Monday, August 24, 2020

            I got up at 7 am after going to bed early.  I must have been tired. Elsa and I did some of our walk. She was anxious to get home and get her breakfast. She was hungry. 

            I sent out a few updates. I was running behind. I also completed all the instruction videos for my application to Step-Up Tutoring. Mind you, I will be doing this for free. This is the most rigorous application process I have ever gone through. Of course, they are asking everyone and anyone over the age of fourteen to participate as tutors. I think they might be asking too much from people. It will be interesting to see if they get a good response.

            Richie arrived at 9 am to install the second fan. I replaced the broken one with the same model. I thought of getting one with a wider span, but they didn't have it in white.  I like the lighter look. When he was finished, I asked him how much. He said the same, $60.  I told him he had only been here for an hour, actually less.  He said, "My mother told me I should charge $60 to install a fan." I didn't argue. I can still afford the luxury of avoiding conflict, but I didn't feel good about the exchange.

            I called Judy. She set me straight. She said he usually charges $150 for half a day. If you have less, you're lucky if he charges you less. He has to travel half an hour to get here. She also told me that it would have cost me a great deal more if I hired an electrician.  I felt better knowing I hadn't been taken advantage of. 

            While he was here, I worked on the garden.  I did that as much to get out of the house while he was here. I do find his negativity overwhelming.  

            Yvette had pulled out just before I came out. Perfect. Her car was blocking access to this shrub I wanted to work on.  It has an asparagus fern growing right in the middle of it. Those spines are something else.  I had gloves on, clipped the stalks as close to the ground as possible, and painted the remaining bits with Clorox. 

            Then I went over to attack the asparagus fern in the strip by along the driveway.  I noticed the vine on the fence between my neighbor's lot and mine.  I started pulling it down. It's tricky getting in there. My plants are growing thicker, and they crowd up against the fence, which faces south.  Once I had done some work on the vine, I started pulling up the asparagus ferns. Some had already produced fruit. I can only hope that they are still unripe and not capable of generating new plants. 

            My legs felt strong enough for me to think of working on that irregularly landscaped area in my front yard.  Irregular isn't quite the word for it. It's where the builders dumped the extra soil and rock dugout when they dug out the foundation for the house. They just shoved it into a corner and planted on top of it. It's actually kind of neat. Clambering back there is a bit like walking on the moors of England.  I took it on with the help of my walking sticks. 

            It all worked out well. I got up there safely for the first time since we moved here.  I know that everyone thinks my legs are getting worse instead of better, watching me walk in my careful way. Oh, well.  No one spits on me. It's all good.  But surprise, I am doing better.  Yes, when I sit for a while, I need to have a moment to get my hip in gear. But once it's in, I'm good to go. 

            I have been doing ice water facials.  I remember hearing years ago that Paul Newman did this every day to keep his face in shape. He had a face worth keeping in shape. I started it because I read it is one way to snap yourself out of a bad mental space. What I discovered is that it feels great.  I rotate my head back and forth, breathing the way I do when I swim.  The procedure has a good effect on my mood. Even better, it makes my skin and eyes look great. I have been suffering from itchy eyes.  They look like they are shrinking in my face. After the ice water facial, wow! They look bright blue and clear again. Also, my vision was clearer.

            I had plans to go out to do some chores, running my car on gas. Can you imagine? I have to work to use the gas motor instead of the electric one? If I don't use it, it will die on me.  I was doing some work on the computer when I heard a woman's voice calling me.

            I didn't recognize her and wondered what she wanted. She said, "Were you the woman who called the police the other night? "I said, yes. She said, "I just wanted to thank you." Okay. Apparently, none of her immediate neighbors had called.  This was a surprise. The woman said her neighbors were uncaring people. She is unaware of the way she comes off.  She is very loud. Very few people use air-conditioning; all our houses are open. That means when you speak loudly, you can expect that everyone will hear you.  The police were called to her house several times because of altercations between her and her son. The other night the fight was between a man and a woman.  She explained that her daughter's ex-boyfriend came over and beat her up.  

            I only caught the tail end of the altercation. I heard the woman say, "Get out of my house!' Then a car alarm went on, off, on again, and then a car drove away.  I had just dialed 911 as he drove away. The police called me back, and I reported a domestic incident. The woman told me that some man had come over that evening and said the police were on their way and he was staying with her until they arrived. The woman, the mother of the girl, wanted to thank him too.  I figured out it was my next-door neighbor, the farmer.  I called him and told him the woman wanted to speak to him. Upon hearing the altercation, he got up in the middle of the night ran down the street and around the corner. It would have been shorter if there were no fences between all the houses, but there are. The shortcut was not an option. While he was running the tenth of a mile, his wife called the police.  I felt grateful to know that he responded that way. It makes me feel safer. Not that I'm expecting to be attacked by an ex-boyfriend. I'm not the type to attract abusers. That type runs for the hills away from me.

            Shortly after she left, I took off to do some chores in town. I have to use the gas machine in the car. I didn't charge it after the last trip, so I wouldn't have enough electric charge to make the whole trip. I ran on electric the entire way to town and had electric charge left over. It wasn't until I was on the way home that it finally switched over.  The gas gauge never changed. I hope some gas got used.

            I made three stops in town. The first was at Office Max to get my SS card laminated. I don't want to have to get another one before I die. The instructions I got when I thought I had to order another one were just much too complicated. 

            My next stop was at Petco to buy Ear Powder. Judy says using it makes plucking ear hair from dog ears easier. Well, so far, I have had no luck. I've tried the hemoccult. That didn't work; I didn't get a single hair out. Then I tried a tweezer, the kind I use on my ear brows. That didn't work. Her ear looked weird with powder. I couldn't even figure out where the hair was. I grabbed some hair with the hemoccult. OW! Elsa leaped out of my arms and ran for her life.

            After that, I headed over to the church graveyard to check out possible gravestones.  I have no idea how to design this gravestone and the engraving.  I have to get both our names on one stone.  There were a few others like that in the graveyard. It wasn't a great selection.

             I called Susan at the church to get some idea of the maximum size gravestone I can get. Not that I want it the maximum size, I just want to know what I have to work with. 

            I stopped off at the Thai restaurant on the way home to pick up some of their vegetable soup.  Dinner! I had been watching some pretty down movies Goldfinch and then Inside Llewelyn Davis. Damn, are those two downers.  I looked for a comedy. I found Catastrophe.  So far, so good.  However, it seems like the guy's job is not that secure. Damn, again. Life is causing enough anxiety. I don't need more, thank you anyway.            

Sunday, August 23, 2020

             I was awakened at midnight by loud voices.  At first, I thought it was the neighbor down the street at play. Before the virus, he frequently had people over to his house to play one game or another, pool, horseshoes, etc. As he played, he screamed on top of his lungs in response to something or another, cursing like a sailor. As long as it was over by ten, I thought it was funny. However, the night it went on till 1 am. I called the cops. Enough is enough.

            As I was rousing, it became clear the noise I was hearing was not about a game.  It was a man and a woman screaming at each other.  I got up and went out on the lanai to determine where it was coming from. There is one family on the adjacent street that has had similar events. It’s between a son and his mother. I don’t know what he’s about, but she is reduced to something less than the adult she should be in the interaction.  

            I heard her say, “Get out of my house! Get out of my house!” I heard a car alarm go on, then off, then on again, and then a car drove away. I had dialed 911 just before the end.  I thought I hadn’t pushed the call button, but the next thing I knew, my phone rang. It was the 911 operator. I asked her if someone else had called in about the incident on the neighboring street. She wanted to make sure that I was alright first. Once I assured her I was, she told me that others had called in the fight already.  I went back to bed but had some trouble falling asleep.

            I was confused. I had first thought the departing man was the son coming back for a visit getting in a fight with his mother again. He was 17 at the time, a few years ago. Recently loud music started coming from that house.  My immediate thought was, “Hunter’s back.”  I hadn’t heard any screaming until last night. 

            I had set my alarm for 4:30 am to participate in a zoom family event, a baby naming in New York at 11 am.  When my alarm went off, I hit the snooze button.  The next thing I knew, it was 6 am.  Too late to participate.  I got up and did my morning walk with Elsa. I emailed my cousin, who had invited me. I realized that I had not received a zoom invitation. I think she assumed that I wouldn’t join because of the time difference. 

            I spent the rest of the morning meditating and working on the Step Up Program videos.  They put their tutoring applicants through a more rigorous application procedure than any other ‘job’ I’ve ever applied for.  I think they are discouraging people from joining. However, I may have found navigating the program more difficult than most because of my own ignorance. 

            Every time I completed one section of the program, I had to go back to the email, download the original document, and find where I was. When I got to the end of the program, I realized that I could have returned to the original program by clicking on a tab.  However, were no directions on how to do this. These computer sophisticates assume everyone knows the ‘obvious.’ Ha! 

            As part of their tutor-instruction program, they gave some information about using zoom and a few other programs that can be used with screen sharing.  I am looking forward to learning more about these.

            I craved more of General Tao’s chicken. I had bought a frozen package from Costco. I was on my fourth serving from one bag. It’s a good deal. However, when I dumped the remains of the bag into the heated frying pan, all that was left was broccoli. I had noticed that there was more chicken than broccoli in the last servings. Now, I knew why.  The broccoli was all sitting at the bottom. 

            This was not going to provide enough protein for me. I grabbed a frozen salmon patty out of the freezer and threw it into the heated frying pan along with the broccoli from General Tao’s Chicken package.  Ah, I found a way to prepare those patties so I can enjoy them - fry them to death. 

Saturday, August 22, 2020

      I was up in the middle of the night last night, unable to sleep for two hours.  I walked down to Yvette’s area.  It reminded me of when I went down there on January 24, 2019, to drop off Elsa because Mike and I were to be flown to Oahu.  That was the last moment he was on this island. Remembering those moments is harder than it was living them. At the moment, adrenalin did its job, and I just did what had to be done.

       I slept until 7 am. There was no driveway yoga today. Elsa and I went for our walk. I have been putting more weight on the inside of the right foot, which changes my weight distribution between my two feet and hips. As expected, it puts a strain on the left leg and hip.  Muscles are being called on that haven’t been used in at least fifty years.  Whatever else is happening, the areas of discomfort and the nature of discomfort change. Those are good signs. 

        I didn’t get much done today because of the way I felt.  I washed my kitchen floor and part of the hallway.  I don’t use the Bissell the way it is recommended.  I have a good-sized kitchen. I dump about three gallons of water on it, one per area.  Yes, I dump the water and then vacuum it up.  I dump, vacuum, dump another gallon, and vacuum.  I do that until the water in the collection tank comes up clear.  That way, I know my floor is clean. 

        B. called and asked me if I knew how to get a book named Prentice-Hall and some other words I don’t remember. His grandson Elijah needed it to complete his work. He was supposed to pick up the book from school yesterday before coming to this side of the island. There was a snafu. B. called the Kona library. The only copy of it was in a library in Maui; it would take a week to get here. I thought maybe he could download it.  I checked out Amazon. There were used copies at very reasonable prices, but it would take a while to get here. I recommended that Elijah have a friend read the chapter to him or take pictures of the pages.  He had done the latter, but the print was too blurry. I know that taking photos of a page can be done. I’ve done it when I’m working with students on a book they have, and I don’t. I pictured the book. I know those pages are larger than an ordinary commercial book. I told him to have his friend take two to three pictures of each page.

        I will have to be up and bright-eyed, and bushy-tailed at 5 am tomorrow.  My cousin’s baby naming is scheduled for then.  Well, it is 11 am on the east coast where they live.  I am going to try.

         I listened to my Saturday shows. I also did some more work on the Step-Up program.  It is frustrating.  As it winds up, I made an appointment for an online class for 8 am Monday morning. Oops! That’s 5 am Hawaii time.  I tried to change it but couldn’t figure out how,

          I tried to change another appointment with no luck, the one I have with Sears on Tuesday. They’re supposed to be here between 8 and 12.  I have a luncheon appointment with Zola on that day.  If they come late, I could be screwed.  I tried to call Sears to change the appointment. Forget getting through. 

         The other thing I did to lift my spirits was stick my head in a bowl of ice water.  It felt great.  I read about it in an article saying it was a help in calming down. I also remembered hearing that Paul Newman dunked his head into ice water to preserve his good looks.  It does do wonders for your face. I think it might help with my itching eyes. 

I called both Jean M. and Judy for a pick-me-up. They were both helpful, maybe not as helpful as Mike would have been, but at least they’re here.

Friday, August 21, 2020

            I didn’t write anything for yesterday. I put all my energy into applying as a volunteer tutor in the LA School district Step-Up program. Jeez, Louise!  The application is long and complicated.  Besides the legal aspects, they need to cover their asses. They provide a fair amount of instruction on how to relate to the students and their parents. Also, they give a crash course in how to teach.  They show you how to set up a lesson plan. So far, they have said nothing about requiring one from the tutors.  If they do, I’m out. I agree that many teachers have to be forced to think about what they’ll be teaching and how to present it. I’ve been teaching for fifty years. Also, my focus in education is often on some cognitive aspects of the lesson.  There is no place to include that in the plan.  

            There’s another problem that may not be so easy to fix.  I find that I didn’t get confirmation when I finished a section of the program.  When I finished one, I had to leave the whole program, go back to the email, reopen the entire file, find where I was, and start again.  It may be more my problem because I’m somewhat older than the average twelve-year-old, the paragon of computer literacy. 

            I finally got hold of Kia to ask two questions.  I received a postcard telling me I had to buy protection. They assured me that it was a scam.  The other question was about the mechanical operation of the car.  I had learned that there were two motors: one powered by electricity and the other by gas.  I have been driving only on electricity since I got the car.  I was concerned about what happened to the gas motor if unused. 

            At first, the mechanic told me that I had no choice but to use the gas motor; it would switch over automatically.  I had to grab him by the ears and tell him that I often came home and had electrical units to spare. I never switched over to gas. He finally got it. Oh, if you never use the gas motor, it will become dysfunctional.  He explained this to me as if I could not possibly have any idea what he was talking about. Duh! I called with this question. I must have some idea what you were talking about.  He did tell me something I didn’t know: gas goes bad after two years.  I have a full tank, of which I have used a fraction of a gallon.  He told me not to be so diligent about charging the car each time I come home after a drive. Okay, plan B.  I will use the gas motor at least once a week and use up that tank of gas within the next six months.

            I called Darby to join me for my evening walk. When I got home, I treated Elsa for skin and ear problems.  Boy, her skin is a mess. That she’s not scratching 24/7 is a mystery to me. 

            While the TV played in the background, I went through my documents drawer to find our marriage certificate. I needed it to secure a new Social Security card with my hyphenated name on it. Lo and behold, there it was at the bottom of the drawer, a Social Security card with my hyphenated name.  I have no recall of getting it. As I think of it, Mike and I must have gotten new cards when we applied for something in the Social Security office. Was it here in Hawaii or while we were living in Ohio?  Probably Ohio, on the day we went to claim our social security benefits. Who knows? Either way, I’m out the $39 I paid to get a new one, but I’m spared a somewhat convoluted procedure to get it.   All’s well that ends well.  Now, I plan to get this card laminated at my earliest convenience to ensure it lasts for the rest of my life.      

Thursday, August 20, 2020

            Dear me.  As I write this, it is 4:30 on Friday, and I noticed that I wrote nothing yesterday.  Oh, well.  Yes, I am actually quite busy. 

            I did my walk, participated in driveway yoga, meditated, and took my after-meditation nap. Again, I did nothing on the article. I have had it for now. Instead, I worked on my ad for Wyzant.  Many people say they want to work with me here in Hawaii, but they don’t call and arrange for it.  I can appreciate they are overwhelmed and confused. I feel that way too. However, I can’t just sit around hoping they jump onboard. I need to be engaged. While I would prefer to help my local community, I have to go elsewhere if my local community doesn’t want it.

            I find that I am having trouble remembering what day of the week it is. There isn’t much to anchor me, only the yoga classes three days a week. Some of the NPR shows are different, but many of them are the same during the weekdays. I dread to think what it must be like for people who are more isolated than me and don’t have meditation to help them deal with all the emotional discomfort.

            I also am sympathizing with all the folks who have been out of work and unable to get a job.  Putting yourself out there over and over, holding out hope again and again, and then facing disappointment is hard on the nerves.  And still, I don’t have it nearly as bad as others.  I just want activity – at least for now. I am volunteering to work with kids for free. It may be that in the future I will need the money too. 

            I called Acoustical Surfaces, this amazing company that does nothing but sound solutions. I spoke to someone in tech support once before.  He told me that the problem was structural, and I probably had to rip up the whole floor down to the joists. 

            Today I got a different suggestion. Richie said I’d be better off insulating the ceiling below than doing more work in the room. He said tearing everything up is too big a deal. The tech gave me a solution that was different than the one Richie gave me.  This is a problem because Richie thinks he’s the only one who knows what to do.  He thinks he’s the only one who perceives reality, and everyone else is running a con. Phew! His negativity is overwhelming. 

            When I got off the phone with Tom at Acoustical Surfaces, I called down to Yvette. Scott was down there too. I told him what the guy said.  Scott said he would be up in a while, and we would talk about it then. He said he would be willing to do the work. He also has a lot of experience in construction, probably not as much as Richie. However, Scott will be easier to deal with than Riche, a mobile loud negativity unit.  It is overwhelming. 

            Tom from Acoustical Surfaces had sent me an email with information and gave me his direct number.  I called him back so Scott could talk to him. This was a good move. Tom had said to be in our earlier call that he was used to dealing with contractors, not little old ladies trying to figure out what to do. 

            In his conversation with Scott, he supported some of Scott’s ideas and gave him some suggestions which Scott thought were very useful.  Now I will have to tell Richie that I will be going with Scott.  While Richie is a crusty old bastard, he is also vulnerable.  He tells everyone how no one where he works likes him, and they try to fire him.  I can imagine. However, customers who have dealt with him at work comment on how helpful he is.  I can see both are true.  He is comfortable if he can play the expert.  

            I spent most of the day working on my Wyzant page. Wyzant is a site where you can advertise your tutoring services.  I will try anything at least once.  I am also applying for the Step Up Tutoring program working with the LA public schools to provide free online tutoring for students who can’t afford it.  I sent a brief application with a video to say something about why I wanted to tutor. You can see I was busy. 

            It poured again in the afternoon but stopped in time for my before-dinner walk with Elsa.

      I wasn’t up for watching Outlander. Yes, I think it is very good, but it is too stimulating to watch right before bed. I finished watching Two Guys and a Girl from County Clare. Ah, just my speed. A light romantic comedy with some great music.  I started watching another movie about Ireland. I can’t remember the name of it now. It is another romantic comedy. Ah!      

Wednesday, August 19, 2020

            On my early morning walk, I checked out the spot where I found the five twenty-dollar bills to see if there was a place where I could post a sign, saying, “If you lost something of value at this spot, call 808-310-9-5923.”  I obviously wouldn’t post what I found. I’d have everyone and his brother calling me.  I find I am also concerned that I will get some uncomfortable phone calls. Not doing something also makes me uncomfortable. What if this was someone’s food money? These are tough times. Many people are struggling for basic necessities.

            The gardeners came this morning. I directed them to plant the hibiscus I bought, sitting in a pot in the front yard.  I also asked them to dig a somewhat larger rock out of the hole I had dug to plant the orchid Joe gave me.  They planted it. Hopefully, they did it correctly.  Orchids need a lot of rocks around them for drainage.  Too much water is the greatest threat to their well-being.

            I tried to do some work on the article. Yesterday, I printed all I had and took some paragraphs from one copy to include in a second.  I started rereading it. I had had it.  It felt like I was being forced fed, water-boarded. I had to set it aside.  I put and down and headed out to do some chores. 

            My first stop was the DMV.  At my age, I have to renew my driver’s license every two years.  It was due in December, on my eightieth birthday; you can get it six months before. I wanted to get it over with. I can only think everything will get worse before it gets better, and I want everything in place that I can get in place. 

            It was a long, long wait. I had my kindle with me, so it was bearable, except for my nagging hunger.  I put all the required documents together a while ago and placed them in a shopping bag and in my car. I used my tax return to show my social security number. Ha! They no longer post the whole number on the W-2 forms, only the last four digits. The accountant had written it somewhere in the document, but it didn’t count because it was a state issue paper.  The DMV clerk warned me to get a Social Security card or have trouble next time.  I haven’t owned a card in years.  I asked if the passport was the only acceptable proof of identity. She said yes, better make sure it stays current. I show them the picture id they issued when I turn in my current driver’s license for my new one, and that’s not acceptable. My photo-id driver’s license is considered proof of identity in all other contexts, but not with the agency that issued it. You’ve got to be kidding me. 

            Here’s another problem. Passports are expensive. Many people may not be able to afford them.  What are they supposed to do? 

            I headed into town to drop off the Styrofoam that came with the fan Richie installed. I had pulled some more out of the trash barrel from Yvette and Josh. I wouldn’t have fit my garbage in if I hadn’t, and I prefer to recycle than throw things out. 

            I stopped off at a local building supply company, HPM, to see if they carried homasote. I put Richie to work on improving the acoustic insulation between the guest bedroom and Yvette’s.  The store employees were remarkably ignorant of what they are selling. I finally found one at the checkout in the lumber area. They didn’t have anything like that.

            Off to Home Depot to return the fan with the broken glass. I asked for help unloading the broken fan. There was an associate at the front door, making sure people had masks and cleaned their hands. When I asked him for help, he wasn’t sure he was strong enough. I said that the two of us could do it together. When I did lift it, I realized that it really wasn’t that heavy. It’s a big box, awkward, but I could manage the weight.

            At the return desk, I told them that I think the problem was caused by a manufacturing problem, and it didn’t break in shipping.  I went off to see if I could find a sixty-two-inch fan in white. No such animal.  I got another fan in the same style as the one already installed.

            I went to check if they had any homasote. One associate tried to help me. She couldn’t find anything on her handheld computer and recommended I speak to one of the gentlemen down the aisle.  They didn’t know what I was talking about either. I was shown some foam board. I remember seeing this product at Home Depot last year when I first started looking.  

            When I checked out, I bought myself a Hersey’s Milk Chocolate bar with almonds. I was starving.  I had been hungry while I was waiting at the DMV. I was going to start chewing on the car soon. 

            I headed to Costco, which is right around the corner. I was still munching on the chocolate bar as I went to enter.  The employee at the entrance told me I couldn’t walk in eating. I had to put my mask on. I stepped aside, finished the bar, pulled up my mask, and entered.  I just wanted to buy blueberries and vinegar.  I picked up some of my miso soup and a case of almond milk. As Yvette says, grab it while it’s in. Since everything has to be shipped from the mainland, you never know when the next shipment will be. 

            I couldn’t find the vinegar. I asked an employee. He pointed me to an end display. There wasn’t much left. He said there was a vinegar shortage. That was the case when Covid first hit. Vinegar was scarce, along with rubbing alcohol and Clorox.  They didn’t have the two packs gallon container; they only had the larger bottles, 1.3 gallons.  I grabbed four.  

            I pushed the loaded cart out to the parking lot and loaded my car on my own.  I usually ask someone to help me load heavy items, like the case of almond milk.  I had to struggle, but I was able to do it. 

            I headed home to unload the car and nap.  I had a hot dog for dinner with a salad. I also took a piece of fish out of the freezer for tomorrow night’s dinner. 

            I had had enough of Outlander. It is so emotionally intense.  The historical facts, political and cultural, are fascinating.  The lead actors are gorgeous, a pleasure to watch. Their sex acts, explicit as any soft porn, are very tastefully done. The emphasis is on their feelings for each other rather than sex. Amazingly well done.  When acts of malicious violence come on, I fast forward.  Despite doing that, the intense emotions of the show were having an impact on me, so I watched something else.

            I asked for the Big Lebowski through Amazon prime.  I got a list of movies and shows with the word ‘great’ in it, but no Big Lebowski.  I found a lovely film, “Two Boys and a Girl from Clare.” Some romance and drama but dialed down. What a relief!        

Tuesday, August 18, 2020

            Wow! I found five-twenty-dollar bills lying wet in the grass on my morning walk.  When I arrived back home, they were ready for yoga. I asked if I should report it to the police. Unfortunately, the police don't have the best reputation. Yvette told me that it would be unlikely that anyone would call the cops to claim their $100, and equally unlikely that the police would return it to me.

            Yoga gets easier. The hour passes quicker with every session.   The rest of the day didn't go so well.  I tried to do some work on the article.  I couldn't read a word. I was so done with it. I feel like I used to when I had smoked more than two packs of cigarettes in a single day. I felt like the inside of an ashtray. 

            I chose to do some gardening. I pulled the weeds lining the strip by the front fence. If I let them go unattended, they will break down the rock wall.  I pulled them up and sprayed the area with vinegar. I didn't have enough vinegar to do the whole length. I was going to have to buy more tomorrow and finish the job.

            I called Jean M. She was able to talk to me. She was feeling pretty good. It was delightful to have contact with her gain. She hasn't been feeling well enough for phone conversations. While I was on the phone with her, I continued trying to dig a hole in the front yard to plant the ground orchid.  This ground is worse than New England soil. I hit rock after rock. They're all small but hard to dig out.  I stopped after I hit an unusually large one. There is only so much time I can spend on my knees digging. My knees, my back, and my hands gave out. 

            I managed to get two loads of laundry in. After I hung it up on the outdoor line, it poured. But that's the weather here. It dried quickly when the sun came out.  Darby joined me for my before-dinner walk.

_______ ______ _______

Musings:

            I have been struggling with the White Fragility concept.  It is not that I don't believe it to be accurate; I believe we have institutional racism in the country; if not the world. I think it is psychologically complicated.

            I see white fragility as only one manifestation of a much greater human fragility. No one likes to hear a) they're wrong, b) they don't know what they are thinking, and c) their thoughts are not of their own making.

            My mother would verbally assault me: no one liked me; I was mentally defective in one way or another; I was unattractive either because of some fault she had passed on or one I had acquired through some different source. When I told her she was hurting me, she went full bore with this human fragility. She argued I wasn't hurt at all; after all, it wasn't her intention to hurt me; ergo, I couldn't be hurt.  Better yet, she accused me of saying I was hurt just because I wanted to hurt her. In other words, she had no intent to hurt me, but I did intend to hurt her.  I am fully aware of human fragility in my mom and in myself. 

            I know when my buttons have been pushed by how I feel and how I respond.  It is never a calm response.  Sometimes, I am truly the victim, and I'm defending myself. Someone spontaneously offers me a negative evaluation of my character or my role in society. Man, that hurts. I think I do better when someone tells me that I have stepped on their toes. 

            I thought of a parallel example to white fragility: Here's the scenario.  I say to some women that I think she looks pleasingly plumb in what she is wearing.  Does anyone want to guess what her reaction might be? 

            Then I could say, "I don't know why you're offended. I complimented you." And then I start saying how hurt I am that she has so misunderstood my comment. "I have no prejudice against people with extra weight.  I think it looks good." 

            If I were in a group of Americans, I believe I would be judged as insensitive and the villain.  People would be rushing to the side of that poor plump woman to comfort her.  Why?

            Our bias against 'extra' weight is institutional. Heavy people are judged negatively.  Unless this woman were morbidly obese, in which case the others in the group might have thought she needs to hear criticism for her current condition with both barrels, everyone would have been on my case. They would have judged me as being insensitive rather than the pleasing plumb woman as being overly sensitive.

            This doesn't happen in racial discussions. If a black person tells a white person they are hurt by a comment, the white person becomes the victim. No, that white person isn't racial. No, that comment wasn't racial, whatever it was. Remember, my comment about the woman's extra weight wasn't negative. Why should a white person be considered the victim in this exchange instead of the black person?  Racism is as institutionalized in our culture as bias against weight. Only the bias against race has been in the culture longer, and people of color have been killed through violence or medical neglect for longer. 

            I don't have a simple answer. It's the narrow path between the needs of two sets of people I know I had people in my life, i.e., my mother, who was traumatized by childhood incidents and is 'overly' sensitive. It's PTSD all over again. 

            I have limited tolerance for their demands to accommodate these folks if they make no effort to heal their wounds.  Mike had sensitivities.  He was sensitive when I giggled about something he did. I thought it was he was cute, but he took offense. I believed in respecting his perception of the situation. Unfortunately, it wasn't easy for me to make the necessary changes because my comments came out of affection, not a negative judgment. We both had to make changes.

            All to say, the problem of respective 'fragility' is a universal one. Sometimes it is well-grounded; it isn't just something that happened to us once and now is over. Racism and sexism are not over in the real world. These are not something that happened and no longer does. They happen over and over and over. The fear that black people have of being killed just for being black, as they were during slavery and in the postbellum south, is not over. When they hear any hint of bias, alarm bells go off.  I think that is perfectly understandable—these folks are living the trauma day by day.   We have made some strides, but racism and the consequences of it are not over.

Monday, August 17, 2020

            Richie came over this morning to do some work. He’s a handyman/contractor/construction guy that Judy used and recommended. I had several jobs I wanted him to do, some minor, install two fans, one major, redo my guest bathroom. He does good work, and he is more than reasonable. However, he is the most negative person. He spouts negativity. He has nothing positive to say about anything. Everyone does everything wrong- except him. He says no one likes him because he tells the truth, well, the negative truth.  He says no one likes him because he tells it like it is, and no one wants to hear the truth. According to him, there is no such thing as a positive truth. I talked to him about doing some jobs around the house, dreading dealing with him the whole time. 

            He put up one of the new fans I bought. While he worked, I found something to do in the garden, so I didn’t have to listen to him spout his negativity. When he was done, I asked him what I owed him. He had been here for a while. Consulting about all the jobs, giving me advice.  At first, he said, pay me what you want. I was not comfortable with that. He said, “Okay, sixty” I figure at 35 an hour, $60 was more than reasonable. He had been here for about two hours. 

            It was a day with a number of unfortunate events, small ones, which left me bummed out. I called Judy for some solace, but no answer.  I wrote all my complaints. 

            On the good side, I did plenty of work on the article. This is ridiculous; who is going to want to read a 30-page article. 

            I tried to call Vicki from Progressive to cover the list of unexplained price increases. I got her voice mail.  She listed the days she worked.  I think she only works a few days a week.  I left her a voice mail to call me back. I’ll try again tomorrow.

            Judy finally called.  I listed my complaints. They are all incidents where I don’t feel seen or valued.  If Mike were here, I could curl up in his arms, and he would have comforted me, but he’s not here.  Judy did a pretty good job.  Our conversation was interrupted by Leon entering Judy’s house, announcing, “Bird alert.”  He had found another injured bird. Judy is the go-to person in the family for such an emergency. 

            She called later to say she had put together an herbal remedy for Elsa’s skin condition, an oregano blend of essential oils. She would deliver it and join us for our evening walk.  

            I’m back to watching Outlander. I think it’s terrific. I skip over the sadistic scenes. 

Sunday, August 16, 2020

            I had gone to bed early last night and then woke up early. I stayed in bed a little longer and then got going.  I called Carol Zim as I walked. She had asked me for soundproofing information. She lives in a high-end condo in Maryland. She said the condos are insulated from side to side. They had to because of fireproofing. But there is no insulation between the floors. Carol assured me that people have opened the ceilings. There is nothing in there. One of her neighbors is looking into fixing the situation. I wasn’t sure if he is researching it for everyone in the development or just for himself.  I had finally found a company that had the product they use in the condos here in Hawaii.  I sent her the number of the company and was able to find a sample of the product.  As I looked through their product selection, I was impressed with the wide range. I told Carol to tell her neighbor to call the company for technical advice.  

            I did a lot of work on the article today, changing its basic organization. Doing this work is helping me think through the organization of the book too.

            I called Jean. I hit it perfectly; she was just about to take a break from her work.  She spends endless hours helping prisoners get released from jail to avoid contracting Covid19. While we spoke, I started digging a hole in my front yard to plant the orchid Joe gave me. Damn! Digging a hole in this soil is a piece of work. I dug a hole 8 inches across and about 1 inch deep. This is going to take forever.

            I started grooming Elsa today.  I found my old electric razor, which I bought to groom Chantey, my first Portuguese Water Dog, under the sink with the leaky faucet. It got soaked with everything else. There was some rust on the blade. I set it outside to dry, hoping it still worked. It ran. There was a blade attached. It was the bigger of the two.  I remembered using the bigger one to groom Chantey. I thought that was the one I could use on Elsa. Guess not. She got huge bald spots. I’m not going to be able to walk her when the sun is up. She will get fried to a crisp. Good thing she is not vain.

Saturday, August 15, 2020

            I got up at 5:30 and got to work walking. I called Dorothy and talked to her for 5,000 steps. I think this is the longest conversation we had.  I came home to driveway yoga. Again, I could feel improvement. When my knees were bent, my whole back lay flat on the ground. This is new. Yvette can also see I’m straighter. Wow!

            I meditated and needed a short nap when I was finished. I was expecting a friend to stop by who would like me to work with her son.   I planned to do some house cleaning anyway, but now I had her visit as an additional incentive.  

            I gave the kitchen a quick once over. I had done a thorough job yesterday.  Today it was the hall’s turn to get a good cleaning.  I tried to use the Bissell as directed, dispensing water from the container. That didn’t do much good. I find throwing a few gallons of water on an area and sucking that up with the vacuum does the trick.  I do that several times until the water in the collecting container runs clear. Then my floor is clean.

            I finished cleaning and got a shower before my visitor came. She was right on time: 1 pm. She told me she had just been told her son’s school would not be opening. The school was supposed to start on Monday. I had no idea that Hawaii had switched to all online. Her son was in a high reading group. She told me her children had read thirty books and drawn a picture, and written a sentence about it over the summer.  That makes them way beyond anything their classmates did.

            I told her she had nothing to worry about; her son was off and running.  The main objectives up to grade three are reading, writing, and math. I think that should be considered the primary objective of all the grades. She said the content subjects, science, and social studies were just half an hour each day.  I told her they weren’t more than that as a rule, especially in first grade.  Content areas were just the basic ideas and background information for reading. 

            She had a friend, a woman who worked for her, whose son is not doing well.  He did not respond well to the online classes. The woman has two older children who are doing well.  I first sent this woman a copy of the audio file I recorded on phonemic awareness.  It’s a good place to start.  I have had so much success with this audio file.  I push all my students to listen to it.  It seems to do something for everyone who listens to it. 

            After she left, I took another nap.  When I got up, I did some work on the updates. I am way behind in my updates. Today is the 15th, and I had to start with the 3rd. I had been giving my attention to the Progressive issue and writing the article. 

            For dinner, I had some more of the Thai food Sandor and Meaali’inani brought. While eating my dinner, I heard a rendition of “My Funny Valentine.” It reminded me of Mike. That’s how I thought of him.  The final line is, “Each day is Valentine’s day.” That’s how I felt about our time together in the last years. I would say I felt that way most of our time together, even though there were a few dead-air years. Those years weren’t great, but once they were over, our relationship was better than ever.

Friday, August 14, 2020

            I woke up late today. I turned off the alarm when it went off at 5:30. I got up at 7. Wow! That is late for me.  I called Yvette first thing.  After spending time and money on acoustically insulating the bedroom over her bedroom, the only possible solution is to rip everything up, including the subflooring, and start from scratch.  There’s a good possibility the high-pitched squeaky noise is created by layers of the subflooring rubbing against each other.  The plywood has delaminated. 

            During the night, it occurred to me we had drilled several hundred nails through the carpeting into the subflooring to combat the problem.  Now, that screwed-down subflooring has to come up.  But, but we broke the heads off those screws once they were drill in.  There is a kit for this. They sell special extra-long screws and a tripod for snapping off their heads, so the screws are flush with the subflooring. This was a great solution, only it didn’t work. The question now was, how do you get screws out that don’t have heads? I called a company that made the screws. 

            It wound up, I didn’t call the company I ordered them from, but the guy was lovely, answered my question, and threw in a fun story for good measure. The solution was to pry up the subflooring and then snap off the parts of the screws sticking out of the joists with a cut-off grinder.  I had an image of someone having to sand down every one of those screws, but no. They just get snapped off.  He said it would take three seconds per screw.  Not too bad, except it has to be someone agile enough to do all that work with nothing more than joists between them and the floor below.  I may have to hire a teenager to do that work. But then, if he injures himself, I’ll be screwed. Oh, well. I will have to think this through.

            The funny story:  He said just be glad that you don’t have next-door neighbors who have sex nonstop for seven days straight. He and his wife were on a cruise, and the folks next door provided the entertainment. I asked him if they were honeymooners.  He said he didn’t know. He never saw them. As far as he could tell, they never left their room.

            I did a little bit of work on the article.  Doing this is good for me.  I’m answering some questions about what I have to cover in the book.  I vacuumed another tile flooring area and then headed off to Miss Kitty’s Accounting office to pick up my completed tax forms.  They have been sitting there since last March.  My taxes were paid ages ago.

            I called Richie before I left to tell him I was interested in having him do some work for me. He called me back while I was driving.  Richie is an accomplished contractor and builder. Judy and Paulette were both thrilled with his work. However, he is a talker. When I described my problem, he started throwing out solutions. I had to stop him and tell him what I was interested in.  He will come by Monday or Tuesday, on his days off, to check out the situation.  He may have other suggestions, but I’m through throwing good money after bad.  Given that delamination is a likely cause of the problem, the only solution is to rip everything up. 

            Next, I went to Home Depot to pick up the bathroom sink faucet and the fans.  There was no such item as a cheap faucet.  I decided I would pick what I would like for the bathroom I am envisioning.  I chose a high-end one that had been returned and was on sale with quite a reduction in price.

            I made a quick stop to Costco to see if they had some salad I liked.  There was no sweet kale salad, but there was an avocado-ranch instead.  I prefer salads with kale.  I like the taste, texture, and the fact that they last longer than the lettuce salads.

            When I got home, I took a nap. Surprise.  I didn’t even plug in the car first. Having to plug the car in every time I take a trip is somewhat annoying.  I took care of it when I got up from the nap and set my alarm for 5pm when the sun will be too low to provide solar energy.  Then I unplugged the car and moved it out of the driveway in preparation for driveway yoga tomorrow. I’ll move it back into the driveway after yoga and finish charging the car. That way, it will be ready to drive on Sunday. 

            I called Vicki at Progressive. She had given me a long extension number. When I called the 800-Progressive number, there was no instruction to dial an extension. I had to speak to someone. She dialed it, and she told me that Vicki hadn’t been online since yesterday.  She also told me that this number could be dialed directly. The area code is 1-103.  Apparently, companies can get their own area code. 

Thursday, August 13, 2020

       The alarm woke me up this morning. That's unusual. I'm usually awake before it goes off. I got in 4,000 steps. That's also unusual. I have been doing less. I did have to stop at home and make a pit stop.  That persistent need is one of the reasons I'm not taking long walks away from the house. Maybe good times will return, and my body will regain some control.

        Joe, one of the students who brought me an inground orchid the other day, gave me tips on how to plant it.  I had him look at the orchid the young woman had left here over six months ago. It doesn't seem dead, but neither has it put out a flower in all this time.  I took Joe to the backyard to show him an orchid growing there.  It produces beautiful pink flowers – often.  Joe said it looks like the plant is a volunteer.  It grafted itself to the lower branches of a shrub.  Those pink flowers peep out from underneath the branches.  They are always a source of joy.  I should keep a record. 

      Of the two other orchid plants: Joe said the one he gave me should be planted in dirt. The other one cannot be planted that way.  I have to dig a hole, fill it with rocks, and then put the plant in.  He repeatedly said to make sure not to overwater orchids.  I said, no problem. They're the perfect plant for me.  Neglect is my favorite form of plant care.

        After he left, I sat down to meditate. It was around 8:30. It was so relaxing.  The next thing I knew, I was waking from a deep sleep.  When I looked at the clock, it was almost 11 already.  Holy cow! I was still tired. I got up, went to the bathroom, and went to do a lie-down nap.  

       The first thing I did when I was through was plug in my car to finish the charging I started yesterday. Then I got to work on the article.  I have been avoiding that. Yesterday, I devoted all my time to put together the Progressive complaints.  I have recorded twelve (12) incidents where they have made changes without explanation.  Of those twelve, nine are costs that were added on for a total of $1226.86 from 12/24/18 through 6/22/20.  Our policy started in 2014.  I haven't gone back through all the records to check if there were similar incidences.  I may decide to do that.  Frankly, I doubt it is caused by corruption, more like total incompetence. Warning: think to check your insurance statements.  This is Progressive. I don't know if they are the exception or the rule.

       I did some work on the article.  Actually, the piece I wrote with my eyes closed in a half-asleep sometime a week ago isn't half bad.  It does need more work. I have to look at all the pieces I wrote and stitch together the relevant information in a single piece.

        I got up to vacuum.  I have been trying to use the Bissell the way it's designed. There's a water container the squirts out water, and there's a collection container.  In the past, when using my Rainbow, I just poured a large quantity of water on the floor and vacuumed it up. The first time I do that, the water has a fair amount of dirt in it.  The second time, the water is just cloudy.  When I use the water dispensing system built into the vacuum cleaner, only a little water is used, and it is impenetrably black in the collection bottle.  If I go over the floor the same way, using their dispensing system, the water in the collection bottle is just as dirty.  I don't think it is designed for washing the floor, just damp mopping. That's good for a daily treatment but not a thorough washing.  I have gone back to my gallon of water per area in my good-sized kitchen.   It means having to empty the collection container often, but my floor comes out clean. 

        I sat down to do some more work on the article and was inspired to call a friend.  She is often hard to reach because she doesn't know where her phone is, has it turned off, or tending to one of her grandchildren.  I got her on the first ring.  

       She is very concerned about what is happening to our world. Aren't we all? But she is more afraid than I am. She sees the virus as something the Chinese have released on the world to establish domination.  Maybe, maybe not. I have had other conspiracy theories passed on to me that I thought were paranoid nonsense and have since proven true.   Anything is possible. What's the point of going over it?  She is reading articles that are scaring the hell out of her. Her defense is prayer against her worst nightmare. I'm still calm for the time being, but I have the advantage of having money in the bank.  

        When that goes, which I suspect it will, how will I feel then? Regardless, neither she nor I am in control. We're along for the ride. My response is to see this as an adventure.  I can see positive things coming out of this situation.  Will I see the fulfillment of those positive things for humanity in my lifetime? Hmmm.  I know I'm not alone. I'm into this together with Yvette, Josh, Scott, and B. if no one else. I also have friends that are not part of my immediate ohana.  Will we survive? I mean, survive physically? Will we have water? Will we have food? If we do, will someone attack us to get what we have? Oh, boy, oh, boy. 

       I finally got hold of the person responsible for the tutoring program in LA.  Seems there was a link on the site for applying for both being a tutor and a tutee.   I will have to get a fingerprint check. I'll see how much that will cost to determine if it's worth it. I'm sure that something will come through here in Hawaii.  

       I had to make a video for the LA tutoring gig. I discovered Photobooth.  I also saw that my bottom teeth look terrible when I talk and that I blink a lot. It's not a good look. Good thing it's not an application for a beauty contest.  I can only hope that I don't scare kids to death.  I had no idea how to post the video into the tutoring application.  I reached out to August for help.  He hadn't gotten back to me by the end of the night.

      Darby joined Elsa and me for our before-dinner walk. I wore the mask Dorothy sent me that she had made. It's a pretty blue material.  The straps are on the fat side and cause some discomfort where my glasses' temples press down on them. Darby and I talked while we walked.  My mask was damp by the time I got home.

      Darby took me for a walk through her property.  She and Patrick don't grow a lot of food, but they carefully cultivate what they do grow. They have a huge breadfruit tree that feeds them daily.  I asked about the netting they had hanging here and there. She said it was to protect their plants from pesticide spray.  I haven't seen any damage to my plants.  It must be that their neighbors use it more than mine.  

      We continued our walk on the street.  There was a light shower, more of a misting, so light that it didn't even wet our clothes.  It was dusk with a slight cloud cover. The colors were spectacular. I told Darby that Mike and I found the island more beautiful the longer we lived here. She said that she still found it that way after living here for thirty-five years.  It is said that your relationship with the island deepens every ten years. 

      I did good work on the article today. Yay!  It is eighteen pages long now, single-spaced. Maybe not so much an article as a very short book.  The good news is that when I edited the Materials section, I found information on instruction.  I was able to eliminate a good half a page.

Wednesday, August 12, 2020

            I was up well before 5:30 but then ignored the alarm and went back to sleep until 6.  In my walk, I am emphasizing lifting my right hip up and to the left. When I watch myself do this in the nude, I can see my abdomen shifting over. The view of my aging body is s not for the faint-hearted, but it is interesting. 

            I took care of the garbage after we got home from our walk.  I checked Elsa’s skin. Wow! And Oy!  The wow part is where I applied Willard’s water. The oy part is where I didn’t.  The friend who recommended Makes No Claims, otherwise known as Intrasound, also recommended Willard’s Water for skin conditions.  When I looked for it online, I discovered it is now carried by Walmart. Walmart? Amazing.  Now it’s called Dr. Willard’s,

            When I read about Willard’s Water online, I discovered it was initially designed to clean grease off machinery.  Those who used it found it had other benefits. I suspect rashes cleared up when it spilled on them.  While I know the water as a cure for skin problems, that is not on the list.  It is recommended for internal use to clear up all sorts of issues. It’s an old-fashioned Elixir.  I have been applying it straight to affected areas on Elsa’s skin, although it talks about the diluted solution. 

            The mother of the student I worked with this summer said she was going to send me something. Today, I found a card in the mail from her. She sent me a Target gift card. Amazing. You have no idea of how rarely I have had any parent express appreciation. When I was working in a charter school in New Jersey, I was amazed when the principal told me that parents thought I walked on water.  They never shared these positives views with me.  Quite to the contrary, they would tell me how other teachers helped their children or how they were late developers, meaning they would have been successful even if I had not intervened. 

            On that note: I was told that a child I had worked with wanted to talk to me.  She had asked for some help in reading, incomprehension.  With good students, I have developed a method that can make a difference in one session. I didn’t get any feedback on our work.  Thinking she wanted another session, I pushed her mother to allow me to talk to her.  (I am doing this for free.)  

            I finally got her on the phone. She didn’t sound happy to hear from me.  I asked her if she wanted to work with me. She said no. I said, fine. I was under the impression that she did.  I asked her if the work we had done helped. She replied, “A little.” Then I asked her if she was understanding more when she read. She said yes. I asked, “A little or a lot.” She said a lot.  Who knows?  I found out that she was bullied into calling me to tell me that she was doing better; that was why “She wanted to talk to me.”  Not. Some adult wanted her to express gratitude.  In my over fifty years of teaching, if ten children have said thank you for my help without being pushed by some adult, that’s good.  This child was downright hostile. No, she did not want to say thank you. No, she did not feel she owed me appreciation.  I’m used to that. In fact, it is usually me who thanks the kids for allowing me to work with them.

            Yes, I feel that my thanking them is appropriate.  I am grateful that the students trust me enough to let me see their problems and allow me to help them.  Being a student is a vulnerable position to be in.  When you’re a student, you’re always in a situation where you’re the lesser one; the teacher is the greater one.  It takes a healthy ego.  Many of the kids I work with don’t have that ego. They are struggling to keep their self-image intact.  Having to express gratitude feels demeaning, sadly.  But that’s their problem.

            I took my shower and was ready to head out for Zola’s house by one for our one thirty luncheon appointment.  I bought croissants at Costco’s yesterday, my contribution to the meal.  I also brought along Judy’s book The Hidden Face of God, which I read and reread. I finally figured out what made this book so unique.  Most science books tell you a lot about what is known and make a few comments about the remaining areas of exploration.  This book mentions what is known and spends more time discussing, in great detail, all that is still unknown, unsolved, and perhaps insoluble for the foreseeable future. 

            There were six for us for lunch. I had proposed having lunch at Zola’s house because she has this tremendous open-air lanai.  The air would be moving at a good clip, and chances of getting the virus significantly reduced. I had forgotten about the incredible view. The food was great, and we had some good laughs.  I was going to stop off at Home Depot on my way home to pick up fans and a faucet, but I was too tired. I headed home for a nap. 

_____________ _____________ ____________

Musings:

            Before Mike died, he expressed dissatisfaction with the Democratic Party. He said they couldn’t get their act together. Now, I realize why they can’t.

            The Republican Party is monolithic; everyone is the same. I heard on the radio that a twenty-year-old Republican will be the same as and hold the same views as an eighty-year-old banker.  The Democratic Party is the party of diversity. 

            The Republican Party, true to itself, works to eliminate differences. It openly aims to make this country Christian and, in less overt ways, works to make this country white.  The Democratic party overtly aims to work or harmony in diversity. Finding a way to meld diverse groups into a cohesive whole is much more labor-intensive.

            The question is to we want diversity, or do we want to eliminate all those who do not support the white Christian lifestyle? What kind of country do we want to be?      The irony is that Christ advocated providing support for the outsiders, those in debt, the sinners, and those not of his tribe.