes to ‘bathe,’ not to find food. Eli got the job in a stunningly short period of time. I was expecting him to take the whole day. It was a few hours, and all the plants were in the ground and watered. He had dug an additional hole for me at the side of the house where I wanted to plant another Kua Gardenia for the one that died. Some bug got into it. I didn’t catch it in time, and the bug won.

While Eli planted the shrubs, I went to my neighbor’s yard to pull vines and baby haole koas before the roots became stronger than me. These trees grow deep roots, making it almost impossible to get out. My neighbor did it with chains and a truck. I did two weeding sessions with a break in between. I stopped when my back or legs started complaining. I didn’t want to be out there in a weakened condition. Between sessions, I napped.

I had a session with 4th grade GV. I asked him if he enjoyed jigsaw puzzles. He did. I told him the English orthographic system was like a jigsaw puzzle. It was big and confusing, but there was a pattern that could be figured out. I spoke about short and long vowels. He said he had never heard of them before. Could that be possible? Could he really have had three, almost four years of school and never heard a reference to long and short vowels? It might be possible if his teachers were devoted to the Whole Language method. I pulled up the vowel chart. He saw the pattern on his own: the sound of the short vowels is different from the name of the letter, and the sound of the long vowel is the same as the name of the letter.

I also had a session with fourth-grade LG. His recall of the odd and even numbers was perfect, and he could apply his knowledge to larger numbers. I continued working on rounding. Given 768, he could round to the nearest 100s; given 78, he could round to the nearest 10s place, but given 768, he couldn’t round to the nearest 10s place. He didn’t understand the relationship between rounding and place value. I made a chart with instructions. I created an exercise I hoped would help him see the pattern.

Round to the nearest:

10s 100s 1000s 10,000s 100,000s

176,542 176,542 176,542 176,542 176,542

He dropped out of the session. Huh? Afterward, I found out his mother’s phone had died. We had to use his phone because the Internet connection in his area was inconsistent. Let’s see if this works. I’m prepared to do several rounds.

I haven’t been working on reading with LG because he’s been improving nicely on his own. My methods teach students how to learn. I’ve only had one student fall behind after a break, and it was a shock.

Tuesday, December 3, 2024

I went to bed around 10 and was wide awake by 1:30. I got up at two. There was no point staying in bed and practicing insomnia. The political situation was weighing on me. Musk openly declared there would be a period of hardship brought on by the cutbacks in government spending planned by Trump. Many people voted for Trump, hoping he would improve the economic situation. I anticipate the opposite. I got up and ordered more rice and beans in plastic twenty-five-pound containers. Then, I worked on the updates. I had fallen behind.

I had been up and sitting in the living room chair since two, wearing shorts, a T-shirt, and a light shawl. At 5:30, I felt a chill. The sun was moving in our direction, pushing the cold air off the mountain.

Once I had completed my morning exercises and walk, fed Elsa, and watered the forty-two Eldorados sitting in pots waiting to be planted, I took a two-hour nap. I had been up since 1:30; no wonder I was tired.

One thought that tormented me in the early hours was how to prepare the soil for the planting. I looked it up on the Internet. I came across two articles advising against soil amendments when planting, arguing that doing so creates more problems than it solves. I texted Margo, who is considered the best expert on gardening in the area. She said she had never heard of that and came back with suggestions. While Eli, the gardener, said he would prepare the soil for planting, he had canceled so many times that I no longer trusted he could come prepared. I thought having the products here when he arrived would be better.

My first stop was Farm and Garden. The wonderfully groomed lady was at the counter today. She's a pleasure to deal with. Her makeup and outfits are a work of art. I don't see her as vain. She uses herself as a canvas for her pleasure and the pleasure of others. I told her I was looking for soil amendments for forty-two shrubs. She asked me which ones. I told her Eldorado. She suggested Thrive. I pulled up Margo's text and told her what she recommended. How much did I need? I said I was hoping she could tell me. I didn't have a clue. She figured it out. I had four large, heavy bales, two of Garden N Bloom and two of black cinder.

I continued on into town after Farm and Garden to Office Max. I ran out of toner for my printer. After my scare when I couldn't find the 2019 and 2020 Blog Book files, I printed out the completed books. I don't know what I'm going to do with them. Maybe I'll publish them on Amazon, as Judy suggested. I can't imagine anyone reading them. But who knows. The 2019 book was over six hundred pages. I was going to need a lot of toner. I bought the largest cartridge available, TN 770, promising to print 4,500 pages. I reduced the font size from 12 to 9 to save on ink and paper. It was still over 404 pages.

I had one more stop, Target. I had forgotten to buy eggs. After that I headed home and got a bit of gardening done in the yard off my bedroom. I clipped back the bougainvillea. I planned to continue clipping the vines off the side of the rock wall facing my neighbor's property. Darby had pointed out this insidious vine was climbing up the wall. Anything that grows on a rock wall threatens its integrity. Plants can destroy cement driveways once they get a foothold. These rock walls don't last forever.

In order to access the vines, I have to walk over uneven, slanted terrain. I did okay doing it the other day. The rock wall was low enough that I could hold on to the top of it. As I go further down the slope, the rock wall rises a good two stories. Well, out of my reach. I planned to move slowly. I take the tools I need in a bucket since I can't rest them on the top of the rock wall. I put the bucket down a few paces before me, then carefully take the few steps to be beside the bucket. I will work my way down the slope in this way. I'm still scared. I will text Yvette and Darby to let them know where I am in case something happens. I had no trouble the other day when I worked on the vines. I probably won't encounter any problems when I go down again. It's this old-age crap. I am vulnerable because of osteoporosis and the metal holding my left hip, elbow, and shoulder together. If I fall and impact one of those joints with that brittle material in them, all the surrounding bone will shatter. Sounds like fun, no?

I had a session with sixth-grade RC today. I've been very nervous about working with her. She is reluctant to share her true thoughts. I don't want a total reveal of her deepest thoughts; I want to trust she can set her boundaries instead of relying on me to know what she thinks and feels. This was the third session since she told me she 'lied' when she said she didn't know something. I struggled to find a better word to describe what she did. She withheld information as to her own thoughts. I'm not talking about withholding her feelings on some profound personal matter; I'm talking about her saying she didn't remember anything when asked if she remembered a math fact. It is possible she doesn't remember. I see increased memory problems with all my students.

I asked my friend Steve about it. He worked as a school principal in UN-sponsored schools in Asia and Latin America. Yes, he also saw increasing problems with memory over the years. From what I can see, students don't know what to do If they don't get the correct answer instantly. The problem isn't neurological; it's a missing skill. My best guess it comes from not having to rely on their memories anymore. They can always get the answer from the Internet, which provides immediate and correct feedback. They conclude this is how their minds are supposed to work.

Our minds are more complex and powerful than any computer. But just as we have to learn how to get information from the WWW, we have to learn how to encode and decode information from our brains. This is not being taught. In the past, we learned it by observing our parents. But most parents of school-age children grew up in the information age, with access to computers and the web. The children I work with are now second-generation web users. The internet models memory; it always gets the answer right. It's a machine, and most users are not programmers. We are the programmers of our brains. We decide what information goes in. Much of the encoding is automatic, mainly when we are young. In a nonacademic environment, information can be learned through repetition; most of what they need to know is encoded by the time they are six or seven. The rest is details. In the academic world, we are subjected to the unfamiliar daily. Much of which we have to cram into our minds.

When I started with RC today, I asked if she recalled having told me in the two previous sessions that she deliberately didn't reveal what she did know when asked. She did. I would have taken it as a signal to drop the subject if she hadn't. I felt I had to be super cautious with this child because I couldn't rely on her to set her boundaries. I spent some time sharing my concerns with her. She acknowledged it was tough for her to do so. Great! How do I proceed?

I returned to some work we had done with memory. Did RC remember the multiplication fact we had worked on, 6 x 7=42? Her recall was flawless after at least two weeks. Did she remember the spelling word we had worked on in September? She remembered the word, people, but spelled it peple. That was better than her original spelling. I showed her the strategy of noticing what was correct rather than dismissing the whole word as wrong because of a mistake. The goal was to build on what she did right.

Given how well she did. I told her I thought it unlikely she had a neurologically driven memory problem. She needed to learn how to get information in and out. She was missing a skill. Memory, like a muscle, must be exercised to be strong. I drew a rough picture of two neurons. I showed her how each time she encountered the word, no less worked on learning it, she laid down another connecting strand between the neurons. Of course, the network connections are much more complex than the ones I drew. But she got the point.

Monday, December 2, 2024

I watched Facebook shorts until 11 p.m. Good God, they're addictive. However, I slept very well, waking up at 5:30. That's six hours of sleep straight. I probably got up to pee sometime during the night, but I fell right back to sleep when my head hit the pillow.

This morning, I weighed 135.5 lbs. The weight was coming on as fast as it went off. The trick was to only eat when I felt I needed to. Of course, I still felt the impact of a daily Haagen Das ice cream container for five days. I blame Joseph for my lapse. He lives on daily products. He will drink a gallon of milk and call it dinner. He follows some guru who argues for the value of dairy and sugar.

While the extra ice cream wasn't doing me any good, drinking more water was. Darby reminded me to drink water when my mind felt fuzzy. Boy, that works! How much memory loss in old people is caused by dehydration? We don't drink as much because of our peeing problems.

I took an early morning nap. The distress caused by what the healer said to me yesterday hit. I had to wonder why she framed my directness in negative terms. It triggered great sadness and shame. This is what my mother always said to me. 'No one likes you. I'm the only person who does, and that's because I'm your mother. I'm the only person you can trust to love you enough to tell you the truth." That 'truth' was always negative.

I can handle negative feedback from someone who is generally positive about me. I don't expect people to like everything about me all the time. People who hang with me must enjoy my directness, but that doesn't mean they will like every direct comment I make.

Mike enjoyed my sense of humor, but there were moments he didn't think I was funny when I meant it to be. He would say, "You're not funny." I would say, "What I said wasn't funny." The best professional comedian has duds.

I called Kia customer service to get confirmation that the hybrid motor wouldn't work if the high-voltage battery was down. She assured me the car would run. I've had two experiences that contradicted that.

Aloha Kia called me a little later in the day. The Kia corporate tech had contacted them. They approved the repair. Joe told me the previous local Kia management hadn't done what the corporate recommended. The notes said the tech had argued for doing it. They cheated me. Joe said that they would do everything corporate recommended this time. There was nothing more to be done until the parts arrived. He put in a rush order, and they should be here the following week. He would call me when they came in.

Joe sent a shuttle to pick me up. When I checked my car, it was only charged to 17 miles, when the maximum is 24. I asked if he could fully charge the car before I left, as I was concerned about losing all power.

Again, Joe assured me that wouldn't happen. I told him of my experiences. He said the gas motor without the electric-only has the power of a four-cylinder motor. With the electric, a floor-to-gas pedal start could snap your head back.

Ironically, just last Sunday, when I got a ride home from the sound bath at Unity, I got to drive in a four-cylinder car. As Diane drove up Kaiminani, she felt compelled to explain her speed; her car was only a four-cylinder car. It got us up the hill and me home safe and sound. It was a reassuring experience.

I told Joe I had some shopping to do. I would walk. Fortunately, he offered me a ride. My first stop was at Lowes. Since I was still determining when I could get an electrician to come and install a dedicated line, I needed another 10-gauge extension cord. When we got there, I asked the driver if he could wait 10 minutes.

I found an associate immediately and asked him to show me where the extension cords were. He knew less about them than I did. He was looking at thin cords that couldn't possibly be 10 gauge. The thicker cords are usually on the lowest shelf. I found a boxed 10 gauge 25-foot cord. I grabbed it and was out of there in five minutes. It was a good thing he waited. The cord was too heavy to carry in one hand. Using both hands down the steep hill on my way back to the garage would have been a misery if not downright dangerous.

As we headed back to the garage, the driver was in the wrong lane to make the left turn. I pointed out the problem. He said he was heading to Target. He had called his boss to ask if he could wait for me at Lowes, and Joe told him to wait and to drive me to the store. I told him that wasn't necessary. I could take care of those purchases on my way home in my car.

At Target, I picked up three cans of lentil soup and five frozen meals on sale, a loaf of bread, and a jar of Smucker's raspberry jam for $35. That's eight meals, not including the salad I eat every night.

Frustrated with one of my students, I shared my concerns with my friend Jean about people who don't care about their interests. One of my students is always vague about her feelings. "I don't know." "I don't care." "It's ok." She always said five if I asked her to rate something on a scale of one to ten. I encourage students to share how they feel about the work. I'm looking for the sweet spot for learning. I can modify the lesson to suit their needs if they have some control and active input. In doing so, I believe I am encouraging them to be aware of their own needs and teach them to speak up respectfully, knowing they can expect me to care and do my best, which does not mean I will succeed. I also hope I'm teaching them to find a way to get what they want in the world while respecting the needs of others in general. When I work with children who deliberately withhold information, I'm shooting blind. I'm uncomfortable using a formulaic approach and expecting the student to conform to a program that has passed an evidence-based standard. No human being conforms to a standard. Students who have not learned well in the school setting certainly don't fit that description.

I had another session with fourth-grade GV. He was still confused about the letter/sound relationship. In his case, he felt confused to discover that words were made of individual sounds. It sounded like he never had a single phonics lesson. Either that, or he didn't apply what he learned to all words. He may be very literal-minded, assuming only the words the teacher talked about were made of individual sounds and not others. If that's the case. Wow!

Since GV liked to draw, I asked him if he understood that every drawing was made up of individual lines, either curved or straight, and everything was a variation. I may have to rethink how I work with this boy. Suppose he depends on what people tell him and cannot apply what he learns from one context to another. In that case, he has a serious learning problem. I continued working with low-level material, a story with only single-syllable words. I noticed a significant improvement in his ability to hear the individual sounds of words, even if he doesn't understand what he is doing.

Eli, the gardener, canceled for the third time. Today's excuse was someone ran over this water pipe. That is a serious problem. I hope he gets it quickly. I also hope he gets here soon. I have forty-two plants sitting in pots waiting to be planted. I don't have the strength or the stamina to do it myself. I decided to have the soil amendment on hand instead of relying on him to provide it. I may have it in the shed already. I remember doing something for the ulu tree. I provided it, and Rodney and his man planted it. That tree is doing beautifully, by the way.

Sunday, December 1, 2024

I left the house for my morning walk shortly after 5, finishing my morning exercises. I texted Joseph, saying I would be ready to leave for church by 8 a.m. I laid out my clothes and organized the things I would need to attend the sound bath event at the Unity Church.

I originally planned to hitch a ride with Paulette to Unity in the old industrial area, but I decided to walk. I had a hat and thought I should be fine, but it was more taxing than I thought.

It was 10:30 when I set out. The sun was already bearing down. I wore the shawl I brought over my shoulders for some protection. I sought shaded areas as much as I could. I found some shortcuts. It was still stressful. My right thigh started hurting the way the left leg used to before the hip replacement. It didn't usually bother me. I think it was in response to the stress I felt rather than it being a turning point signaling it was time to get my second hip replacement. I completed over 5,000 steps getting there, a good two-mile walk. It took about an hour.

I made it there in time to get something to eat as Diane was clearing up from the potluck contributions. I had two servings of a homemade salad and one good-sized slice of guava cake from Costco. It was all delicious.

I caught sight of Clyde and asked if he was still prepared to give me a lift home. He said yes. When Diane learned I lived in the Palisades, she said she would drive me home. It was on her way. She was the last one out the door. She spent time after everyone else left, moving a few things. She explained she was preparing the space for the Marshallese church service. Attendance to the Unity Church had dropped. They welcomed the additional income their church brought in. It meant Diane had to return at four to open the church and then close it after they were through. Sometimes, she stayed during the service. She said it was a lively event.

While I waited for Diane, I asked one of the women who served as a volunteer healer during the sound bath event to do some healing on me. Her energy was good. While she worked on me, she spoke to a young woman, telling her she had good healing energy, and she provided healing wherever she went, whatever she did. She apologized to me for the distraction. I was okay with it.

Given that I am a trained healer who has charged money for it, I was pleased with myself that I had no reaction when she praised someone else's gift and didn't acknowledge mine. So far, I had said nothing to anyone about being a trained healer. However, the woman working on me possibly sensed my energy. People in the field often do.

Not only did she say nothing about it, she wound up slamming me. She said I was really cool, did I know I was? Yes. I've been told often enough in my close to 84 years that I was different. Sometimes, it's a compliment, and sometimes, not so much. Cool and unique are positive comments; excentric is neutral, and weird is negative. Being outstanding, for either good or bad reasons, has its downside. I thought she was referring to my strengths. Ha! Not at all. She was referring to the ease with which I say what's on my mind. She made it clear that while some took offense, some liked this trait in me. it seemed pretty clear to me she wasn't one of my fans. The irony was I had plenty of thoughts I didn't share with her.

The weird thing was I felt comfortable with a low profile in this community. I was comfortable with the most mundane of exchanges. I had a few moments where I stood out. The first time I participated in the Chi Qigong session, Roger, the dedicated Chi Qigong instructor, introduced a more complicated set of moves than he had done before. I focused on doing them. He came up to me afterward and commented on how well I did. With my dance background, it would come more easily.

Then, I did a reading session with his wife. She was also a healer. I do not know what she thought of me, but it was more intimate contact than others. Then, there were the conversations I had with Clyde. We were usually the only two at the beach for the Chi Qigong and spent some time chatting. He often lavished me with praise. I wasn't particularly invested in it. Instead, it made me somewhat uncomfortable. I like it when people enjoy what I am. They can even state they like this or that about me. But I don't care for it when that evaluation sounds like a comparison to others. That's where judgment comes in.

I wondered why that healer picked up on my directness. I had only once manifested that trait with this group of people. I was in conversation with one of the participants, who was a massage therapist. I told her about my shoulder replacement. She assured me she could get the full range of motion. That alarmed me. I've been told by the doctor and the PT that would never happen. The mechanism could shift if the arm was forced, and I'd be in big trouble. I told her I didn't feel comfortable being forced. She said she never pushed. I told her she was pushing me right now. She finally backed off. Others would have found a way to escape or tolerate that situation without being direct. Maybe someday, I'll learn how to do it, too. That was the only occasion where my directness showed up. It is possible the healer actually sensed something in me. I don't know what it is that people see in me that alerts them to this trait when I've done nothing yet. I had never had a conversation with that woman. Did she overhear something? Worse yet, had Clyde been singing my praises, alienating me from everyone.

Clyde is vulnerable to admiration. I can imagine he thinks it's a good thing when people admire you. A modicum of admiration is nice. But when it's more than mild seasoning in a relationship, I have only had bad experiences with it. it stirs up envy and negative self-evaluation in others. Someone who induces that feeling is not someone anyone likes. We all like to hang with people who are merely human like the rest of us. Fr. Boyle says the greatest gift we can give to someone is kinship, knowing we are all in it together, each with his strengths and weaknesses.

While I felt okay during the healing session with everything, I felt very sad later on, not only did the healer not recognize my gifts, she only saw me in a negative light. However, I did get benefits from the session. She fixed my discomfort in my right leg. I observed myself as unreactive when she lavishly praised someone else and ignored my similar gifts. I felt good about that.

Saturday, November 30, 2024

Damn! I was awake by 2:30 and didn't sleep well after that. Of course, I had had five hours of solid sleep. Why would I expect more? I lived on five hours of sleep a night when I was younger, when I had a full-time job with a half-hour commute each way, meditated twice a day, and exercised regularly. Then, I was lucky I got that much time to lie and bed, no less sleep. I have nothing to complain about.

Elsa and I were walking before the first sign of light above the mountain. It was unusually warm which warned of an unusually hot day for winter.

I met with fourth grade MH today instead of on Sunday. I noticed her oral reading didn't sound fluent—it was choppy, whereas I've heard her reading smoothly. Was she having problems with the unfamiliar syntax? I came up with a possible resolution.

I read the passage to her before having her read it. This is one strategy in the Whole Language approach. Doing so gave me more control over when I stopped to ask questions. MH didn't use context as much as she should. Each sentence stood on its own. I had more control over the presentation. She read smoothly after I had read and explained the passage. It does seem the complex sentences were the problem.

Since I discovered the Plus catalog in Audible with all its free books, I've been listening all the time. It's close to addictive. When I'm on Audible, my negative voice isn't audible. I wonder if people who read a lot are introverted or if reading a lot makes you introverted. I'm learning that reading books, particularly fiction, is comforting. Also, I can listen while doing other things, like gardening, cleaning the house, or shopping.

My niece Shivani introduced me to that idea. I listed what I considered the benefits of reading. She surprised me when she pointed out I hadn't included comfort in the list. It never occurred to me to read for comfort. I still don't think I find reading a hard copy comforting in the same way. When a tangential thought arises, I will put the book down and explore the idea. With the audible version of the book, it moves on before I can indulge in my own responses. It doesn't stop and allow my thoughts to dominate. It's lovely.

A friend said she prefers reading the hard copy of a book rather than listening to it because she gets distracted. I get distracted either way. With the print version, I put the book down and indulge my thoughts. With the audible version, the words continue without regard for my thoughts, and I reengage, abandoning my internal monologue. Do I miss something? Yes. If it's fiction, I can usually infer whatever content was missed. If it's something important, it's repeated.

When I was in my twenties, a friend once said, "Do you ever read a book for its own sake?" What does that mean? How do you ever read a book for its own sake? Why would you read it if you weren't getting something from it? I don't understand who benefits from my reading a book other than me, unless the author is someone I know who wants me to read it. But I'm not reading it for the book's sake; I'm reading it for the author's sake. While I appreciate that authors want people to read what they've written, I still can't imagine reading books to make authors who know nothing about my existence care if I read them. Reading a book for its own sake is still an alien concept. I listen to books now because they give me pleasure, comfort, and knowledge.

My way of relating to people is different. I have less interest. I'm happy to retreat into the novel. This is the first time in my life that I have deliberately used books that way. Not that I haven't occasionally been captured by a book and hated to put it down. And once, I used a book on tape to get me through a period of intense sadness when it became clear that a significant relationship was not what I thought it was.

Friday, November 29, 2024

Today was my friend Carol’s birthday. I spoke to her a week ago. We usually don’t talk that frequently, but today was special. I said, “Are you ready?” She paused a minute, confused, and then laughed. Was she prepared for my Happy Birthday song?

Mike couldn’t sing to save his life. We created a happy birthday song that accommodated his limitations. It’s different each time we sing it. Some beg me not to sing it to them; some call me for the pleasure of hearing whatever rendition I create for them should I forget to call them. When Mike was alive, he did his version, and I did mine- simultaneously. It’s just me alone now, but I want to maintain the tradition. I also love doing it.

Carol and I chatted for a while. She and her husband, John, were going out for dinner to a new restaurant recommended by a friend. The following night, they were going to a potluck dinner with friends Carol made through an exercise class, which developed into a hiking group, which evolved into a friendship group, including activities like dinners with husbands and attending entertainment events like plays and concerts. It sounds great.

I contacted Eli, a gardener, to tell him Margo delivered the forty-two plants. When could he come to plant them? He said Friday. When he didn’t show, I asked for another date. Saturday. In anticipation of his coming, I needed to unwind the drip hose. I asked Yvette for help. We unspooled something like 300 feet of hose. When Yvette and I finished the hose task, I went back to trimming the plumbago from my neighbor’s fence, creating a path to get in there easily in the future. I did most of the work by hand. The branches were too thick for the hedge trimmer.

Trimming the hedge was time-consuming but not dangerous, except for one incident. I stepped on a short branch that went right through the sole of my Oofos. At first, I thought it went into my foot. Would I need a tetanus shot? When I checked it, I found no broken skin. I put on Makes No Claims (Intrasound gel) on it. I didn’t even have a bruise.

I worked with the twins. Twin A is mentally lazy. For that matter, many of the students I work with are. If the answer doesn’t come to mind automatically, their response is, “ I don’t know.” They make no effort to figure it out. Today, I forced her to figure out what the last sound in Africa was, the schwa. I told her the session would end when she gave me the sound. She figured it out.

I worked on phonemic analysis with Twin A, but I haven’t been doing that with Twin E. She’s working on a third-grade level, while Twin A is working on a fifth-grade level with a lot of support. I chose the more advanced level for her because her automatic recall of one—and two-syllable words is pretty good. She reads those with fluency.

I developed the phonemic awareness approach to teach phonics, but even I will resort to traditional approaches to teaching reading. I recently increased my use of my method. I found it surprisingly effective. Students improve rapidly, even the slowest students. Duh!

A few weeks ago, I organized my updates by the year. I created Blog Book 2019 and 2020. I was inspired to do so because of what happened to one of my blog sites. Somehow, I wound up with two. One is called “Mike’s Death; Betty’s Life,” and the other, “With Mike; Without Mike.” The latter was the one I maintained. I didn’t even know about the other’s existence until I came upon it by accident. I usually accessed the blog site through Chrome. One day, I accessed it through Safari. What do you know! They were two different blog sites.

The one through Safari had all the early entries starting in January 2019, when Mike collapsed and was flown to Oahu to spend the next five weeks in and out of the ICU until he died. The one I had been maintaining was Chrome. It had 104, 640 hits. It would get 100 hits a day. I think English language teachers discovered it and assigned it to their students. Then, one day, everyone disappeared, and it had zero hits, day after day. I have no idea what happened. I assume it was a technical glitch.

Meanwhile, the blog site on Safari that I hadn’t maintained kept getting hits. It had over 60,000 without any new input from me. I started adding to that site. Since the last entry was in 2020, I had a lot of catching up to do.

Judy recommended that I publish the journal entries on Amazon, a book for each year. With that thought in mind, I organized the entries by the year, saved them, and did nothing for a while. Then, when I went to look for them on the computer, entering Blog Book 2019 in the search bar and got nothing. That was alarming. The other day, I entered 2019. Bingo! Up it came. Phew! On the other hand, I can’t imagine that I will go so far as to publish the journal entries through Amazon., but I abandoned the Chrome site and started updating the one on Safari.

Darby walked with Elsa and me tonight as she does many nights. We marveled at the beauty of the night sky. We often feel awe living here. The views of the ocean and the mountain against the sky are ever-changing. Mike and I would sometimes applaud the view of the setting sun over the ocean. The cloud formations and the sunlight make the difference between one night, one minute, and the next.

I recall a Princeton professor saying how his wife wanted to buy a house on the lake. He objected, arguing it wouldn’t be worth the money. She had her way. He changed his mind, saying the view was different every day. Nature is truly a marvel.

Friday, November 29, 2024

A few weeks ago, I organized my updates by the year. I created Blog Book 2019 and 2020. I was inspired to do so because of what happened to one of my blog sites. Somehow, I wound up with two. One is called “Mike’s Death; Betty’s Life,” and the other, “With Mike; Without Mike.” The latter was the one I maintained. I didn’t even know about the other’s existence until I came upon it by accident. I usually accessed the blog site through Chrome. One day, I accessed it through SaJfari. What do you know! They were two different blog sites.

Thursday, November 28, 2024

I went to bed after 10 last night and slept straight through to 4 a.m. I probably got up at least once to pee, but it didn't disturb my sleep. Ah. That felt great. I was peaceful even when I woke up. I attribute it to a renewal of Mike's presence.

Two days ago, I got a mailing from St. Michael's church on Stewardship renewal, a list of ways we can contribute to the church: time, talent, or treasure. I carefully read the pamphlet, listing all the things we could do. I was looking for information on tutoring at the community center at Ulu Wini. There was none. It isn't a well-developed ministry. It doesn't have a leader. If I want it advertised, I'll have to do it.

As I held the pamphlet in my hands, I felt a surge of calming energy, like Mike was here with me, comforting me. Every time I held the pamphlet, I felt it again. I put it under my pillow to feel Mike's presence at night.

Last night, Joseph's car was still out when I went to bed. When I got up this morning, it still wasn't in the driveway. He had never been out all night before. I texted him, asking him to assure me he was okay. I wasn't in a panic, just concerned. I didn't feel I had to go into his room to check on him or call the police to have them do it.

I saw the light go on in his bathroom. He was home. Ah! Then, it dawned on me that he had parked on the street because my car wasn't in the driveway. I hadn't told him my car was doing an overnight at the garage. He didn't want to block my access to my parking spot. I must have seen his car parked on the street but didn't register it.

My first chore for the day was to water the forty-two Eldorado shrubs Margo and her husband had delivered yesterday. These will go into that space that was backhoed and covered in several feet of mulch about a year ago. I had to wait so the heat built up by the rotting mulch killed the remaining roots of ficus trees that had been growing, threatening a root wall and cement driveway with their aggressive root system.

I came back in the house to grab some breakfast before going out to continue trimming the plumbago. I caught Joseph heading for the door for the nine a.m. Thanksgiving mass. I was planning to go. I planned to ask Judy and Paulette for a ride, but I forgot. I asked Joseph if he could wait a minute while I got dressed. I was done in minutes. On the way there, he told me he would stay late to say the rosary with the Young Adult Group. I told him. No worries, I would go home with Judy and Paulette. They hadn't gone to mass, as many families hadn't. they were home preparing for the feast.

The Hula Ministry performed the dance I started to learn. They looked fantastic. They were in unison, down to the finest details of the hand motions. Knowing more about the dance, I was more appreciative of what they did. It must have been a dance many had done before because several dancers there had not been to a single practice session I attended.

If I waited, I could go home with Joseph. I wanted to get home earlier so I could work on the plumbagos before it got too hot. Sandor was the deacon of the mass. I would ask him. Palisades was on his way home, with a slight detour. He was happy to drive me. unfortunately, he spoke about how much he owed Mike and me for all we had done for him. I have a strong preference for joyful giving rather than obligation.

Judy had aimed for everyone to arrive at 3:30. The only nonfamily members were me and

Joseph. The other six adults were involved with food preparation. Judy called at 3:30 to say it would be more like 4:15. She was told to wait until she called. Around 4:30, she gave the go-ahead.

Joseph drove us to Judy's, four driveways from our own and up a steep hill. The delay was caused by problems with the turkey. They planned to smoke it, but the smoker didn't work, so they had to go the oven route. The food was delicious: turkey, mashed potatoes, baked sweet potatoes, not yams, asparagus, scalloped corn, and Adam's incredible cranberry sauce. Judy made apple pie with an old-fashioned Crisco crust and pumpkin squares for dessert.

The food was delicious, all the more so because I live on a diet of frozen meals.

After my mother came home from the hospital after her stroke, I was responsible for her meals. I don't cook. I tried frozen meals. In 2000, they were nothing like they are these days. My mother complained bitterly. "This is not food!"

Mike came to the rescue. He planned to spend the semester in a dorm in DC, writing his Ph.D. thesis. Because of my mom's situation, he abandoned that plan, came home, and worked on it there. He outdid himself cooking for my mom. He felt it was her one form of stimulation. I benefitted from his efforts.

I have been binging on Audible. I get one credit a month to purchase a book and unlimited access to their free plus catalog. I take full advantage of the latter. I have discovered some delightful books. I've never been much of a reader. I'm easily distracted by my own thoughts. I love generating theories, as anyone who reads these updates knows well. As a result, I have never seen reading as a source of comfort or escape. People who read a lot tend to be more introverted. I can think of an exception, my friend E.J., who loved to read and was as social as I am. Now, with unlimited access to these audiobooks, I find I can use fiction as an escape and a source of comfort. I know it's good because I can silence my ruminating mind, but I'm concerned about being less invested in others. Who needs them when I have a fantasy world to live in?

Some books are well constructed. Some are not. I just finished The Secrets We Left Behind. The language is good, and there are delightful moments, but the plot line is frustrating. The author ignored the 'rule of three.' The main character must have expressed concern about revealing her secret at least half a dozen times, if not more. It made the book downright unpleasant. Suspension is fun, however, dragged out, it becomes frustration.

Tuesday, September 15, 2026

Friday, December 6, 2024

Thursday, December 5, 2024

Wednesday, December 4, 2024

Tuesday, December 3, 2024

Monday, December 2, 2024

Sunday, December 1, 2024

Saturday, November 30, 2024

Friday, November 29, 2024

Thursday, November 28, 2024

Sunday, March 30, 2025

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