Saturday, July 20, 2024

Saturday, July 20, 2024

   I planned to mow the lawn two days ago, but something came up. I needed to get it down before 10 a.m. when the sun crested the roof of the house. Working in this tropical sun during the summer is nuts. I got it done, and it looked much better.

   I took a break from the yard work and wrote updates. After that break, I headed out to take on another project I’d been putting off. I marched down to the lower end of the property with a bucket in hand, containing a drill with a half-inch bit and two small squeeze bottles full of Round-Up. 

   I tried this once before and got nowhere. The drill never penetrated the wood. I figured it was that dense. I asked Lutz to show me how to do it. He turned on the drill and said, “Oh. It’s turning counterclockwise.” A switch allows you to choose the direction of the spin. Clockwise, it’s drilling into the wood; counterclockwise, the drill exits the hole. Ah!  I still had some trouble but got holes in each stump and added a minimal amount of Round-Up.

   Then I took on some haole koas at the edge of the driveway under the mock orange shrub.  I sat on the edge of the pavement and reached under the branches. The area looked better with the tall weeds cut back. Hopefully, the Round-Up will work on the haole koas.  

   Getting up was a challenge. I had visions of me sitting there till B came home and found me in the driveway. I inched my butt over to the orange bucket. I knew I could use it to get myself up.  Then, I remembered I’d achieved getting up from the floor on my own as part of my morning yoga routine. I did it. Not quite easy-peasy, but pretty darn good.

   I was filthy, covered with a fine layer of dust from mowing the lawn and sweat from the climbing and drilling I did on the Scheffleras. The Schefflera is called the octopus tree because it puts out shoots from the ground that become massive trunks. A single tree can have ten trunks right next to each other. I showered and was ready when Dean and Nina arrived to play Sorry. I wasn’t in quite the mood I had been last week. I was exhausted from all the yard work, and my upper back was killing me.  It tends to be a problem from all the typing I do and all the FreeCell I play.  It was particularly bad now. I had strained those muscles, pushing the drill into the dense Schefflera wood.  The second game went on forever. I wasn’t up for it. Too bad. I love having them over and playing a game or two.

   When they left, I lay on the living room floor and worked to release those upper back muscles. I tried rolling on a roller, but that didn’t do much. I used a tennis ball on my back and finally on the left side of my jaw, but that did it. The release point for aching muscles isn’t always where the greatest pain is. My jaw hurt when I pressed on it, but it was overshadowed by my back pain.

    Went out to take on the spider plants. The spider plant, like the Schefflera, Ficus, and rubber plant, is a potted plant on the East Coast. Here, those plants are the bane of gardeners. They are downright aggressive and will take over your yard and kill everything in sight, including your house, as they move your foundation out of their way. The spider plant isn’t quite up to taking on my foundation, but it comes close. It sends out shoots with new plants on it. When they embed in the soil, they get a firm grip. I could pull up some. by the roots. Most, I had to chop off the leaves and add a drop of Round-Up to the open wounds.  Let’s see how this goes.   

  Elsa’s skin lesions didn’t look better; if anything, they looked worse.  Damn!  I bathed her. I feel so bad for her. Her skin was completely healed before the oral surgery, removing ten teeth, and the change in her diet from the food I knew was good for her to a substitute. I got the proper food when I realized the substitute was not working. Hopefully, getting her back on the food that worked will work again.

   Call the Midwife was back on Netflix. Yay! What a lovely show!

 

Friday, July 19, 2024

Friday, July 19, 2024

 

  I only met with Twin E this morning.  A was still sound asleep. E surprised me by reading a more advanced passage than usual.  She has problems with multi-syllable words and often ignores the spelling of a word if she doesn't recognize it immediately.  All the kids who were delayed readers have this problem. They can quickly figure out the correct word when I tell them they misread it. The teachers say they have a problem with phonics. They don't.  They have a problem recognizing when they misread a word.  E was encumbered by itchy eyes. I think it's an allergic reaction.  There was a big problem with kids rubbing their eyes when the vog was high.  My optometrist said the kids rubbed their eyes so much that some required cornea replacements.

   I got into garden work big time today.  I weeded the mulched area until my back started hurting.  I came inside, did some work on the updates, and then returned to attack one of the weeds along the driveway that had gotten out of hand.  I still haven't gotten around to the Schefflera or any haole koas. I needed to drill holes in the trunks and pour a minimal amount of Round-Up. That will kill the tree in four or five months.

   I made it to the Hulu class today; I loved it. My attitude has changed since the last session. The difference is that I recognized some of the steps. They're not quite automatic; I need to keep my eye on someone who knows what they're doing.

  In today's class, we held our elbows at chest height. My left one, with the shoulder replacement and elbow reconstruction, gave out quickly.  I could only do so much when I had to drop the arm to my side and rub it. Because I have a reverse shoulder replacement, I can no longer lift that arm using my shoulder muscles. I can only use my upper arm muscles.  One of the participants came over and told me another woman in the class had shoulder problems. Very sweet. 

   In contrast, the teacher tried to correct my drooping arm. I was the only one she picked on. I know she did it because she saw I knew how to isolate movement and should know how to hold my arm in place. "I'm a year out from a shoulder replacement and an elbow reconstruction." Oh! She backed off.  I was the only student she corrected. I was sure it was because she saw evidence of my dance training and thought it was worthwhile instructing me. Someone called out, "A Bionic woman.!' "And I'm two years out from a hip replacement!" more laughter. 

   I learned the name of one of the other students, Alia. I found her delightful. She is also one of the better dancers. My age came up. As usual, people are surprised. They think I'm 10 years younger, in my 70s.  I'm always disappointed they don't think I'm in my 60s. I inherited my mom's skin and body, except for my bones and teeth. Those definitely didn't come from her.

    When I was 66, the woman giving me a facial said my skin was dry for my age. I asked her how old she thought I was, "46." I told her she was off by 20 years.  Those are numbers I like to hear.

    I left the Hulu class early because I wanted to stop at the post office to return a box of dog food I bought from Dr. Marty.  It's much more expensive than the prescription food Elsa prefers above all others. Dr. Marty's may not cause her lesions like the Science Diet prescription food did, but she doesn't seem to like it. 

  When Adolescent D and I met today, I had him read the decoded paragraphs.  This was a vast improvement over his previous work; he read with greater fluency. He was a bit choppy in spots but could read it with the correct intonation when I asked him to. But every word was decoded; he didn't have to read the text in the regular printed format. At least half the work was done for him.

   I asked him if he could hear the improvement in his reading. Yes. Was he pleased? No. What am I going to do with this boy?  His attitude worries me.

  I spoke with his mother. I asked her if she'd thought about what he would do after graduating high school. He is about to start his junior year. This gives him two more years. I was asking what I should focus on once his reading was reasonably fluent. Given how little reading he's done, it is difficult to believe he is up to snuff.  D's parents are college graduates, but I doubt they engaged in dinner table conversations complex enough to cover all the skills needed at a college level.

   I pointed out D seemed happy working at Costco. He has an entry-level job as a cashier's assistant; he repacks the carts,  and he brings the carts in from the parking lot.  It's supposed to be a good place to work. I've heard nothing but good things about it; the employees look happy.  She said she was hoping for something more creative for him. I asked her for examples of his creativity.  Knowing her, she thought I was challenging her. I was, I suppose. She said he did good work creating videos and had a good sense of humor. I asked her to think about how he might pursue those skills. He would need training. She shrugged. That is very much her response. Drives me nuts. 

  Logan continued with comprehension. He still needs to understand the purpose of using the author's words to answer questions about the passage. He wants to use his own words and his own ideas. First, you have to know what the author said. Then you can put your own interpretation on it. You must come as close as possible to understanding the other person's meaning. The second objective is understanding what the author is not saying. The sentence was, "Some people cannot see very well at night." I asked if the author was saying all people couldn't see well at night. He didn't understand the question. I drew a horizontal line. I wrote 'all at one end,' and at the other, I wrote 'none.'  While he didn't know the antonym for all, he understood that "some" fit in the middle. Excellent

    I couldn't find Call the Midwife on Netflix tonight. Later, I learned there was an international Internet glitch. Netflix advertised a Harry Connick Jr. film, Find Me Falling. I watched it. It was a weak romcom for middle-aged people. It was not very satisfying. Also, Connick is not the stud he used to be. I thought, "He needs the money." Does he?

 

Thursday, July 18, 2024

Thursday, July 18, 2024 

 

    I went to bed late, around 10 p.m., and slept till shortly before 5 a.m. That’s late for me on both counts. I did some stinking thinking while waking. I thought of how scared I was to do things I wasn’t confident I could do, like drill a hole in the Schefflera tree trunk and put Round-up in the hole, like chop the heads off encroaching spider plants and put a small amount of either 30% vinegar or Round-Up in that, or trim the shrubs back, or cut back an agave stalk- or revise my tutoring ad and post it, or even repost my ad for the Purewick external catheter system I never used.  

  When I got up, I did my morning gentle seated yoga without too much interference from my wandering mind and walked with Elsa. I take her with me on my morning and evening walks. Each one is at least a mile and a half.  It’s a paved road. Is this too hard on her joints? Will she develop arthritis because of it? Should I walk her less? I looked it up on the Internet. It said limit long walks, don’t let your dog run or chase balls …..!! What!  All those promote arthritis.  Boy, is Elsa ever in trouble! She is a pathological chaser of balls. She could do it for hours.

   I wanted to mow the lawn and shower before my 10 a.m. appointment with the acupuncturist.  But when I checked this morning, I discovered my phone hadn’t charged overnight. Sometimes, I don’t place it correctly on the wireless charging pad. During my morning walk, I didn’t make phone calls or listen to a book on Audible. When I got home, I placed it correctly on the remote charger. Nothing! I found a cord and tried that -nothing. Yikes!  Like the rest of us, I am dependent on my phone. Moreover, I was seven days short of a 365 streak on my pedometer app.  Last time, I was 30 days away from that goal when I fell and broke my elbow and shoulder. Damn!

   The acupuncturist told me she heard of a problem like that but couldn’t remember the fix. Did you have a new update? Not that I knew. Once she left after her 10 a.m. appointment, I headed to T-Mobile to see what could be done. While driving to town, her words echoed in my ears along with Brian’s, “If you’re having a problem with an electronic device, turn It off and restart it.”  I did that at a red light. The phone was plugged into the car. I didn’t see any change. While waiting at T-Mobile, I hooked up the phone to the remote charger I had brought. The plan was to demonstrate that the phone didn’t charge on any connection,  plug-in, or remote. 

The clerk at T-Mobile spent a good five minutes cleaning the phone socket. Then, the charging cord worked while the wireless charger was still ineffective. I waited at the store while the phone charged. I wasn’t confident it would charge after I left. When I got home, I cleaned the back of the phone and the face of the charger with rubbing alcohol. Voila!  Now, everything works.

  I went home looking forward to eating half a bagel with cream cheese and lox before taking a long nap.  I used the bagel guillotine. The Costco bagels are softer than the ones from Zabar’s.  When I slice them with the guillotine., they squish. The Zabar’s bagels are firmer. After I had one with cream cheese and lox, I took a wonderful nap.  I get exhausted quickly.  When I was younger, I felt I rarely got tired. Looking back on it, I see that I did but denied it. Sometimes, I’d nap, but generally, I pushed through. Now, I can acknowledge how drained I get when I do something. Typically, I get energized by good social interactions with family, friends, students, or strangers. Difficult interactions can leave me exhausted. Getting any chore done is energizing.  My mom was like that. She loved to work hard and really throw herself into it.

   I told Adolescent D I looked for him at the check-out counters when I went to Costco the other day. He said he was on cart duty. This raised an alarm. Was he placed on cart duty because he messed up as a cashier’s assistant?  Today, I approached an employee and asked if being put on cart duty was a demotion when the assignment had been as a cashier’s assistant.  No, cart duty was part of that job description.  I was so glad I asked. I was not yet convinced D could function normally in the world.  I was so relieved.

  I think a lot about boundaries between people in interpersonal relationships.  Thinking about it on a larger scale is beyond me. I have no idea how to get politicians to negotiate.  For individuals, it’s who has control, and how it’s achieved is on a continuum. In a good relationship, it shifts. ‘

   Mike liked to say our relationship worked because there was always one adult present. That’s one aspect of control. To accomplish this in a relationship, you need two people who are comfortable accepting they’re not always adults. If one person is not willing or able to admit that, it’s all over but the shouting- and there will be plenty of that.

    There are moments in any relationship where one is entirely dominant. That happened between Mike and me on two counts. One of us had expertise that the other accepted. But there was another circumstance, too.  I was aware of it as I ceded control to Mike. He needed control more than I did in certain areas. Then, I needed it more in others. I don’t mean we did it perfectly, only that we had an underlying commitment to do so. That was enough for me to sustain me through awkward moments. 

   Then there are the moments when we were equals and disagreed. Some think any form of back-and-forth discussion is arguing.  The difference between discussing and arguing is the degree of discomfort I feel. If I feel comfortable, we listen to each other to see what accommodations we can make to satisfy the other. We want more information about the other person’s needs and wants. The details help. We express our thoughts by giving the other as much information as possible so they understand our priorities and what we must have versus what we can do without. 

   I observe couples each work out their systems. If they work for the people involved, they’re all good.  If someone is living in fear, it is not a good system. The exception to that is someone who comes into a relationship needing to be seen as perfect at all times and is devastated by any exception.  People who need to always be right are hoisted on their own petards. Since always being right is impossible, they are doomed to injury. No one can be always right, always the most knowing, always get their own way.  Worse yet, these people see themselves as victims while accusing everyone around them of being at fault.  Drives me nuts! I have never learned how to cope with people like that, probably because it’s what my mom was like.  She was infantile, throwing tantrums whenever I didn’t anticipate her needs, affirm her opinion, or welcome her criticism. 

 

  

Wednesday, July 17, 2024

 Wednesday, July 17, 2024  

   I had a difficult night. I didn't sleep well and did a significant amount of stinking thinking.  I look for a problem to get upset about. It's like an addiction; it's my nervous system's default mode. I know it is also the default mode of the human mind.  While I cannot ever wholly rid myself of negative thinking about the world around me and myself, my aim is to determine how much is specific to my background and my nervous system versus the negative thinking I am biologically compelled to do.  There's another consideration. The biologically negative thinking was determined by the survival needs of my prehistoric ancestors. I don't live in a world presenting the same danger from my physical or social world as my ancestors did. My life is rarely at risk. I should be able to limit negative thinking.

   We live like zoo animals, protected from real external dangers for our minds to focus on. This exposes us to our mind's need to dwell on the hidden and not-so-hidden potential dangers in our world, leaving us vulnerable to our need to protect ourselves when we have nothing to protect ourselves from. Then, add to that people who constantly put us down. While that is unpleasant, it is only threatening when our chance to gain access to material goods is limited. Unfortunately, if our ancestors were in life-threatening social situations, we carry that knowledge of what other humans are capable of

   Shalom Ausländer was interviewed on Fresh Air today. His new book, Feh, continues exploring the theme of feeling worthless, primarily because religion and parents tell us we are worthless. Many parents believe convincing a child of their worthlessness is a religious duty. Ausländer's family was some extreme version of Orthodox Jewish. But guilt and shame can be sold wholesale under any religious banner. Really, you don't even need a religious banner to hide behind. You can do it just because you feel like it.

  My mom did it because she felt like it, because it had been done to her, and because she thought it was better for her children to hear negative things about themselves than positive things. Research shows that excessive amounts of either good or bad feedback are harmful. The best feedback is honest feedback on things that please and things that displease.

   Drowning a child in negative feedback is right up there with sexual abuse. Being sexual is built into our nervous system.  Taking advantage of that in a child is considered sexual abuse. Telling a child they are bad because they manifest any sexual feelings isn't considered abuse, but it should be.  Taking advantage of the normal human tendency to think negatively about themselves by swamping a child with external negative feedback is also abuse. The parents are preying on the child's natural human propensity to think negatively. Telling a child only positive things is also abusive, or at least it has negative consequences.  We want the truth, only the truth. The truth will set us all free.

  I met with Shelly today, my therapist/life coach. I am often in pain and feel sorrow, mainly when I'm alone and undistracted. How much of this is current loneliness, and how much is historical.  I remember feeling lonely before my sister was born when I was four and a half. I hoped her birth would bring relief; it didn't. I thought my mom, dad, and I would be in a group caring for her. That didn't happen. I was treated as a threat to my sister, some monster that she had to be protected from, even though I made no effort to harm her.  But that was the story at the time.

   Today, I dealt with the anger I felt in response to the pain. The anger stirs adrenaline, and I'm up and fighting for myself. At least someone's there for me. If I have someone else to do something for, then I can channel the energy into something positive. Getting myself in a positive gear is much harder when it's just for me.

   I've never dealt with the anger this way before in therapy. It was intense.  My stomach growled throughout our time together. A promising sign I was working on something meaningful. In the past, a nasty bout of gratuitous anger preceded a significant change in my outlook. I have no idea why I've put it off for so long.

   I left for town shortly after the session. The other day, I noticed my gardenia shrub looked wilted. I put a cutting in a plastic bag and, took pictures, went to Farm and Garden to find out the problem and find a solution. Some bug had made its home on the plant and was destroying it.  The clerk asked me if I wanted a systemic solution or not.  I had no idea what she meant and wasn't up for asking, and she seemed to be in a snappy mood.  I told her I was unequipped to do a systemic solution. She took my word for it and got Monterey Horticultural Oil off the shelf. I paid for it and went home. I had a half-full bottle of the product in the shed. Some pages were missing from the directions on the bottle. When I looked online, I couldn't find them either. I did find that Monterey sold a premixed spray bottle.  That sounded like my speed. I planned to return to the store the next day and explore my options.

  My  Apple Airbook was locked by something claiming to be Microsoft, warning my computer had been hacked. I shut the computer down. When I opened it, it was still locked, the warning dominating my screen. I called the number. Ah, I don't think so. I told the agent I would check if this was valid.  I called Bailey at Jack Be Click.  He said Microsoft never blocked access to a computer; it wasn't them. If I drove to town, he'd fix it.  I did; he did. He downloaded a stronger ad blocker and told me how to correct the problem myself.  Hmm! I don't think so.

  On the way home, I stopped at the transfer station to drop off a load of corrugated cardboard, the only paper product Hawaii still recycles. Then I went to Costco. They still had no vinegar, so I left empty-handed. When I got home, I realized I was out of bagels. Half a bagel with cream cheese and lox has become my daily staple.

  I slept most of the day. At the end of the day, determined to do something productive, I cleaned up the rest of the green waste in the driveway, with plans to take on a severe trimming of the shrubs tomorrow.

    I continued working on comprehension with going-into-fourth-grade L, concentrating on using the words in the sentence to form the question and for him to use when he answered. He sometimes used his own words correctly, but this exercise involved using the exact words in the sentence for the In the Book section. There are three other sections where using his own words is possible, if not necessary, but not here. Here, he has to make sure he knows exactly what the author has said and how it relates to the question.

   The sentence in the text read, "Some people cannot see very well at night." In the Think & Search section, I asked, "Can all people not see well at night." He had no idea what contrasted with All. I drew a line. I wrote All at one end and None at the other.  L could infer that Some might be in the middle. I think it is as important to teach what things are not as what they are.  Information comes in sets.

   At the end of the day, I was still tired. I only went for a short walk with Lutz. Darby didn't join us; she had also had a full day and didn't need any more stimulation.

  I finally bathed Elsa after putting it off two nights in a row. Hopefully, it helps with her skin condition.

 

Tuesday, July 16, 2024

 Tuesday, July 16, 2024

    I've been sleeping well, waking infrequently and sleeping through until 4:30. Although I usually plan on getting up at 5 a.m., I stayed in bed even longer this morning, dozing and mulling things over. 

   One of my walking buddies told me her daughter had handwriting problems.  I offered to help.  I've developed a strategy I use over Zoom that's worked well. I draw lines or letters on the Zoom whiteboard slowly with a thick pen point. The student follows my execution with their finger on a hard surface. They do not use a writing implement to start with. The movement must be slow, very slow to begin with. This exercise works better on Zoom than in person because the student only sees the line forming, not my hand. This was the exercise I wanted to try with my walking buddy's daughter.

   As I lay in bed this morning, I thought of a different possibility that had never come to mind before. I saw that as she wrote, it felt like her hand or arm was being pulled in another direction.  So far, I've witnessed handwriting distorted by excessive muscle or lack of tension, but this was new.  I thought this was caused by a disturbance in the motor cortex, much like the disturbance I have found in the brain disrupting visual or auditory perception.

   Her mother took her to a neurologist who said there was nothing wrong with her. The disturbance I am referring to isn't recognized by the medical profession yet.  I learned about it from Ron Del Davis. He was severely learning disabled and considered mentally retarded.  He pulled himself out of it on his own. He identified a spinning sensation in his brain. He stabilized it by designing an exercise to stop it by putting the brakes on. Using what I learned from Barbara Brennan, I devised an exercise that allowed the student to release the spin. Hence, it no longer existed and didn't interfere with sensory processing. I have used this exercise with success with many students. It puts an end to visual and auditory confusion. However, this is my first time seeing it affect motor control.

   I worked with the twins this morning for the first time in several days. I am working on memory with Twin E. I discovered she had been referring to the wrong part of the brain for memorized information. She'd been using the part of her brain that gives her the wrong information while aware that the other part of the brain provides the correct information. I've noticed that in other students. They know what they see or hear in their heads is wrong, and they know the correct answer is in there but in a different location. In my work with her, I aim to use the' right' part of the brain to recall each word. Remembering the words is secondary, merely a means to an end.

   When Twin A read today, she messed up a lot. I had been focusing on decoding multi-syllable words and comprehension. Today, I switched to decoding each word as with Adolescent D. We came across the word how.  I cited the Vh, Vw, Vy rule. I asked her to repeat it. She couldn't repeat any of it.  I asked if she had zoned out. Yes. Did she zone out whenever someone talked about something she wasn't familiar with? Yes. I spoke to her in German. It's a language she doesn't know at all.  She listened as I spoke. I told her to listen in the same way when someone talked about something she didn't know anything about. Something would get in.

   I told her if she listened, more people wouldn't have to repeat things over and over to get the information in. How did it make her feel when they did that, scared or sad? She said, "Mad." Interesting. Was she interested in changing?  No. Did she think she could change? She wasn't sure.  Did she want to change? No. My first thought was opposition to what people wanted from her for individuation purposes. Later, I thought she wanted to be assured she was loved the way she was, not for what people wanted her to be, even if it was for her own good.  

   After my session with the girls, I mowed the street-side grass strip. Last night, I pulled the mower out of the shed and charged the battery so I would be ready to go. It was, and I got the job done. I had mowing therapy. It's very satisfying work, particularly with a battery-charged motor instead of a gas one. As someone said, "It starts every time." Also, there is less noise and no fumes.

  At noon, I met with Adolescent D, who is now 17. I'm pushing the recognition of patterns and saying the words after he decodes them. I may have moved too fast today. He seemed off his pins.

  Paulette was free today for Elsa and me to come up and visit and get more Kangen water.  Matt, Judy's older son, who lives on a different island, was visiting with his two kids.  Her younger son, Adam, lives on the same property as Judy and her husband.  It's been hectic for everyone. The children are very active. Leon, at 9, is the oldest; Zion, who just turned 4, is the youngest.  Noah and Mia, Matt's two kids, are in the middle. Judy passed me as I was doing my morning walk. She stopped to say, "We're on our way to the airport," sounding thrilled to have Matt and his kids leave and return to her everyday life.  As usual, I had a lovely visit with Paulette. We sat on the lanai and chatted for a while. Carol, who lives with Judy and Howard, came down. I enjoy seeing her, too.

   I spoke to a friend whose parents were card-carrying Communists in her youth and stood by their principles during the McCarthy era, paying the price. They both lost their jobs until the McCarthy era was over. She spoke about reading books her parents left her on Communist heroes, men who were democratic Communists. I asked her what that meant. She said they were in favor of economic equality for all. That's an economic policy, not a political one. How was a democratic Communist government different from a Socialist one? The problem is no Communist country has existed that hasn't led to a dictatorship. In addition, over time, economic inequality has reared its head; as the political heads accrued power, they also accumulated wealth.  I'm all in favor of economic equality, at least a limit range from the top to the bottom of the economic scale. The Scandinavian countries seemed to achieve a semblance of that, but it wasn't Communism. Communism is not just an economic policy; it is also a political structure.

   I just checked who introduced the idea of the dictatorship of the proletariat, Marx or Lenin? It was Marx. The article said that the revolution never led to the dictatorship of the proletariat, only the dictatorship of a political elite made up of former proletariat.

   Someone reminded me of the conclusion of The Lord of the Ring. As Frodo, the good guy, is poised to throw the ring into the fires of the Mount of Doom, he puts it on his finger. We are all weak when faced with the possibility of absolute power. It is Gollum who embraced his greed from the beginning and saved the day. He bites off Frodo's finger with the ring and falls into the fire, destroying himself and the ring. So much for intelligent life. 

 

Monday, July 15, 2024

 Monday, July 15, 2024 

   My dad's 121st birthday.  He died in 1956.  I've been without him for a very long time. My mom died in 2001.  It's been a while since she died, but she's no competition for my dad.

   In my morning contemplations, I thought I had to call the vet and get Elsa on an antibiotic. Then, I thought I should try the infrared lamp. When I got up, I looked up using infrared on dogs.  I watched several videos on it. One said you can leave it on for only three minutes. The other said the animal would know when to move. When I sit in my old-lady-chair, Elsa usually lies on the floor at the side of the chair. That's a perfect spot for trying the lamp. 

    She responded well. She stretched out and relaxed. I was concerned about the light getting into her eyes. It's not good for us either. She turned her head away from the lamp.  Perfect. Let's see how this goes. It's supposed to help with almost everything that ails her and me.

   Elsa's Royal Canin Ultamino dog food arrived on Friday, the 12th. I just opened it tonight.  I ordered royal Canin hydrolyzed protein dog food by accident. When I noticed it, I compared it to the Ultamino and saw it was less expensive. I thought, why not try it.  Her skin started erupting again.  I checked with the vet; they said the hydrolyzed protein should be okay. Her skin condition didn't improve. I took her off the new food and fed her only the Dr. Marty's food, which I had been feeding her in combination with the Ultamino before with no negative results. That didn't do much. Then, I eliminated the hydrolyzed protein food and fed her only Dr. Martys. Tonight, I finally served her the Ultamino. What a difference in her response!!! 

  She begged for something else when I fed her the hydrolyzed protein with Dr. Marty's combination and Dr. Marty's alone. I gave her a greenie pill pocket as a treat, and then she ate the food. Tonight, I gave her the Ultamino. She scarfed it down without even considering another treat. This pup knows what's good for her. 

  I started watching Call the Midwife on Netflix. I caught an episode once before and found it too grim. Jean, my Hanai sister, has been touting its merits. I finally made another effort. It's wonderful. It's warm and loving above everything else. It gives a glance into poverty in London in the 1950s and 60s. It shows some domestically rough situations, but it shows these loving relationships in the midst of all that poverty. I had to wonder if any of that really happened.

  I've been listening to various books and podcasts on psychological states: Attention Deficit Disorder, adult immaturity, and narcissistic personality disorder all have the same symptoms but are labeled as different psychological disabilities. The perspectives are interesting because they look at the impact of these problems from various perspectives. 

One of the books I'm listening to is Ellen Langer's book on mindful learning. She differentiates between drill learning, resulting in automatic processing, versus mindful learning. She considers automatic processing the enemy of mindful learning. Once we learn to add, subtract, multiply, and divide automatically, we are no longer mindful learners of math.  I think mindful learning is excellent, but I disagree with her view on mindfulness versus automatic processing. 

   Langer argues we lose contact with the basic elements of a process; we perceive things in larger chunks. For instance, when we learn to tie our shoelaces, we learn a set of steps. Once we can do it automatically, we unthinkingly tie our shoelaces while doing six other things simultaneously. For her, this means we should never learn to do anything automatically. Ridiculous on so many counts. First, we couldn't function if we had to perform every act mindfully instead of unthinkingly.  Second, we can always retrieve, relearn, and revisit the basic elements of an act.  Pablo Casals was asked in his 80s why he still practiced the scales daily. He said to get better. Going back to the basics makes us better, whether we do it mindfully or mindlessly.  Casals could never have been the cellist he was if he couldn't play his instrument automatically. I agree that if you want to deepen your knowledge of anything, you must mindfully go back to the basics.

   Moving from automaticity to mindfulness is riding an elevator up and down the options, from the most atomized to the largest chunk. The smallest element in language, the phone is only worth focusing on if you're a linguist. The one after that is the phoneme, selected phones used to create a language. The next larger unit is the vowel in its context, which determines the syllable. Then, additional consonants are added to make the syllable a large unit. Those units are combined with other syllables. In the case of single-syllable words, to create a phrase. In the case of multisyllabic words, to build a word.  etc., to larger and larger units. 

   The twins can now identify the phonemes in a word. They sometimes have trouble holding on to the sound when they blend it with another phoneme. I discovered yesterday how much trouble they both have comprehending unfamiliar phrases. That is the unit size we have to work on now.   

Sunday, July 14, 2024

Sunday, July 14, 2024

 

    When I ran into Dean and Nina this morning, we all affirmed that we had fun yesterday and should do it again. Yesterday, they came to my house, and we played several rounds of Sorry. It was about the level of stress we could all handle. Rummikub required too much effort, mainly since Dean and Nina had never heard of it.  Dean's request for Scrabble as the game of choice fell flat with Nina and me. I've never been particularly good at any board game. We never played them in my childhood home. My mother was uncomfortable with anything competitive. As for Nina, English is her second language. We vetoed Dean's choice.

   Having the activity in my house meant the world to me.  My home used to be filled with the energy of love and laughter. It needs to be renewed regularly.  It took several years for all the energy to be drained.  Elsa and I can't maintain it alone. There's a reason why it requires 'two or more' gathered in the name of love to make a difference. It doesn't have to be the deep-abiding love Mike and I had for each other; it can be the love any friendly person extends to another.

   Margaret was sitting next to me on the lanai during mass this morning. She always sits inside. When I asked her why, she looked offended. She confused my curiosity with a challenge and said she was tired.  I gave  a big smile and said, "Welcome!" I was genuinely glad to have her sitting next to me.

  I was anticipating two possibly difficult conversations after church. One didn't happen. The folks weren't there. The other wasn't bad in ways I expected, but it was in others.  The one that didn't happen was with a parent considering hiring me to work with their child. Their image of the child differed significantly from the test results. It was not the teacher's fault their child could not learn. He required specially trained teachers, and even then they probably could not help the child become the student the parents wanted him to be.

   The other was hurtful. Last Sunday, I was inspired to do a healing on her husband. He had suffered a head injury over a year ago and had some physical problems as a result. The work I did was primarily psychological, overcoming the trauma of the event and releasing fear.  It resulted in some immediate physical changes. His wife told me he was doing better due to the work. That was great news. I was concerned about a reversal because of how out of the blue the session was. He would either return to baseline and be worse off because he knew he didn't have to be that bad. I was concerned. His wife looked nervous. She said I had told him all the same things, but he only listened when he heard it from another person.  I can appreciate where she came from: pain that he didn't listen to her, and discomfort with the healing process. Regardless, she denigrated my gift. It didn't feel good. 

    Yes, my ego was wounded. I don't get enough positive feedback. I do fantastic work, but I rarely get the feedback. People often take it for granted or explain it away. By this time, I know it's my handiwork because of my success rate.

  What happened just a week ago? I worked with this child on his memory, and it affected a change. He's moving ahead at a reasonable rate now. I will point out to a parent their child's improvement. I do this mainly so the parent can give the child positive feedback. Positive feedback encourages the person to keep moving in that direction. It would be nice if I got acknowledgment. It's mildly disappointing when I don't.  But it really hurts when someone does what this parent did. He said, "Yes. I made him study." Do I understand why this ineffectual parent, whose son says his father does nothing to help him, says that? Sure! Does it make me feel good? No. 

   I've been thinking about ego lately. We are designed to care what others think of us; it's a survival trait. Referring to evolutionary psychology, we 'know' we are dependent on the goodwill of others for our physical safety, whether we are, in fact, in our contemporary world or not.

   Drs. Gottman and Levenson formulate the theory of the magic ratio in a marriage. For every bad interaction, there have to be five good ones for the marriage to survive. If one partner inundates the other with negative feedback, it can undermine their emotional stability. If someone continuously negates your value, it has an impact on whether you're strong or not. Mike was so precious to me because he liked me for what I liked in myself. I was one lucky lady.  

   This formula applies to all relationships. While we don't usually sit down with a calculator and figure out the ratio in our relationships, we do at an intuitive level. We all want more positive moments than negative ones—unless, of course, we have an issue to work out. We all have problems to work out—some more than others if their background was one of unresolved abuse. 

   Our egos depend on the feedback we get from the world, both from the physical world and the social one. Some claim our egos are supposed to be independent of social feedback. Not being independent means we're weak in some way. Given we are social animals, not being impacted by the input of our social network would be weird. (In the name of full disclosure, this theory is based on my belief in the evolutionary bases of our psyches.). There's a ratio of positive and negative feedback we can tolerate from others and be okay.  This does not refer to all our relationships with others; it's often not reciprocal, and public figures and their audience/adherents/fan base are often unknown. People who live in the public eye have a heavy burden to carry. Many don't survive the challenge. I marvel at those who do and seem to go on to have normal personal lives. I wonder about their source of containment.  There's a balance between caring and not caring about what others think. However, suppose the number of negative responses outweighs the positive and/or neutral. In that case, it's rough on the nerves, no matter how self-contained someone is. I think of performers and writers who have to put themselves out there repeatedly. Every one of them experiences repeated rejection, often without even knowing why.

   There are the exceptions: Meryl Streep tells how she auditioned for King Kong. DeLaurentiis's son asked her to audition after seeing her in a play.  DeLaurentiis asked his son, "Why did you bring me such an ugly woman?" in Italian. Streep is fluent in Italian and said, "I'm sorry you find me so ugly." I've done some auditioning. Directors are often rude to downright brutal.  My nephew wants to be a writer but lacks the courage to start collecting those rejection notices.  I fully sympathize. It stops me in my tracks from putting myself out there, too.

   After changing to shorts and a T-shirt in the church bathroom, I went to Safeway. They usually have a good selection of miniature fruit strudels. Today, they had nothing. Everything was chocolate. I headed over to Island Naturals to buy more Vitamin K2/7, as recommended by Dr. Reed, to help promote bone density.  They had miniature fruit strudels. I bought two packages. 

   The crystal healing session at Unity of Kona was scheduled for noon. I drove there and sat in the parking lot, working on my updates. Clyde saw me and came out, inviting me to come inside. He's a lovely, sweet man. 

   As I waited for the event to begin, I checked out the room. It was meticulously maintained, and the attention to detail was impressive for a storefront operation. I explored the space. It was much bigger than I thought. The sanctuary was at ground level, and an open second floor was built in. That's where the congregation had its after-the-service social hour, lounge, and administrative office.

  It was less crowded than it had been for the sound bath. This time, I brought a pillow for my head and a fluffy blanket under me so my back didn't hurt on the hard floor. I also used a shawl to cover myself. Someone came around and placed a crystal on my seven chakras. They also did some healing, but I never felt anyone near me.

   I only had a session with going-into-fourth-grade- MH today. We continued with Stuart Little, working on prediction.  I teach an answer that must be logical, not what I think it should be or, in the case of prediction, what it is. MH comes up with some responses I don't anticipate. It's hard for me not to tell her she's wrong. I have to restrain myself and think, "Is this logical?" So far, so good. I haven't snapped at her once. She is doing well at taking risks. 

    Elsa's back was covered with small scabs. She must have had a bad breakout.  While her belly looked less inflamed this morning, this evening, as I got her ready for her walk with Darby, I saw a large puss-filled lesion. Omg!  She's not getting better. When I got home, I fed her and bathed her. I don't know why I put it off.  I would have bathed her yesterday if I had stuck to every other day's schedule. She needs those baths to control the outbreaks. 

 

 

Saturday, July 13, 2024

  Saturday, July 13, 2024

   I had a long talk with John, my Hanai sister's husband.  I try to call daily. I got in the habit when she was recovering from her back surgery and just lying around. She was discharged from physical therapy for lack of compliance. We all thought she was going to die. There's only so much of doing nothing the body can tolerate. But she's up and functioning again. However, she doesn't always want to talk. She never did.

   When I call, if she answers, she's often too busy, tired, or in too much pain to talk. After listing whatever her current problem she has, she hangs up.  I persist. She needs to be reminded there are people out there who still remember her and would prefer she not die.   But sometimes John answers, and we have a delightful conversation despite his pronounced loss of cognitive capacity.  Last time, he mentioned a stamp collection he assembled in the 1950s in Britain. These are stamps from a previous political era. I can't remember what he said. The Commonwealth? The Empire? 

   Today, he spoke about a Hostess biscuit tin he's had forever. He used it to store pencils. The question was, were these biscuits American or British? I tried to look it up after we got off the phone. I could only find Hostess bake goods in America.  

    He used the tin to carry items securely when he went to do stints on oil rigs off Norway for Mobile Oil.  He was already living in America, married, and had at least one child when he made those trips.  He described the structure of an oil rig.  It's a several-story structure with a 10,000 square feet area on each level. John had a Ph.D. in chemical engineering from Columbia. He would be there for two weeks, working two 8-hour shifts in a day. Most of his time was spent in underwater spaces. Sounds horrible. I couldn't live that long without sunshine. His sleeping quarters weren't private. He was in a room with three other men.  He loved it.

  I've been reading more about Kant's Categorical imperative. Kant made the great leap from God-given to reason-determined ethical principles. He was intent on determining moral values that could not be context-dependent but applied to all situations regardless of time, place, or culture. That isn't the one that interests me.

   I am interested in his argument that true virtue can only be measured if we work against our natural inclinations. If our natural inclination is to care about others and be kind, we can't be considered moral. Only when we have to force ourselves to do something against our interests can we get brownie points. 

   Here's a counterargument. Some consider self-sacrifice to be the highest order, as Kant did. They will choose situations that call for self-sacrifice, whether suitable for the other person or not. The measure of their goodness is the degree of their suffering, not the benefit to the other person. That makes no sense. If that's the motivation, they are' using' the other person for their benefit to collect brownie points. The very thing Kant says is immoral, to use another human being for your own good.

   I joined a commune in 1969. I had to attend a group meeting to see if I could be accepted. It was also a meeting where they determined if one of the founding members should be excluded. Art Clymer, also one of the founding members, said, "I don't want to be asleep or at work and have to worry about what Otto is doing for my good."  I roared when I heard that. Boy, did I understand! I'm still trying to recover from the things my mother did 'for my good.' 

   I heard bad news about both Biden and Trump.  Today was Trump's assassination attempt. While I think he's perfectly capable of arranging this himself, even Trump is not so stupid to hire a twenty-year-old who is actually going to graze him.  That's a little close for comfort.  However, I'm beginning to believe it is God's will that Trump be our next president.  I think God has had it with the human race and is looking forward to terminating our species. Enough experimentation with an 'intelligent' animal.  We're the only species capable of ideals and religion and the only animal prepared to kill and die for it.  We're all proving we're not the crazy one. 

   I haven't been overly keen on Biden, even though I would prefer him over Trump. He's also too old.  Not worse than Trump, just another man that's too old for the job.  Today, I heard an analysis of what's motivating Biden to hang on. She said a disproportionate number of political positions are held by very old people. Biden talks about 'finishing the job.' I'm all for '60s idealism.  I think many of the objectives of that period are worthwhile. I want people in office who advocate for them. I want an equitable society. However, someone who's into 'finishing' the job worries me too. As I said, I think God is done with this experiment called intelligent life. Every living thing needs a natural enemy to contain it. Ours is us. God is winding us up to execute a significant population reduction.

I went down to check on the ground in front of the schefflera tree Dan cut back. I need to get to it to drill holes in its trunk and fill them with Round-Up to kill this tree. It takes time, but it works. I must remember to ask him if he did it just once or repeatedly and exactly how long it took before the tree stopped fighting for life. Saying that makes me feel sad. I don't feel good about killing a beautiful tree, even if it is an aggressive so-an-so that has plans of taking over the world.

     I loaded the last logs from the fallen Schefflera with the two 5-gallon buckets I had already put in the barrel yesterday down to Darby's.  The barrel was heavy- even to pull.  I struggled to get it there. It put a strain on my arms. I tried switching off my left and right arms as the pulling arm. It hurt less on my left side than on my right. Since that's the arm that had the elbow reconstruction and the shoulder replacement a year ago, was I not feeling anything because of the cut nerves? Was I injuring myself?  Adam drove by and saw me struggling. He asked if I needed help. I told him I only had a short distance until I reached Darby's driveway, meaning I could make it. He pulled his truck over, parked it, and came over to pull the barrel. I didn't object. I ran ahead to open the gate. I yelled, "Delivery!!" as I always do. Usually, Darby hears me and comes out to talk. Nothing today. They may have been out in the yard or catching a morning nap.

 

Friday, July 12, 2024

 Friday, July 12, 2024

   When I checked Elsa this morning, the skin on her belly looked less inflamed.; it wasn't quite as red. I eliminated the Royal Canin hydrolyzed food from her diet and was feeding her only Dr. Marty's.  When I had her on the Royal Canin Ultamino and Dr. Larry's combination, her skin stayed clear. Was the recent outbreak caused by the change in food, the aftereffects of the dental procedure where they pulled ten teeth, the anesthesia, or some environmental factor triggering her allegories? I'm only giving her Dr. Marty's to see what happens.

   I left for the Hulu class at 9:30. The community center parking lot looked empty.  I found the doors locked. I had something wrong. I texted Elaine, who told me about the class in the first place. She said the class was moved to the pavilion at Old A for two or three sessions because something else was scheduled for the community center. I missed the initial class, which included registering and introducing a new dance. They had already met for several sessions when I joined the last session. I was way behind the rest of the class I hoped to be in from the beginning and see if that made the class more comfortable for me.

  I stopped off at Costco on the way home from Hulu.  They were out of vinegar, not a single case left. That happens here. There's no such thing as calling the company and getting an overnight shipment.  Everything has to come here by boat or airplane. Boat takes three weeks. Airfreight is fast but oh so expensive.  Often, the shelves are bare. Grab what you can while you can.

I didn't have the twins today. They were on an overnight with friends.  Mama K never called to reschedule appointments for later in the day. 

  Adolescent D's decoding gets better and better. He moves ahead at a good clip, asks some interesting questions about how a word should be divided, looks for patterns, and remembers rules. Overall fantastic. I have had him read the whole passage after he decodes it. Today, I was inspired to ask him if he read the words as he decoded them. "No." Wow! Holy cow!! Jumping Jehoshaphat!!! And you've got to be kidding me!!! I can't stop myself from reading words. I don't know a reader that can. I find this a behavior among delayed readers. They don't even try to process words they see, even familiar ones, no less figure out the ones they don't know. What to do about that?

   I've seen D make so much progress on the exercise. I have seen his reading accuracy and speed improve when he reads the paragraph after decoding it. It may have been the best thing to separate the two activities. With decoding, he is looking for patterns he can discern visually. This allows him to concentrate on it without bringing in the auditory processing he needs to actually read the words.  Today, I had him read every word as he decoded it. (Decoding means he marked the syllable divisions with a slash and the letters representing phonemes with dashes.)  Because it was so slow, it was more like reading a list of words. He couldn't use context clues to help him figure out the word. I'm excited by the possibility. Could I get him to the point where he is a fluent reader? That's my goal.

 I cleaned my refrigerator today in anticipation of Damon's arrival. He says he doesn't care if the house is clean, but one year, he shocked me when he opened my refrigerator and said he was going to clean it after I had labored for hours on it. I had been so proud of the job that his contemptuous statement rocked me badly.

   I had going-into-fourth-grade LG at the end of the day.  We missed our session on Wednesday because his mom forgot. She sent me a long text apologizing.  She had a closed head injury from a motorcycle accident.  I'm good with mishaps as long as people show me respect. Stuff happens. 

   LG's mom texted that they had bought him a wood-burning kit, and he had read the directions. This is a boy who wasn't reading road signs. He was one of those quick fixes. They are always fun. Now we're one to bigger and better issues. He has to master decoding multi-syllable words and comprehension.

  I discovered today he doesn't decode sentences. There were two references to weight: 3 lbs and 7 lbs. He couldn't figure out what the two referred to. He looked at isolated words instead of seeing them embedded in other words. Each sentence is like a jigsaw puzzle piece. I started him on WbyW, a process using questions that duplicate sentence diagramming.  

Yvette came up for dinner again tonight. It was delightful. I hope we can continue this once Josh comes home.

 

Thursday, July 11, 2024

 Thursday, July 11, 2024

    I ran into Ann Marie this morning; she’s a fifth-grade teacher at a local school. She usually runs with her dog, Tulip. I have her under Tulip’s name in my address book. We stopped and talked for a while. She looked painfully thin. I asked if she was okay. She was getting a divorce; that’s enough to drain anyone. Apparently, her husband was verbally abusive and unresponsive to her needs. He didn’t understand the problem and was incapable of respecting her perspective. She said she’d rather be alone than lonely.

  Rather than stand in one spot, she walked with me to the end of the block before turning around. Elaine passed us going the other way. I introduced her to Ann Marie. Elaine looked familiar to her. “Did you teach in the middle school?” Yes. “What’s your last name?” Elaine had taught one of Ann Marie’s daughters online during Covid. She spoke highly of Ann Marie’s daughter; she was sweet and one of the few students interested in learning. She was a pleasure to work with.

   Ann Marie said her daughter got straight As except in this one course. The problem was that she had handwriting issues and couldn’t take notes fast enough. Her grade improved when the school allowed her to use a tablet to take notes.  Hearing her daughter had handwriting problems, I offered to help. Ann Marie was interested.

  We each headed out in different directions, Elaine and I walking and Ann Marie running. As I approached my driveway, I saw the other two women coming toward me. The three of us were abreast at my driveway. What are the chances of that happening? I sometimes run into Elaine twice on my walk, but I have never run into Ann Marie twice in one day. Weird!

  I see improvement in Twin E every time I see her.

  Adolescent D continues to improve in small ways daily. His decoding accuracy and speed have improved. He had an interesting response to the word change.  When he saw the n and g next to each other, he wanted to code it ng. I was thrilled he remembered the pattern. I knew that wasn’t right, but I had to think for a minute to understand why. The ge combination makes the g a /j/ sound. Coding words as I do leads to these wonderful discoveries about the English language. I have a familiarity with phonics few others have achieved.  I love it.

   No one wanted to work with me when I went to Ulu Wini today. I called going-into-third grade MV and going-iinto-6th-grade CL over. They came and then made an excuse to look for someone. I said yes, and they never came back.  They are doing some work with Shauntel. She told me that going-into-sixth-grade ML is doing much better in math.  I would love to set up a situation where the kids teach each other and come to me when they need help. Shauntel says she’s willing. I don’t know if she’s waiting for me to take the initiative or she’s stonewalling.

     We talk about people boosting their egos as a bad thing. I would say it’s wrong when we do it at someone else’s expense. Of course, there’s a caveat to that too.  Some people feel demeaned by someone else’s success. Yes, these folks are hurt, but is the one who succeeded responsible for that pain. On the other hand, I hear more reports daily about how negative internal ‘chatter’ is normal for human beings. That gratuitous self-degradation can sometimes be best combated with ego boosts.

  As I bathed Elsa this evening, I noticed a lesion on her head. It seemed better after the medicinal bath.

   I walked down to Darby’s to pick up the trash barrel she had unloaded the other day. It takes her a while to distribute all the green waste in her yard.  She calls it green gold.  I walked down with one light five-gallon bucket of green waste. Darby came out to greet me. She said, “That was a very heavy load. You must be very strong. I had to have Patrick help me get the 5-gallon buckets out of the barrel.” I had loaded the barrel with some of the schefflera branches. The wood is dense and heavy. I wheeled the empties home.

   I watched the end of Good Grief, a film written, directed, and produced by Daniel Levy, who wrote Schitt’s Creek.  I love his work. It is soulful.  I wasn’t crazy about all the characters. Sofie was somewhat too emotionally self-indulgent for my taste. She probably reminds me of myself. I’d watch the movie again and again.  The critics weren’t as pleased as I was.

Wednesday, July 10, 2024

 Wednesday, July 10, 2024 

 My mind was still calm this morning when I woke up. I don’t think my mind has ever been this silent without effort. I’ve achieved degrees of peacefulness in mediation retreats, but this is different. It’s not so much peaceful - just less noisy. The trick was to confront the underlying fear. Learning that that fear is motivated by a primitive understanding of my life circumstances dictated by the experience of my forebearers as they roamed the savanna in search of food was very helpful.  It explained the intensity of that feeling.

 Confronting underlying fear has been the key to significant changes over and over.  The first time I faced fear, I was twenty. I was so wired that a sophomore teacher recommended I seek counseling. Good move. I took her up on it.  The therapist was somewhat of a jerk, but she asked a poignant question. Why did I act that way? I hiccupped out, “I’m scared.” I hadn’t even known before then that I was driven by fear. It was a good start.

  I went to Ulu Wini today. The kids have stopped coming to me for academic help. Some of it is they’ve put their brain on vacation mode. No one wants to work.  On Monday, when I asked going-into-sixth-grade ML if she wanted to work, she said, “No, I’m good.” I turned into a monster, not because she said no but because of how she said it.  I hate when people use euphemisms to avoid saying something directly, saying what they really want.  I wanted her to say, “No, thanks.” I bullied her into saying, “No.”  I saw an aspect of myself I’d never seen before.  I was appalled. I apologized to her today. She didn’t know what I was talking about. Still, I think it’s important for adults to apologize to kids when they act out and to take responsibility for their behavior.  It lets kids know they have the right to their feelings.

   I don’t know the impact of my apology on ML. I made a more routine error with Twin E the other day.  I instructed her to look at the word without clarifying where she should look, on the page or in her mind.  I didn’t do the same thing I had done with ML but expressed frustration. The frustration was really hers if I was unclear.  When I asked her if it made her feel better or made no difference, she said it made her feel better. I know when I hear someone say, “I’m sorry,” in a tone that suggests concern for me instead of a plea not to be beaten, it soothes my nerves. Customer service agents always use it, apologizing for things that are in no way their fault. Ahhhh! Every nerve in my body cools down.

   On Monday, I tried to introduce a phonemic exercise to Shauntel. I sounded out the letters /th/ and the /e/ as in the.  She looked confused. I tried it on one of the kindergartners. Boy! I  think that strategy didn’t work. I never introduced phonemic awareness that way before; I won’t ever use it again.

   I have always introduced it by saying the word first and then making the sounds. I’ve never had that fail. As I think of it, I ignored a basic pedological principle: always work from the known to the unknown. I started with the unknown. I spoke to Shauntel about her reaction.  I understood it. When I first learned about phonemes in a graduate linguistics class when I was twenty-three, it blew my mind. It still blows my mind. It’s like discovering the world you thought was solid isn’t; it’s made of little bits of other things temporarily stuck together by some force that could easily fail.

   Lutz has successfully killed unwanted trees by drilling holes in them and pouring in small amounts of Round-Up.  I tried it with one tree.  I had trouble drilling the hole. The other day, I asked for more detailed instructions.  What size bit did he use?  Half-inch bits on the Schefflera. Oh, boy.  I used a small one.  Even with that one, I had trouble getting it into the tree. Rather than drill a hole, it just pushed the material aside. What was I doing wrong?

   I went to Home Depot to pick up more 30% vinegar and the large bits Lutz recommended. I found two sold independently- not in a package of bits. They were advertised as containing titanium. I hope that makes them better bits. They were indeed more expensive. The individual ½ inch bit cost as much as a whole kit of a smaller one.

 

Wednesday, July 10, 2024

 Wednesday, July 10, 2024 

  My mind was still calm this morning when I woke up. I don’t think my mind has ever been this silent without effort. I’ve achieved degrees of peacefulness in mediation retreats, but this is different. It’s not so much peaceful - just less noisy. The trick was to confront the underlying fear. Learning that that fear is motivated by a primitive understanding of my life circumstances dictated by the experience of my forebearers as they roamed the savanna in search of food was very helpful.  It explained the intensity of that feeling.

 Confronting underlying fear has been the key to significant changes over and over.  The first time I faced fear, I was twenty. I was so wired that a sophomore teacher recommended I seek counseling. Good move. I took her up on it.  The therapist was somewhat of a jerk, but she asked a poignant question. Why did I act that way? I hiccupped out, “I’m scared.” I hadn’t even known before then that I was driven by fear. It was a good start.

  I went to Ulu Wini today. The kids have stopped coming to me for academic help. Some of it is they’ve put their brain on vacation mode. No one wants to work.  On Monday, when I asked going-into-sixth-grade ML if she wanted to work, she said, “No, I’m good.” I turned into a monster, not because she said no but because of how she said it.  I hate when people use euphemisms to avoid saying something directly, saying what they really want.  I wanted her to say, “No, thanks.” I bullied her into saying, “No.”  I saw an aspect of myself I’d never seen before.  I was appalled. I apologized to her today. She didn’t know what I was talking about. Still, I think it’s important for adults to apologize to kids when they act out and to take responsibility for their behavior.  It lets kids know they have the right to their feelings.

   I don’t know the impact of my apology on ML. I made a more routine error with Twin E the other day.  I instructed her to look at the word without clarifying where she should look, on the page or in her mind.  I didn’t do the same thing I had done with ML but expressed frustration. The frustration was really hers if I was unclear.  When I asked her if it made her feel better or made no difference, she said it made her feel better. I know when I hear someone say, “I’m sorry,” in a tone that suggests concern for me instead of a plea not to be beaten, it soothes my nerves. Customer service agents always use it, apologizing for things that are in no way their fault. Ahhhh! Every nerve in my body cools down.

   On Monday, I tried to introduce a phonemic exercise to Shauntel. I sounded out the letters /th/ and the /e/ as in the.  She looked confused. I tried it on one of the kindergartners. Boy! I  think that strategy didn’t work. I never introduced phonemic awareness that way before; I won’t ever use it again.

   I have always introduced it by saying the word first and then making the sounds. I’ve never had that fail. As I think of it, I ignored a basic pedological principle: always work from the known to the unknown. I started with the unknown. I spoke to Shauntel about her reaction.  I understood it. When I first learned about phonemes in a graduate linguistics class when I was twenty-three, it blew my mind. It still blows my mind. It’s like discovering the world you thought was solid isn’t; it’s made of little bits of other things temporarily stuck together by some force that could easily fail.

   Lutz has successfully killed unwanted trees by drilling holes in them and pouring in small amounts of Round-Up.  I tried it with one tree.  I had trouble drilling the hole. The other day, I asked for more detailed instructions.  What size bit did he use?  Half-inch bits on the Schefflera. Oh, boy.  I used a small one.  Even with that one, I had trouble getting it into the tree. Rather than drill a hole, it just pushed the material aside. What was I doing wrong?

   I went to Home Depot to pick up more 30% vinegar and the large bits Lutz recommended. I found two sold independently- not in a package of bits. They were advertised as containing titanium. I hope that makes them better bits. They were indeed more expensive. The individual ½ inch bit cost as much as a whole kit of a smaller one.