Monday, May 27, 2019

    When I went for my morning walk, I still turned right out of the driveway rather than left, not being sure that Brian and Amanda were back from Maui.  I saw this amazing rainbow.   

    We get a lot of rainbows here in Hawaii. Until recently, it was the icon on the license plates.  I had no idea why it was there until the volcano at Kilauea finally stopped spouting its fumes and putting an end to the vog, which obscured the rainbows on the Big Island.  I have seen double and even triple rainbows. When I was on Oahu, I saw rainbows low in the sky, an overlay over the mountain actually coloring it. I didn’t even know that was possible.  But this rainbow was still something I had never seen before. It was 1/3 of a rainbow, rising up out of the water, slicing up through a cloud, - and just ending.  

    When I got home from my walk, I did my morning routine and left for Bikram. I started pressing on the outside edge of my feet in bending postures.  Doing so activates different muscles. I also worked on stretching my pec muscles to open my shoulders. 

    Shivani and I discussed differences in parenting ideas from when I was a child to now.  It was assumed that children could recover from anything.  Shivani’s grandmother, Mike’s mother, once said she couldn’t bear it if anyone spoke to her how she talked to them and thought nothing about changing.  Maybe it was a generational thing. She thought this was just who she was, and changing in any way was not a possibility. However, Christianity and Buddhism both hold the concept of behavioral changes in their theology. The idea is not new. 

    Shivani spoke about how millennials change constantly.  But they don’t change for the sake of becoming better or more moral people. They are looking only for personal satisfaction and want it instantly. They assume that the world should do everything their way. Really? They leave one unsatisfactory situation for another, expecting that they will find the promised environment where they will be appreciated for whatever they do. Apparently, this generation received praise for being toilet trained by the time they were 10.  Not much else was expected.  All criticism was removed from the curriculum.  Everything was good. I can see emphasizing what is right in someone’s work. If someone spells was as wes, you could say you got the first and the last letters correctly, but not telling someone it was perfect the way it was to start out with.  It wasn’t. 

    While we talked, Shivani did water painting.  It’s fun watching her develop the picture. She does it for relaxation.  I commented that I hadn’t known about this hobby of hers. She said she’s not that good; there was no point in telling anyone.  But for me, it was the new knowledge about her and how she spent her time.  The image of her peacefully painting will stay with for a long, long time.

    Shivani helped me sort through the Christmas stuff in the closet in my study.  Mike loved decorating for Christmas.  I liked helping him take everything down, but found putting the decorations up depressing.  I have no idea why.  He had recently bought two large garlands to hang over the bay window.  They took up a lot of space in the closet.  They had to go. Shivani carried them out to the car. I kept everything I had seen for more than one year. There were things in there I had never seen.  There was a revolving clear plastic winter display which played music from The Nutcracker, and a Styrofoam snowman, neither I had ever seen before.

    I did some work on the blog, and then we all did some gardening on the back lanai. It winds up the Shivani loves gardening. Well, do I ever have a garden for her to run free in. Shivani picking up fallen palm fronds, Sidney went in and out of the sliding bedroom door, and I continued working on trimming the Bougainville. 

    After I did that dirty work, I showered and did MELT for my feet and my hands. I am skipping the Tiger Tail. My hands feel so much better for doing MELT every day. This is truly a fantastic process for repairing damage from repetitive actions.

      Next, we went to Home Depot to pick up two new pretty pots and soil for Shivani to repot the two plants Mike bought the Christmas before he died. Before we unloaded, we went next door to take up Ronen on his offer of a tour of his outdoor plantings and hothouses on his commercial farm. This neighborhood is zoned for agriculture. Before he and his wife moved in, that property was a total mess.  Now, everything is in neat rows of beautiful growing things in different colors.  Shivani asked him if there were many farms like his on the island. The answer was no. Most farms are mono-crops, planting only coffee or only mac nuts.  His farm has a great variety of eatable plants.  He gave us some marigold leaves to taste.  Apparently, the farm is a lot of work.   

    Besides the eatable plants, they have two goats and about a dozen chickens. They have the goats because a friend found an abandoned baby goat and knew that Ronen’s wife would take it in. Elizabeth is a sucker for animals in need.  They bought a second one to keep the first company.  They can’t release them into the wild because these animals think they are dogs and wouldn’t be prepared to run like hell when approached by a hunting dog. 

    When we got back to the house. I unpacked the trunk of garden stuff, did some work on the blog, and took a nap.

     We went to the Otech beach when I got up.  It has a lagoon area that is knee-deep at its furthest point. Good for kids.  Sidney had no interest.   We walked over to the other beach area for Shivani to swim in while I watched Sidney.  Now how do I describe this? Potentially dangerous is a good start.  It’s a deep crevice between high lava rocks walls, but the water isn’t very deep.  I’d say at the highest side is about five feet above the water.  The pool itself never gets very deep.  

    The waves come to shore and rush down the sluice.  This means the water rushes in and pushes you toward shore and then rushes out, pulling you toward the ocean.  Mike and I loved swimming there.  We kept saying it was like a mountain stream to discover that freshwater did feed that particular sluice from the mountainside.  The water was colder and crisper, as only freshwater can be.  I haven’t been able to swim there for a while because of my buoyancy problem.  I have no control over my body as the water rushes in and out.  I feel like a piece of flotsam.  Maybe if I wore weights, I could manage it.  Ah, I forgot to mention you have to climb over lava to get into the pool, and then it is filled with large rocks you have to navigate around. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but it is just wonderful. 

    To boot, the lava pool is right under the takeoff flight path.  This makes it even better, not worse.  I know when we took off, we would note when we were going over the pool. We felt so connected to this island.  We love living in Hawaii; well, Mike did, and I still do. 

    When we came home, we finished off some leftovers. Then I watched TV and cataloged books. 

    I walked Elsa before going to bed, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and went to bed. Good night, Elsa, Goodnight, Mike.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Musings:  I’m putting this separately so those who are not interested can choose not to read it.

    Another thought confirmation by Yvette’s recommendation, “happiness is an inside job.”

    “The survivors of a  broken relationship – even when the break is ‘for the best’- are surprised to find themselves in a world that is suddenly different, and the mind needs to learn to  make its way in it.” 

    This is how I feel.  I am adjusting to a new and unfamiliar environment, much as I had to adapt to a new and different situation when we moved here 5 years ago.   There is always an attachment to the familiar and an adjustment when we lose it, no matter how minor or major. 

    I have mentioned before that I have been preparing for a time when I would have to live without Mike since I met him. It wasn’t that I distrusted him. Quite to the contrary, I trusted him completely. Besides his clear and obvious love for me, he is a man who acknowledged commitments.   But, as we well know, there’s life- and death.  It was death that took my father from me, my mom and sister. He was also a man who would only break his commitment to his family through death itself, unless very desperate.  That loss set me up to anticipate the possibility of the death of those I love. If Mike was late, I would don my widow’s weeds.  It was a running joke that I was always planning his funeral.  He would say, “She’s planning to bury me again.” He said it in the hospital.  He had promised me that we would die at the same time in our 90s. “Liar, liar, pants on fire.”  I never took his promise seriously, and always anticipated that I would have to live out my life without him. I have been grieving for 45 years.  I have more than done an appropriate amount of grieving.  

Sunday, Mary 26, 2019

    I woke up at 6 but only got up when I absolutely had to. I told Judy and Paulette that I was passing on church because I was too tired to consider doing both the church and fulfilling my commitment to usher at the Kona Choral Society concert. 

    When I walked Elsa, I turned left coming out of the driveway instead of my usual right turn. The other day, when we passed the house where Brian and Amanda live, their four BIG dogs came charging down from the house right at poor Elsa.  I stood in the street, screaming for help because I wasn't sure of their intent.  It was clear that Elsa wasn't either.  One of the dogs licked her privates, and she peed herself. How do I know? Because I managed to pick her up around that time and my leg got wet.  These dogs had met Elsa before and were just glad to see her again. Apparently, they don't bother dogs they didn't know because someone else walked their dog past that house, and the dogs didn't make an appearance.  More upsetting than the dogs running loose was the lack of response to my cries of help.  I wouldn't have expected that in this neighborhood.  Of course, it was early in the morning still.  Many folks may not have been up, or they just didn't hear.  This is not Queens; it is Hawaii known for its aloha, concern for others.

    These four BIG dogs are usually safely behind a fence on the property. Their owners, Brian and Amanda, went on a short holiday to Maui.  The dogs, who are generally well behaved, broke out of the fence with little effort.  Adam, their landlord, tried to fix the fence, but they broke it again.  He tried to confine them to the house; they broke out of that, too. 

    When I got home, Shivani made some eggs for me, so I didn't have my usual breakfast: miso soup and my Juice Plus smoothie. After breakfast, two-year-old Sidney and I went down to the bottom of the property to pick limes. It took a short while to get through to him that he was supposed to pick up the yellow balls (yes, ripe limes are yellow) and throw them in the bucket. We picked 32 off the ground and a few that dropped down while we were picking up the others. On the way back up to the house, Sidney decided he wanted a lift. I'm in pretty good shape, but carrying a heavy bucket and Sidney at the same time up a very steep hill was beyond me. 

    Josh was standing in the driveway. I asked him if he could carry Sidney. He came down and said he would take the bucket. I was prepared to pick up Sidney, but he put his hand on the handle and helped Josh with the carrying chore. I wish I had my phone with me to take that picture. 

    On the way up, I spoke to Josh about my plans to usher at a choral concert that afternoon.  I mentioned the name of the hotel, the Sheraton. He then told me that there were several Sheraton Hotels in the area.  Good thing, I had the wrong one in mind. Mike and I had gone to one up north, and I thought it was in the same location. I checked my email from Judy Chaput, who organized the ushers, and sure enough, it was not the same one we had gone to.  It was half an hour in the other direction. Phew! 

    Josh walked the bucket into the house and then placed it in the kitchen sink for cleaning.  I filled the pail with water so I can make sure to kill off all the animals I bring into the house with the limes. Josh stayed and talked with us for a while without sitting down, standing in the opening between the kitchen and the lanai watching Sidney and enjoying him.

    We had some drama. Shivani thought her sick feeling was because she was having a reprieve of strep throat that she had before. She had called her doctor in California; he was going to call back.  Because she didn't have her phone, she had given the doctor my house phone number.  When the phone rang, the receiver she had picked up didn't work. She grabbed another one. That didn't work either.  I ran to the bedroom to pick up the third receiver. I got there in time to hear him say that he would try the other number he had, but that was Shivani's phone, which she had left in the Lyft car on her way to the airport in California.  Fortunately, the doctor must have heard me at the last minute and called back on the house phone.

    I was so tired. I went to bed to nap.  I got up from my nap, showered, no time for MELT, and dressed.  I took some of my breakfast soup with me to the concert.  Paulette drove; I was so tired.  We walked to the ballroom, which was not too far from the parking lot. Judy Chaput gave us name magnetic name tags. I was assigned to give out programs, and block the door I was at once the concert started, so it wouldn't distract the singers.  We had to direct folks who had to go to the bathroom to go to the far door.

    I brought something to read with me, expecting to have time before the concert started. The chorus rehearsed for the hour before the performance.  Now that was interesting. I heard the director giving final directions and making corrections. Then I got to listen to the whole concert.  I think I enjoyed it more for the preview.  I have never been someone who enjoyed music for itself in my youth.  If I couldn't choreograph it while I was listening, I couldn't enjoy it.  Music for just music's sake, except as background sound, this is new for me.  

    This young couple was sitting at the back of the auditorium right in front of me. They had a two-month-old baby with them. While the mother went to the bathroom, the dad held the baby and walked up and down. The fear in his eyes was memorable. The baby was fine, but the couple left early. This was obviously their first.  Nervous!

    Paulette and I didn't take the highway back home, we drove along Ali'i Street along the shoreline. I knew we were going to pass Huggo's, which serves this delicious poke tower.  Shivani had proposed going out her first or second night here. That's where we were going to go, but it got too late, and we winged it at home. I tried to call Shivani to see if this would be good with her, but there was no answer on the house phone despite me yelling out, "Shivani, answer the phone." Before we reached Huggo's, Yvette texted me to tell me she was out. I stopped off to order two poke towers to go. How bad could it be? When I got home, Shivani had just arrived herself.  She had found out about a keiki's, children's, beach, and went there.  On her way home, she had picked up Thai food.  After I walked Elsa, we attacked the poke because it was fresh, and the Thai food would hold.

    After dinner, I retired to the library to watch some TV and catalog books. I walked Elsa before going to bed, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and went to bed. Good night, Elsa, Goodnight, Mike.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Musings:  I’m putting this separately so those who are not interested can choose not to read it.

    Yvette recommended  the book, "happiness is an inside job." I was familiar with most of the concepts and didn't find the writing a particular delight but read on.   There might always be a nugget tucked away in the book that triggers a new thought or realization or confirmation.

    Almost at the end of the book, I found a confirmation of some of my thinking.

    "Any challenge, even a small one, is a potential cause of confusion." 

    This is the language I use; I call our response to any new or unexpected situation' confusion.' That means all learning situations cause some confusion. Now, this confusion can be described neurologically. It means our wheels start grinding when it a  small challenge to our current thinking about ourselves or the world around us. (The exact neurological description is probably something closer to blood starts flowing to areas of our brain that might hold some related information on the topic at hand.)  If it is a big challenge, we talk about a flood of information, making our heads spin.  There is no upbeat term, that I know of, for the initial confusion effect of something new. 

    People who are good learners, love this feeling; some stimulation set the gears into motion.  They think it is fun. I'm that way in certain circumstances and not in others.  I think we all have areas where 'confusion' is comfortable for us and where it is not.  I think we can measure a person's expertise in a field by the degree of confusion they can tolerate.  The better they are at a skill, whether that skill is cooking, language learning, or personal transformation, the more confusion they can tolerate.  The skilled learner sees the state of unknowing as an opportunity to learn something new. It's exciting. They trust their ability to come out the other end in better shape than they entered the state of confusion.

    Many years ago, at the end of a 10-day silent meditation retreat, I found myself conversing with two other women who were psychologists.  One woman said, "Don't you just hate it when your client doesn't take your suggestion." The other woman and I simultaneously said, "No, it's an opportunity to develop something new." 

    I work with children who have trouble learning.  They dread confusion, the very thing they need to tolerate to learn successfully.  I approach this problem directly.  I ask them how they feel about confusion or uncertainty in learning. Now, there can be many reasons to want to avoid this experience.  For some, it is that they didn't learn quite as quickly as their classmates. For others, their minds are overwhelmed with confusion before they even came to school because of their life circumstances.  Survival comes first; school learning comes second. With some, I can help them to realize that they are physically surviving in their chaotic home lives and will survive until they get out on their own. However, for some children, this is not a given. They have parents who regularly physically attack them or live in neighborhoods where they have seen their peers randomly killed.  Preoccupations like that keep the mind whirling around, making learning simple things impossible.    

Saturday: May 25, 2019

    I got up as usual at 7 am on Saturday when  Bikram starts at 8:30am. On the way home, I stopped at Costco for salad and another case of almond milk. When I arrived, I did my oil rinse and continued working on the pan Shivani burnt frying the steak. I consider a cleaning project like this fun.  I got a good deal of the burnt marks off just by scrubbing.  But then I pulled out the big guns.  I made a paste out of baking soda and vinegar and applied it to the burnt spots. 

It worked like a charm. I have a bright and shining frying pan again.  I learned the trick with the paste on the Internet for cleaning stovetops. I couldn't believe how well it worked! I can get my stovetop looking like new.  After I do what I have to with the paste, I wash down with Dawn and then spray rubbing alcohol and polish it.  Now, it stays pristine, no Mike to make a mess by using it.  And I certainly don't.

    I did nothing but slept most of the day. Shivani and I talked about losing our husbands to death.  She was in her late thirties when her husband died.  They had been together for seven years and got married so they could buy a house together. The boxes weren't all unpacked before Dave was diagnosed with glia cell carcinoma. I'm thinking her loss is harder to deal with than mine.  There are models in our culture for 78 widows galore. Thank God, it isn't like it was when I was young in the 1950s.  A woman my age without a husband lost her whole social circle.  She was a fifth-wheel, a danger to the stability of the group. The world is open to me. I don't have to don widow weeds and settle to await my own death.  There are no role models in the culture for a 38-year-old widow. Not to say there aren't other 38-year-old widows, just no archetypes available.

    While there was more to come in our lives, more to look forward to, for Shivani and Dave, it was a vast canvas before them that they had every right to think they would someday fill. While I think of changes I will make in myself that would have made me even more available to Mike, I also know that we were both works in progress, and we had already made a lot of changes for each other. However, there was so much more to imagine for Shivani and Dave. Theirs seems the more difficult transition to me.

    Shivani said that she attended a grief group.  There were people of all ages there.  She said each story of grief was different, and yet they were also all the same. There was a 90-year-old holocaust survivor who lost both her children in their 40s and finally her husband.

    I did manage to complete one blog and send it out. Elsa and  I did our walk. Dinner was my usual large salad and limeade, a leftover piece of steak, and the noodles with broccoli alfredo light that Shivani had made. I cataloged more books.

    I walked Elsa before going to bed, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and went to bed. Good night, Elsa, Goodnight, Mike.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Thoughts: A new category.  I used share my thoughts with Mike, whether he wanted to hear them or not.  He was good at not paying attention when it was too much. Seemed like a good compromise to me.

    When I read some of Mike's book the other day, he was talking about emptying our egos to allow Christ into our lives. Ego and emptying it.  Boy, what does that mean? Sounds scary. Totally empty my ego.  What is ego to start out with? It has a bad name.  When the word ego is used to describe someone, it usually involves a critical comment.  

    Okay, let's start with what an ego is.  I checked my favorite source of information, wiki.  Oh, well. It's a start and a good one. It offers an overview. There are varying definitions/concepts of the ego. Naturally. Wiki gives me one sentence definitions of each of these. I'm in the habit of writing about things based on my own observations and own conclusions. This is how my father trained me to think. This drove Mike nuts. When I met him, he was an academic; he felt that no one should talk about something unless they were an expert.  That included his 13-year-old son. I felt and feel that the novice has some interesting points of view that the expert never considers. They can see something from a fresh angle. Can you see why we would have a problem?  I don't see anything wrong about free-thinking, in the sense of following a line of thought freely to explore an idea without first having gotten a Ph.D. in the subject. (Mike had 2 (two) ). He had to push me into getting my Masters. Degrees don't have a lot of meaning for me. They do not equal knowledge, no less wisdom.

    But I am doing some light research before I shoot off my mouth. This is good because I'm learning things I didn't know, like discovering some people somewhat agree with me, even if they are a small splinter group.

    Ego: (Freudian), one of the three constructs in Sigmund Freud's structural model of the psyche.

"Egoism: an ethical theory that treats self-interest as the foundation of morality.

    Egotism: the drive to maintain and enhance favorable views of oneself.

    Egocentrism: the ability to differentiate between self and others.

    Self-concept: a collection of beliefs about oneself that embodies the answer to "Who am I?" https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ego (My nod to research.)

    Now the closest to my theory is Egoism as a self-concept. When I followed up and checked the full entry and looked at the expanded definitions and those philosophers who share this point of view, YIKES! Their thinking also does not conform to my theory. Yes, self-interest, but recognizing that the welfare of others is essential to one's well-being.  That doesn't seem to be included. The relationship between self-interest and the well-being of others is touched on by evolutionary Egoism, but not really.  It appears that the possibility of being concerned about self and others at the same time isn't seriously considered. Now, let us remember, my research is about shallow as it is possible to be short of doing no research. 

    My theory involves that everyone's well-being is dependent on everyone else's well-being.  That means I must be as concerned about myself as I am about others.  My welfare is dependent on their well-being, and their welfare is dependent on mine.  Real well-being is limited to the extent that we care for both ourselves and each other. My concern for others is anchored in my concern for myself, and my concern for myself is rooted in my concern for others. There is no one without the other.  Focusing solely on one or the other places severe limitations on what is possible for all, for others, and for oneself.    

Friday, May 24, 2019

    My leg bothered me this morning as I was lying in bed with nerve pain running down its length. I did a  lot of massage with my tennis ball in the hour before the alarm went off.  When I finally got up to walk the Elsa dog, I could feel discomfort in the hip joint. Now, my appointment for hip surgery is currently in September when I am planning to do a tour of the west coast relatives: Seattle (Karin, David, and baby Sam), San Francisco (Shivani and Sidney), and LA (Damon, Cylin, and August). When the nurse calls me to change the date, I'm thinking I'd better change my ever-changing appointment for October instead of three months out. We'll see.

    I followed my usual routine, plus one kettle for the weeds, and made my Juice Plus smoothie for two days. I set out extra almond milk and Juice Plus powder to be sure that there was some in easy reach for Shivani. When she woke up, she complained of a sore throat and asked if I had any Vitamin C.  I had nothing in the house, so I called Yvette and Josh. Yvette came up like a shot with elixirs in hand.  I took care of Sidney to let her sleep longer.  I handed him back over to his mom when I left for Bikram. I didn't find out if Yvette's remedies had an effect until I came back home.

    When I checked my email this morning, I saw Mike Berstene got back to me on the 

Paulist Press's response to his submission of Mike's book. The publishing house accepted the manuscript for review.  This doesn't mean that they will publish it, but it's a start. Yeah!  He also called Orbis press but hadn't heard back yet. We'll see. I'm still prepared to self-publish through Amazon if necessary.

    It was JJ's last class until September. He off to the mainland to teach workshops and classes, compete in yoga contests (yes, there are yoga competitions), and visit family.

    I had a very long savasana at the end of class before I went to rinse off in the 'rinse only' shower. I didn't get on the road until 9:30, usually when I get home from the weekday classes. I went to school to work with a 3rd-grade student who has made a significant jump from nothing to the level considered the transition between 1st and 2nd grade. When I worked with him yesterday, I noticed he had problems holding sounds and blending them. However, I also noticed he had some good decoding skills, while there is still information missing, like the vowel rules. But the bigger problem is that he wants to read like everyone else, without conscious thought and quickly.  He doesn't appreciate that the learning phase of anything requires that someone move more slowly and consciously.  The only book available was a third-grade book she was using with the whole class because the teacher had already packed up the books in anticipation of summer vacation.  He complained that it was such a hard book. He was able to do a pretty good job, better than expected when I pushed him to slow down and use the skills he had. He's just very immature.  

    I headed home, thinking I would have to take care of Sidney for Shivani because she was not feeling well.  I planned to modify some cleaning chores to make them play for a two-year-old.  I have tons to do. This will be fun for me, too. I do silly and messy pretty well myself.

    I have been talking to Mike more, mostly as I drive. I can feel him there with me, worrying about my safety and my wellbeing in general. I have lost such sweetness from my life.  For others, Mike was a great intellect and a great administrator, a fantastic teacher, a counselor who touched them deeply.  For me, he was the sweetness in my life.  He was so kind so eager to see me happy, so delighted with what I was, the way I looked, my sense of humor, my decency, my friendliness, my pan-intellectual interests, the way my mind worked, making connections between random things, (as far as he was concerned.), my affectionate nature, my ability to challenge him on domestic issues when I disagreed strongly and my ability to co-create a unique solution to a problem that neither of us could have come up with independent of the other.  So sweet. So sweet. 

    I finished washing the dishes from this morning. Some pans had to soak more before I could get them clean. I sat down and worked on the blog.

    We got packed up to head to the beach. It took a while for us to get organized, but Shivani, Sidney, and I made it there. We went to the harbor beach, the one beach I thought would be appropriate for Sidney that we hadn't visited yesterday.  The harbor beach is where the small boats are harbored. When the large cruise boats come in, they have to anchor away from the shore.  Our shoreline is altogether too rocky and shallow for ships to dock. Although, I understand there is a large boat harbor in Havi, further north. 

    The swimming area used to be a fishing pond that the native Hawaiians set up.  It is a lagoon. It's man-made; they actually put down the rocks to create the lagoon. Judy told me they suspended slats from the rocks so the little fish could swim into the sheltered area, but they couldn't get out as they got bigger. Clever, eh?  Nowadays, it is a national park area, and it is just used for pleasure. The water is shallow all the way out, calm, and warm.  Perfect for us folks who are not interested in taking on the large waves and dangerous shorelines of the other beaches here on the Big Island. 

    As we headed out to the beach from the parking lot, we started to walk out without the stroller.  When Shivani saw how far we would have to walk, she went back to get it. Good move; it's a good ¼ mile walk. What was I thinking?  There was no way Sidney was going to make it on his own that whole way, and our arms were loaded with beach equipment. She was able to push the stroller over the rocks.

    Shivani, Sidney, and I went to this beach to meet up with Judy and Paulette.  Auntie P was her usual winning self with Sidney. This woman has a gift with young children. Adam's kids are so lucky to have her around along with Judy and Howard.  It was Sidney's first time swimming in the ocean. We stayed there until 4:30.  I went in too.  Problem:  because I have no ballast in my bottom anymore, I have trouble getting my feet down below my head even in calm water. My hips literally float up and force my head down.  

    When we got home, Shivani cooked dinner. I was sitting in the living room and heard the stovetop fan go on high, but didn't think too much of it. When I looked up, I saw the kitchen was filled with smoke. She wasn't used to Mike's super-duper stovetop; high means different things on different stovetops. When I became aware of what was going on, I turned on every ceiling fan in the house. The smoke cleared out quickly. Despite the rough start of the steak, it still tasted good, and she made an alfredo light with broccoli that was absolutely delicious. 

    Sidney and Shivani went to bed shortly after dinner. I went to watch tv. I was watching May Day, this bizarre story of the murder of a May Day queen in a small English town.  Too weird.  I went to the last episode to see who done it and went back to watching Silent Witness. The main character has switched jobs, and the tone of the show maybe a little better.  I do like the show, just not the monotony of the leading charter. There are like 17 years' worth of shows.  This should keep me entertained for a while 

    I cataloged another 20 books.  I am over 1500 now, and I think I'm through about half of the total number of books. I walked Elsa before going to bed, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and went to bed. Good night, Elsa, Goodnight, Mike.

Thursday, May 23, 2019

    I followed the usual morning routine for Monday through Friday. One reader asked what I do with the kettle of water; do I boil the weeds in the water?  No, I pour the boiling water over the weeds to kill them with no toxic side effects.
    After Bikram, I had many stops before I got home, so I rinsed off and changed into street clothes. The first stop was at the chiropractor’s.  We are doing much more work on my shoulders, neck, all the area about my armpits. Then off to Target. I picked up bananas and Hersey Milk Chocolate bars with whole almonds. I had to look hard to find some. Then I went off to Midas for my annual car inspection. Here, there are no emissions inspections. I was told that only happens in big cities. Someone assumes that because we’re in the middle of the Pacific, everything dissipates and disappears. Really?  I was freezing in the waiting room.  I stepped outside to see if my car was even in the bay. Before I got around the corner, someone came after me to tell me the car inspection was finished.
    My next stop was at Costco. I picked up a package of salad mix and checked out the electric toaster ovens with convention. Holy Cow!  They usually sell reliable products. Besides, it was 12 dollars off the usual price. I grabbed it.
    I thought of going to school to work with one student who has skills but does not use them effectively to learn. He is an immature boy.  I don’t know how bright he is, but he is definitely not thoughtful.  He wants what’s easiest and most fun at the moment. He does not take long-term consequences into consideration. It’s as if they don’t exist.  He has the skills to improve his learning skills on his own now but won’t use them. Yes, he’s right: good readers just look at the word, and the correct word pops out of their mouths.  However, that’s not how the good reader learned to read.  You can’t imitate the person who has perfected the skill if you want to learn it. That’s a pretty sophisticated idea.  There are adults I’ve met that don’t get that. There are moments in my life when I don’t get it.  What’s with us?
    When I got home, I  cleaned house in anticipation of my niece Shivani and her 2-year-old son, Sidney, arriving. It’s not that she would care if the house was clean or not; it’s my need to use a guest as motivation to clean the house.  Mike and I used to say, “Where’s a guest when you really need one?”  I washed the kitchen floor, did some light vacuuming of the lanai, washed the guest bathroom floor, cleaned the bathroom countertop, and cleaned the guest bathroom toilet.  I used sandpaper to clean the ring. This is a fantastic discovery.  It works like a charm.  I learned about it from Govinda when I stayed at the ashram.  I’m just using some leftover sandpaper, but Judy tells me they sell sandpaper on a stick, so you don’t have to worry about getting your hands dirty.
    Yvette’s been saying that she found termites in the house, and we need another treatment. I called the company I used before. Ken, our contractor, recommended a man who worked for a termite company. He had moved to another company. The guy pointed to my bay window seat and said, “Look at all the termite wings. You have a house full of termites.  You need to have the house tented; spot treatment won’t work here.”  A mere $3600 for tenting.  I do think we need a full treatment.  Termites are a problem here on the island. They’re a problem anywhere it is warm all year round.  They never have a rest, which means your house never gets a rest, and they go forth and multiply, and multiply.  Here’s the problem.  I’m not convinced that the guy didn’t drop those wings on the bay window.  I had just dusted the day before, if not only that morning, and I find that bug stuff shows up in the corners not in the center of a large area as they did here.  Whether or not I’m right, I’m not comfortable with this company.  I will have to call another one even if I’m going to have the house tented.
    When he left, I showered. I was expecting Shivani and Sidney around 3:30. I had just stepped out of the shower when I heard her call from the driveway. I threw a towel around me. She hadn’t texted to tell me she was in because she had left her phone in the Lyft car she took to the airport.  Shivani brought in the suitcase. First things first, she blew bubbles for Sidney. He’s as obsessed with bubbles as Elsa is with balls.
    Before we had dinner,  we went to check out a few beaches that I thought might be suitable for Sidney. We went to Otech and Pines Trees. Otech, so-called because there is a facility down the end of the road where they tried to develop an energy source from the bottom of the ocean the same way you use geothermal energy from deep in the ground.
    At Otech, Shivani, Sidney, Elsa, and I all got out of the car and walked on the beach. No swimming today. The Otech beach is sandy, but once you’re in the water, it’s mostly rock. There is a large lagoon area where the water is about knee high at its deepest.  Then there’s this other area which Mike and I called the Lava Pool.  I don’t know if anyone else calls it that.  It’s sliced into the lava rock; the waves rush in and rush back out again.  It’s not particularly deep either, even at high tide, but it is absolutely delicious. Mike and I always felt that it was like a mountain stream. We found out that freshwater did enter the pool.  Someone showed me exactly where it comes in. It’s very refreshing. However, I can no longer swim there because I am so buoyant that I can’t control my body. The water rushes in; I am pushed to shore. The water rushes out; I’m pulled out to the sea. And, I’m banged against the rocks on the way in and out.  Maybe if I put on weights. The buoyancy problem comes with my age and sex.  All my internal female parts have shrunk, leaving me more a hot air balloon than I was when I was young.
    Our next stop was the Pine Trees Beach.  This is the first time I’ve been there since they built the new road.  I thought the road was going to go directly to the area where the public restrooms are, but no. We still had to drive down this one-lane road along the shore, which is lined with parked cars. The beach offers camping and surfing.  There is this small lagoon area where the kids splash around.
    Shivani wanted to stop off to do some shopping.  Matsuyama’s, our local bodega, came to mind.  There is one up the hill above our house, and I was thinking of going there. As we came out of the Pine Trees road, I saw the branch of this store which his right on the main highway. Duh! Sidney,  Elsa, and I sat in the car while Shivani went in to shop. Sid and I sang The Wheels of the Bus Go Round and Round. I only knew one verse, but that didn’t seem to bother Sidney- or Elsa.
    Once home, I moved my car into Mike’s old spot so Shivani could park her rental car, where I usually park, which is a more convenient spot. I rinsed off everyone’s feet with the garden hose.  Elsa ran into the spray, chasing it. I hung up the towels I washed earlier in the day.  When I went to the bathroom, I noticed the toilet paper in my bathroom unraveled.  Hmm! I wonder who did that. I’ve never had a problem with Elsa. Sidney is so much fun. I finally sat down to do some work on the blog while Shivani cooked dinner and fed Sidney. She is a calm, considerate mother.  
They were tired and retired.
    I went to watch some TV and cataloged books.  I walked Elsa before going to bed, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and went to bed. Good night, Elsa, Goodnight, Mike.

Wednesday, May 22, 2019

    I  got up, walked Elsa, did my oil rinse, washed my dishes, made my Juice Plus smoothies, gave Elsa her morning pill for her skin condition, and food and water. I haven’t mentioned doing these chores regularly because I don’t do them regularly. I do them every day, but only when so moved.  Probably better for Elsa if I do make it part of my regular routine. Then off to Bikram.
    There were 8 in the class. Of the eight, three were introduced to Bikram by Yvette, who was also there. She introduced me to Bikram in 2005.  Mike and I flew to Colorado for her wedding to Josh. As she was driving us to Loveland, CO from Denver, she said you have to try this yoga.  For my first class, I was wearing overall dungaree shorts and a polo shirt.  They suggested I get a different outfit for my next class since most folks were in two-piece bathing suits.  Remember, this is hot yoga, 105o, and humidity. My outfit wasn’t the best. I did one more class in Colorado at a different studio. When I got back to Columbus, I discovered there was a Bikram studio there.  I was hooked. I even took a year off after I was injured. Silly me. I listened to the doctor that rest would be my best bet.  I’ll never do that again.
     I noticed a change in my breathing.  When I paid attention to it, I discovered it was easier to do it the new way.. Sometimes, I discover that I’m doing it already without thinking about it.
    On my way home from yoga, I dropped off the bucket of greens Yvette had loaded in my car for the transfer station.  I pulled into a spot next to the container and was told that I preempted someone who was already waiting.  I had seen the open place and just pulled in. I pulled out, got back into a wait-spot, and carried the bucket to the dumping area. I was able to get it out of the back of the car and drag it across the tarmac.  The man who had yelled at me carried the bucket over and dumped it.
    When I got home and took the garbage out, picking up all the poopy bags from where I had thrown them on the ground.  I ironed a dress and the sheets that had been washed the other day. I boiled one kettle water for weeds.
    I kept checking my email for word from Mike B as to how Paulist Press responded when he told them about Mike’s book. There was still no word from him. I  didn’t know what it meant. Did the Paulist Press say no, and he is trying another publishing house, or he hasn’t gotten around to calling them yet? I’ll just have to wait. After  2 weeks, I’ll call him.
    I downloaded the common core standards for math grades 1-5 to make sure that my tutoring student, who missed a lot of school, will have everything covered.
    I worked on the blog before I walked Elsa.  I ate dinner, watched TV, and cataloged books.
    I walked Elsa before going to bed, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and went to bed. Good night, Elsa, Goodnight, Mike.

Tuesday, May 21, 2019

    I stayed in bed, not ready to jump up and greet the day. When I did get up, I walked Elsa. I started applying what I learned yesterday in Bikram. I think of pushing the back of my heels/ankle’s (to distinguish between pushing just the back of the heels) back as I stand and as I walk.  It makes quite a difference. It engages all the muscles of my legs, my glutes, and my abdominals.  All this from just thinking of pushing the back of my heels or ankle back and watching the ripple effect.  If I let it ripple all the way, it becomes a mini backbend. I can feel it up to my midback. When I got home, I  did my oil rinse, washed the dishes, and drank my two cups of water.  I boiled one kettle of water for the weeds. 

    I called NJ Benefits and Pensions because I haven’t heard from them in a while.  Mike had retirement benefits coming from them.  They already told me that I was entitled to get survivor’s benefits, but that was the last I heard.  The woman told me that I hadn’t filled out some application yet. Really? That doesn’t sound like me.  I’m usually, paper in-paper out.  I asked her to send me another copy. 

    I went to Bikram.  I started the class on my back because the traction felt good. I could feel the whole surface of my back, making contact with the floor when I lay there with my legs bent. This is new; it means my curvature is straightening out a bit. I observed how the opening breathing exercise affected my body while lying on the floor instead of standing up to do it. After completing the first asana, I stood up to do the rest of the class as I regularly do it.

    I went home directly after class.  I was up for doing some gardening.  The yard hasn’t been trimmed since the end of January.  We have gardeners who work on most of the property, B weed whacks the lower ¼ to 1/3 of the property, and I do the open back lanai off our bedroom and bathroom.  I trimmed the bougainvillea that were badly overgrown.  8-foot stalks were coming out of the bush. I worked on that until I had filled the bucket with greens. 

    I also did three kettles worth of boiling water for my weeds in the front of the yard. I tried to pull out a large weed growing in the middle of one of my other plantings. I wasn’t strong enough to get it out. I will have to cut it and treat it with Clorox to kill it. I paint the cut stem with Clorox.  It does the job without spreading too much toxicity around.

    I printed a copy of the math standards for Hawaii for my student. Because she has missed so much school, I want to cover the full curriculum to figure out what she doesn’t know, and I need to cover.  I have already found that she missed the lessons on place value and has trouble with subtraction with regrouping.  She learns what she is taught quickly, but there’s a lot she’s missed. 

    From the stories she tells, I gather her parents are loving people, but not very responsible since they didn’t send her to school regularly. Whatever they did or are, they have one amazing daughter. I don’t know many parents that have a child as put together as this one. She is kind, thoughtful, persevering, bright, diligent, friendly, responsible, unassuming, etc.  I could go on with an even longer list.

    I worked on the blog.  I was so tired, I couldn’t concentrate on what I was doing. I went down for a nap. I set the alarm for 2:45 because I was expecting my tutoring student at 3. I woke up an hour later. Yvette came up and helped me set up the Square so I could send out an invoice to my healing client, so I could be paid.  I doubt I will remember all the steps.  If I use it often enough, I will, but it will take some time. The student’s aunt texted me to says she couldn’t make it today because she couldn’t find a ride for her. I needed the rest anyway.

    I ironed the sheets which Yvette had used for her friend when she visited.  Those sheets are at their end.  I see little holes in the bottom sheet.  I think it’s time to buy a new set.  Mike and I used to have a queen-sized bed, but we switched to a king and then a California King. Mike moved around when he slept, and there were occasions where he’d elbow me in the middle of the night. The man was a klutz.  Even with the California King, I’d be slapped across the face as he adjusted a pillow, and I only used ¼ of the bed.  

    I did more work on the blog. It is a lot of work, but I think it is beneficial to me because it keeps me focused on my daily life, the here and now.  I am planning to take a break for a couple of days and work on Mike’s book and editing the early entries into the blog, those from January when Mike first got so sick.  We’ll see if it works for me. 

    Yvette came up looking for her car key. She was going out for dinner. She took the trash barrel full of the bougainvillea clippings out to my car and put it in the trunk.  I’m planning to drop it off at the transfer station tomorrow.  Once I have an empty container, I can do more work.

    I walked Elsa feeling so tired.  I felt best when I walked with my head hanging, and my eyes focused on the macadam close to my feet.  What is this about?  It seems like every other day I suffer from this tiredness. It was good the student canceled. It also gives me more time to work on organizing the math I want to teach her.

    When I came home, I did some more work on the blog.  I do reread each entry and make modifications if something doesn’t sound right to me.  I enjoy the craft of writing, which is one of the benefits of writing the blog as well as keeping my focus on the immediate;

    I tried to take a short nap before dinner, but I couldn’t fall asleep.  I got up and walked Elsa. When I got home, I ate dinner, watched some TV and cataloged more books.  

    I walked Elsa again, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and went to bed. Good night, Elsa, Goodnight, Mike.

Monday, May 20, 2019

    I woke up before 6am but stayed in bed until the alarm went off.  I walked Elsa, put a  bill in the mailbox, and discovered mail leftover from Saturday that I hadn't picked up.  When I got home, I did my oil rinse, washed the dishes,  made two-days of Juice Plus smoothies, and drank my two cups of water. 

    Today during Bikram. I did something different. I stayed on my back while doing the spine strengthening series, including cobra, half-lotus, full lotus, and bow.  I pressed the back of my heels/ankles into the ground and discovered that it activated my glutes.  It wasn't the asana's objective, but it helped me to experience how my left and right legs are different strengths. It gave me a good idea for an exercise to strengthen my left leg.

    I did a rinse shower at the studio because I had 6 stops to make before I went home.  I started with Target.  I picked up poop bags, Hersey's Milk Chocolate bars with whole almonds for 89cents, and checked the types and prices of toaster ovens. Then I went to Memory Lane to drop off magazines and some clothes and pick up a tax receipt. My next stop was Long's Drugs to make use of the store coupons to buy more lens cleaners wipes and look for a night cream to use.  I haven't been using any moisturizer on my face.  It seems like something I should consider   I stopped off at the bank to cash a check, and Safeway to pick up a multigrain baguette, a package of prepared salad, soup, and a California roll.  Their Hersey's were too expensive.  My last stop was at the vet to pick up food for the Elsa dog. 

    At home, I unload the car.  I put the perishables in frig along with melted Hersey bars.  I washed the Bikram stuff for Yvette, Scott, and me.  Yvette came up to wash the guest room sheets.  I had just started a wash; I told her I would do them. 

    I washed the hallway floor, checked my email to see if Mike B. had gotten back to me yet about Paulist Press's response to publishing Mike's book. I called the chiropractor's office to find out when my appointment was. I was confused about the date. I changed it to the late afternoon, thinking it was the day that Shivani, my niece was leaving, and then had to call back again and changed it back to the original time when I realized it was the day she was arriving.

    My student came for her appointment.  We sat side by side on the sofa, and she read a fantastic amount of the Diary of a Wimpy Kid, evaluated as 5th grade.  I had picked up a few books from the used bookstore to give her. She said the first day she read it, she read only a few pages.  By the third day, she was reading 10 pages at a time. She was very excited. She finally realizes her progress.  She is happy about it, excited about her progress.

    I did some work on the blog after she left, and took Elsa for her before dinner walk. 

When we got home, I worked on Mike's book. I compare the hard copy with the electronic one Mike B sent me.  I reread the introduction and most of chapter 1. The introduction made sense to me. I had more trouble with chapter 1. I found it had too much information and was repetitive. I hope all these details will have meaning for someone more familiar with the subject. The basic idea is that being a deacon is more than a function or ritual; a deacon has to be representative of Christ. I think the purpose of Mike's book is to explain what that means.   

    Dinner was a large salad, as usual, 3 small pieces of the multigrain baguette buttered, and half a container of beans soup with my limeade.  I watched TV watching the end of No Offense. 

    I walked Elsa before going to bed, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and went to bed. Good night, Elsa, Goodnight, Mike.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Musings:

   The concept of self and the concept of self- sacrifice for others is indeed tricky. Some invest in caring 'more about others than self.' I think what makes it tricky is acknowledging our own capacity for doing harm to others.  We like to believe that if we mean well, we do well. Hmmm! Maybe not so much.  We have to deal with the reality that we do harm even if we don't mean harm. Not to mention the nonconscious intents that sneak in and affect our behavior.

     Some prefer to think that man's natural state, or at least their natural state, is compassion and love. While I believe that any human being is happier, in the sense of more peaceful, if they love and are loved, I think our nature is neutral and can go either way and does on a fairly regular basis.  I have heard that Oxytocin is emitted when we feel a strong connection or a strong opposition. Fighting with our tribe against the other tribe is just as much as high as feeling deeply and lovingly connected to our tribe. Which is easier to achieve?  Sadly I think it is probably easier to join with others to fight an outside force than to get our joy in bonding with our own. No adrenalin is involved in the latter. It's peaceful, if not downright boring. It just is. No brilliant colors, no loud sounds, no sacrifice of life for our own. One of the things I like about Catholicism,  it reminds us that we are capable of evil, and if not evil at least sin. I think many people think that means we should examine our intent.  But I think we should examine our effect regardless of our conscious intent.  

    But that opens another box.  Sometimes, the best thing we can do for someone is hurt them. If we confront people about their self-destructive behavior, causing them to feel controlled and/or ashamed, is that good or bad?  In the meditation discipline, I am familiar with, the guru tells a story.  He observed his teacher yell at a student.  When the teacher walked away, he laughed because he wasn't really angry; he was just using a display of anger to motivate the student.  Making someone's discomfort may be the best thing for them. I have been badly hurt and found it ultimately beneficial.  Am I going to pursue a relationship with that person? Maybe not so much.

    There are no easy answers.  I heard one rule of thumb, I believe through NLP, which said you should always come up with three possibilities.  I am not going to resolve this in three paragraphs, three chapters, or even three books. We all have to live with uncertainty and have to pray that our actions will have the best outcome possible in each situation.  But, we always have to be aware they may not.    

   

Sunday, May 19, 2019`

    I set the alarm for  8 pm.  I guess I had decided the night before that I would be going to church and not to Bikram.  I walked around the block instead of just up and down our street. I took a brown paper bag with me to pick up garbage. I saw nothing major, not even much minor trash until I came across a broken plastic flower pot.  The brown paper bag went to good use.  Further down the street, I spotted what I thought was a small piece of paper. Fooled. It was dried wild turkey poop.   I washed my hands very well when I got home.

    I am working on changing my breathing. While I revert to my old breathing pattern, extending my abdomen when I don't pay attention, it takes less effort now to restart the new breathing pattern, contracting my abdominal muscles in upon the inhale. I was surprised by how easy it was to restart it when it had taken effort when I first started working on the change.

    I boiled two kettles of water for the weeds, hurried to get showered, do MELT, and use the Tiger Tail to get ready for Paulette's pick up around 9:30.  I heard her honk the horn and then her voice calling.  Oh, well. Usually, I'm out front waiting, so she's not required to pull into the driveway.

    We got to church early as usual. I did a count of the available seats in the church. It's closer to 60, tops, rather than 75, as I said earlier.  Holy Rosary is a small, wooden church.  The person sitting in front of me was speculating when it was built. There are several small churches like this dotted across the island.  At least three of them are decorated by a local Michelangelo, well, close but no cigar. They're still fun to visit.  

    Fr Lio is just in the middle of repainting the Holy Rosary church.  Apparently, it is part of the termite defense. The beasts get sealed in.  Does that actually work? By today, the ceiling was painted a sky blue, and the walls were painted a pinkish white. I heard there is a possibility that they will be asking a local artist to decorate the church. 

    The Mass was short today because there must have been no more than 25 people. I'm getting to know all the parishioners, which makes me feel more connected.  While Paulette was doing her visiting after Mass was over, I worked on reading the words to the traditional songs of the Mass that have been translated into Hawaiian.  I can read them and pronounce them correctly – given the time because Hawaiian is a phonetic language, but the songs go too fast for me to keep up.  I will now use the time when I get to church early to work on saying it slowly, slowly, until I can read it at the required speed for the song.

    Back to the subject of sacrifice as an act of love.  One of my readers wrote to assure me that I did sacrifice for Mike and, therefore, had agape love.  I deeply loved, and still love, Mike, but what I am struggling with here is what act of sacrifice can be defined as agape love.  Was my sitting by his side for the five weeks a true sacrifice, or was my allowing him to die freeing me from having to sit with him but leaving me on my own to reinvent myself a sacrifice? Both? Neither? It is the subject of sacrifice as an act of love that bugs me. I have no question that I loved Mike for Mike's sake and did the best I could for him. 

    If you're wondering why it is an issue for me, my mother always accused me of being selfish because I never thought of her.  My mother was nuts. I thought of her nonstop. When I couldn't think what she thought, know what she knew, and do what she wanted without her telling me, that was evidence of my selfishness. That's what she required.  She was jealous of the attention I gave to any other human being.  If she had been a life partner, her behavior would have been defined as abusive.   She was damaged goods, but she also loved her children passionately. She was able to be happy for us when things work out well, even when she didn't approve of the actions we took. 

    In addition to a somewhat confused and confusing mother, and I had a father that used me for a sounding board for questions like "What is truth? What is beauty? What is love?" So I'm stuck having to deal with these questions.  I don't really mind.  I find it very interesting. 

    I am struggling to find a definition of agape love that is more realistic.  The Christian model is physical death, physical discomfort, "Jesus gave his life," is too limited. I am arguing for a definition of sacrifice of self that involves a change in our concept of ourselves or our expectations -voluntarily.  On the other hand, I have an example in my life of someone who uses shift in self as a way of escaping self, which winds up damaging those near and dear. It isn't change alone. It is the intent behind the change and the voluntary nature of it.

    Does parenthood qualify? Well, in this day and age, most children are born because they are wanted. People can choose not to have children. I can imagine that people feel that they have lost their lives for the sake of their children, but is that voluntary. Let's see.  How would these parents feel if they didn't care for their children? Jesus's sacrifice was voluntary.  He could have gotten out of town before the posse came after him.  He had a choice.  He did this for others.  He didn't have to.  No one would have known the difference.  If you neglect your children, you can be arrested besides having trouble looking yourself in the mirror and seeing a good person looking back at you. Sometimes circumstances eliminate choice. Choices we have already made force our hand; the subsequent decisions involve choosing between two bad options, suffer by doing or suffer by not doing. 

    David Brooks, love this man, has written a book called, "The Second Mountain." The book is on order, but I haven't read it yet. He talks about the quest for a moral life. Can't imagine living otherwise. I'd like to say that living that way runs in my family, but I've seen evidence to the contrary. Who are these people? Now that doesn't mean that some of these folks don't judge me as not living a moral life. They see me a selfish. I suspect it is because I ask for what I want and say what is on my mind, but I don't know for sure.  All I get is snarls and character assassinations.  It doesn't give me much to work with. 

    I think Brooks's first mountain is when someone thinks that their well-being is always in conflict with someone else's. The second mountain is when someone thinks that their well-being is interlinked with everyone else's. The more people and animals and plants that experience well-being the more enhanced my well-being will be.  While my well-being is dependent on your well-being, that definitely does not mean that I don't have to guard my own well-being.  If my focus is only on the well-being of others, then my well-being will suffer.  If mine suffers, so will theirs.  I think the narrow path is the way between what I owe myself and what I owe others. Tricky, tricky. Good luck to one and all.  

    I love this topic. I think it is exciting and essential. It's an issue for all of us. Are we good people or bad people? Do we do good things or bad things?  I have heard that even serial killers will say that they are basically good people who have done bad things. Thinking of ourselves in favorable terms is important.  If I write everything I want to write on this subject for this entry, it'll probably come to several chapters. I'll continue the discussion as it moves me in future entries.     

    I sat down to work on the blog and boiled a kettle of water for my weeds. B got Mike's car and took his grandkids back home to Hilo. Sariah was feeling sick, she had double vision and nausea.   She thought it was food poisoning from the Thai food but neither Yvette nor I got sick. B said that she had eaten a whole container of strawberries on her own. Possibly, she didn't wash them, and they made her sick. 

    I've been noticing that Elsa sits by me at all times. If I'm sitting in my typing chair, a firm armchair, she sits under the coffee table in front of the sofa or spread out on the tile in the nearby hallway.  If I lie down on the sofa, she is on the floor right near me or on top of me. 

    I walked Elsa and came home and did more work on the blog. I had dinner, watched TV and cataloged some books.   I walked Elsa again, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and went to bed. Good night, Elsa, Goodnight, Mike.

Saturday, May 18, 2019

    I hadn’t set the alarm clock since on Saturdays, the Bikram class starts at 8:30 am instead of 7:30 am as it does Monday through Friday.  I woke up at 5:30, went to the bathroom, went back to bed, and work up at 8 am.  I could have made it to the class if I hadn’t had to walk the dog, do my oil rinse,  wash my dishes, and drink my two cups of water in the 15 minutes before I would have to leave.  I decided to pass and just stay at home.

    When I got up, I was still too tired to walk the dog.  This is a low point, but I don’t know what is causing it. It could be physical tiredness or grief.  Either can cause exhaustion. Yesterday, Sandor and I set up the blog site, and I started reading the entries from January when the sickness that eventually killed Mike started.  There was so much hope in the beginning. 

    I had woken up in the middle of the night and thought, “What name did we give the blog?” It was supposed to be “With Mike; without Mike.”  I thought I remembered telling Sandor the name as, “Before Mike; After Mike.”  If we had named it the latter, that would never work.  Before Mike was 45 years ago.  

    I let Elsa out the back door so she could do her business. Then I drank a quick swallow of water, did my oil rinse, washed the dishes, and made my Juice Plus smoothie for the next two days.  I started the boiled water weeding processes.  I did two kettles right away. I had one of my readers ask how do I use the boiling water with the weeds.  I boil a kettle of water, take it outside, and pour it on the weeds, killing them. Works like a charm and is not toxic.

    I worked on the blog and got out last Sunday’s blog.  I set out cleaning my kitchen floor. Because I had found some spots on my white tile with ground-in dirt, I made a paste of baking Soda and vinegar and applied it. That mix cleans everything.  I read about using it for cleaning stovetops. It does a remarkable job. I had to clean up the paste I put down the night before. I scraped up a lot of it, dumped water on the spots, and vacuumed it up with my Rainbow vacuum cleaner. The spots did look better. This paste works! I originally learned about it as a recommendation for cleaning stovetops.  When we were living in Ohio, I also had white tile floors. I never found a successful solution then.  

    When Sandor was here yesterday, and he saw my vacuum, he said, “Oh, a Rainbow vacuum cleaner. They’re the best.” I had hoped that I might get the same action out of any wet/dry vacuum if/when my Rainbow gives out. Guess not. There is no way I would wash a floor anymore without vacuuming up the water.  If you let it sit there, you wind up with muddy water well distributed all over your floor. If I use my Rainbow, I apply water and vacuum it up and repeat until the water in the vacuum’s collection tank comes out clean. My grout stays white that way. 

    I had plans to go to the ballet that night with Yvette and Sariah. I decided to nap so I could stay awake.  Judy called while I was napping.  She said that she was feeling better than yesterday.  She was so lousy yesterday that she didn’t answer my phone call. It does seem that her negative reactions get stronger with each chemotherapy treatment.  I went back to sleep. I had set the alarm for 3pm so I could get up and walk Elsa, clear the car so someone could sit in the back, take my shower and get dressed.

    As I lay on the sofa napping, I knew Elsa was nearby, most likely lying down on the floor next to me since she wasn’t on my belly. I think I must have a map in my mind noting where the furniture is and all the living things in the house, which is only Elsa now. I must still have Mike in my map. He may not be in the same room I am at any particular moment, but he could be in another place, sleeping in the bedroom or working in his library. I am comparing loved ones to comfortable furniture; they are comfortable furniture but with benefits.  Elsa offers some, but Mike offered many, many, many more. 

    When I take a shower in our universal access shower, Elsa sits and looks up at me. She wants me to throw a ball that she has dropped at the edge of the shower or actually rolled into it. Mike would sometimes come into the bathroom as I showered.  He looked at me, too.  There was so much love and delight in his eyes.  Elsa isn’t a very good replacement.

    Sariah, who was going to the ballet with Yvette and me, came up at 3. She walked Elsa while I cleaned out the car so she could sit in the back.  I finally took some junk out of it that had been in there for at least a year.  I counted the magazines I had in the back of the car to give to Memory Lane, the charity store for our local hospice. I keep a record of my donations for tax purposes. 

    I bought seats at the back of the auditorium for the ballet. Initially, I did it because the seats at the very back allow you to stand up and see over people’s heads.  For this performance, I bought seats a couple of rows from the back.  I thought Sariah might do better with an aisle seat. One tall man was sitting a few seats ahead of us. Before the performance started, he had several bouquets of flowers wrapped in plastic he was holding over his head.  Really? Fortunately, he distributed them to various people sitting with him. It was fun to see how many families had bought bouquets for their children of all ages who were in the performance.

    The West Hawaii Dance Company does an incredible job.  True, it’s more dance theatre than ballet in the tradition of American Ballet Theater in NYC, but I actually prefer this.  The pyrotechnics are limited, but some of the performances are delightful, and the choreography is impressive.  Since it is a local dance studio for children of all ages and adults, you have a wide range of skills.  The three-year-olds steal the show.  I dare any professional dancer to go up against a gaggle of them.  One year, I persuaded Damon and Mike to see one of their performances..  Mike had no tolerance for amateur work, and Damon is a professional in the movie industry.  They were both surprised by how good the work was.  Besides the three-year-olds, some adolescents have been trained at this studio who have already been accepted for summer sessions with major dance companies. 

    In this performance of Coppelia, there was one piece where they combined students who danced on point, those of the same age who hadn’t achieved that skill yet, and younger children who could follow choreography, unlike the three-year-olds and made it work.

    Several parents knew that I ran into whose children were in the performance, a three-year-old, a five-year-old, an 11-year-old, a 13-year-old and a 15year old, who will pursue a professional career. I love the way the 15-year-old dances. I can pick her out of a group every time. She doesn’t have many solos yet because those are given to the older children, especially the high school seniors. 

    After the performance, we went over to the food court in Waimea. I had a craving for a hamburger, and there is a highly rated shop there.  Sariah said she didn’t like burgers, so we checked out the other options before I ordered our hamburgers.  Yvette and Sariah found a Thai take out place.  The food looked good to me, so I ordered it there.  I thought it was delicious. Sariah said it was too salty for her.  I guess it was a bit salty, but I do love my salt. As Yvette drove us home, I felt truly content. 

    When I got home, I watched No Offense and cataloged over 20 books.   I walked Elsa again, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and went to bed. Good night, Elsa, Goodnight, Mike.