Mike's death; Betty's life...

Thursday, July 23, 2026

Wednesday, August 7, 2024

I had a bad night, defending myself from the therapist I spoke to the other day. I have a terrible track record with therapists. Several have run trips on me, including making assumptions about things I have done and not done in my life for which there are records. I spoke to this therapist on the phone to make a first appointment. She told me that her objective was to help me accept that I could not control the reactions of others, and the aim of her work was to change my neurological reaction if people responded in upsetting ways. I told her I agreed. Then she said it at least two more times, perhaps as much as three, without checking to see how I felt about what she had to say. What she didn't do was explore what I thought about what she had to say. I told her I didn't want to hear the same thing repeatedly. She said she didn't want to work with someone who didn't want to hear what she had to say. I told her she had said it once, and I expressed agreement. I didn't have to hear it three more times. She said she didn't think she could work with me. Interesting. I'm glad I didn't get involved and get the best I could out of her, as she didn't address my needs but prioritized hers. This does not mean she doesn't do a fantastic job with other clients.

The occupational therapist who came to my home last year while I was recovering from my shoulder and elbow accident and surgeries clarified some of the problems. She said when she first met me, she feared I would give her trouble. I was intelligent, knowledgeable, verbal, and outspoken. She said I wound up being her favorite client. That's because she worked with me instead of on me. She was skilled enough to make the necessary adaptations and secure enough not to lay a trip on me.

The OT I worked with in a rehab center wasn't as flexible, but she tried. I don't fit in neatly if they have a script in mind. For some, this means they're uncomfortable; for some, it means they will learn as much as I do; and for some, it means there's something wrong with me. It's a lousy feeling.

The poor therapist sat down and wrote me a two-page email detailing six things I could do to improve my situation. I recognized the response. I've done it myself when I've misfired with a person. I followed up with a missive, trying to prove I'm a good guy who only means well. I wrote "Thank you" rather than returning with my two-page missive. I was very proud of myself for my restraint. I could let it go.

I did get something good out of the encounter. For both the therapist and me, the issue was that we felt we were not listened to —not heard. She was the one who put a halt to the process. I agreed. Hopefully, next time, I will be the one doing it.

I had a night of troubled thinking. I finally calmed down and fell asleep. Relaxation came when I thought of someone who scares me. I assumed that person was just as frightened of me. In my ruminations, I realized maybe she's not scared or doesn't perceive herself as frightened. She projects contempt, which I assumed was born of fear; perhaps she doesn't see it that way. She may see what she feels as disgust. I have no idea why anyone would find that conclusion comforting, but I did. It is disgust and contempt that I fear.

Historically, I have a couple of personal reasons to fear it. It was disgust that the Nazis felt for the Jews. My parents were refugees from Nazi Germany. They were never in the camps. Wealthy urban German Jews had the option of leaving. The only members of my family who wound up in the camps were one family whose father chose not to go. He was a lawyer and couldn't conceive of earning a living in the USA. He was also married to a Christian and thought that would offer him some protection. He and his wife both died in Auschwitz. Their fifteen-year-old daughter survived Theresienstadt.

But there is a second source of disgust and contempt. My mother made it clear she felt those sentiments. She hated my body. It was the same as hers. She declared she should never have had children. At her memorial, a cousin of my father's described her as athletic. It wasn't popular at the time. In my time, no peer criticized my body. I was considered very well-built. As I crossed 10th street on my way to my dance classes on Broadway, I was always offered an opportunity to be in the 'movies.' I politely declined.

As I did my morning walk with Elsa, I saw Dean approaching us with an egg cartoon. I knew who they were for. Nina had already gone to work. Dean was walking with a neighbor, Mike, who also had a few chickens, primarily as pets. Dean and Mike talked about chickens, one of Dean's favorite topics.

I finally sprayed some weeds with 30% vinegar. I had that on the agenda for days but never got around to it. I also planned to cut back the haole koas, drill a hole in the remaining trunk, and inject a minimal amount of Round-Up. I got into my 'chainsaw' clothes. I have to oil the chain before each use; the oil spatters on my clothes. I got about five trees done.

I continued cleaning up the green waste from the Plumbago shrub Casey cut back two weeks ago. All the leaves are yellow by now. They were easy to crush and pack into 5-gallon Home Depot buckets.

I noticed two problems when I worked with Adolescent D today. The big one is his lagged response. I'll give instructions, like let's do the next word, and he does nothing for a period of time that feels unusually long. I could ask him to name the following letter, read the next word, or ask him another question, and he doesn't respond in a timely way. One might well ask, what does timely mean? It's the time most people take between being asked a question and answering. Sometimes, a person delays their response when searching for an answer. D does it more frequently than that, and it can't be explained by simple confusion. He hadn't done it in a while. It corresponded with the start of school. It may be a freeze response.

The second issue that caught my attention today was his problem remembering rules. He has problems remembering the exact words someone said, no matter how often he heard them. He immediately transposes them into images or actions. The problem is that his interpretation heavily depends on what he already knows. Since he doesn't know enough, he either misinterprets the meaning of the words or forgets them. I must remember to have him repeat my exact words when I cite a rule. Hopefully, this will help him with his auditory processing problem.

I asked D if he would continue working at Costco. He said yes. I asked him how he could do that and stay in school. He was confused. I said, "8 hours of work and 5 to 6 hours in school daily is a lot." Ah. Then he got my concern. He will continue working at Costco part-time. He has never done his school work, no less in a timely way. The compressed time may help him.

After working with D, I did some gardening. I set out to kill haole koa. I had to cut back branches to reach one of the trees safely, and I had trouble drilling a hole in that slender stalk.

Then, I cut down the agave flower stem. These stems grow fifteen feet high. I had to be careful because they were under the coconut trees, which were heavy with ripening fruit. If one of those babies decided to let loose and fall and hit me, I'd be history. I had been told In countries with many coconut trees, the death rate from falling coconuts is impressive. I checked that information. It's a coconut legend. Not that many people die from being struck by a coconut,

I had fourth-grade L at 4:30 pm. He was a little late. I continued with comprehension. My mood improved significantly from gardening; I had felt burnt out and somewhat impatient. I had thought he had advanced enough to move him into fourth-grade material. He is quite a bit better in the 'In The Book' questions, where he has to use the exact words in the sentence to answer the question. His big problem is how he goes brain-dead when uncertain. Learning to deal with uncertainty and confusion is a learning skill. Good students do it well; poor students don't do well with it at all.

Tuesday, August 6, 2024

I got up late. I thought it was still early until I opened my eyes and saw daylight. I did my walk with Elsa first thing, meaning to do the seated yoga with laughter yoga when I got home. I never got around to it.

It was a down day. I can handle only so much downtime before I start wallowing in sadness. My chest feels weighted with grief. It’s not just because Mike is gone. I remember feeling this way before my sister was born. I hoped her arrival would shift things in a positive direction. They didn’t. Neither did it make things worse. I still felt isolated and alone.

Because it rained most of the day, I only got a little gardening done. While I like tutoring, any activity is helpful. Wrestling in the garden with the weeds and the power tools seems to lift my spirits.

Today, I realized I had used the Neem oil incorrectly. I sprayed it on the two plants infected with mold and bugs as directed, only I didn’t shake it well first. Heaven knows what effect it might have had.

I bathed Elsa. Some areas of her skin looked better, but there were still large patches of lesions on the back of her neck and under her chin. I’m trying MakesNoClaims (Intrasound) on those areas. Who knows what helps and what doesn’t.

I finally resolved my printer problem. I would send a file to print, and nothing would happen. The message was the printer was offline. Then, mysteriously, the printed copy would appear. Sometimes, I would hear the printer, and sometimes, I had no idea when it printed. Why didn’t it print when it didn’t, and why did it print when it did? I tried to get customer support at Brother. Everyone knows what that got me. Today, I figured out the problem. I checked WiFi in my System Settings file. The Internet connection on my computer was through Yvette’s service, not mine. When I put it under mine, the printer worked immediately.

Right before bed, I went to Facebook to repost ads for my videos. Unfortunately, I started watching the short videos. I escaped that rabbit hole two hours later, never having posted my videos.

Monday, August 5, 2024

We were three people at Chi Qigong today. Clyde and I were there as usual. Shelly joined us today. She was there two weeks ago with a visiting friend. Her presence was so different I didn't recognize her. It may have been because she was there with her friend, Jeff, who was hyper, and she was matching his energy. I like today's version better. I had trouble quieting my mind today. I know how to do it now. I know the control is in the right frontal lobe, and the 'quiet' is in the left. If I focus on the left frontal lobe, I get silence, sweet silence. Fear keeps me from living there. I might miss something dangerous.

My first stop on the way home was Petco. I wanted to book an appointment for Elsa's grooming on August 15. I couldn't see anyone in the grooming room- Odd. The checkout clerk noticed me and came over. The grooming service was closed for the duration. A leak was found in the ceiling, violating the health code. The clerk took my name and number.

Then, I went to Home Depot to check out Ryobi blowers. I love the Ryobi system. I can use the same battery on all their products. Less cutter. Less weight if I'm working with more than one device. They are kept under lock and key. I needed an associate's help. I found one. He could unlock the cabinets and give me one, but he knew nothing about them. Neither one of us could figure out which price went with the tool. He found someone who did know.

That fellow must have been suffering from hemorrhoids; he was irritated by my questions and lack of knowledge. With his help, I could identify a small blower I had never seen anyone use. I asked him what the large one could do that the small one couldn't. Move rocks; I didn't need that. I just want to blow green waste off my pebble-covered areas rather than pick up each leaf by hand one at a time. He asked if they were dry or wet. Dry. The smaller one should do it. I said I didn't need one with a battery; I already had two that would work with that machine. He saw one for sale with a battery and charger for $100. I said no, I only wanted the tool. The unknowledgeable associate was still there. He showed me that the one on sale, including the battery and charger, cost nine dollars less than the package with the tool alone. I thanked him.

Yvette came up to help me do the background check on Joseph, anticipating him renting a room in my quarters. When I told her August, Damon's son, had done a search and found nothing, she was satisfied.

I asked Yvette what her considerations were about his living in the guest bedroom. Sound and privacy. I don't see sound being a problem. Joseph is a twenty-eight-year-old who goes to work at 6:30 every weekend; he's unlikely to use the bathroom during the night as most guests in my age range do. I will buy him a white noise machine for privacy and see how it goes. I think both he and I are up for other possibilities. For now, he is just temporary. He needs someplace to stay immediately. If that room doesn't work, he can help me set up the library as a bedroom. I hope it works out and Joseph and I will be comfortable with the arrangement. He does seem like someone I can get along with.

I filled another bucket with Plumbago greens and carried it, along with the one I filled yesterday, to Darby's, dropped them off, and took home the large trash barrel with two empty 5-gal orange buckets inside.

I met with L, now in fourth grade, to continue working on comprehension skills. He still has trouble discerning the difference between questions in the 'In The Book' section, which requires him to use only the words in the sentence, and the three other sections, where he can and should use his own words. He also needs help handling uncertainty. His mind goes blank when faced with confusion.

Sunday, August 4, 2024

While Damon and Cylin were here, they commented on possible problems caused by carrying a phone on your body at all times. They suspected the electrical charges could damage the body. I had heard that holding the phone next to your ear instead of using earphones could impact the brain. I always carry the phone on me because it's my pedometer. I have been careful to never have the phone close to my ear. Even before I found a set of earphones I liked, I always had the phone on speaker mode. Then, it occurred to me that I was charging the phone at night on my bedside table, which was right next to my head. I immediately set up a charging station in the bathroom. The phone was close enough to get to it if I had to.

Those annoying ruminations, where I couldn't shut my mind up and couldn't get up, were at it again. I spoke to my doctor about it. Maybe Mike was right; I was taking Lexapro for my anxiety as well as his.

I did a short walk with Elsa so she could poop, took her home, fed her, and set out on my longer walk. I did the seated yoga sequence when I got home.

No one spoke to me at church today. The only real friends I have there are Judy and Paulette. I talk to Judy almost daily and visit with Paulette whenever I need more Kangen water. I don't care about the water, but Elsa prefers it. I get the water as much to maintain my relationship with Paulette as I do for the water. I didn't see Judy, and Paulette hurried away to do something else. I felt quite isolated. It was almost easier to sit by myself and enjoy my glazed half donut.

At noon, the Unity of Kona church had its sound bath session. It's the first Sunday of every month. You don't have to be a member to participate. I arrived at the service's end while two parishioners sang badly upfront. It was sweet. I was there in time for refreshments. Today, there was a rice dish and a meat dish besides the usual fruit and cakes. Because I had had that glazed half donut at the Catholic Church. I wasn't very hungry.

After helping move the chairs to the side of the room to free the floor for the sound bath participants, I lay my yoga mat on the hard cement floor, covered it with a fluffy blanket folded over several times, and lay down, resting my head on the two throw pillows I brought along. While I enjoy the sound bath, lying on the floor for any time hurts my back. Lying on my back for too long on any surface may cause pain. I don't remember hearing much of the sound bath. I must have fallen asleep.

I was scheduled for a session with rising to fourth grade M at 2 pm. They had wanted to schedule it earlier, but it conflicted with my plans to attend the sound bath. I had been in a distressed mental state for a few days, having difficulty quieting my mind. I hope the sound bath would help.

When the sound bath was over, and I was in my car, I checked my phone. M's father had canceled for the day. No one would be home at that hour. Everyone had someplace they had to be. I had already canceled with Adolescent D. My available hours conflicted with his work schedule. We planned for noon on Monday because he didn't start school then.

I hadn't met with the Twins because no one responded when I called Mama Kea's iPad number. I suspect their older brother had his hands on the iPad, was gaming, and had no intentions of letting go.

Saturday, August 3, 2024

I used to do morning seated yoga in the living room at the front of the house, resting the computer on the massage table permanently set up in preparation for the acupuncturist who comes to my house once every two weeks. I haven't followed the YouTube video for quite a while. Now, I do seated yoga on the screened lanai overlooking the ocean and the morning sky. I often start the yoga while the sky is still dark. While looking west, I see the sky lightening as the sun rises. I combine the yoga stretches with Gokhale postural instructions and the laughter yoga.

After breakfast, the N.Y. Times puzzles, Wordle, the mini crossword puzzle of the day, and Connections, I filled another bucket with green waste from Casey's trimming job on the Plumbago bush. I was going to walk the container I filled yesterday and the one I had just filled over to Darby's, but I was running later than I thought. I was expecting Joseph, a potential renter, to come by at 10:30 to see the house.

Joseph is a young man Judy knows from church who she is ready to adopt. He was looking for a place to live. He's been living with his folks, but they are moving to the mainland. The cost of living here can be prohibitive. Joseph was born and raised in Hawaii. His brother still lives here. His sister has moved to the mainland. Joseph has a decent job as the manager of an Enterprise. I had occasion to speak to him last Sunday after church. He seems like the lovely young man who has his life together for a twenty-eight-year-old.

I was not sure that his long-term stay would work out, but I could guarantee him a temporary place to stay until he found another suitable living situation. We're talking one or two months.

I showed him all three available rooms. I told him the limitations of all the selections. He chose the 'guest' room, the only one already set up as a bedroom. He will be moving in on August 20

I worked on the updates, which had been neglected while Damon and Cylin were visiting. I had plans to carry the two buckets filled with green waste over to Darby's but then realized I was running late. Dean and Nina were coming over around 1:30 to play Sorry. They are fun to play with.

Dean's sister called while we were playing. She commented on my putting up with Dean. Dean had a rough time as a kid. He didn't quite fit in. He speaks of himself in negative terms, but he is a lovely, kind man. I told his sister I liked Dean and didn't feel I had to tolerate him. Of course, being somewhat of an outlier, I may be more comfortable with people on the edges.

Nina's parents live downstairs from Dean and Nina. They are not kind or generous people. Dean often says they have never said anything nice to Nina. Today, Nina spoke about her mother's childhood. Her grandmother hit her mother so hard that it caused epilepsy. Nonetheless, Dean and Nina have taken in her parents and attended to their needs.

Mike and I took in my mom, a somewhat difficult person. However, my mother adored her two kids. She believed criticism was better than praise. She didn't do it to be dominant, well, not all of it. Also, I got control of that situation. I figured out how to deal with her behavior if she criticized me. She could only say something nasty three times. Then, I would make an excuse and leave. I would return with the same planned response, leaving. When I set that rule in my mind, she stopped being critical.

It was only after Mike died that it occurred to me that she knew Mike wouldn't tolerate that behavior. He wouldn't have thrown her out but would have spoken to her like a patient adult with a naughty child. If her behavior wasn't somewhat controlled, either one of us would not have agreed to have her live with us for the last 18 years of her life. I am so happy it did happen. It had been a dream of mine. The relationship never became all I would have liked, but it was good enough to make me happy.

I spoke to Adolescent D's mother today. She told me he went to school today to get his photo taken for his school I.D. It was the first time anyone had seen him without a hat. He wore it to hide his hair, which he hated. When I saw D at Costco the other day, I was shocked to see he had a gorgeous head of hair. He is a changed boy. I can finally see a bright future.

I continued talking to her about his work at Costco, which offers a career option. His mother was concerned about how much money he could make. Would he be able to support a family? What else could he do that would be here, on the island, or for that matter, anywhere else? He is not going to get a college degree. I'm concerned about him sticking out the two years to get a high school diploma. If he doesn't stick it out, I doubt he could earn a G.E.D. He doesn't have any self-discipline. Everything happens, or it doesn't. D's mom told me she had relatives who worked as Costco employees. They loved it. I suggested she ask them about the opportunities for advancement and a decent salary.

His mother and I agreed he needs to get a driver's license. I studied the driver's manual with him for a while. Because of his memory problems, I was not optimistic about his passing. My two Ph.D. husband failed the test. How was D going to succeed? His mother said she had made several appointments to take the test, giving him two months to study. He never took it.

I recently learned a woman I used to work with took the driver's test and passed. Her reading is poorer than D's, her study skills are nonexistent, and she doesn't present as bright as D. I told him to take the test without studying and see what happens. If she can pass, so can he.

To encourage him, I told the story of my passing my German reading test for my master's in

English literature. I'm a terrible language student. Faced with needing to pass a foreign language reading test, I chose to do it in German. I am a heritage speaker, meaning I learned it at home but don't speak it well. I have the vocabulary of a preschool child. I don't understand German movies. However, I have excellent pronunciation and a sense of grammar only a native speaker could have. I decided to take the test without studying at all. I passed. How much was dumb luck, and how much was the application of skill, I will never know. I skimmed each item and picked the one that 'felt right." I had no idea what the words said. D agreed to take the test without studying. Even if he fails, he will get feedback on what he already knows and what he has to study.

Thursday, July 9, 2026

Friday, August 2, 2024

I saw Dean as he turned onto Holoholo. Rather than make a left on Kukuna, I turned around and walked back the way I had come. It was the longer way home, and I would get in more steps.

I didn’t get to work with the Twins because their mom was in Honolulu for a paddling competition. She told me to contact the girls over Facetime on my tablet, but there was no answer. I suspected their middle school brother had a firm grip on the table and had no intention of letting it go.

I called my Long-Term healthcare insurance company. I received notification that they would be raising their rates. They offered a one-time payment of $10,000 and reduced benefits to avoid the rate hike. Mike and I had been talked into additional insurance, which relieved us of premium payments if one of us went into long-term care or died. Mike died on March 3, 2019. The letter said my policy would not be affected. I called to get verbal confirmation.

I told the customer care agent I wanted confirmation on my policy status. She asked for my policy number. With my policy in front of her, she discussed the $10,000 one-time payment. I suspected she was instructed to get people like me to accept the one-time payment and reduced benefits if she could. We old people get easily confused. While I hoped I was wrong, I snapped; I wanted confirmation of the impact on my plan. She quickly changed her tune. She said my policy would be unaffected by the changes.

Shortly after that call, I had another from an unknown caller. She asked if a ‘gentleman’ and gave a name, lived there. I said no. I expected a polite, “Sorry, Wrong number.” Instead, she said you live on the Big Island. Do you live on the Hilo side? I hung up immediately. I dealt with three scams in two days. It makes me despair.

I loaded a 5-gallon bucket of Plumbago green waste before I left for my Hula class at 10 a.m. at the community center. The class went pretty well, but some arm moves required raising them above heart level.

I finally sent billing statements to all my paying clients, did more yard work, and loaded up more Plumbago waste. I also cut large palm fronds into pieces to fit in the trash barrel.

I had an appointment with the acupuncturist at 1. She asked if she could be late. She was in town getting school supplies for her kids. I hadn’t realized how late it was. I was filthy from the garden work. I hopped into the shower. Jennifer arrived at 1:20. I got myself together in the nick of time.

The therapist Yvette has been seeing to help her ‘get herself out of the way of her professional success’ called me. I need that kind of help. I am very conflicted. I don’t like being rejected and ignored, nor do I like it when people pay too much attention. As I say, I’m conflicted.

The therapist explained that we can’t control people’s reactions to us. We can only control our responses to theirs. I am entirely on that page and told her so. She repeated the idea that we had no control over the reaction of others. I felt she had ignored my feedback. I don’t remember what I said. I tend to be blunt. I must have said something to the effect that I had heard what she said. She said, “ I can’t work with people who don’t want to hear what I have to say.” I said, “You said it once. I told you I agreed. I didn’t need to hear it three more times.” She said she couldn’t work with me. I agreed. At least, I didn’t tell her why I thought so. I spared both of us that retort. She also said something else about my wanting to earn money. It’s not that I don’t want to earn money, but it’s not a priority. I am happy to work for less or free if people can’t afford it. She couldn’t hear that either.

I have lots of experience with therapists who insist I’m something I’m not. We went to the same therapist for a while. Mike went with me. He walked out, saying, “I don’t understand why they don’t get you.” They all laid trips on me. Most of them were bad trips. Sometimes, arguing with the hard facts of my life. It’s been weird. The therapist I spoke to today complained that I didn’t want to hear what she had to say; that was my complaint about her, too. In the therapist/client relationship, it’s more important that the therapist hears the client than vice versa. I like to think I do that for my clients. But so many people say nothing.

After I got off the phone, I thought, “What would Yvette have done?” If she had felt the therapist was inappropriate, she would have kept her mouth shut and said something polite about calling back, having no intention of doing so. The skill of keeping my thoughts to myself could use some polishing. However, if I had, I wouldn’t have gotten the benefit of hearing the therapist say she didn’t want to work with someone who didn’t want to listen to what she had to say. When she did, I recognized it as my problem. Hearing it from her mouth allowed me to see my similar problem differently.

Later that day, I received a long email from that therapist listing six practical and intrapersonal suggestions. I recognize the impulse to be heard. I’ve done something comparable myself. It’s a mixed bag.

Darby hasn’t been walking in the evening. She told me she did something to her arm and wanted to rest it. Today, I learned that whatever she did caused her so much pain that she couldn’t lie down in her bed at night. I had no idea.

Thursday, August 1, 2024

Shortly after I got home from my walk, Dean and Nina appeared at my door. They said they had been chasing me for a mile. I was walking so fast they couldn’t catch up. They would see me Saturday afternoon around 1:30 for a few rounds of Sorry.

I had a session with Twin E this morning. I have known for a while that she doesn’t recognize the difference between b and d. today, I asked if she saw the difference between the letter c written right and wrong. No. She does not discriminate between the orientation of those two shapes. Oh, boy. She doesn’t see a difference between the lowercase print a written one way versus backward. I started doing some work on it. She said there was no spinning, which might account for the confusion. I will have to check which side of her brain she uses. I designed an exercise with the letters written by hand in both directions. Her task will be to discriminate between the right and wrong presentation.

Damon called. Cylin and he were in town for breakfast and would call when they were home. It took forever. I finally called him. They were heading home. They had stopped to shop for gifts. I packed up my computer and the infrared pad I bought but hadn’t used yet and headed up there. The plan was to hang out.

We sat together in the living room until Damon disappeared. He was gone for so long that I thought he had gone down for a nap. Cylin said he was in the bathroom, answering texts from work. He finally came out. He planned to use the sauna. Did I want to come? Fortunately, I brought my bathing suit.

We headed down to the sauna. Damon would have preferred a hot tub; he used one at home regularly. He walked me down a roughhewn path to the pool and sauna, holding onto my hand. I have a fear of falling. All old people’s bones become brittle with age. I’m in greater danger because of the hardware in my hip, elbow, and shoulder. If those areas are impacted, they will break more easily because of the hard objects embedded in my body.

Damon and I sat in the sauna. His tolerance was lower than mine. When it was just heating up, he opened the door to let in cool, fresh air. I stayed behind. He said to call when I wanted to go back up to the house. When I opened the door and came out, Damon was nowhere in sight. I thought he would be in the pool. I made my way back up to the house on my own.

They left the house for the airport at 2 p.m. I was right behind them. Jean, my friend, called. I pulled over to do the water meditation with her, which we do almost daily. As I sat there, Damon’s rental car came up the road in the opposite direction. He had left his swim trunks in the dryer. They passed me, going in the other direction as I completed the water meditation.

While Damon and Cylin were only here for three days rather than the four they originally intended, it was a good visit. I always enjoy seeing them.

I arrived home with enough leftover food to last for several days.

Wednesday, July 31, 2024

I woke up in the middle of the night upset, worrying about who would take care of Elsa if anything happened to me. Since Elsa bit Masha last night, I'm concerned we can't trust the two of them. I don't think Masha attacked back, but it was frightening.

The plan has always been for Yvette to care for Elsa if I travel, am hospitalized, or die. While Yvette would feed Elsa and walk her twice a day if I was away or hospitalized, Elsa would be alone otherwise and wouldn't do well with that. If I died before Elsa, Yvette couldn't take her in.

I got up around 3:30, unable to sleep, and looked up how much it would cost to have a pet sitter. At $25 an hour for 24 hours, that is $600 a day. There must be a way to work it out. That's very steep. Of course, my full-time care costs $45 an hour. I also texted a friend who pet-sits. She would do it for free if available when we needed her.

I modified my morning yoga routine again today. Instead of releasing a full breath while laughing with each yoga move, I make as many moves as possible while releasing a single breath. I maintain a single stretch until I have released all the air, then do the same thing six more times. It was very time-consuming. Now, I do as many as three stretches before I take a breath.

Elsa and I managed to get over 4,000 steps today. I wasn't supposed to see Damon and Cylin this morning. They had plans to go to Kua Bay on their own. I first assumed I would go with them. Damon made it clear I wasn't welcome. They wanted some alone time. I had mixed feelings. I was sad not to be included since their visit was so short—only four days. But I was happy they wanted to be alone.

They called about ten. They hadn't gotten up and out and dropped their plans for Kua Bay. Instead, they went to the turtle beach and snorkeled. Cylin reported seeing many fish and turtles.

They invited me to join them for lunch. They would pick up sandwiches at this place Yvette told them about. I order a turkey BLT. They called when they were home. I drove up to their Airbnb. The sandwich was delicious. I brought a Kombucha with me. I think I'm addicted. Hopefully, it's not bad for me.

When I told Damon and Cylin of my concerns, they told me it was their idea for Yvette to bring Masha up for dinner. Yvette probably thought it would be okay. Elsa and Masha had met in the street, and there was no drama. Of course, this was different. It was in Elsa's territory, and I had been alarmed when I first saw Masha in the house. Yvette brought her up, thinking I was okay when she brought Little up. This is different. Little is little, and she was old and clung to Yvette. Masha is four times the size of Elsa, young and exploratory. I'm certain Masha meant no harm. She didn't return Elsa's bite with one of her own. Masha is a good girl. I'm not sure Elsa is quite so forgiving. This 13-pound dog takes on trucks, particularly white ones.

Damon and Cylin lazed around and watched some of the Olympics. I napped. Cylin napped. Then Damon talked about the late afternoon plans. He spoke of going to the Mauna Kea and hiking one mile to see the sunset. I assumed he was talking about the hotel. No. He was talking about the mountain, driving up to the visitors' center. I have been there several times. I've never been impressed. You get to see the sunset from above the clouds. Whoopee. It does nothing for me. And- it is freezing cold up there after sunset. I begged off. Learning where they were going, Yvette grabbed a sweatshirt and decent shoes.

I did more work in the yard. It is overwhelming. I need to put in at least an hour a day to keep up with it. I don't do that. My latest project is cleaning up the green waste from Casey's trim job on the overgrown Plumbago bush. I stuffed a large pile of Plumbago green waste into three 5-gallon buckets. I walked two over to Darby's. I had the large, now empty trash barrel in hand, ready to wheel back home when my phone rang. It was Shelly, my therapist/life coach. I forgot about her with my focus on the Damons. I shared my upset about the scene with Elsa and Masha and the drama at and about the skin care shop at Kona Inn Shopping Village. I floundered as I struggled to free myself from the grip of sadness and anger about the incident with Masha and Elsa.

I wondered if everyone feels physical pain when upset. Shelly said no, not everyone did. She had been recommending I find where the sensation was in my body. She then switched her instructions. She said to focus on my whole body. My mind went to the surface of my aura. That's where I found focus and access to a healing state.

I went through bouts of anger, not so much about the current situation as in general. Rage, really. I once led a student through this rage and laughed at his reaction. We each have to confront that infantile rage that never entirely leaves us. It's more on the surface for some than others. My best guess is it's dependent on how responsive the primary caretakers were to the infant. My mom was unresponsive. She marched to the beat of her own drum. Her ability to be in harmony with another was limited. As I followed the anger, it was clearly that infantile rage. My mother wouldn't tolerate that for two hot seconds, even in an infant. I know because I watched her response to her granddaughter. When Karin was two, she had a temper tantrum in my mother's presence. My mom said, "If you cry like that, you will never have a boyfriend." Pretty bizarre response. Not to worry. Karin is happily married with two kids.

I got to work with the Twins in the late afternoon. Twin E had problems recognizing the difference between the capital I (I) and the lowercase L in some fonts. They looked the same. She doesn't realize that a capital L would not be a second letter in a word.

Then, E couldn't read the word plant and wouldn't try to decode it. Instead of following the procedure I taught her repeatedly, she acted like it was an impossible task.

1. What's the vowel? 2. What is the letter after the vowel? She gave me the letter before the vowel. 3. Then she blended the a and n. 4. What's the letter after the n? She blended the an and the t with relative ease. 5. What's the letter before the a? Blend that with ant. 6. What is the letter before the l; blend that with lant.

We have gone over this procedure time and time again. It's like E's deliberately taking a step backward because school is right around the corner, starting on Monday. Then, the tablet ran out of juice. I texted the older sister to plug it in and put Twin A on. It took a while. I organized myself for the afternoon hike Damon and Cylin planned. I put my walking stick and sun hat by the door, along with a flask for water.

I decided not to go on the Mauna Kea trip to see the sunset. I've been up there several times. None of them rang my chimes. The first time, Yvette arranged to have a friend drive us up to the top. The goal was to arrive in time to watch the sunset. We were too late. I got out of the jeep. The wind was a brisk 40 mph. I clung to the side of the building, frightened that I would be blown off the mountaintop. The other times, I visited the visitors' center with Mike. Mike was thrilled to look through the telescopes at the stars. Eh!

Damon called after an hour. I had convinced them not to go; Yvette helped with that. It's a long drive, and it would be cold and windy. The three of them went for a walk somewhere else. Damon proposed we have dinner at Jackie Rey's. He made a reservation for 7:15. I arrived shortly before Damon, Cylin, and Yvette did. I wore a dress; they were both still dressed for hiking.

The menu was high-class but little interested me. I had raw ahi with seasoning, elegantly presented. I learned Damon and Cylin planned to go home tomorrow instead of Friday. Damon wanted to ensure he spent time with his son, August, while on vacation. August was supposed to come with them, but he came down with a bug and stayed home.

Tuesday, July 30, 2024

I woke up this morning to find my phone hadn’t charged overnight- again. Sometimes, I haven’t placed it incorrectly on the wireless charger. I tried again; it didn’t connect. I looked for a charging cord and plugged it in; it didn’t connect. Sorry, I can’t live without my phone. Then I tried that alcohol trick. No, I didn’t take a drink to calm my nerves. I wiped down the back of the phone and the surface of the wireless charging unit with rubbing alcohol and bingo.

When I weighed myself this morning, I had lost another half a pound; I was down to 134.5. My steady premenopausal weight was 128, but I’m told I need to weigh a bit more now that I’m older.

The significant drop in weight was last year after the fall when I shattered my left shoulder and elbow joints, spent two weeks in the hospital, and another month at home with 24- hr. care. I couldn’t risk getting up and going to the bathroom by myself. I was weak and unsteady. I couldn’t dress myself or prepare my food. Because other people took care of me, I changed my diet. I made additional changes recently. I read starting the day with protein was my best bet. I now eat two soft-boiled eggs each morning, followed by buttered toast with a heaping portion of red raspberry jam. Hardly a diet anyone would recommend. I eat something substantial midday: a bagel with cream cheese, lox, and a kombucha. I’m usually not hungry at night. Last night, I had looked forward to enjoying dessert after the meal at Huggo’s. I ate the garlic bread, which was fantastic. I also ate a few bites of the salad and lemonade. I couldn’t finish the poke tower. Damon had a few bites of it, and I took the rest home. I am getting a bit concerned. Even if the weight loss is because of reduced food intake and better exercise, I can’t go below a certain point. I need some fat on me at my age.

I was tired during my morning walk. The air punching exercise combined with laughter yoga drains me. The release feels good, but then I’m exhausted. Should I stop it or do it at another time of the day?

I met with the Twins this morning. They were both frustrating. While Twin A’s oral reading is continuing to improve, her comprehension skills have maxed out at mid-third grade. Twin E had problems with both word recognition and comprehension. Given how depleted I felt, it was hard work.

Damon called around 8:30. He and Cylin were off to Yvette’s yoga class and heading to Kua Bay around 10. I canceled Adolescent D for the week. He is ready to pack it in, as is his mom, and I am, too. I’ll miss him at one level, but it’s time. My concern is he will want to quit high school. He loves his job at Costco; I envision him saying he’ll work there for the rest of his life and won’t need a high school diploma. I know Costco will hire someone without one, but will that limit his ability to get a higher-paying job within the company?

Damon called after the yoga class to say they were heading to Kua Bay and should meet them there. There is only a small actual parking area. Everyone else parks just off the road. That’s what most of the cars have to do. I drove down to the drop-off area in case a spot opened up. None did. I had a quarter-mile walk to the drop-off spot, comparable to the walk I had to do as a kid from the Jones’ Beach parking lot to the waterfront.

Damon and Cylin weren’t there yet. I sat on the rock wall in the shade of a tree overlooking the shore. Of course, I had my back to the ocean. I turned to catch some of the view. Damon called as he entered the access road leading to the bay. I told him the parking was pretty bad when I arrived half an hour before, and more people were coming than leaving. Did he have an umbrella? No. It was now 11:30, which is never a good time to be at a beach. The Hawaiian sun toasted-roasted my legs on the walk down. I hated to think of what I would look like if I sat out there for two hours. I would look like a tourist. They have this pink burn you never see on someone who lives here.

Damon and Cylin agreed this wasn’t the best time to do Kua Bay. They drove down to the drop-off area, picked me up, dropped me off at my car, and waited until I had pulled off the rocky area onto the road. We changed into our street clothes and went to town.

We parked in the church parking lot. Our first stop was the church graveyard. Damon and Cylin had never seen the headstones, but they thought they looked great. I like their look better each time I see them. I did a great job.

Then we headed to Lucasie, the skin care shop where I dropped thousands of dollars in a moment of weakness. The skin care products are good even if they are expensive. I knew I was being hustled; I didn’t know I was being conned. I was vulnerable for the bait in the first place because it was a beautiful day, and the shop had a view of the ocean through an open screenless window, a mood-altering scene. Besides that, I am an 83-year-old widow. It was a perfect storm.

The facial peel worked like a charm. I’ve been disturbed by my aging skin. Aside from the acne I suffered as an adolescent and later some other form of outbreak, I inherited incredible skin. Other than my facial skin, the rest of my body was in great shape. No more. I find rough spots. I use a plastic equivalent of steel wool to scrape dead skin off my face and body. I was given a product that would remove that dead skin. I was sold. The cost of the three products I got that first day was not unreasonable. I was to return a week later for a free facial as part of the deal.

A week later, my friend and I returned for our facials. The man who provided them, placing ‘golden masks’ on our faces, examined my legs and told me I had eczema. That won me over; I had an explanation for the changes in my skin. My uncle had suffered from psoriasis. Maybe this is what I got instead. That diagnosis won me over. Okay, I didn’t have all my marbles lined up, or is it I had a few screws loose? I see incidents of that in my thinking more and more often. I can’t focus on two things at once. One topic can consume all the energy my prefrontal lobe has to offer. I drove through a four-way stop without looking because I was thinking of something else. That would never have happened when I was younger. I’m sure the losses are more significant because of the eight hours of surgery I had a year ago after my catastrophic fall when I shattered my left shoulder and elbow.

I let the pitchman talk me into paying for two years of product up front. I was still on board when I got home, but I had an appointment with my doctor early next week. I asked her about the eczema. Absolutely not! Eczema itches, and she saw no sign of it. Then, I got a phone call from the pitchman. He had sent a sample of my skin to the Mayo Clinic. He got the report back: I had severe eczema. That tipped the scales. I was dealing with liars. Then, I knew I had been scammed. I was told to come in for a facial once a month and pick up the product. I no longer wanted to be touched by anyone working there. I waited a little over a month and went to pick up my $200 worth of product.

One day, I was greeted by a young woman who told me she had just started working there and didn’t know how to help me. I came back another day. A man greeted me this time. He offered me one jar of night cream and told me that those products were supposed to last three months, etc. I refused the product and told him I wanted my money back. I videoed myself demanding he acknowledge I had accepted no product on that visit.

Damon and Cylin knew the story. They were both outraged. Damon’s mom had been hit by several scams, and so had Cylin’s parents. In Cylin’s case, her parents had engaged a local company to install a walk-in tub for a mere $9,000. They gave him the money upfront. The provider called time after time with explanations for delays. They finally demanded their money back. The owner made excuses and begged for time. He finally declared he didn’t have the money and agreed to pay them back piecemeal. They got a check for $500 one month, a thousand next, and nothing. They finally hired a lawyer.

The lawyer recognized the provider. He had a reputation for selling walk-in tubs to elderly people, delaying delivery, betting on their dying, or being too senile to recall. The lawyer offered to take their case for free. They got some more money back but are still waiting.

Damon, Cylin, and I entered the store. A young woman greeted us, saying she had just started there. When we asked to speak to someone in charge, she said no one was there. Two young people said the same thing the first time I came back. I said something about frequent turnover; she denied that. Because I had shown Damon and Cylin the video of my confrontation with the guy, Cylin recognized him sitting in a corner and pointed him out to Damon. Cylin and I are both excitable. Damon threw me out first, and then Cylin. While we were standing on the pavement, the young woman we first spoke to came out. Cylin said, “You should be ashamed of yourself working for a place like that.” The young woman was also excitable. She said, “I am a mother!” Cylin replied, “I am too.” It was a tie. Afterward, I thought of an excellent response to her declaration that she was a mother. “Thanks for telling me. I will call Child Protective Services immediately.” She was obviously involved in criminal activity.

Cylin and I moved away from the shop while Damon dealt with the man who was the owner, Lucas. When Damon joined us, he insisted this was a reputable shop. Damon reported that Lucas said we could refuse payment with the credit card company, and he wouldn’t contest it. He had lied about everything else; this was probably a lie. Cylin kept telling Damon in an agitated tone that this was a scam. She looked up a scam site. Sure enough, there were two complaints against the company. One woman’s mother-in-law had spent $21,000 with the company.

We left Kona Inn Shopping Village, intending to go to Kua Bay. Damon wanted to stop at Kona Mountain Coffee Shop. We met there. Cylin and I went to the public bathroom to change into our bathing suits. As I drove into the right-hand approach lane, I thought about checking for my phone. I couldn’t find it and panicked. I backed up my car so it faced the intersection and placed my car at an angle, indicating I wanted to go through the intersection the moment the light changed. It’s Hawaii; no one honked. Not until I missed the light change and the first car honked to tell me to move on. Oh, boy. I went across the intersection, made a legal U-turn, drove around a circle before the entrance of a gated community, drove back across the four-lane highway into the parking lot, and raced to the bathroom where I suspected I had left my phone.

My phone actually rang at one point when I was making all those maneuvers. I was sane enough to wonder how it could if it wasn’t in my car, but not rational enough to stop and look again. Well, that’s not entirely true. I looked again while waiting for the light to change while in my angled position. I couldn’t find it. Needless to say, it wasn’t in the bathroom. As I walked back to my car, it rang again. I had stuck it in the bra top of my two-piece bathing suit. Now, all I had to worry about was the police finding out about my very illegal maneuver and all the repercussions from that. I called Damon and Cylin and told them I had had enough excitement for one day. I was heading home.

When they came over for dinner later that night, they told us their tech-savvy son, August, had checked out the company. Lucas set up one scam after another. Their Juniper light gadget had been refused FDA approval. Damon checked the item. It’s made of cheap plastic with a faux metallic finish. Damon declared, “It’s worth $28.”

Yvette joined us, bringing Masha up with her. This was the first time Masha had been in my home. Her arrival was a complete surprise, and I was somewhat shocked. I chose not to say anything. Elsa had had contact with Masha, and everything had gone well in the middle of the dinner. Elsa attacked Masha. Yvette sprung up, separated them, and took Masha downstairs. The concern wasn’t for Masha. Elsa is a 10-year-old 13 lbs. dog who recently had 10 teeth extracted; Masha is a 40 lb. 2-year-old dog with a pit-bull mouth. We have no idea what prompted Elsa’s attack. Masha had been peering under a sofa. Was one of Elsa’s favorite balls there? Who knows. We sure didn’t.

Monday, July 29, 2024

Every Monday morning at 8 a.m., I do Chi Qigong on a bluff overlooking the tide pools at the shoreline at Old A, the site of the original Kona airport. It was probably suitable for prop planes. We now have a full-on international airport a little further to the north. Where the area must have been hectic when it was an airport, it is now lovely and peaceful.

Again, only Clyde and I were there for the session. I arrived with a disturbed mind; I managed to quiet it. I have been getting better at doing this. What a relief! Afterward, I went home to do some housekeeping in anticipation of Damon’s visit.

Damon, Cylin, and August were scheduled to arrive today at 2 p.m. They were supposed to come last week, but Cylin got Covid. I learned August wasn’t coming this morning because he was sick with something, probably not Covid.

I met with a new client, a young boy, and both his parents. I will not discuss this in my updates because there are people who read it who will recognize who I am talking about. It was an interesting encounter. I discovered the father’s mind works much as mine does. He is also analytical. He looks for the core principle underlying something, just as I do. It was exciting to have such an encounter. He also knows about neuroscience. Amazing. I have yet to find out why he’s interested.

Damon called when he arrived at his AirBnB, and I drove there. Damon doesn’t do well in other people’s space or having people stay in his space. When Mike and I visited LA, we could only stay at Damon’s house for three nights. If we wanted to stay longer, we had to find other accommodations.

His Airbnb had a pool and a sauna. Damon can’t live without a pool. He has a hot tub at home and spends many hours in it. He often calls me while soaking.

When I met up with Damon and Cylin, it was their dinner time by the LA clock. We went to Huggo’s, arriving at four. We stopped at Huggo’s on the Rocks, and Cylin got a drink. Then we wandered over to the restaurant, which had just opened. We could only order pupus (appetizers) until 5 o’clock. I ordered their poke tower, which I love, and a lemonade. I ordered a salad, too. It was skimpy. Damon ordered garlic bread, which was sensational.

At five, Cylin ordered a pasta dish, which Damon shared, and I had a bite of it. I hoped to order some dessert but was too stuffed to finish all the poke. At the end of the meal,

Damon declared I was not to touch the bill and then walked away. I followed, realized I had forgotten my scarf, and returned to get it. I ran into the waiter, who asked if Damon would be returning to the table. I assured him Damon was not a runner. The waiter brought the bill to the front desk just as Cylin emerged from the bathroom. Damon was a few seconds later.

Damon wanted to go to Safeway to pick up food items for the morning. I persuaded them to go to Old A to see the view of my Chi Qigong site, which I so loved. They found it as remarkable as I did.

We ran into a couple there who were locals. They lived up Kaloko, the same street Damon’s Airbnb was on. Damon’s house was at about 1200 feet; their house was at 4,000. They said their home was the second from the top. That’s the top of the road, not the mountain. The mountain is a total of 8,300 feet. It’s wet and cold at 4,000 feet, but they love it. Damon’s Air BnB was damp and chilly but not plagued with mildew as the houses at the higher levels.

Our next stop was Safeway. I waited in the car, meditating and dozing. Their excursion took about half an hour. Damon called me from the checkout to ask if I had a Safeway card. Yes, what’s the telephone number? I was pretty sure it was the landline number we had when we first moved here. I thought I could find it under Mike’s name in my address book, but it wasn’t there. Damon checked it in his address book. Bingo! He said he saved $25.

We drove back to the Airbnb, where my car was parked. I drove myself home. I opened the chocolate-covered almonds Cylin gave me. I had put them on the front seat of my car when we left for town earlier. The chocolate had melted. I still dug in, getting chocolate all over my hands. I felt like a kid. They were delicious, better than the Costco brand I buy. I never watched TV. I went to bed and slept well.

Sunday, July 28, 2024

I couldn’t sleep. I was disturbed by a neighbor’s dilemma with her husband. He sounds capable of destroying her for crossing him. I was afraid she could knock at my door in the middle of the night, seeking shelter. I didn’t want to get in the middle of that situation. The husband scared me, too. I got up and looked for information on a local women’s shelter. The nearest one was in Hilo. When I spoke to my other friend about it, she said there was no way the woman would walk away without her daughter in hand. Horribly, I am only relieved I won’t have to be involved. I have no idea what else I can do.

The skin on Elsa’s belly looked worse. Nothing was working. Her skin was worse than before I changed her food, and her skin problem completely cleared. When I changed her food, her skin cleared up. I date the return to the bad breakouts after her dental surgery. She was under anesthesia and had ten teeth pulled. It’s been a while now. The chemicals should be out of her system.

After Mass today, I spoke with Joseph, a young man Judy knows well, who is looking for a room to rent. Judy was involved with his conversion to Catholicism and thought the world of him. I liked him too. He’s twenty-eight years old and currently living with his parents. He has to move because they want to move to the mainland. He was born and raised here. His parents were both cradle Catholics who abandoned the faith. Joseph put himself through college, earning a bachelor’s in philosophy. That makes us somewhat compatible, but not necessarily. Mike had his PhD in philosophy, but our approach to learning was very different. He found me very frustrating.

I was direct with Joseph about my personality. I’m straightforward; I prefer people I can negotiate with rather than overpowering or being overpowered. Judy said that makes me very unusual. Concession is always part of any relationship, but how do you know when it’s necessary if you don’t discuss it. Some people argue ‘you just know.” Research has been done on that theory. The results show that we don’t know our intimates as well as we think. Since we assume we do know and don’t explore, we may be even more inaccurate in guessing their thoughts than we are in the thoughts of others.

I had a session with going-into-fourth-grade M today. She was very subdued. She looked downright depressed. I asked her what was wrong. When she gets in this state, she doesn’t function well. She can’t remember anything that was said. She usually remembers where we are in the book Stuart Little better than I do, but she remembered nothing today. I heard her mother ask, “Is the dress uncomfortable?” She was readjusting it a lot. I have seen her in this mental state before, but this is the first time I got the impression that this is how she responds whenever things don’t go her way. I called her mother after the session. She left a busy message and never called back.

I thought I would be finished with M. She read fluently and comprehended well. However, with the insight I gathered today, I changed my mind. This mood problem of hers has to be addressed, or she won’t succeed in her new school.

I stopped at Target after church to pick up a few things. I looked in the cutlery section for a sharpening tool. When I asked the employee at Home Depot how I could sharpen a scythe, he said that’s what he used, and I could get one at Walmart. I realized it was probably the same tool I had in my knife set to sharpen the knives.

When I spoke to Adolescent D’s mother. She asked if he could improve his reading by practicing the discipline I taught him. I told her yes. My skills continue to improve as I work with the students. Anyone’s reading skills can improve. The problem is he won’t do it on his own. He will do nothing that requires conscious cognitive skill on his own. It either happens or it doesn’t.

However, he does read well enough to manage most life circumstances. He just doesn’t read well enough to go to college. I am concerned that he won’t want to hang on for the next two years in school to secure a high school diploma. That could be important if he wants to advance beyond entry-level positions.

He has a second problem: he doesn’t have a driver’s license. He needs to be independent. Given his poor study skills and memory, this is a concern. However, I learned that the twenty-six-year-old woman who can’t read well passed the test. It was read to her, and she got enough correct answers to pass. Mike, with his straight As in two Ph.Ds., failed his test. Go figure.

D got a summer job at Costco and loves it. This would be a possible avenue for him to earn a living. She wants him to do something creative based on one video he made and his sense of humor. To be in a creative field, you have to be highly self-motivated. D is not that. She wants to discourage him from working at Costco, fearing he won’t explore creative possibilities. I think if she pushes him in that direction, she is condemning him to a life of pure misery. If he has a creative urge, he can work at Costco and develop his art during his off hours. If he’s good enough, it will happen. I know about seven people who have their foot in the arts.

Only two of them earn a good living wage. One survives on grants. It’s hard work. One wants to be the new great American novelist. He earns his living by working entry-level jobs. He finds it hard to send out what he does write to publishers. You need a cast iron ego to be in the arts. The rest don’t think of themselves as professional artists. It’s a hobby. One has written two books, both I have enjoyed. Both books are self-published on Amazon; one ranks in the 2,000,000 and the other at 6,000,000; another wrote a wonderful book. I don’t know what she’s done to make it available to a broader audience. D doesn’t do any work on his own. How does she think he will survive in a job involving creativity? The woman drives me nuts. She’s a blithering romantic.