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 My blog was filled up. I'm too lazy to clean it out. So I started a new one. |
| Today I watered my plants on the back porch. We discovered the reason two flower boxes were fading and looking so terrible was that the squirrel sits in the pot and gnaws the showy flower. The ones leaning over he doesn't like but he's squishing them with his behind. The dying ones he's eating. I water the pots any way. I discovered there are weeds in my chives. I've kept all the other pots clean, but I missed these. The chives are long and thin. This weed is long and thin, unlike other weeds that flower or have rounded leaves. The chives grow in clumps, so the weeds nestled up in between the blades and I missed them. So I followed them to their bases and yanked them up, roots and all. It's the only way to get rid of weeds. The sun was blazing hot and burned on my arms as I handled the chives and weeds. I thought this is a little like the weeds in our lives. We're so easily influenced by our sneaky culture. Without realizing it, values that aren't our own and sneaked into our lives and our thinking. habits we don't want have crept into our daily routine. These things we don't really want have found their way into our existence without our noticing. They blend in too easily. It might be something as benign as joining the complainers at work or having snacks with TV. Or swearing in rush hour traffic. Even when we wake up and notice the weeds in our lives, they're hard to uproot. Breaking habits is difficult. Changing our thinking is difficult. Self-examination is a lot harder than looking for weeds in a flower box. Yet it is a necessary chore if we want our best "harvest". |
| I once had a Bible study teacher who posed an icebreaker question every Sunday. She was much older than her middle-aged coed class (35 to 50), We learned a lot about each other after a while. I still remember many of those answers. One of the questions was, If you could choose more time or more money, what would you take? You can imagine the responses. Not many chose money, but those who did used reasoning like "I'd have a maid to do my housework, so I'd have more time for my family or leisure." Or I could travel instead of working. Most of my life I've had to work two jobs, so having more money would have allowed me to have more time. Somehow money led to time for most people. Time led to two different interpretations. There were those who focused on busy schedules, stress, or demands, and wanted more hours in the day. They could accomplish more if the day had more than 24 hours. But a lot of us interpreted it in terms of years; we wanted more time to live. I even said that I had been poor and I could survive. But I haven't been dead yet, so I wanted more time. None of us have enough time. The days just seem shorter and shorter. You can't get everything done. I don't know how some people get all their work done and can sit and relax. If I sit and relax, it's because a lot of things are undone. I make to do lists knowing I'll never check everything off. Either I don't get to it and feel frustrated, or I make the conscious decision to skip it in order to reach the end, like a holiday dinner. Even if I'm taking a light day, I don't seem to open that book I've been wanting to read, or I don't get my exercise. With so much tragedy in my family lately, our personal mortality is really pressing on us. I have two cousins-sisters, younger than me- who are going through horrific health issues right now. Time, whether hours in the day, or years of life, are pretty valuable. I think I would like the money, but not in exchange for time. I really want both. |
| A gross story, but a true one. Anyone with a squeamish stomach should not read any further. About two weeks ago, my brother found a dead woman on the side of the road. It's a heavily trafficked area, and it was about 9 on a Saturday morning. He saw feet and legs on the side, so he pulled over. He was very upset to discover a woman in the ditch with her legs up towards the road. He tried to flag down someone, but no one would stop. He was shocked as he stepped aside to call 911 to see people drive within inches of her feet. No one slowed down. His call was the first to come in, and an officer was there in about a minute. The university is nearby, so there's always police in that area of the county. Some very rich neighborhoods are also nearby. He was very upset and shaking. The police arrived but never questioned him. He said her legs were crumpled up, obviously broken. But she was clean and un-bloodied. She was maybe middle-aged or younger, white, a little heavy set, wearing shorts and a halter top. The skin was broken, and he could see inside the leg, which is why he was so shocked by the absence of blood. After the police arrived, others stopped, looked around, then left not being able to assist. The police were scoping every thing but never approached him, so he got in his car and left after waiting to explain what he saw when he first arrived. The news that night said she was discovered by "officers". They were requesting that possible witnesses who may have seen her walking down the road earlier, or arguing with someone, call with any info. She had no id, no personal affects. By the second day, they were calling it a suicide, but it sure doesn't seem that way. It sounds like she was hit by a car after she died, and that possibly her body was dumped there. But this is a low profile story, getting little attention. When my brother told me about it, it was late afternoon. I thought he was telling me a joke, so I kept waiting for a punchline, until it didn't sound like a joke. So I asked him to start over. I still couldn't believe him. "What?" He was still upset. We were at a big picnic, but having a private conversation. He had been acting like usual until he started this story. It was clear, it threw him for a loop. Discovering a dead body is disconcerting. I saw my boss after he committed suicide. It may be a little different seeing someone you know, but when unexpected, it is very disturbing. A lot of people have told us since then they wouldn't have stopped; they might have called 911, but would have kept driving. I'm afraid that I'm like my brother. I have pulled over for other things with a mind to help. You don't think about the consequences. At least he was in the daylight. I think the police could tell immediately how upset he was and dismissed him as a participant in events. I want to see this resolved.I am sorry that my brother had to be the one to find her. He's had so much trauma, the loss of his young son-in-law this summer, the passing of our last uncle, his cancer, his worry over his pregnant widowed daughter and his grandchildren. This was just an experience he didn't need. |
| To retire or not to retire? That is my question. I can foresee all kinds of problems that will make me miss the extra income. Who can predict the future? Will I end up on welfare or living in a hovel? Or a nursing home on Medicaid? I don't know. On the other hand I might make it a few years with all the freedom and no hassle. Then there's the social aspect. I may not find the people with whom I work intellectually stimulating, nonetheless, I do partake of their human drama. I talk with people from other walks of life. I'm not an energetic person socially. I might become a hermit unintentionally. I'm okay with my own company. At least until cabin fever sets in. Today, I was off from work. I wanted to go to a sunset concert near here on the mountain top. I have been anticipating it for a while and had it on my Google calendar. But it was a dreary morning, and my father was sick. I wanted to clean house and read. So I never got ready to go. I even had some friends who were going to be there. But I opted out. If I'm not obligated to someone else, a group or a job, I can't make myself do something. So retirement could make me stay at home a lot. Yet, I want to stop going to work. I want to sleep late. I don't want to face the nasty public elements out there. Most people are nice, but there's enough of the shysters and the complainers to erase the interaction with nice people. I especially don't want to deal with erratic personalities in management. I'm looking forward to so many things. I'm slowly beginning to accept my age and my crepe paper skin. I realize those twenty-somethings and teens at work are only tolerating me. (I'm tolerating them.) It probably would help if I knew more people in my age bracket. Everyone I know is a generation older or a generation younger, or two generations younger. With my dad's decline, I need more time to drive him wherever he needs to go. I need to take over more of the yard work. I would feel better about the house if I were around to clean up after him more frequently. I don't plan to over commit myself to volunteer stuff until I know how my energy and Dad's needs balance out with my time off. Maybe I'll actually write more, but I'm not counting on it or doing crafts either. The truth is that I'm not making enough money at this job to make it worth the stress. If Dad ends up with a stroke and can't make decisions, my income wouldn't pay the taxes or home maintenance. It's just gift money and pocket money for me. I might have to tighten my belt a little, but I think I have to trust that things will work out. It might be better for my own health to retire, to avoid the physical and mental stress and the traffic. Nope, I can't talk myself out of it. Even though I think they need me at work, and it will be hard to find a hard worker like me who has gained as much knowledge, but I don't owe them anything. I have to look out for me. I'm mentally preparing for the big change. |
| My last uncle passed away Monday. He was 81. He was in good health, considering his age, and getting around well. He told people for many decades that I was his favorite niece, then would chuckle every time at his own punch line: I was his only niece. He told lots of stories. He'd remember everything you did bad as a toddler and tell you when you were a teen. He had a laugh all the time. We loved to see him coming. he was a decent cook, and worked in a grocery store his whole life. He was in the navy as a youngster, working in undersea demolition for the big war ships in icy water. That enabled him to travel the world and gain discipline and a good work ethic. He worked a paper route as a boy on foot, until he could buy his own second hand bike. He and my mom were born into a working class family which quickly became poor. My grandfather had a debilitating disease and survived only because a major university hospital was nearby. He was their guinea pig, and after many operations and trial medications, he not only survived, but went back to work. During this time, the family had to move to cheaper quarters and Grandma had to go to work at the sewing factory. Mom and her brother knew what hunger was first hand. The baby couldn't remember such things, and life was a little better when he was older, but not much. They would get broken toys from The Salvation Army for Christmas. One year, their only gift was a piggy bank from the local bank. There were no after-school programs back then, no nursery school or public kindergarten. Mom was his babysitter, but she was only four years older. He grew up criticized by others who had more, and spent a lot of time unsupervised. As a working man, he went through some bad times when the kids were small. My father, who was poor, helped him out. Then his hard work began to pay off. Eventually, he lost a step-son, a son, his parents, his first wife, then his nephews, one only 19, his sister and his brother. But he persevered. He never let his hardships make him bitter or resentful. He kept a positive outlook. He kept on keeping on.Nothing could break him or get him down. He responded with humor and love. He loved children, his own, his grand children, his great grandchildren and other people's babies. Even the customers' kids in the grocery store called him Uncle Wally. It takes a special person to make children love him (or her). Life's circumstances couldn't hold him down. His heart was too big.Now we have one less person to share the joy and give happiness to the world. |
| Maybe senility is not that far off for me. I am becoming more disorganized than ever. I can't find anything. I am currently in an embarrassing predicament. And I'm wondering if my mind is going away a little early. Oh, there might be a bit of laziness creeping into the mixture. I've never been this slow to get things done, have never lost so much, or been so inefficient. I have so many distractions. And I feel overwhelmed a lot.But I'm spending more time watching TV news and texting, which means I'm sitting a lot. So I may just be getting lazy as well as senile. I am a church clerk, which means I take notes at business meetings and other things. Meetings generally occur four times a year, which sounds like a soft deal. But we have special called business meetings which may increase the number to eight times a year, to include selling property, hiring or dismissing a ministerial staff member (secretaries and janitors do not require this) I also have to fill out state surveys at least once a year, and correspond with other churches when people move their memberships to our church or away from our church. Taking notes and learning parliamentary procedure is not difficult. Typing the notes in an acceptable manner and presenting for meetings has become a major issue for me. I have less than a week to produce the minutes from the last meeting. I can't find my notes or any of the handouts from that meeting. I'm sure I have them somewhere, but where? I have gone through my computer/guest room and my bedroom and cannot find them. I am ashamed to let anyone know and have been looking desperately for over a week, less desperately before that. I work on Sundays, so I frequently drop off the notes at home, change and head off to work. I may not get back to them for a while. Sundays are a big day for my dad. His sons and grandchildren, and great grandchildren come to visit and eat. The kids go wild, and their parents don't watch them. My dad can't understand when they speak to him because he can't hear. But they play with him any way. I've tried to lock up my Kindle and papers. I keep my room closed and will close the guest room which someone always manages to enter anyway (to change a baby on the bed, and toddlers follow). The pre-schoolers like to draw and write. They don't understand why they can't write in any notebook they choose. Sometimes it takes me days to realize something is missing or to discover something in another room. When I get off late Sunday night, the house is a mess. Kids are only one possibility. My procrastination is another contributor to this problem. Granted, I've had a lot going on. I have health problems, but I'm still working. I live with my elderly, hearing impaired father who is getting more feeble and easily confused. I teach adult Bible study, sing in the choir, clerk, and cook for Dad and his company. We've had the death of a young father in the family. My brother has cancer. These things weigh on my mind. Many of the people I go to church with are elderly and are getting confused, too. Perhaps my association with them is making me a little slow. OK, I took a little water break and picked up the notebook by my computer, which I thought for the last month had my notes. I flipped a few more pages and there they are! I'm not a ding bat! Just a procrastinator! I will stop feeling sorry for myself now. I will stop feeling like I'm all washed up. I have some typing to do. Whew!I have a little while yet to worry about dementia. |
| Dad wanted cubed steak and got it out of the freezer. So we thawed it out overnight. When I went to make the breading, I realized my almost full bag of flour in a sealed plastic canister had bugs in it. I had to throw it out and wash the container. I probably should have broiled or baked the steak, but I know the old man likes it fried. So I used cornmeal, which I had packed in zip lock bags inside another plastic canister. It was edible, but I can't say I'd prepare it that way again. The taste is different, of course. And you can't make gravy out of it, which is good for me.I used pink salt, pepper, turmeric, and oregano in the meal. I sliced a garlic clove into the oil, and put some fresh sage leaves in the warm oil before adding the steak. The flavor was pretty good. The surprise was the leaves remained whole instead of wilting. Fried sage leaves taste yummy. I'm getting more liberal with fresh basil, which is still growing nicely. Since I've pruned the sage plants, they're more productive. I weeded the chives and pulled out the dead looking blades. They're coming back, and are blossoming again. The cilantro is overgrown and dying. I didn't harvest enough in time. They all look so nice. And I get a little thrill from harvesting and cooking them and serving them to others. |
| I've been searching for books for children on the subject of death. I've found one that I might order, Someone I Loved Died. I have a librarian searching for books for me. The children in my family are having difficulty dealing with the loss of one of the parents. The various parents of the cousins are dealing with it differently, some by avoiding it. But they have questions and it's difficult, even for adults to accept. So I thought I would do what I could in the time I have with them. We can color while we talk about feelings. I can tell them it's okay to talk about him, to remember things he did. At least one child is afraid to speak of him, and whispers only. At least the widow is dealing with her kids directly. I read somewhere that Charlotte's Web is a good book and a good movie for grieving children. I never thought of it as a movie about death, although certainly Charlotte dies. But she lives on in the babies she never met, and the stories that Wilbur tells. There's a lesson in that for us. It's okay to talk about the one who died and to remember good stories. Dying, although sad, is a part of living. There are no answers to make it easier or to go away. |
| We were watching a Sally Field movie Sunday, which seemed innocent enough. Suddenly the family man who had just been praying over a meal was shot by accident and fell to the ground. We had a four year old in the room who had not been watching TV, but who saw that. He was riveted. We thought the rest was going to be about the grieving and he soon would get bored. His dad tried to interest him in other things to no avail. Then more violence happened, not actually on the screen, but we knew when a car pulled up, and the camera suddenly flashed to a man tied up on the ground behind it, another terrible thing had happened. We changed the channel. But the questions didn't stop. This kid asks a thousand questions a day. His parents are over-protective, but he's pretty smart and tenacious. His dad started gathering their things to go. His uncle just sat not knowing what to say. My father is almost deaf and didn't know what was going on. It fell to me to try to smooth things over. I talked about TV being make-believe, not real. The actors are paid a lot of money to pretend silly things. It was easier than explaining that there are sick and hate-filled people in the world. I'll follow up the next time I see him. We'll play pretend something without violence, so that he gets the idea. It may take some of the fun out of cartoons and other kid TV shows. It sometimes takes the fun out of it for adults. Scary movies aren't so scary. You realize that even in music videos, some of the stunts are done by the subs, not the stars. But the idea here is that you can't always protect kids from what they see on TV or the Internet. They need to know the difference between what's real and what's fake, so that they aren't scared or confused. And when they do see some at a friend's house or by mistake, you talk to them to reassure them they are safe, and to reiterate that they don't imitate the behavior they've witnessed. |
| I found this healthy recipe, suggested by the Mayo Clinic, for those potluck picnics or summer dinners. Especially, if you don't know what else will be served, you will know that at least one dish will be low calorie and good for you. They called for cherry tomatoes, I used grape tomatoes because they were on sale. They called for red onion and frozen corn; I used regular onion, but cut back the quantity because it was a hot Bermuda type onion, and fresh corn on the cob. They called for basil, fresh and chopped; I used my homegrown young plants and cut them up with kitchen shears. To see the original recipe, look up Mayo clinic corn and tomato salad on any search engine. Three cups of corn equals about 4 or 5 ears of corn. Cutting it off the cob leaves big squares of kernels. I also scrape the cob to get some of the grit you would eat off the cob but that the knife misses. Halve the tomatoes and toss in with corn. Add a tablespoon of chopped onion and a quarter cup of chopped or cut basil. The basil makes it so sweet without the calories. In a small bowl, pour a quarter cup of low-fat or light ranch dressing. Stir in one tablespoon of rice vinegar which looks as though it's going to curdle the dressing, and stir. Add one eighth teaspoon of black pepper. Stir and pour slowly over corn mixture. Toss until it's well-coated. The dressing will be very thin, and the salad will look as though it doesn't have dressing. Let it sit or chill for a while before serving. It is so delicious! The tomatoes are sweet, so the fragrant basil adds to that. The corn makes it crunchy. The vinegar gives it a wonderful tangy flavor. My family ate it up. Once you make it, you will want to try variations, but bear in mind, it's supposed to be natural and healthy. |
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