Sunday, October 6, 2019

     God, I miss Mike’s hugs and kisses.  If I told him I had bad interactions with people who aren’t comfortable with discussions when there is an uncomfortable difference of opinion, he would hold and comfort me.  We loved hugging and did so several times a day for no reason except that it felt so good. Judy reassured me verbally; that was good, but it’s not quite the same. I just wanted to cry.  

      The good news is that my back is doing pretty well. To be on the safe side, I didn’t do my long Sunday walk. Instead,  I planned to go on a two-hour tour of a chocolate farm that Kathrin and Mike organized for a group. As I sit here and write, I can feel a twinge in my back.  Hopefully, it isn’t worse. 

     I spent the morning cleaning the kitchen counters, which I had planned to do yesterday. They weren’t as dirty as all that. 

    Judy and Paulette picked me up for church. I shared how devastated I was by the communication problems I was experiencing.  Judy hugged me; she reminded me that I understood what I asked these people to do was difficult for them.  She told me that what was happening now was trivial compared to what I went to with the loss of Mike.  I thought for a minute and responded, no, this was worse.  Everything I did with Mike was based on love. These experiences are based on conflict, anger, and fear. People have sneered at me because I don’t see it their way.  I have zero tolerance for this response, even when I understand why the other person responds that way. It doesn’t help. 

     Rather than napping, I went to Home Depot to buy some equipment for extending gutter downspouts. I purchased several different pieces, all of which cost under $20.

     Because of my potential back issue, I took my walking sticks with me when I went on the chocolate farm tour. We got information about what makes for a good cacao orchard and what makes for a good tree. Tall trees, called Madre de cacao,  provide shade for the cacao trees, which don’t do well with intense sun.  The leaves of the cacao tree can form hard flooring, which cultivates mold. Solution: Many chickens poking the ground, looking for insects breaking up the leaves.  Water is an issue, but I can’t remember what the criterion was. The flowers are tiny, tiny.  The pods are colorful and the size of Nerf footballs.   They come in globe shapes, too. 

     The guide broke up some pods that looked hard but could be cracked open on a rock like an egg.  The insides are bean-sized seeds covered with a white film.  All of it can be eaten. However, only the beans are used to make chocolate, while the outer shell can be used to make tea.  We started popping these seeds into our mouths. When I told Judy about our experience, she said she once ate about ten of those seeds when her neighbor gave her some.  She said she experienced something like an acid trip.  It was not good. The ones she had were already air-dried or roasted, which may make a difference in their potency.  I sure hope so.  I would hate to have been hallucinating on my drive home.

    The second part of the tour was indoors, where we tasted dried seeds from different strains of cacao plants and chocolate. Chocolate made only with the seed and sugar, period end of sentence — dark chocolate at its finest.  The taste was completely different from any dark chocolate I’ve ever tasted.  I usually find dark chocolate bitter.  I think the guide explained that the bitterness comes when the beans are roasted rather than air-dried, which takes much longer.

      On the way home, I worked on pinching my right scapula back, as Mike recommended.  By the time I got home, my back was out again.  The question is, is this back-and-forth part of a healing process or part of the beginning of the end.  However, this problem has nothing to do with my left hip.  THR won’t do anything about this problem. It’s all on the right side — a totally new problem. 

Yvette and Josh came up to talk to me.  We had some issues to be resolved. Josh went first.  This was one of the best conversations we have had in a long time. While Yvette was here, I asked her to walk Elsa because of my back. When she got back, we had a long, satisfying hug.

We had talked about Elsa.  She is not an affectionate animal.  She needs a lot of attention: rub my belly, throw a ball, but she doesn’t cuddle for the sheer pleasure of being in my company.  She doesn’t even follow me around the house. I think she did that with Mike. Wherever he was, she was.  She was at his feet or in his lap if he was sleeping on the lanai.  If he was in bed, she was next to him.  If he was in the library, there was Elsa. Not with me.  If I was with him, she might be nowhere to be found. Yvette suggested I return her to her breeder and get a dog that addresses my needs.  I can hear Mike screaming from here. While she is not perfect, she provides some companionship and something to consider besides me. 

I watched some TV and went to bed.

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Musings:

Sandor sent me a piece on altruism from a theological perspective.  It contrasts doing things that only benefit the self with things that help others.  Biological altruism is when we do things that benefit others in expectation of reciprocity.  We are expecting something back. That getting something back is defined in material, physical, and political terms.  But the something back can be the pleasure of having an opportunity to love- and I don’t mean sexually. Love is a drug of choice. It warms the body.  I don’t know if it is the same as oxytocin or not.  

Oxytocin is addictive.  Combat soldiers can become addicted to the battle because of the bonding it produces and the deep caring they feel for their brothers in arms. Parents will do anything for their children.  It is a pleasure to feel that you would happily do anything for another person. Pursuing that feeling is an act of self-interest and, yes, even ego.  When I can say,” I am a loving person,” I get points for being a good person.  I have a self-image I can live with.  I have a mental state which makes it a pleasure to be alive.  That all sounds like self-interest to me. Woe to the person who never experiences that joy.  I can’t imagine how it feels never to have truly loved. 

     I distinguish craving someone to love and be loved by versus falling into that state almost by accident because it is your mental predisposition.  Do I think anyone can achieve it? Yes.  Once you have had an experience with it, you know what you’re looking for in yourself and in others who provide you with the opportunity to be loving. Being separated from that state is the worst.  Everything else is bearable. Since that’s my view, I don’t see anything unselfish about it.

Saturday, October 5, 2019

    When I got up badly, my back still hurt. I walked Elsa briefly. I went to Bikram. I spent the whole class on my back again, hoping that these stretches would do some good. I was able to do all the postures with modifications. Doing yoga while lying on the floor provides a whole different perspective on my alignment from the mirror. I can use the contact with the floor to see if my back is touching evenly. 

      Heather announced during the class, "Betty, you were so missed when you were gone." After class, I asked her if the classes were better when I was there.  As I had been expecting, the answer was yes.  She said, "You don't know how many people come up to me, so tell me what an inspiration you are." People find me an inspiration because I come, despite my problems and, I guess, my age. I find that frustrating.  If I ignored the basics, I could probably do the postures as well as other students who aren't very good. Also, there are students with worse problems than I have.  I want people to find me a role model because of how I work, being a body nerd, and carefully monitoring my alignment in every posture. Oh, well. I am glad that I inspire people to do more.  The only problem is that they only see me doing 'more' instead of 'better.' Doing 'more' can be harmful; doing "better' is a whole different order of animal.  I want to think that my concentration when working makes a difference besides my' courage,' the word Heather said was the quality that inspired others.

      As I left the class, one of my old students, K, called me from the second-floor dance studio as I walked to my car. After asking me how I was, she said she would love to work with me again. She is the most difficult student I have ever worked with. She would do nothing my way and balked at doing any work.  There was nothing I could do to get her off the dime. Her mother had transferred her to a school where a lot of the work was online, and she attended classes at the site once or twice a week.  She loved the setup but still didn't carry her weight. This year, her mother transferred to a charter school with a more traditional setup. Would you believe it, she is working?  I had heard she was doing better and investing herself in her work, but I was still skeptical about why she wanted to work with me. Did she want to sit on my lanai?  Did she just want to be in my company? While I  like and care about this child, no, no, no, I don't want to spend time supporting her bad behavior.  Then, she said she wanted help learning how to break up big words. Yes, yes, yes, I would love to work with her on that.  School vacation was the following week, and she was traveling to California for a family reunion. I'm looking forward to working with her when she comes back. 

     My back wasn't much better after the class. Oh, well.  I was planning to do house cleaning today while I listened to my NPR Saturday shows.  Guess not.  I took to the love seat, ensuring my head was at the same level as my back and not elevated as Judy had recommended. I slept. I can always sleep.  I woke up now and then and heard some of my shows.

      One of them was the TED Radio Hour, which featured Maslow's hierarchy as the topic. It generated ideas and ideas and ideas.  

Musings:

On Maslow's hierarchy of needs:

Several things were discussed tie in with my theories. One was a study of soldiers in a combat situation in Fallujah.  They were isolated.  They had no toys that appealed to young men: technology, cars, girls.  They were utterly dependent on each other, prepared to risk, even sacrifice, their own lives for their brothers in arms. 

    The researcher said a situation like that becomes addictive. One man compared it to a cocaine high. The researcher said that they miss it when these men return from the front.  They don't miss the combat, the opportunity to kill, and the threat of death.  The intensity of that life-threatening situation creates that bond, which transports the human psyche beyond the normal state. 

     My theory was that this was a frequent, if not a normal, state of mind for our ancestors, whose lives were constantly under threat from the environment. They survived because they had each other's backs. What a wonderful bond! 

The sister of a friend of my sister once described a heroin high as 'the smallest universe I know." Now, I wonder if there is a connection between our 'addiction' to intense social bonding and drug addiction. They have some internal 'feelings in common.' Addiction to the intense social bond is linked to our survival as individuals and as a group. We belonged.  In our current world, drugs are more accessible than strong social bonding. Now, most of us live like zoo animals: our safety is assured; there is no need for a strong bond to ensure survival.  We miss it.  

Being intensely invested is a gifted moment.  Psychologists have named it a peak state or flow state.  Is it possible that our ancestors lived at that level frequently?  That doesn't sound logical to me. Whatever our lives are about, there is the routine.

Maslow said that we can maintain a peak moment for 5 minutes at a time. Then we have to come back to the ground.  Meditation helps us achieve this state without the threat of death looming over us.  Some people think the whole purpose of meditation is to achieve this state. As I understand it, the purpose of mediation is to achieve this state and accept the loss of it, the reappearance, and the loss, over and over and over. The purpose of meditation is to achieve that state without having to put ourselves in jeopardy. The goal is to live life safely, achieve these states, and accept the loss of those states. 

Someone in the TED talk spoke about the state of flow achieved by people involved in activities from the mundane to the sublime.  The speaker described a man who spent all his working hours butchering salmon.  He turned this into a flow experience.  We usually associate the flow experience with a creative act with its unique moments, not a repetitive activity. However, the salmon butcher sees each fish as a different experience.

I remembered something I read in Graham Greene's Mr. Johnson. (I checked his bibliography and can't find anything by that name. Whatever, the point was important to me.)

As I remember, Mr. Johnson is a local man who served as secretary to a British bureaucrat in some African nation. The bureaucrat's wife comes from England to join her husband. Mr. Johnson has the job of showing her around. They come across a man throwing pots with a group of people standing around him transfixed.  After watching the potter throw one or two pots, the woman wants to move on, finding the activity boring. Mr. Johnson is surprised by her attitude 'because each pot is different.' The wonder is in watching what each pot becomes.  

    The flow state is described as a state 'when we get out of ourselves.' It is an attention issue.  I see our attention as a bull's eye.  We are at the center. Anything outside of ourselves is in one of the surrounding circles.  Things that command our attention daily are in one of the rings close to the center.  Our mates, our children, are in those rings. They are never out of our minds, but neither do we 'forget' ourselves in most interactions. 

If incidents are intense enough, we can focus intensely on an object outside of ourselves that is important to us: if our child is in danger, we move with fantastic strength and speed; we become something other than our usual selves. 

However, there are two types of 'forgetting 'ourselves.  Thank God I haven't had many experiences like the one I'm about to describe. I remember a studio dance performance where I was in a mental state where I couldn't feel my body as I moved.  It was weird.  I have heard that victims of regular sexual abuse describe this out-of-body state.  We can forget ourselves and leave ourselves, but it's not pleasant, no less joyful.

In a healthy flow state, we are not just highly focused on something outside of ourselves, but we are also uniquely focused on ourselves. What we are not is out-of-body, duplicating the mental state of victims of sexual abuse.

The ability to focus in a concentrated way can be a gift or a curse.  As with anything,  it can be deployed in situations of danger or achieved in a controlled state. Some people can focus but are not in control. A spinning object might capture their attention and leave them transfixed.  People with no control over their focus are unhappy and probably not even functional.

Friday, October 4, 2019

  October 4, 2019 

   I woke up way before the alarm went off. I'm good about falling back to sleep again, maybe too good. When I can't sleep, I do my healing prayers for those twenty-two names on my list.  I think I know who I covered before I fell asleep. I seem to have a better memory of where I left off on the list before I fell asleep than of where I left my glasses two minutes ago when I was wide awake.  

    I had an appointment with the acupuncturist at 10 am.  I took a shower so I would be somewhat clean after Bikram. I walked Elsa.  My leg felt pretty good but not perfect.  I did all the postures while lying on my back, including the breathing at the beginning and end. Where yesterday, I felt it was right to stop during the standing series; today, I was able to do something for every posture. I wasn't in pain yesterday; my body went into learning mode, and I had to let it do its work.  I was able to get up easily today.  No problems.

The next class was the Pilates class with Agnes. I have been interested in participating. As I suspected, it was a fast-paced class, which didn't work for me. When a class is too fast, I can't hear my body's messages.  I was told that I could do the exercises any way I wanted; one set instead of the ten the instructor gives the class; I could do it as slow or as fast as I liked. I'm interested because I saw the difference in Crista's body after she started Pilates.  I was going to watch the class.  I waited until 9:30, when the class started. Then Agnes told me that everyone just lay on their backs for the first three minutes.  I had to go.  I wanted to return something to Ace Hardware and make it to an appointment.

     Wednesday, there was some concern that I wouldn't be able to make it to the acupuncturist's office. There's a ramp, but walking would be a challenge.  Yvette sweetly volunteered Scott to carry me like a baby, like a bride. Oh, boy.  I don't care how strong he is; that sounds terrifying. Fortunately, my back was not a problem; getting up the ramp was a piece of cake. 

     When I got there a few minutes early, Erin, the acupuncturist, was ready.  I went in. She asked me how my hot flashes were doing. I don't think there is any difference. I still had those private downpours I started shortly before Mike died.  Yes, my hot flashes have been getting worse at 79. 

   She treated my hot flashes and sciatica by placing needles in my upper back between my shoulder blades. When she was finished, she told me to take it easy for the rest of the day and not lift anything. When I got home, I realized I wasn't quite sure what she meant. My first thought was of a box. But I did have to lift the yoga mat out of the car; did that count?

I lay down and slept. I wasn't particularly tired. I have an amazing capacity for sleep. Mike did, too.  I hear complaints from my peers about sleep troubles.  Not me. 

    Today, I have been keeping a record of my hot flashes.  I have had five since I came home from the acupuncturist.   Right now, I have a slow burn that's leaving me uncomfortably damp. 

      I had a long talk with Judy.  She has a sore throat and is down for the count.  She listened while I complained about miscommunication problems between several people and me. They're all angry at me because I don't see it their way; I don't know what is in their minds. What can I tell you? I understand that it is frustrating. It's frustrating for me too.  It downright hurts. 

    After dinner, I went into the library to sort more books. I'm just arranging them in alphabetical order by shelf.  I decided to do the bottom shelf. So I'm lying on my side, pulling out the books and moving them. OW!  There went my back.  Just as bad as it has ever been. I couldn't even walk Elsa.  I took Advil, put an ice pack on my back, and went to sleep.  

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Musings:

I'm dealing with some people who don't know the difference between arguing and discussing, which is very frustrating. Arguing is when two people hold to their perspective and try to get the other person to see it their way. Discussing is when two people present their point of view to see the other person's point of view. There are three possible objectives:

a.    Problem-solving: The participants are looking to arrive at a different solution from the ones they started with. The assumption is that the outcome will be better for the joint input. Example: Mike and I went shopping for silverware at Fortunoff's many years ago. We looked at the samples separately and then met up with our selections.

    I came back with something very modern; Mike came back with something from the 19th century.  We looked at each other's selections and returned to the displays without saying a word.  Mike came back with something more modern, and I came back with something with more classical lines.  When we came back together, our selections were still far apart from each other while closer than they had been.  We returned to the displays again.  The third time, Mike came back with one we both liked. We still have it, and I still love it.  This became our story of how we solved problems, the one we tried to live up to all our lives together.

Another example: We had this fantastic contractor when we renovated our house in Hawaii. He, Mike, and I would sit around, throwing out ideas. We all loved the process.  When all the work was completed, we had a celebratory dinner.  Ken said it was a joy working with us.  Were we lucky, or were we lucky? 

b.    The second objective is just getting a better understanding of the other person's point of view without thinking of changing anyone's mind.

c.    The discussion's third objective is learning something you hope will replace your current opinion. 

Here's an example of this:

   I was 'arguing' with my nephew David about the value of traveling. He would present his point of view, but what he had to say didn't impress me. He would say something else, and I communicated that it still had no meaning for me. 

    His sister asked, "Why are you trying to convince him?" I told her I wasn't; I was trying to get him to convince me. I wanted to see the value of travel because my beloved husband wanted to travel, and I had less than no interest in it.  I wanted to see it differently.

Wednesday, October 2, 2019

    I went to Bikram this morning, looking forward to making more progress with my back. Not so much. I could barely walk out of the studio. Whatever I did yesterday that worked for me didn't work today.

    When I got home, I showered and got ready for my telephone appointment with my therapist. The loss of Mike is a problem, but the more significant issue is always me.  I take me with me wherever I go. 

    My most significant complaint is my inability to work in an organized and consistent way. I'm sure many of you think, "What's she's talking about?" But the blog is a lifesaver for me.  It keeps me focused on the present and not moping about what I've lost and how life would have been better – if.---.  

    I told Shelly about what happened during the sound bath, how the emphasis was on overloading the balance weight on the left, which felt dark.  The next morning I woke up with the feeling I had killed someone – not Mike.  But the image that I had in mind wasn't something that had happened to me, but to someone I met in my twenties in the University of Wisconsin Madison cafeteria. I don't think I knew the guy outside of this single encounter.

    He confessed to having killed a man in NYC.  A homeless man in the subway accosted him.  He pushed him away; he fell in front of an oncoming subway.  The fellow told me he ran away. I tend to be a walking confessional booth; people have always told me their life stories since I was of pre-school age.  However, I can believe this poor fellow told everyone he spoke to, looking for exoneration.

    I sat with the feelings that were evoked in the sound bath, the feelings of worthlessness.  Now, there is plenty of reason to believe this comes directly from my mother, who never allowed us to do anything because we wouldn't be able to do it well enough.  I wasn't allowed to wash potatoes when I was four.  We weren't allowed to make our beds until we learned how to in camp. We weren't allowed to wash dishes. This may sound good, but it's not.  It communicates worthlessness; you can't do anything right.

    I did a release on anything I hated about feeling worthless and then the inverse, anything I loved about the feeling. Ah, what do you know? There was a goodie tucked in there. When I feel worthless, I don't have to do anything.  I can completely relax and not feel I have to produce. I'm the smallest thing in the universe.  So lovely. I remember giving up attempting to do anything when I was a child, knowing I wouldn't do it right anyway. Then she would yell about my lack of effort. At least that lack of effort was my intention; doing things wrong was not. It would be great to get a good relationship with my need to do – and not do.

    I spent the rest of the day flat on my back in pain even while lying down.  I talked to Judy at one point. She asked if I was lying on the love seat in that cradled position. Yes. She said I would probably be better with my head and my back on the same level. I slid forward until my torso was lying flat.  It did feel better.

    Kathrin had come home with her boyfriend.  They made dinner, and we all ate together.  Mike asked if he could check my body; he does therapeutic massage.  He commented that my back was hot, and I should apply ice.  I had been applying heat because my understanding is to use cold shortly after the injury started and heat afterward.  He also did some work on my body.  It felt great.  I got some relief from it. He's good. 

    When I went to bed, I still had some pain, even lying down.  A comment by one of the Bikram teachers, Mark, came to mind. He always says to do backbends whenever possible. I also remembered that a friend told me that he would watch people who had sciatica run backward to heal the damage.  I grabbed my right ankle from behind and kicked back, as we do in any of the bow positions.  That gave immediate relief.  This easement of pain assures me that the problem is not a serious spinal one. Not being scared of the situation is helpful.  I had visions of a rupture disk and needing spinal surgery down the line.  That is the least successful form of surgery I know of.  I have no idea why doctors would risk doing it. The results can be so depressing.

    I set the alarm for 6 am, anticipating that I might get up for yoga and fell asleep.

 

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Musings;

    Brooks's idea of thinking of others means getting politically involved. I was so disappointed to read that. I wonder if he sees any other way of making contributions to the world and not being self-absorbed?  Does he believe that politicians are focused on making contributions to others and not thinking of themselves? Really?  

    I think there are so many ways to make a contribution to the world around us.  I remember that one of our commune-mates organized tree plantings up and down our street.  They were just little when we moved out of that neighborhood.  I have been back since. The trees turn a bleak street into a lovely one.

 

  

Tuesday, October 1, 2019

   October 1, 2019 

     I slept well, and my back was good through the night.  I can sit and lie down; I can’t stand or walk without aggravating my back.  

      I got up at 6.  I put on the back brace I found in the cabinet yesterday, grabbed my walking stick, and went for a brief walk with Elsa.  I found that if I contracted my right psoas to bring my right leg forward, my back didn’t hurt.  I’m still worried about it because some pain runs down the outside of my right leg. This pain says a pinched nerve. Is the problem a small misalignment, which can be corrected quickly, or is it a ruptured disk?  

     Off to Bikram. Smiles and hugs greeted me. I had asked Lisa to pray for me while I was gone.  She had explained that she didn’t pray; she chanted. She gave me a hug and told me she did it every day. I value this community beyond measure. In the class, I was the soul of caution.  The purpose was to see what I could do and experience the rest of my body other than my aching back. I came out feeling so much better.  This is encouraging.

     I was working on strengthening the muscles in my right abdomen.  I could see my legs were more symmetrically aligned.  I did some good work today in class.  I have found that when I take time off, I come back stronger and better.  I know many people experience the opposite.  I don’t know what I do differently.  Of course, I continued working on my walk, sit, stand, etc.  I also think about the yoga exercises. That allows me to do it correctly without triggering my bad habits.

     I am inclined to think that my back problem occurred due to all the small changes I  made to correct my spinal curvature.  I stopped using one set of muscles. The ones I should have always used aren’t strong or flexible enough yet. When I do use them, all hell breaks loose.

Changes:  even before I left for the mainland, I worked on putting more weight on the outside of my left foot as I walked.  Then I caught a glimpse of myself in the storefront windows in Beverly Hills and saw that I leaned forward inappropriately when I stepped out with my right leg.  Of course, by that time, the back problems had already started. While lying on the floor, I saw that my bent legs leaned more to the right than the left when I did the sound bath.  Correcting that put pressure on my hips. I continued contracting my right abdominal muscles. These muscles are supposed to support my back. Hopefully, it works.

      I learned how to contract them from Damon and Cylin when they came home from their exercise class. They shared their experiences with me. The teacher led the group through sets of high-intensity exercises. To strengthen their abdominals and pelvic floor, they did one on their backs with something wrapped around their bent knees, creating resistance as they pushed them apart.  They had a block on their upper thighs, which they had to keep in place with their heads(?).  They had to hold the position for a full minute, relax, and hold it for another minute. Whatever the details were, it was a killer exercise.  I was able to modify it for my own body.  I could feel the difference immediately.  

     While I was at Damon and Cylin’s house, I also worked on strengthening my left leg. I had stairs to climb there, which I didn’t have at home. When I distributed my weight correctly across the bottom of my foot, I found that I could engage the muscles in my left thigh, making it much easier to push myself up the step.     

     After yoga, I went to Island Naturals to pick up some tincture of calendula for canker sores. This stuff works for me. Then, I went to Costco for salad and pretzels.  Because it wasn’t open yet, I stopped for gas.  The machine informed me that my Costco membership card had expired.  I pulled away from the pump without getting gas.

I went directly to the membership desk when I got inside. There was already a line. I couldn’t just renew at the checkout counter because I had the executive membership for $120, and I wanted to change it to the basic membership for $60.  I think I already accrued a kickback of $77.  The membership clerk asked me if I had received the money.  I didn’t know; I didn’t care at this point. Too tired. Too sad about getting this membership without Mike.  Now, his card is invalid. Slowly, slowly, his marks on this earth are being erased.  But no one who knew him forgets him.  He is remembered with much love.  

    I went home. Because of my back, I decided not to go to school today. I felt I needed some reentry time. I’ll go on Thursday and Friday.

Kathrin sent me a text asking if I wanted to join up for a cacao farm tour.  I thought about it.  It was only much later that I thought my back would not be happy with me walking around that long.  This marks an improvement.  I didn’t even think of my back.  I’ve been spending the morning working on the blog, ordering a new mattress cover for my bed, and a replacement flask for my personal Oster blender that I left at Karin and David’s.

    Most of the day I spent on the sofa listening to Grantchester.  Mike loved this show.  Too bad he missed Season 3. 

In my conversation with Judy today, I told some ‘Mike stories.’ He was such a good man.  He was always as well-intentioned as he could be.  He did some remarkable things in our marriage because of it. He was, is, and always will be my hero.  

     Does this mean he always did it? Oh, no. Sometimes, he insisted on treating me like his able assistant when it was not appropriate. When someone else confronted him about his behavior and could see what he was doing, he wept and changed his behavior.  He was a work in progress, as was I, as am I.  Life with him was an adventure worth having. 

    Except for some family members, most people consider Mike and me good people.  Many years ago, Mike made a presentation at a Catholic school where I was working. Some of the teachers came up to me afterward and said they expected him to be a lout because I was such a nice person. They noted that nice women usually wind up with nasty men.  No, we were both as good as we could be to each other and those around us.  Were we always successful? Did we always conform to other’s expectations?  No on both counts. But we gave a damn and did our best.

_____-______-_______

Musings:

    It’s my left psoas, which is tight and causes problems.  No one ever pointed out that the logical effect of a tight left psoas is a weak right one. I experienced this problem first when I was 19 years old.  It develops as a result of an asymmetrical posture.    My hairdresser complains of a tight psoas. She bends over to one side when she cuts hair. 

   While strengthening my right psoas must logically work, this has also caused my current back problem.  Small postural adjustments, like in my left foot, can create significant changes in the rest of the body.    

Monday, September 30, 2019

   Travel day: back to Hawaii. I woke up before the alarm went off after a good night's sleep. Will I be glad to be home? I had someone to look forward to on each leg of the trip.  I thought Damon's place would be tough because I had never been there without Mike. But that was fine. Maybe home will be fine, too. 

    Some say the first year is the worst.  So far, so good. I'm having a reasonably easy time of it. But some say the third year is the worst.  I can believe that the third year will be the worst for me. I'm still so blended with Mike; I don't feel his absence fully.  

    My back felt just fine.  I showered and packed, and then ----- oh, boy, right back to square one. Damon was already up and had his coffee brewing when I got upstairs. We talked for a while, and then Cylin came down to say goodbye.  August, Damon's 16-year-old son, is turning out to be a lovely boy. He's taller than his dad already, mostly legs in the tradition of his paternal grandmother.  His mom has to order special pants for him. He is excellent at taking care of himself while being kind and considerate of others. Can't think of a better result of child-raising. Congratulations to Damon and Cylin.

      Damon had ordered a limousine service to take me to LAX.  The driver took all the back routes to avoid rush hour traffic; we weren't on the freeways once.  We went through several LA neighborhoods.  We went through Koreatown, where friends of Damon lived.  I understand now why there was some discomfort with that situation. It's not supposed to be dangerous, but it sure isn't lovely either. It's quite a contrast to Beverly Hills, where we went on Saturday to go to Bloomingdales and get that outrageous Chinse food.  

       As we drove along, I tried to determine the difference. Why was Koreatown so unattractive, downright grubby, while Beverly Hills was so Beverly Hills. As we drove along, I saw other neighborhoods with small shops side by side that didn't look as bad. Koreatown was festooned with printed signs advertising this and that.  Another point was the lack of paint.  The more attractive places' exteriors were painted with some sense of design: two colors, a few decorative details, and the signs in 3-D lettering with a distinctive font.  I had to say the differences between an attractive neighborhood and Koreatown were small design differences. The difference between the shopping area in Beverly Hills and anywhere else is a quantum leap of all those qualities.

      When we arrived at the airport, I had to make it into the terminal on my own. I was right at the Hawaiian service desk.  I said, "I need a wheelchair." Sitting, thank God, seems to be all right, but walking  . . .  I sat in a handicapped seat. Some clerk leaned over a counter and asked me for my ID. She took care of getting my boarding pass. 

    Once I was in the wheelchair, my first stop was the bathroom. Then, the attendant wheeled me to the gate.  I wanted my computer from my briefcase. I turned to ask him, but he was gone.  Someone else helped me.  I sat there and typed.  I was the second one on the plane.

I busied myself with my blog until I was updated.  I couldn't post the ones I had finished because I couldn't run them through Grammarly or send them out.  When I finished what I could do, I tried to watch a movie.  They had Crazy Rich Asians available.  I wanted to see that. 

I couldn't get my computer working because I hadn't downloaded some input thing. I had been told I could do that on the plane once I opened it up when in the air. No. "Who told you that?" the flight attendant asked when I asked for help. "The man who checked me in at the gate." "He didn't know what he was talking about." Winds up, no one does.  Everyone knows what to do with phone and tablet apps, but not with computers. Okay, so I take out my phone. But I can't find where to plug in the headphones. The iPhone has a special plug; it does not take the garden variety of headphones. Oh, well. Back to typing, I worked on the book and read more of Bobos in Paradise and whatever I had on my Kindle.

After sitting all that time, my back felt good enough for me to make it down the ramp. My hands were free because the guy sitting next to me was kind enough to bring down my suitcase and briefcase. I started crying when I exited the plane; I was so happy to be back in Kona. The island, yes, I mean the land, gets a hold of you and doesn't let go.  I could feel my contact with this rock called the Big Island. I stopped at the foot of the ramp, waiting for the wheelchair to arrive.  My back hurt so much that I had to bend over. As passengers disembarked, several asked me if I was okay.

     I had to wait for quite a while before the chair arrived. Then, the attendant wheeled me off the tarmac into the waiting area. He dropped me there, saying he had to get a wheelchair for someone else.  Another wait.  When he returned, he had another old lady in a chair; he pushed both of us to the baggage claim area.  The other lady had six suitcases checked; I had none.  I called Judy, who was waiting in the cell parking lot, to come get me.  

I am so glad it was Judy who picked me up.  We share an overtly loving relationship; there's a warmth between us.  I don't mean that others don't love me, but Judy and I are alike in our willingness to show affection and appreciation.

My back – OMG!  Scott had left me a note that the linens were in the dryer.  Judy got them out and made the bed. If not, I would have been sleeping on a bare mattress.  I persuaded her to take some food out of my freezer before it went bad and take it; I wasn't doing anything with it.

I made myself some dinner and finished up Bobos in Paradise.  Then I took to the sofa on the lanai and watched the last episodes of City Homicide.  There is a fifth season, but it's not on Amazon yet.  Kathrin came home around 8 pm. She had gone to Hilo for a week to visit some friends.  She told me about some of her adventures. Then I had to go to bed. It was 9:30 pm, which was 12:30 on the West Coast, where I had been for the last two weeks.

Sunday, September 29, 2019

    I woke up with the sun after a not very good night's sleep.  Was it the sound bath? Was it the Chinese herbs for my hot flashes?  I finally got up.  I went upstairs looking for my pills, which I was unable to find the night before. Damon came down to the kitchen.  He wanted to walk to the main strip to get some coffee.  

    We waited halfway down the hill for Eddie to drive by.  He was going to leave his car on Damon's street. Eddie was heading out of town for a week and couldn't leave his car parked on his street without moving it regularly. 

    Damon and I continued down the hill to Starbucks.  It was a place called Starbucks Reserve, some monster version of the usual Starbucks.  He got a coffee for himself and a chocolate chip cookie for me. Then we headed back home.

    He made himself and me breakfast: scrambled egg with mozzarella and avocado on a wrap—another goodie.   Cylin joined us, and he made one for her too.  She revealed that they both had bad feelings about the man-made crystals.  They hurt Cylin's forearms.  They looked them up when they came home.  One thousand dollars each.  Wow! More valuable than diamonds. At least people won't have to kill themselves to dig them up.

    At 11,  Damon and Cylin and headed out for their exercise class. I sat and worked on the blog until my computer battery died.  I stood up and -wow!- my back, my back.  It hurt almost as much as it did the first night it happened.

    I lay on the sofa and read the NY Times Book Review Section. Finally, August got up, and I asked for help.  He got me a roller from the corner of the living room and the tennis ball from my bed.  He didn't know where the Advil was.  I had to wait until Damon and Cylin got home.

    The moment they walked in, I said, "Advil," right after I said, "Hi." Damon told August where to find it.  I took three.  I continued rolling around on the tennis ball while August ate his breakfast and watched a news show about the impeachment, not a hard topic to find on the TV these days.

    Damon and Cylin went down to sit in the hot tub.  I walked down the steps to that area but stayed flat on one of the poolside sofas.  Getting into a bathing suit was too much for this back. We chatted away. 

    Damon and August went off to play tennis; Cylin went up to take a shower and do her own thing.  I watched more Fosse/Verdon and rolled around on the floor, dealing with my back.

    When they came home, Damon put the finishing touches on his chicken soup with noodles.  The soup hit the spot, and I had a serious yen for the noodles. 

    August went upstairs to do some homework. He was called down to play a few rounds of Rummikub.  This was quite a game. I took to toning in objection. For those who don't know, my lungs rival Donna Summer's; I can hold a note for quite a while. 

    I have noticed that my behavior feels different without Mike around.  I was able to do what I wanted when we were alone together.  He even thought I was funny and challenging- in a good way.  But, he didn't like me to be too 'raucous,' outspoken, or confrontational when we were with others.  I don't know if Damon and /or Cylin notice the difference, but I do.  Very interesting.  I don't think I ever realized how I toned myself down.  I don't look back and feel sad about it.  I learned some self-control and discernment through Mike's eyes.  He was a sensitive person; he just had a different set of criteria than I did. It's all good. But now that he's gone, I need other people to play with, therefore, the behavioral changes.

 

_____-_____-______

 

Musings;

    Brooks says in Bobos Paradise than the current intellectual elite thinks about morals but only in a practical way: things should be good for them or the earth.  I don't hear him talk about what good for other people. It's all about personal growth, which seems only to be measured by impact on self and not others. It's moral but only in terms of it being healthy for self and the environment.  He is saying there is no relevance for God in this picture.

    What is the role of God in our lives? Do we worship God for his sake or ours?  If the moral question is," What have you done for God today?" in the sense of satisfying His need to be worshipped, that doesn't make a lot of sense to me. 

    I'm open to there being a God; I'm also open to there not being a God. If God needs our constant attention and praise, I don't get the point. How would we become better people by just praising God? 

            

    I think it's reasonable to say that man needs to feel someone is in control, so it's either him or God. Since man's being in control of everything is a losing proposition, better by far to assign the job to some unknown force.  Humanity goes whacky when we believe we have unlimited power.  Absolute power corrupts absolutely; better to entrust that power to some abstract unknown and hope and pray that it is a force for good.  No, assume that it is a force for good, and everything has its season.

    So once we get humanity to stop believing it can be in the driver's seat, we're off to a good start.  Mind, this does not mean that God doesn't do great harm.  It just means we're not the ones doing it to ourselves or others.  When we do it to ourselves or others, it hurts so much more.  Give us a good hurricane rather than an excellent holocaust.

    Since I have many Bobo traits,  I combine religion and practicality; I believe we are much better off, individually and collectively, if there is a belief in God or something that evokes moral behavior.

    There is another benefit to believing in God.  It reminds us that we have to think of others as well as ourselves. It's morality. Now there are many interpretations of morality.  People kill their kiss and kin in the name of morality.  If someone is so immoral as to bring dishonor to the family, they must be killed. Makes sense to me. Actually, no, it doesn't.  I assume there is some historic survival benefit to honor and dishonor; I don't know what it is. The question is, do we still have to follow that definition of morality?  Is it ancient value still beneficial to us individually and collectively?

    I think the big difference between Bobo's morality and religious morality is that it doesn't ask what is best for us collectively and individually. Also, that question has to be asked locally as well as globally.  Global issues are easy.  Too big to affect me! Local issues involve our parents, our siblings, our spouses, our children, our grandchildren, our friends, etc.  They are day to day interactions where we have to decide what to sacrifice.  

            Ah, that word sacrifice. There's sacrifice writ large, and there's sacrifice writ small. With every decision we make, we sacrifice something. We can't have it all. According to my sister, only two-year-olds expect two contradictory things to exist at the same time, like being in place A and place B simultaneously. Having to choose between place A and place B when we want both involves sacrifice. Something has to give.

    Do we need to believe in God to understand the needs of others as well as ourselves?  My Bobo response is: it is better for us as individuals to consider the needs of others as well as ourselves. When we do, we like ourselves more. We are happier when others are happier and at peace. When all beings are happy, healthy, and loved, we're happier. 

    Yes, some people are so embroiled with envy that the happiness of others ruins their lives.  They are a mess. There's nothing good about that for themselves as individuals or the collective.

    Does that mean that I don't think envy has a positive function? Heavens no.  Envy reminds us of something we want or need that is worthwhile pursuing if it's in range. Let's check out the serenity prayer. 

Saturday, September 28, 2019

    I stayed in bed till 10 am LA time. I made my smoothies for two days. Damon made me a fried egg, and I didn’t eat my usual breakfast, my smoothie.  

    At 1 pm, Damon, Cylin, and I went out.  The first stop was to pick up August, sitting for a practice ACT exam for four hours, where he does his tutoring for the test. Then off to get up some Chinese food. Cylin tried to make a reservation, but it was already booked. We were told that the wait time was an hour, so Cylin ordered take-out. It took about an hour to get the food, which suggests that it would have been a two-hour wait before we got to eat if we had been seated. While we waited, Damon went over to Bloomingdales to pick up a shirt he ordered, and Cylin and I went to a local coffee shop, not Starbucks. She says their brand is a little too bitter for her. 

    As we walked to get the coffee, I glanced at my reflection in the store windows.  I noticed that when I step out on my right foot, I lean forward. I don’t do that with my left foot.  When I corrected that little problem,  I saw that my gate was even.  I have been struggling with this problem for a while. I thought the problem was just with my right hip being too far forward.  Or, in a worst-case scenario, my left leg being too short, as every medical practitioner has told me, would be the case with my hip problem. Ha! The problem, well at least some of the problem, is with my right shoulder.  

    It was chow time when we got home. Well, that food was worth whatever time and money it cost.  After lunch, I took a nap. We had a 6:30 pm appointment for a sound bath. 

    The sound bath was located in a storefront on a busy street. The floor was covered in carpeting; we took off our shoes.  When the place is doing a sound bath, the rugs are not there, and it operates as a crystal shop. We got there early enough to be as far away from the street as possible to reduce noise disturbance.  

    Before the session started, this unbelievably well-built chick was walking around, showing a breathing exercise that would be the first 8 minutes of the session. Breathe in by extending the abdomen, a Buddha breath, and then the chest. Then breathe out. This was all supposed to be done through the mouth. Yuck! Also, everyone, men and women were fixated on her great body.  That flat belly and gorgeous breast went up and down with each breath.  This woman was in the wrong business.  She agitated one, and all alike; women, as they compare their bodies to hers, and men  - -- Do you need the details? 

    Then a woman stood up and presented artificially created crystals that are supposed to have some unique frequency.  The session started with eight minutes of breathing.  I did it my way: I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth slowly, rather than in and out through the mouth and fast as the gorgeous chick instructed.  I did what felt right to me.

    Then the leader of the session did a guided meditation.  Assistants went around placing crystals on our chests and abdomens.  The lady with the manufactured crystals put one in each of our upturned palms. Because my feet felt cold, I struggled to get a blanket on them without disturbing the crystals.  Of course, I had to move the one in my right hand to arrange the blanket.  Then I couldn’t find it. I called for help. Someone came over and helped me.  

    Then the sound bath started. I thought it was a tape.  Cylin told me that the leader and her mother were playing sounding bowls.  This was supposed to be a relaxing activity. For me, not so much.

    During the guided meditation, she instructed us to picture a set of balance scales into which we were supposed to distribute these bright stones to create balance. Too bad for me.  All my stones wound up in the left bowl.  That’s where all the problems with my body are, usually. (The pain I have been suffering on this trip is on my right side.)  I tried to put some in the right-hand bowl. No, go.  It looked like I was facing some darkness.  This doesn’t frighten me; I’m good exploring it.  I believe darkness is part of the human condition.  The only thing we can do is face it in ourselves, sit with it until our reaction to it is reduced to minimal proportions, so we don’t act out all over the place.  This approach has worked for me.  The idea behind the Buddhist vipassana meditation and the protocol for the healing work I have developed.         

    Eddie, one of Damon’s good friends, came over after we were home for a while to visit. I hadn’t seen him in years. I’ve known him for over twenty years; he went to Vassar with Damon. He looked much better since I saw him last, happier.  He has a new job that is light years better than his old one, and a great new apartment near where Damon lives.  Life is looking up for our Eddie.

    Damon and Cylin headed for bed after he left, but I wasn’t tired. I stayed up and watched more of Fosse/Verdon.  I kept looking for those snippets of dance mixed in with the soap opera.  At some point in the show, it is revealed that Fosse was raped by several 40-year-old stripteases in the burlesque where he was working.  In those days, his peers thought he was a lucky bastard.  The script called for him to recognize that the incident ruined his life.  I have no idea if Fosse was aware of the impact of the rape as we are today.

    My father’s cousin was ‘seduced’ at the age of 14 by a milkmaid.  He was a gorgeous man when I knew him. My dad thought that was a hoot.  The man’s life was a mess.  How did it take so long for people to figure out the damage having sex with children does. 

Friday, September 27, 2019

    Travel day. Got up; it was cold, windy, and raining.  Seems that lousy weather follows wherever I go. 

     Sidney was much better about getting into the car.  When we got to school, I had to go to the bathroom. Shivani said she would show me where the bathroom was. I knew where the key was in the classroom. Then  I followed Shivani through this labyrinth.  The preschool was housed in the empty rooms in a local high school. The bathroom was out two doors, across a courtyard, and behind a wall.  Shivani went in first into the door marked “Women.” There was another door marked, “Girls.” I tried that door; it opened.  I went in. Next thing I knew, Shivani was calling my name, telling me there was a collection of little ones waiting to get in.  Fifteen kids were standing outside with one adult.

    Hana also had to take a bathroom break.  We let her out of the car before we left the parking lot. Shivani decided she wasn’t up for anything, and we headed home.  I tried to walk Hana, but she wouldn’t have it. Shivani told me that she refuses to walk in the rain. 

    Most of the day, I was waiting to leave, anxious to get the next leg of the trip started.  Shivani drove me to the airport. I had had a wonderful time visiting her.  With her visits to me and mine to her, we are getting to know each other better.  She is relaxed and comfortable with my casual style of hosting and guesting.  I’m planning to make this west coast trip to visit family next year too. Damon and Shivani make a point of calling me regularly.  I am so lucky.  I don’t have any children of my own, but I have more support from the next generation than some people with their own kids do.  It’s a delightful surprise.

    The security process was easy.  I was asked to take my shoes off. I had to tell the security guard that I was 79, well almost.  Next, they’ll be carding me at bars.

    I flew into Burbank rather than LAX because it was a few minutes from Damon’s work. After standing at the wrong carousel, I found the right one.  I asked a man to grab my luggage. I’m good about pulling the old-lady-card and getting help. 

    I love seeing Damon.  I have known him most of his life and loved him.  Our relationship is better than ever. His dad always said that my good behavior as his step-mother would pay off one day.  I don’t know how much is my good behavior as his step-mother as he was growing up versus Damon being a good guy.  Fortunately, I enjoy his wife, Cylin.  She is kind and considerate of me and a complete hoot. Their home is a calm, loving place. Good place to be.

    We walked down to the main drag and went to a Brazilian restaurant and then got some Jeni’s ice cream.  It was okay, but probably not worth the calories.  I prefer Haagen Das vanilla chocolate chip.  Surprise!! Or, of course, Hersey’s Milk Chocolate with Almonds.  When I walked into the house, there on the kitchen counter was an extra-large king-sized bar.  Cylin had bought it for me.

    After dinner, I watched some Fosse/Verdon. The show is hard to watch because he is so unlikeable.  I wanted to have more information on their professional relationship.  I love his choreography, but this thing is a soap opera. Bah-humbug.

Thursday, September 26, 2019

    Wow! a packed day.  First off to the Day Care Center to drop off Sidney. Only, he didn't want to go? He didn't want to leave his mother? Get in the car seat? Get in the car?  Who knows.  All I can tell you is that he wrestled and squirmed to beat the band. Shivani finally wrestled him into the car seat.  I sat next to him, hoping to help him calm down.  Hana jumped in next to me.  She was kind enough to share her space. She leaned in, and we were off.  Sidney calmed down the moment he spotted a truck. A truck!  That would do it for me too.

    Shivani said this was the first time he had behaved this way and started problem-solving.  We talked about using distractions and what kind of distractions. She is a wonderful mom.  Kind, considerate, and structured, prepared to problem solve for a less confrontational approach — a delight to watch with him.  I wish I had had a mom like her. 

    Shivani and I were going to walk Hana on a beach after we dropped off Sidney, but her belly started hurting her. She was groaning in pain. She said she had to go home.  I encouraged her to stop off and find a bathroom immediately to see if she could get some relief.  She did; she didn't get any relief. She drove home, groaning the whole way.  She took some anti-nausea medication and applied a heating pad.  Then she jumped in the hot tub where heat would be applied more liberally to her whole body.

    I drove her to the doctor, her first appointment with a GI doctor.  She had been waiting for two months to see this specialist.  There are problems with doctors in SF; apparently, many have retired without selling their practices to younger practitioners.  The doctor told her that her MRI indicated that she didn't have diverticulitis, which was an earlier diagnosis.  He thought she might have a spastic colon.  He recommended some over the counter roughage solution.  This was a disappointing result.  She, we all, was hoping for something more definitive.

    We were going to go home, but she had another appointment in SF to see an acupuncturist.  She also had to stop off at a friend's house to check if a package arrived.  She realized there was no point to heading home only to turn around in half an hour.  We took care of the friend and then went to a Korean restaurant in the acupuncturist's neighborhood.  I don't think I have ever had Korean food before. There was a lot of food.  I ate some of it and enjoyed it.

    Then we drove to the acupuncturist's.  The main drag there is comparable to 5th avenue in NYC as it runs along Central Park. Gorgeous homes facing the park. Her friend lives on a side street halfway down the block from the park.  Yes, this woman was a friend as well as her acupuncturist; they had known each other since high school and remained in touch.  

    While Shivani was at her appointment, I walked around the block.  I gave no thought to my back; it didn't bother me at all.  As I walked, I experienced a small twinge. It reminded me that I was still vulnerable.  I decided not to walk too far to be on the safe side.  I walked around and up and down the block several times.  I didn't make my 6,000 steps for the day, but it was better than yesterday when I didn't even make 3,000.

    I was tired from all the excitement and the meal and went to sit in the car and nap.  I leaned the seat back and opened the window.  I had been watching too many homicide shows.  I imagined someone coming up and shooting me in the head.  I wasn't scared; it was just an image that came to mind. I was reasonably sure it wouldn't happen.  These are only the images that are floating around in my head and come to the surface easily.  I need to watch something else.

    When we got home, I went to sit out on the deck and work on either the blog or the book.  I notice that the sun sails which hung over the deck seemed low.  There was a strong wind; I thought the material had gotten stretched out a bit. Then I saw that one of the steel poles had been bent.  While some of the attachments are to steel poles, others are to her house.  I was concerned that there would be damage.  Shivani came out.  She was able to detach two of them with ease; we folded them up.  The third sun sail was too taut, and it was difficult to open the clip and disconnect it.  She let it go and went inside. She had a business call to make at 3.  

    While I was sitting outside, the wind picked up more.  I told Shivani we had to get the third one down.  I had tried to do it myself but didn't have the strength.  She got off the phone and helped me take down the third one. 

    At 5 pm, two friends came over; each brought their two kids with them.  Shivani served everyone dinner. These are all young women with young children. Their talk was about daycare, school, children's yoga, etc. There wasn't any way I could participate, but I could listen. I don't know if I would find it all interesting daily, but for now, it was a way to learn about a world I don't participate in, and it was fun.

    After dinner, I did the dishes. For those of you who don't know, I LOVE doing dishes.   Mike loved to cook; I loved to do dishes.  It was a marriage made in heaven. 

    After the two ladies and their respective broods left, Shivani bathed Sidney, dressed him in his jammies, and settled into the sofa to read him three books. As was the case last night, I held the phone, so his dad could see him, and he could see his dad.  Shivani asked me if I wanted to help put him to bed.  I went in, but it was clear that my presence, a break in the routine, was agitating him.  I back off quickly before his agitation grew.

    I went to the living room, ran several blog entries through Grammarly, and posted them through email. My eyes were closing.

______-______-______

Musings:

    I have frequently said the thing I miss most about Mike is loving him and being loved by him, someone who smiled whenever he saw me, made it clear he was happy I was in his life. 

    Shivani is a young woman who already has had another serious relationship since her husband, Dave, died.  (Yes, two widows no waiting.)  She pointed out that loving and being loved was possible with another person, but that never replaced the one lost.

    I came up with the analogy; all the Bach in the world will not replace the total absence of Beethoven's music in the life of someone who loves Beethoven.  We love each person differently; we experience each person individually.  

    While Mike might be replaceable in the sense that there might be someone I can love and be loved by, how do I replace 45 years of refining a good relationship and making it better. I don't completely dismiss the idea that there might be someone I can spend my last years with, but I'm sure not looking at this point.  I had the role model of my mother, who lost her husband, my father, at the age of 52 and spent the next 46 years living quite happily alone. One of my problems, aside from not feeling a need for a Mike replacement, is that I am terrified of dating; I always found it scary.

  

Wednesday, September 25, 2019

    When I woke up, I heard Shivani and Sidney playing around.  I smiled - until I heard Shivani saying she was so tired. I jumped out of bed to see if I could be of assistance.  I was somewhat of a distraction but not total relief.  I figured out that she might not be feeling that well because of the antibiotic she got yesterday.

    Sidney had requested oatmeal for breakfast. Two bites later, he was done. Shivani dressed him for school, and off we went. I got to see his school. After we dropped him off, Shivani, Hanna, and I headed for a different beach than yesterday. Here, the waves were rougher.  I saw no one sitting on the beach; even the shore was rockier.  There was a designated path for walking. It was pretty crowded with people biking, walking, and dogs, lots of dogs.

    My back was acting up again big time. I chose not to continue with Shivani and Hana. I walked a short distance and turned back. Looking back toward the mountains, there was a golf club bracketed by a nature preserve on the ocean side and mountains on the far side. There was a mist hanging over it, creating a Japanese painting scene that competed with the ocean view for the title of spectacular.

    I found a cement walkway closer to the ocean.  I walked back and forth on a short strip so I would be visible to Shivani when she came back to the path leading to the parking area.  I also did some half-moon stretches using the guard rail.  That helped me a lot. Wow! 

    We had stopped off at a yoga studio on the way to the beach, which offers 60-minute Bikram classes.  There was a ballet bar in the class; that part was okay. I decided against going, concerned it might make my back worst instead of better. At home, I can rely on the teachers and other students to help me; they haul me up off the floor and drive me home when necessary.  I feel very cared for and safe.  

    When we got home, I went to sit outside on the deck.  Shivani joined me for a while. She found it too hot, and she went inside.  She went to a yoga class while I stayed home and worked on the book, the blog, and listened to some City Homicide on Amazon. 

    The cleaners arrived, literally, 3 of them. I stayed out on the deck, and they had free rein. When they were done, one stuck her head out and said goodbye.

    Shivani came home. She continued working inside while I worked outside.  I loved being out on the deck. 

    I got to use the same bathroom Sidney used, the one with the full tub. The first night I noticed a lot of standing water between the tub and the toilet.  Shivani and I cleaned it up, and then there was more standing water.  We were both concerned there was a leak.  She called a plumber before she left for her yoga class.  I went to the bathroom while she was out and noticed no water on the floor between the toilet and the tub.  I texted her, so she could cancel the plumber if she wanted to.  She decided against it.  I asked her if there were any other plumbing problems they could work on if the ‘leak’ mysteriously disappeared.  

    I was outside when the plumber came. Shivani joined us and told me that the ‘leak’ had been caused by some child adapting contraption she had put on the bathroom sink faucet so it would be easier for Sidney to use.  Her other problem was also a minor one.  The guy didn’t charge her anything. I still don’t understand how that contraption caused the water on the floor.  I never saw water accumulate on the sink behind the faucet and overflow on the floor. 

    At two pm, Shivani and I headed out to the Farmer’s Market about 15 minutes away.  It was a great time to be there; it’s a small market, and it wasn’t too crowded.  It is also a very yuppy market; all upscale produce beautifully displayed.  I had no idea there were that many varieties of tomatoes and squashes. Of course, I know beans about food in general.  Shivani, on the other hand, loves to cook.  She considers Mike a significant influence on her.

    We went back home. Shivani went off for another yoga class. I took a shower, went back out on the deck, and did MELT.  Shivani had a roller. It wasn’t a MELT roller, soft, but a hard one.  Good enough.  I find that my back problems originate in the area just under my armpits.  When I experiment, I find that’s where the trouble arises. 

    Brenna, Sidney’s nanny, had come home with him from physical therapy.  He was a preemie and received some help with his development.  He looks fine now.  The kid doesn’t stop moving.  He was crying his eyes out and couldn’t be consoled. Shivani is excellent with him; she stays calm and works to resolve the problem.  She asked him if he was hungry, tired, angry, etc.  I noticed that he stopped crying when she asked if he was hungry.  She proposed feeding him some yogurt.  That had an immediate calming effect. Shivani said he comes home extra tired on those days he has physical therapy.  I know I can get pretty grouchy when I’m super tired.  It must be hard for those little ones.

    I got a text from Kathrin saying she would pick up my car from the garage that afternoon. Could I please send her my credit card information?  I was pretty sure I had given it to the garage already.  I called her to tell her so.  We had a long talk, mostly about her thoughts and efforts on getting her visa extended.  If she can’t, she has to be on a plane to Bogota, Columbia, on October 11.  Given the current fixation with illegal immigrants, I encourage her to be on that plane unless she has all her paperwork in order and in her hot little hand.  Of course, I don’t know how it works. ,2019

    She told me about a friend of hers who was suffering from some sort a reprieve of an old eating disorder in response to stress. Someone recommended this psychiatrist.  She contacted the woman and was told that her treatment cost $25,000 a month. Really? Sounds like a scam to me.  I would expect a guarantee of a cure at a cost that or the promise of a full refund. 

    Shivani made the salmon we bought at the Farmer’s Market with a stewed cherry tomato and onion topping called salmon with a tomato vinaigrette. Yum!  The salmon came from Denmark.  I bought a piece of salmon in San Francisco that was caught in Denmark.  Faust anyone? It may have been worth the deal with the devil; it was that delicious.

    Shivani has a bedtime routine with Sidney.  She reads three books to him on the sofa in the living room. Then he goes to bed, and she reads one more. This sets him up for bedtime, and there is almost no fuss about going to bed.  

            Shivani is remarkable in other ways.  She is separated from Sidney’s father.  There were problems in this process. Nonetheless, every night he is on FaceTime while she reads the books to him on the sofa. When Sidney is placed in his crib, she props up the phone until she is ready to leave the room.  She respects how important the father’s role is in a child’s life.  

    Then to bed.  When I was a child, my mother would usher us to bed, saying, “To bed, to bed, who has one, who has none must also go to bed.” Only she said in German. Sorry, I don’t write German. About ten years ago, while visiting a cousin in Germany, I quoted my mother when it was time for all of us to go to bed.  My German cousin was horrified. She said my mother would never say such a thing. Huh? The literal translation doesn’t quite catch the meaning.  It means who has someone to go to bed with has to go to bed, and who has no one must also go to bed. I told Dorothy. She laughed and said it sounded exactly like something our mother would say.  

 

Tuesday, September 24, 2019

    Jean called while I was still in bed.  I finally got up around nine after a good night's sleep.

Shivani and Sidney were gone.  I had promised to do the dishes.  I was emptying the dishwasher when the door opened, and Shivani and Hanna, her dog, entered. She had told me that she was going to work. She decided to work from home because she wasn't feeling well and had a doctor's appointment a little later in the day.  I spent the morning washing dishes and making my Juice Plus smoothie. 

    Shivani encouraged me to sit outside on this huge deck she had built along with landscaping the garden.  I moved my morning soup and my phone out to the deck, came back into the house, and grabbed my computer. 

    I called Jean back. She calls regularly. She wanted information on my smoothie.  Her triglycerides are too high, she needs to consume more protein.  We shared medical information on the family. She asked me to send pictures of Sam.  I checked my phone; I had already sent her a text with the video I took of Sam and me. Jean has only started using text messages recently. We're all Luddites. I had to have Mowg set up the Lyft app on my phone. Thank God.  I love this process. I get in; the price is fixed ahead of time. When we arrive, I get out; I don't have to deal with paying the driver.  Later on, I get a text which makes tipping easy.

    I sat outside on the deck and worked on the blog. At three o'clock, I set out to the post office a mile away to mail stuff to Dorothy that I had meant to pass off to her when I saw her in Seattle at Karin's house. It included letters my parents had received in 1940.  Many are in German, but I'm pretty sure they are all letters of congratulations on my birth.  I also sent my mother's 100-year-old bible, which she got on her confirmation. There's a dedication on the front page dated 1918; she was fifteen. 

    When I got back from the post office, Shivani and I headed for the beach to meet up with Sidney and his nanny, who picked him up at his pre-school.  Only a few brave people swim in these waters; they are cold.  A few 50-year-old surfers out there, and some other mothers with their preschoolers playing in the sand and getting their feet wet.  I sat there the whole time taking in the view: good-sized waves rolling in,  and the cliffs overlooking the ocean to my left. 

    Shivani, Hanna, her dog, and I went home in one car. Brenna, the nanny, and Sidney went home in her car.  Brenna bathed Sidney; Shivani fed him dinner while she ate. I was hungry and had the salad with chicken Shivani made for me that morning. She had also bought some sweets at a local bakery. 

    She went into her bedroom, stating her intention to go to sleep.  I stayed in the living room, working on revising and revising and revising Chapter 1 on my book. God, I'm getting sick and tired of working on that chapter.  I still thought it wasn't right.  The information in this chapter better belongs in another section of the book. 

    I delayed getting up from my seat because I didn't want to take a shower. I am slow at adapting to new routines unless it's a crisis. I did just fine in Oahu when Mike was in the hospital.  The focus was on him and getting things done for him.  My comfort slipped my mind.  I got into the shower with my shoes on to rinse the sand off from the beach.  I went to bed. It was all good. It's not like I had worked in a coal mine.