Powerful Words

When I started using Facebook, I pledged to myself that I would write meaningful, positive, and powerful comments or say nothing at all after I was introduced to the "crap" comments that a lot of users leave.  And the profanity.  And the grossness of the postings. If I don't have something powerful and positive to say, I say nothing. Sometimes I like a posting without adding comments, and other times I just scroll on by, wondering to myself why people put the things on a public forum that they put.

Today, I am reading a book, The Librarian of Auschwitz, written by Antonio Iturbe and translated by Lilit Zekulin Thwaites.  It is based on the true story of Dita Kraus, an Auschwitz prisoner during World War II.  I'm totally engaged in Dita's saga, but it is one of those ponderous stories that has to be read, then put down for thoughtful reflection before continuing with the next chapter.  At the end of Chapter 21, I found a profound bit of writing that really struck me:  "She asks herself, Can you really choose, or do the blows dealt to you by fate change you no matter what, in the same way that the blow of an ax converts a living tree into firewood?"

I paused as my thoughts took off on their own to several moments where fate dealt me some blows that were devastating at the time, but have become part of my life's history.  The one that came immediately to mind was my father's death when I was 17. He was such a rugged, virile man, the father of six children, all but one of whom were into their teen years, and the husband to his life's love, my mother Maria.  Mom was devastated by the loss of her beloved Forrest, and she never fully recovered. She tried to continue to live her life, but she was never the same.  My oldest brothers left home shortly after Dad's death, I went to college, which left two brothers and my only sister still at home.  One of those two brothers left within a year, and my sister and youngest brother were left at home. My mother had to go to work for the first time in her life, and she was not well prepared for the job market. Thankfully, she found a job at the Santa Barbara Public Library and had a long career there.  My youngest brother grew up never knowing his father, and it has had a profound influence on his life. And yes, the blows dealt to us by fate changed us no matter what.

All of this personal history was swirling through my head (and heart), so I decided to post the quotation that had set me to thinking and see if anyone else has had that kind of moment in their lives. My goodness, but the responses I have received are amazing. This quotation struck a cord with almost two dozen people who have shared their own "blows," and how they have influenced their lives. In deciding to write powerful and positive posts on Facebook, I opened a doorway for others to respond in kind and it really means a lot to me.

The Lilac Girls

One of my FB friends suggested I read The Lilac Girls, a novel by Martha Hall Kelly, published in 2017. The recommendation came because I had read another novel about the concentration camps during WWII.  I am not particularly drawn to stories of The Holocaust, but I have found some of the narratives compelling. This is the story of three women brought together by Ravensbruck, a notorious concentration camp for women during WWII. It is the debut novel by Kelly, but it is a well-written, powerful story based in history, a story that is so compelling for the author that she is writing a prequel to the story that takes place during WWI.

The narrative is divided into segments by character, Kasia, Herta, and Caroline, so there are individual segments about one character, and then another character, and then a third.  This technique is used throughout the novel and allows the reader to build a relationship with each of the primary characters.  The narratives begin in 1939 and end in 1959, long after World War II ends, but the story has not.  It is important to read the entire narrative to understand the full circle of the events, which continue into the United States with the character Caroline,  a wealthy patron of the arts and former actress, who establishes a relationship with one survivor of Ravensbruck concentration camp and is able to arrange circumstances to bring full closure to one aspect of the imprisonment experience.


This is a heavy book to read and it takes commitment to read from cover to cover. The story of the women called Rabbits by the Germans, is horrific and hard to experience.  There are no human rights for the women held captive, but the human spirit dominates and allows them to help one another in the worst of all possible situations.

Catch and Kill

Ronan Farrow has a famous family name, but his claim to fame is being a meticulous researcher in search of serious stories.  In this book, he reveals that he does the research, but the narrative itself is not very interesting. Reading Catch and Kill is sort of like going through someone's work folder of miscellaneous facts, people, places, and things.  Several times I was tempted to just put it down and forget it, but I was determined to see it through to the end--and it took every ounce of my determination to do that.

Yes, there's a lot of fact-checking, and double-checking, and then going back and making sure everything is correct.  He wants the reader to know that he didn't make up anything for the book to sell better, but I think it would sell better if it were half the length it ends up to be.  Endless accounts of who you met/talked to, what was said, how it was fact-checked, and where it fit into the narrative is simply tedious.  The reader needs the Cliff's Notes, not the Encyclopedia Britannica version of events.

Was Harvey Weinstein a predator? Yes. Did Matt Lauer sexually abuse women? Yes. Did other men mentioned also engage in inappropriate behavior with women? Yes. Does Ronan Farrow have the research to back up all these allegations? Yes.

End of story.

Hwy 62 Open Studio Art Tours

In the Hi-Desert area of Morongo Valley, Yucca Valley, Joshua Tree and Twentynine Palms, there is an annual Open Studio Art Tours, most often held in October.  This year’s event is huge:  over 200 presenters and about 125 stops along the way.  I have friends who are artists, so I asked one of them if she wanted to join me for this year’s tour.  It took us almost an hour to whittle down the presenters and places to stop and see, and then Patty developed our touring plan so we could go in the most direct routes to see the artists we had selected from the catalog.

What a wonderful time we had.  Seeing the art in the artist’s studios is unique; each stop along the way creates its own environment for the artwork the artist has chosen to display.  We saw many different kinds of art, including photography, painting in all media, textiles, sculptures, assemblages, crochet, metalwork, ink, ceramics – well, it was all on display.  One of my favorites were art pieces made by inserting tiny nails into the canvas to make the design and also to create light and dark shadows.  I don’t remember who the artist is, but the finished pieces are stunning.

We traveled on some true desert roads out into the middle of nowhere, the setting of which was perfect for an artist.  One residence perched on the side of a rock formation and featured a sculptor who uses huge pieces of rock media for his work.  I wondered how a crane could get down the rural mountain road to either deliver a new piece of rock or pick up a finished work of art.

I bought some little things to take with me to China, to show Y’s family what “desert” means, including some crocheted cacti and some greeting cards with original paintings on them.

One of the most interesting displays is a workshop where the woman makes all kinds art pieces from castings.  She has a statue of David, with the original mold made from the actual statue of David in Europe.  Her grandfather opened the shop and, back in the day, worked for the movie studios. When one of the movie companies wanted a statue of David,  the grandfather went to Europe and was granted permission to make the mold. Needless to say, it’s one of the prized possessions of the current artist.

I could go on and on about what’s offered and how interesting it is to go into the working studios of all these artists, but it’s an event that is best enjoyed in person.  It’s fun to go out into the middle of nowhere and find these hidden studios nestled among all the sand and rocks.  It really gives the art character to see it in that setting, especially since so many of the artists are inspired by the nature around them.


There’s one more weekend, so if you are within driving distance, I highly recommend taking a piece of the self-guided tour.  Or, plan for next Fall.  For more information, you can go online to www.yucca-valley.org, or to www.Visit29.org to Art Cruise the 29 Palms area every 1^st Saturday.  There are many art installations and artists living in the Hi-Desert area, so feel free to explore the internet to find something that catches your eye.

Cilka

Cilka is 16 years old when she first enters Auschwitz-Birkenau Concentration Camp in 1942. Cilka’s Journey is a novel written by Heather Morris, the author of The Tattooist of Auschwitz, and it is the story of a young girl who all too soon becomes the victim of a corrupt political system that brutally incarcerated dissidents, as well as individuals whose ethnicity set them apart from the political system.

Cilka survives by doing whatever it takes to overcome her situation and circumstances. She is forced to prostitute herself in order to survive, a fact that is used against her by fellow detainees who are jealous of Cilka’s good looks and quick mind. Cilka survives, but her story could have ended much differently.

This is not an easy book to read because of the horrific experiences of the Gulags and what human beings were subjected to by the government of the USSR. According to Morris’s endnotes, “from 1929 until Stalin’s death in 1953, in excess of 18 million people passed through the Gulag system and they were from many countries, occupations, and faiths. Nobel Prize-winning author Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn was both a victim of the Gulag and a chronicler of the forced labor camps which are known as the Gulag Archipelago.” The Gulags were located in the most remote parts of the USSR and the living conditions were brutal.  Cilka survives and, surprisingly, thrives in the environment into which she has been thrust, including living in Vorkuta’s prison camps, the most brutal of all the Gulags.

Cilka’s story is hard to put down.  Her strength as an individual is amazing, and she shares that strength with other women who may not have otherwise survived their ordeal.  Cilka is a natural leader, very smart, and quite clever at turning adversity to her advantage. I recommend this book to any woman who wonders how she would survive the worst that life has to offer. We never know our strength until it is tested, and this novel is the ultimate test of not just mental fortitude, but physical ability to deal with the harshest of environments and survive.

Judy, the Movie

Rene Zellwegger is over the top in Judy, the story of the last act of Judy Garland’s life. This movie is really difficult to watch, but you can’t look away from the screen as the last couple of years of the actress’s life come to fruition. She had a difficult life, which is portrayed in flashbacks, as well as in present scenes.  Her marriages and children are included, as well as her difficulty with both substance and alcohol abuse, and the decline of her career is heartfelt.  The actress, Rene, does all the singing in the movie and she’s amazing, and particularly so in the final song of the film. I highly recommend this movie, but with the caveat that it is difficult to watch Judy Garland’s life implode.

Special Memory

I had the most wonderful walk down memory lane last evening, a journey I shared with the two Hispanic boys who live next door.  When I came home from walking the dogs, the boys were in the empty lot across the street and appeared to be looking for something.  When I said hello, I also asked them what they were up to--and the older of the two told me that they were looking for rocks.  Seems that they are studying rocks in his elementary school class, and he desperately wanted to find a rock so he, too, could share.  I asked them to wait just a minute and I'd show them something special. They sat down on the yard bench, looking dejected, and I went inside the house.

When I came back out, I had two rocks with me, both of which are special.  One is a perfectly formed heart, and it's even red rock on the top side.  I told the boys the story of finding the rock one day when the children, their father and I were out walking in the desert in Gold Park, up outside of 29 Palms.  My toe kicked into something, and when I looked down, there was the heart rock.  Of course I picked it up, marveled at the perfect heart, and put it into my pocket to bring home.  I told the two boys that my children were, at that time, about the same age as these boys now, so that means I've had the rock for about 40 years.  Of course, 40 years is about a century in a kid's mind, so they were suitably impressed with my story.

I told the boys that the heart is really special to me because it's a memory I share with my children, but I would let him take it to the show-and-tell his class is going to have.  He told me he'd like to take it and would take really good care of my heart-shaped rock.  Their mother called them inside, and I haven't talked to them since that time, so I don't know if he's going to take my heart-shaped rock to show-and-tell or not, but I kind of hope he does so the other children can see a natural heart formed in nature.  Maybe one day one of them will find a special rock and have a story to share with the neighborhood children.

A Gentle Reminder

It's just about 6 months since the doctor put me on Aricept for my early onset dementia. The first month, I didn't notice any significant difference in my functioning, so I went online and did some research into proactive steps I could take to slow down what is a progressive disease. I found one website that offered a supplement, called Youthful Brain, and after reading all the literature about it, I ordered a bottle to see what happens.

What happened is that the "fog" in my brain began to lift, although this could be coincidental with the Aricept kicking in.  I still have minor lapses in my cognitive functioning, but that is also considered as a normal part of brain deterioration that comes with advancing age.  I am pleased to see improvement as my fear at diagnosis was "worst case" scenario, especially after seeing my mother's deterioration during her final years.  I am healthy in all other respects to my body, so I feel that gives me a bit of an advantage in dealing with the dementia.

And then today came when … I  got up and showered, dressed, and took off for my bi-weekly appointment in Palm Springs.  I stopped and bought a coffee and an order of churros to share with my therapist, and arrived right on time to the office.  I didn't think too much of it as the clock ticked its way toward my appointment time, but when my therapist didn't come get me at my scheduled time, I was … concerned. I hoped that nothing had happened in her life to keep her from the office, but decided to sit and wait until a quarter past the hour to see if she was just held up  with an emergency.

At quarter past the hour, I walked down the hallway to her office and tried the doorknob, which was locked.  I shrugged my shoulders, decided to leave her a note, and prepared to depart.  Things happen to all of us, so I wasn't particularly concerned, but hesitated when another person came down the hallway to what I assumed was his office.  I politely asked him if my therapist had let him know that she wouldn't be in today, and he looked at me a bit confused, then told me that she never comes in on Mondays.  I responded, "But today is Tuesday and I have my regularly scheduled appointment with her."

"No," he replied, "it's Monday."

You know how your brain does that "rolodex" thing when you are confused and starts whirling through the facts and information that you store within trying to make sense of what  you are hearing? That's what happened to me.  I blurted out, "Are you sure?  I'm pretty sure it's Tuesday."

And, of course, he assured me that it's Monday. I left the office after thanking him for helping me and walked to my car feeling totally bewildered.  I backed out of my parking space, put the gear into drive and started home.  Twice on the way home I made a wrong turn and was momentarily "lost."  I was able to turn myself back around and made it home with no further issues, but I'm completely bewildered by what happened.

I'm at home and feel all "here and now," so I'm pretty sure this was just one incident that may not happen again.  I think that when I got the day of the week wrong, I just internally became a bit panicked and that caused me to make the wrong turns on the way home.  I feel present and not at all confused, but I am home and that's my safe place.  I will continue with my medication and supplement, and focus better on being present in the moment.  When it's time for my next doctor appointment, I'll be sure to include this incident in the conversation if there are any further occurrences like the one today.  One event does not make a pattern, and now that I'm aware that there can be issues, I'll be more alert and double-check what I'm doing and where I'm going.

Summer of '69

Summer of ’69 is a novel written by Elin Hilderbrand. Reading the dust cover synopsis, it sounded like a nice summer read; however, actually turning the text page by page is a different experience.  The story is ponderous, the prose is redundant, and the actual plot is quite thin.  I started the novel, lost interest, read a couple of other books, and then returned. Starting over, I expected the story to be better than I remembered, but it isn’t, so I’m done reading at page 300 of the total 418.

The redundant prose is annoying:  “Pick’s eyes, she notices, are Lorraine’s eyes, the frosted blue of sea glass,” followed immediately by “He’s as brown as a berry.”  She says “That’s either wonderful or the saddest thing Kate has ever heard; she can’t decide which."

The ponderous story drags by, sentence by sentence.  “So this is Bitsy Dunscombe fueled by one too many, Kate thinks. She gets ugly—not only her language, but her face as well. Her expression contorts into a hideous mask with narrowed, accusing eyes and twisted lips. If she says anything about Tiger, Kate will slap her or throw a drink in her face. The piano player will stop right in the middle of ‘Try to Remember,’ and the revelers at table 1 will gape first and gossip later, and who could blame them?”

The actual plot is a typical coming-of-age story about a 13-year-old girl who has a crush on an older boy. She is so typical that there’s nothing unique about her, and she certainly isn’t worthy of hanging an entire novel on. So far, the most exciting thing to happen to her is she gets her period and then her first bra, and I’m ¾ of the way through the novel

I simply cannot force myself to finish reading this story at this time. It reminds me of Downton Abbey, a series I dreaded.  I watched several episodes, but never bonded with either the characters or the plot, even though I have friends who were entranced by the series and wouldn’t answer the phone for anyone when Downton Abbey was on.

I’ll pass this book on to someone who will appreciate it and pick up my next read, James Patterson’s The Inn.  I’ll let you know how that goes.

Where the Crawdads Sing

We all need a place to go, to escape the realities of our daily lives, a place that author Delia Owens calls the place “Where the Crawdads Sing,” which is the title of her best-selling novel about a young girl who is abandoned to raise herself in a swamp after her mother dies and her father walks off one day. The story of Kya is mesmerizing, told with rich detail and gritty emotion and fascinating insights into swamp life. Kya is a survivor, a person who went to school for one day, then retreated to her swamp where she feels safe and protected. She learns how to fend for herself while studying the rich plethora of animal and insect life that occupies her time during the day so she only has to cope with the isolation of the nights.


A   young man, Tate, befriends Kya and teaches her how to read and write. Once she knows those two basic skills, she begins to catalog all the insects, the swamp creatures, and the migrating birds that form her world. She collects empty shells and discarded feathers, and other memorabilia of her habitat, then she curates the story of each object/item/collectible and paints a picture to show its origin. Tate is her only friend and she cherishes his visits. She also feels drawn to Jumpin’, a black man who purchases the mussels and other seafood Kya brings him almost daily, and sells her gasoline for the engine of her small boat. Jumpin’ doesn’t need what Kya brings him to sell, but he knows that she’s alone and has to have foodstuffs in order to survive. The third important person in Kya’s life is Chase, the nearby town’s man about town, the good-looking athlete from a well-to-do family who pursues Kya in spite of her oddities.  It is only when Kya reads in a newspaper that Chase is engaged to be married that she realizes that Chase has used her. She sends him off and vows never to be involved with him again.


Nature is the backstory, the neighborhood for the people and events of the novel. The reader can almost smell the fetid earth and hear the callings of the various birds that make the swamp home. Kya becomes a living representation of Mother Nature as she tells her story among the wildlife of the swamp. It is a fascinating story that sometimes moves slowly through the richness of the telling, and, at other times, moves quickly as Kya struggles to survive. This novel is not for everyone as it takes time and patience to read through the many events in Kya’s life, riding with her in her swamp boat as she tours her environment and catalogues it for the mere love of the recordkeeping, but it’s definitely a novel worth reading.

Once Upon a Time in ... Hollywood

If you want to see an excellent film and have any knowledge of or experience with the 1960s, Once Upon a Time in … Hollywood is the film you have been waiting to see. Quentin Tarantino is not one of my favorite directors because the language and the action of his movies are off-putting to me; however, OUTH is his best film to date.  The story is of a washed-up movie star (Leonardo di Caprio) and his stunt double (Brad Pitt) during the 1960s when some really bad movies were made. The acting back then was … stilted… predictable … mediocre, and Di Caprio and Pitt perfectly capture that aspect of the film-making business. When an actor is on the downhill swing, life loses a lot of its luster, which sometimes makes actors take roles they otherwise would refuse, including starring in a series of what were called "spaghetti westerns" back in the day. Di Caprio's acting perfectly captures the desperation of the actor trying to stay afloat in an industry that is all he has ever known, and Pitt has the role of second banana down pat, hitching his future to DiCaprio's success, which leads to his career taking a dive along with DiCaprio's character's career.

Tarantino is the master of detail, and this movie is densely detailed in the sets, in the set dressings, in the costumes, in the dialog, in the automobiles, in the status symbols of the time, and in the feeling of a decade in transition. The 1960s are known for the hippies and the VietNam War and the free love and the cigarette smoking and the see and be seen attitude about life. Tarantino captures all of it in the main story, which is total Hollywood, but he adds a twist that makes the movie totally engaging and captivating.  It's a challenge to reveal just about enough of the plot twist to get a patron to see the movie without giving it away, but suffice it to say that the character of Sharon Tate plays a huge part in the storyline. She is the quintessential 60s woman, with her go-go boots and her really short short skirts, her flowing blonde hair, and her almost naïve approach to life.

Don't back away from this film because it's a Tarantino, nor because it's about the 1960s. It's a story about life and love and longing and the challenge of growing old in a society that prefers youth. I seldom hand out As as I believe that excellence is unusual, rather than common, but I whole-heartedly give Once Upon a Time in … Hollywood an A+.

Educated, a memoir by Tara Westover

I have just finished reading a tremendous novel, Educated, A Memoir, written by Tara Westover. It is her story of her life as a child in Idaho raised in a Mormon family that was what we would call old-fashioned: living off the land, using healers rather than doctors, home-schooling, and honoring thy father and thy mother. Tara separates herself from her family through her thirst for knowledge, something else to fill her mind with thoughts and ideals and needs for something more than what her family of origin could provide. It isn't easy reading as far as the content is concerned, but it's easy to become involved in Westover's story as she tells it.

There is a sentence that jumped off the page for me and is now part of me: "We are all of us more complicated than the roles we are assigned in the stories other people tell." Westover is basically self-taught, learning through interactions with other people and her vast experience with reading, and she rose above the stories other people told about her to become the vibrant, self-confident professional woman that she is today. "Dysfunctional" is too easy a word to describe her life, and heroic is not a strong enough word to describe her victory over her past.

One snapshot from the text captures her struggle for self-identity: "But if Dad was trying to keep his children from being overly interested in school and books--from being seduced by the Illuminati, like Tyler had been--he would have done better to turn his attention to Richard (a brother). … When Dad saw me with one of those books, he'd try to get me away from them. … Perhaps he thought if he could just distract me for a few years, the danger would pass."

If I were still teaching, this is a book I would recommend for students to read so they have an idea about how precious education is for each individual. We all don't need the same education, but we all need to be educated in some form or another. I would target as my reading audience tenth or eleventh grade females who are whirling through the uncertainties of life and trying to grasp onto something meaningful and important. We all struggle in our own ways, but sometimes learning of another person's struggle can help us cope with our own.

I posted this entry on my Facebook page, but thought I'd add it to my blog as someone who needs to read this book may stumble across it surfing the 'net.

Five Brain Killers

According to Dr. Sam Walters, who specializes in the brain and aging and the effects of aging, there are five brain killers that, if we remove them from our consumption, can make a difference in such brain issues as dementia and Alzheimers.

• The first is MSG, commonly found as a seasoning in lots and lots of food products.
• Next is aspartame, which is what Equal is and other artificial sweeteners. 
• Third is Sucralose, which is what Splenda is. 
• Fourth is diacetyl, the buttery flavor in microwave and movie theatre popcorn. 
• Finally, fifth is aluminum, a natural toxin found in many food and cosmetic products.  

All five of these brain killers should be removed from our human consumption, but especially if you are an older person who is already suffering from brain deterioration or simply wanting to avoid it. In my opinion, we should remove these products from all of our diets regardless of age or physical condition.

Youthful Brain

I've spent a bit of time surfing the internet looking for articles about dementia and cognition. Pretty much they all have the same info, but I was attracted to one site that focused on "Youthful Brain," a supplement that, according to the doctor's information at the site, will help with cognition.  Of course, that supplement has to be augmented with brain training and diet as nothing by itself will make any difference in the course of the dementia.

I read all the literature that came with the site and which included an article about nutritional changes that can be made to improve the brain as an organ of the body. The article talked about super foods for the brain that can enhance the brain's function, including those things that should be avoided, which includes popcorn at the movies. I took it all in and decided to send for the supplement, Youthful Brain, under the brand name Vitality Now.  I got what's called the "Clear Mind Formula," which is supposed to work to clear out the fog associated with dementia.

The fog is what made me realize that something was wrong when I first started having brain issues. I couldn't remember the simplest of things, like my phone number or address, just absolutely blanking when asked to provide either one while doing business transactions. It was frustrating and irritating, to say the least, not to be able to recall simple, basic life information. That's when I decided it was time to see my doctor and ask him whatever could be causing my symptoms. When he ran a few cognition tests, it became clear that I was started down a path no one wants to walk.

I have been using the Clear Mind Formula, Youthful Brain, for about a month now and I can feel a difference. That fog effect seems to have lifted somewhat and I feel more clear-headed.  Now, that can be a by-product of wanting the formula to work, so it does, but if that's what it takes, so be it. I have even recalled some information appropos nothing in particular, which has been somewhat startling. Today, on the other hand, the clerk at the drugstore asked me for my phone number and I totally blanked, but after thinking about it for a minute or so, I was able to retrieve it.  In the past, what I could not recall was simply gone.

Yes, I am also taking a prescription medication, Aricept, which has shown significant results in slowing the progress of the dementia in patients who use it.  I had taken it for about a month before I added the Youthful Brain formula. Before adding the YB, I still had fog; since adding the YB, I don't have the fog.  I think the two work together well, but perhaps have different foci for their targets. I return to my doctor the end of the month and will bring him up to date on what I decided to do by adding the Youth Brain formula to my treatment plan.  I'm going to stop taking it after I've used up the product I purchased and see if there is any difference not using it versus using it. Then, based on my own empirical evidence, I will decide whether to purchase more of the Youthful Brain product.

Updating:  Just received my newsletter from AARP and found an article about brain supplements. Basically, it says there is absolutely no evidence that any of the ones they tested work, and that it's a big scam. Did reflect that they are expensive and lining someone's pockets with profit. Also, said that it could be harmful. Well, when I use up my last bottle of the supplements (at $50/bottle), I won't get any more.

Rockin' and Rollin'

This morning, the couch began to move and it took a moment before I realized we were having an earthquake.  It was fairly gentle, but persistent.  As it died down, I told the dogs that it was no big deal and then it began again, stronger and a bit longer in duration.  As it dragged on, I wondered if it was going to build in intensity but no, it stayed about the same as the first half of the shaker.

Of course, the TV commentators were on the air in lightning speed, telling us that there were two separate quakes on the same fault, up by Ridgecrest, which is about 200 miles from where I am in the SoCal desert. Both of the quakes were 6.4, which can do damage, but far enough away that all they did here was rock 'n roll.

I understand from the news that there is considerable damage in the Ridgecrest area, including (perhaps) to a hospital. I'll have to watch the evening news for details as the quake coverage was over and life had moved on.

Updating:  two days later, at about the same time, we had another quake, this one a 7.1. It felt stronger, but was the same rolling shake that we had on July 3. Lots more damage in areas that felt the quake, mostly in stores with stocked shelves that ended up in the aisle. There was damage to roads and homes with this second quake, and some fires that came from ruptured gas lines.  This second quake was felt all the way to LA, with lots of people reporting the water from their swimming pools sloshed and overflowed.

The prognosticators are saying that it's not unlikely that there will be a third quake, but I hope the statistics favor the won't happen side of the prophecy.

The Facebook Experience

Several months ago, I decided to use FB on a daily basis to help with my cognition issues.  I get to read posts, respond to those that seem to want a response, and feel connected with other people outside of my four walls.  At first, it was kinda fun, especially when I recognized names from my teaching days. I made it my mission to write positive responses where warranted, like other posts, and ignore some of the more gross posts.

Why, I wondered, do people use such foul language and write such nasty things on a public forum? The cusswords abound even where they aren't necessary. People write about intimate things that I would keep private. They throw verbal stones at anyone who doesn't agree with them, and disparage people who write honest posts about their lives and the challenges they are having just getting through the days.

I was naïve when I made the decision to participate in FB.  I actually thought it would be a positive experience, and, in many instances, it has been.  I've enjoyed hearing from former students and learning about their now lives.  I have been able to see what my family members are doing in their lives without having to write long letters back and forth. I've enjoyed seeing photos of the comings and goings of people I know, but am not friends with present day. But I've been completely turned off by the grossness of perhaps as much as one-third of the content.

Today, I'm thinking about whether I want to continue to visit Facebook or let it go.  Part of me wants to stay connected with former students and family members, but the other part of me wants to let go of the offensive nature of the Facebook experience. I'm taking today off as a think-about day and then will make my decision whether to continue to visit the site or let it go.

Updating Cognition

It's been almost a month since I posted about my dementia diagnosis.  At that time, I was still a bit freaked out, but I'm much more mellow now, accepting that it is what it is and deciding how I'm going to go softly into that goodnight down the road.  I'm being proactive and have integrated a few new routines  into my life that seem to be making a difference.

One change has been making sure I am not just present, but that I am leaving the house at least once a day to interact with other people.  This past week, I had my visit with my therapist, lunch and a movie with a dear friend, and I asked another friend if she'd like to go to lunch, which she did, and we had a good time chatting.  I continue to walk the dogs twice a day, and many of the neighbors who know us by sight, but not name, make a point of greeting us.  One day a week I go grocery shopping either at Von's, if it's just groceries, or at WalMart if I need a variety of things not unique to a grocery store.  I am keeping lists so I don't have to remember, and then making sure I stick to the lists when I shop.

My memory game playing has improved and I'm up to Level 30 on Pyramid, which means it's time to find another left-brain activity to engage my brain.  I've done some reading about brain stimulation that says it's important to target both the left and right brain on a daily basis, trying to balance out the amount of stimulation between the two sides of the brain.  I'm using my writing for the right brain, including reading FB posts and responding in a sentence to those that interest me, rather than just clicking "like."  I've connected with many former students and have had "conversations" with them, which has brought back a lot of memories from the past. One piece of information intrigued me when I read about the benefit from coloring as a right brain activity because I've been coloring for the past several months just because it felt good to do that.  Glad to know I was getting some tangible reward for the hours spent.  I'm going to get a book of crossword puzzles to work on as that seems to target both the left and the right brain, and integration is good.

I also did some research online about brain activity and was captured by a Dr. who is at www.vitalitynow.org. He talks about the top 12 foods that fight brain aging and includes both hands-on activities and diet/exercise activities to help keep the brain active.  He sells a product, Youthful Brain, which I bought to add to other specific changes I'm making in my diet/exercise day plans, and I'm monitoring to see if there are any changes I can see/feel/measure.  He recommends N-back testing, which can be found online, and he gives it glowing reviews. He also stresses that there needs to be a balance of both right/left brain stimulation, and that it needs to progress as the brain starts to function better over time.

My goal is to do this one day at a time, not wasting time looking too far ahead and fearing the what if's.  If I keep reminding myself to think, and then actively think about things in my life, I have a better chance at keeping a healthy brain than if I just sit and stew about the what if's.

As an aside, I was interested in learning that both blueberries and apples are super good for a healthy brain.  I wonder if that's why I eat a blueberry muffin every day?  See?  I still have my sense of humor, so all is right with the world.

Risk and Reward

One day you're in; the next you're out. That's the way Project Runway scores the contestants. Doesn't matter what you did last because what's in front of us is what we're judging, and if it doesn't make it, the contest is over for you.  As a classroom teacher for 30 years, this was the hardest part of teaching, having to tell a student that work handed in for grading didn't cut it--or work over the course of a semester just wasn't up to the standard for passing the course. 

Teachers have feelings, and they usually try very hard to look for the best in each individual student's work, but sometimes, no matter how hard a person works or how much they want to earn an A it isn't going to happen this time.  Earning a grade of C means that a student has met the standard for passing a class, but far too often both the student and the parent thinks that working really hard and trying to be the best is good enough to earn an A, and that's not true. There is no way to sugar-coat a less than stellar grade, and we try with positive affirmations about next time, but some students simply will have to accept that their work is not stellar, it's average, and that's what a grade of C indicates.

I am suspicious of the news articles about a dozen students sharing valedictorian honors at graduation because that means that those students were rocketmen/women who blasted into outer space for 4 years and landed safely every time. Earning a 4.0 used to be a rare occurrence, but in today's inflated grade environment, it's much more common to have a group earn highest honors, even at the college level.  If everyone, however, is outstanding, then no one really is: they become average in a group of high achievers.

I learned as an adjunct college professor that students cheat. I knew that before, but especially became aware of it as electronics entered the educational environment. Before teachers were given permission to confiscate phones, students would send messages to other students both inside the same classsroom and to students sitting outside with the textbook (often a teacher's edition) so they can look up the correct response for a test or essay. Cheating used to be a risk; in today's classroom, it's a ritual. For every countermeasure the faculty employs, the students have a newer, better counter-measure to make sure that they can cheat with impugnity. The risk is not high as it's incredibly challenging to catch cheating, stop cheating, and deal with indignant parents whose child simply would never cheat regardless of the evidence to the contrary. My career in education formally ended a decade ago, when the electronics were first making their appearance in the classroom. I had issues at almost every class with students who were trying to succeed dishonestly because ... the excuses/reasons were endless. When the cheating was stopped in progress, the tears began to flow. What was expecially challenging at the college level was the stop at a counselor's office for a tear-filled counseling session that often ended with a heart-to-heart with the instruction that included an explanation of why it happened "this once," and why it would never happen again, and what kind of documentation is going to be needed to strengthen the accusations about the student's conduct if the instructor thinks the student should be suspended from college. One key piece to this problem in the general education environment is the backing from the parents. Believe me, if a teacher catches a student cheating and goes far enough to involve a counselor and the parents, the student was cheating--and it probably wasn't the first time. At the college level, a student who is caught cheating either has never been caught before or realized at an early age that the student has the upper hand when it comes to dealing with the teacher, then the counselor, and finally the administration. Yes, as you can probably realize, one of the reasons I retired before I had finished my teaching career is that I was burned out by issues such as students' cheating. As an adjunct professor teaching aboard a military base, one adult student actually called the MPs on me for "stealing" from her when I confiscated her cheat notes during a testing environment. That pretty much showed me that I was a dinosaur and it was time to move on. As they say, "One day you're in and the next you're out."

Cognitive Dissonance

It's coming up on 3 months since I came home from the doctor with a diagnosis of early-onset dementia. He assured me that there is treatment, including a prescription of Aricept, and urged me to "do things" that stimulate my brain to think, to work, to remember. I was taken aback, but not really surprised that there was "something wrong" as my good friends had pointed out to me that I was having memory issues for quite a while (as long as 2 years, according to one friend). I, however, heard the word "dementia" and freaked out, remembering my mother's years of decline into total Alzheimers by the time of her death. It was not pretty seeing her fumbling around in a mental fog for the majority of her final decade, and I could only think, "Dear God, what am I going to do?"

Well, the first thing I did was take Aricept, which triggered the manic phase from hell!  I was so filled with energy and enthusiasm that I started decluttering my house to the nth degree.   I was a maniac on a mission.  I ended up taking the RAV filled with boxes to Angel View a couple of times a day for days on end. When my daughter showed up on my doorstep, wondering what the hell was going on, she got into the spirit of the thing and helped me with the kitchen. I had 18 boxes labeled "dishes" and "kitchen" from when I moved into this house 19 years ago, but they had sat on shelves in the garage unopened, so I just gave them away.  I have no idea what was in the boxes, but I hope whatever it was was put to good use by someone else.

Part of what brought my daughter to the desert was my delighted news that I had decided to sell my house and move. In my manic phase (I am bipolar and on meds for that, which apparently reacted to the Aricept), I decided that now was as good a time as any to just pack up and move. The thought didn't go any farther than that, into such mundane questions as to why? where? when? how? I was flying off the rooftops and taking on the whole world. When the children intervened and asked some interesting questions, such as where? when? how? why?, I couldn't respond because that kind of practical information was unavailable. What finally brought me out of my mental state, however, was a very sobering thought: what about my dogs?  They are my family, and they go where I go, but I hadn't factored in housing issues, such as big yard, fences, and transporting them from  here to wherever.  I had signed a sales contract, but was able to cancel it (thank God for the cooling off period required by law), so I stopped that process before it got serious.  I was half-way finished with the possessions purge, so continued with that -- and got a very welcomed visit from my daughter, who had come to see first-hand what the hell was going on with mom.

As a final finish to the purge project, I hired a contractor to come in and refinish and then repaint all of my kitchen cabinets. With all the space remaining after getting rid of 20 years' worth of stuff and the kitchen brightening with the off-white finish, I am once again happy with being in my house. I do have a big yard and a separate dog run out back, so I don't have to worry about what my poor dogs would do if all I could find to live in was an apartment in a senior community.

My body has adjusted to the combination of my bi-polar meds and the Aricept, so I'm not longer flying to the moon and back every hour.  I also realized that I was donating to every charity that contacted me, and shopping online for neat things I neither wanted nor needed. Mindy did some quiet sleuthing while she was here and realized what was going on, so she had a very frank discussion with me and told me to stop writing checks to charity and stay off online shopping sites.  I will admit that I have ordered a few things recently, but I'm keeping track of what I've ordered and how much it costs so I don't get surprised with a $500 bill due at the end of the month.

The final piece to the new me is dealing with the diagnosis and realizing that I am going to have to be proactive as the weeks, months, years pile up to be sure that I'm staying as mentally sharp as is possible for me to be.  The doctor suggested playing memory games on the computer, and even though I'm not much of a gamer, I found one called Pyramid that I like. Numbers have always been an issue for me, and this game requires me to quickly add cards to total 13 to advance up the pyramid and clear the board.  At first, it was challenging as I couldn't remember what combinations of numbers equaled 13, but slowly but surely it has implanted in my brain and I don't have to think about it with every play.  I haven't lost the ability to express myself in writing, which is both a blessing and a positive outlet for excess energy.  There are things that I cannot remember, especially if it happened yesterday, or last week, or God forbid last month.  Sometimes Yucheng will remind me and then I can call up a memory, but not one replete with details. He's had to show me a dozen times how to get a picture off my phone and onto Facebook, but he's very good with repeating the instructions so I can do the process myself (hopefully; it's still a work in progress). When I can't remember something we said/did last weekend when he was home, he simply tells me about it so I can remember.  Yucheng and my dogs keep me active, and being active and involved in life is going to make a big difference in how I proceed through this new phase of my life.

I will be in regular contact with my primary physician, a man I respect to tell me the truth about the positives and the negatives associated with my diagnosis. I'm no longer in total disbelief or despair as time has allowed the reality to set in and become do-able. I'm going on Facebook every day, reading and responding to various posts and writing my own posts if there's anything of note worth putting out there. I continue to go about my own little routine in the house, but I make sure I get out and about once each day, even if it's just to go to the post office to pick up my mail.  I'm not making any major changes, but simply challenging myself to be present in each moment. Sometimes, I sit down with my dinner and ask myself what I did today and see how much I can recall.  It's going to be the old saw from days gone by:  One day at a time, dear Lord, one day at a time.  I can do this and I will do this and it's going to be okay.

Phishing

I was just phished!  I drove up the hill to have lunch with a friend, and when I returned there was a receipt in my inbox for $120 for a heft of coins--whatever that is.  Seems that I used my Apple App while I was driving home to order the coins to play pool, which, of course, didn't happen.

I immediately called Apple and was directed to Erika, who was very patient with me as she went through all of the instructions s-l-o-w-l-y and then decided to mirror my phone to speed things up a bit.  She (and I) walked through the process as she described the steps, and determined that I had not been charged, but phished.  Erika reported it, assured me I don't have to pay the charge, and then backed out of my phone, leaving me with a contact email and a case number if I have to come back to this.

It seems to me that with this phishing process going on all the time, the computer companies could come up with a fix so that phishing no longer is a viable option.  The receipt I received looked legit, which is why I immediately called Apple -- and had it been something else that was charged, not an Apple App, I probably wouldn't have thought twice about it, but since I don't use Apple App, I knew it wasn't a charge that I had made.

And, there was the whole driving home from Yucca Valley part that I factored in, but my phisher didn't know … .

Possessions

"But experience is less likely to teach us how to bid our dearest possessions adieu. And if it were to? We wouldn't welcome the education. For eventually, we come to hold our dearest possessions more closely than we hold our friends. We carry them from place to place, often at considerable expense and inconvenience; we dust and polish their surfaces and reprimand children for playing too roughly in their vicinity--all the while, allowing memories to invest them with greater and greater importance. …

Until we imagine that these carefully preserved possessions might give us genuine solace in the face of a lost companion.

But, of course, a thing is just a thing."

excerpt from A Gentleman in Moscow, by Amor Towles

Procrastination

Word of advice: don't put off cleaning up the clutter, especially from the past 40 years or so.  The job becomes overwhelming and takes weeks, not days.

Based on my recent experience, I found many, many old papers that simply needed to be either shredded (personal info) or trashed (generic paper).  I had kept things not knowing if I would ever need the information, so when it came time to purge the past, I had hours of recordkeeping to go through and make the shred/toss decision.  I used my personal shredder for a lot of the old paperwork, but when my daughter came to help me with the cleaning process, she told me I could take a lot of the personal papers to a company and have them do the shredding.  It was not expensive and it relieved both of us from hours pushing papers through the shredder.  Other papers, mostly from my 35-year career in public education, are being taken to the dump, which breaks my heart.  There is so much good material in those boxes, but time changes what's done and how it's done in the classroom, so I'm guessing it wouldn't be of value to anyone today.

I also saved many, many items that simply have no value, like empty tins, jars, and containers. When I was growing up, my mother saved empty jars for canning, but I haven't canned since I lived at home and that's been 50 years ago.  I used to bake and fill up the tins with goodies, but living alone negates the need to bake: I just go to the grocery store and buy one package of whatever cookie I'm craving. I also have decades of old photos, bins filled with photos I don't want/don't need.  I separated out some of the photos to send to my children, but I'm not sure they are going to want a huge bin filled with old photos to land on their doorstep.

I wasn't aware that I had become a hoarder, but my daughter made an entire shelf section in the garage into my own mini Costco!  It's one of those trips that is a bit farther away than the local store, so while I'm there, I may as well pick up another batch of paper towels, or Kleenex, or cleaning supplies.  I have enough plastic bags to last me at least a year. I truly wasn't aware that I was constantly buying more of the same item, but once it's on the shelf and I see the magnitude of the over-buying, it makes the point.  My daughter put a back-up list in my phone of things I don't need to buy at Costco.

And, I obviously wasn't on top of checking expiration dates on the things in my pantry and 'fridge. My daughter went through everything and tossed out at least half of what I had on the shelves, many of which were well over 5 years' of expiration.  I never checked the shelves, but seldom used anything from there either as I don't really cook like I used to when I had someone living at home. Now that I'm aware of expiration dates, I'll do a better job of staying on top of those items that either need to be used or tossed.

It is challenging to think about what lies ahead, when I either need to move out of this home and into a smaller space, or have to have help to stay in my own home.  Once I'm gone, there is still far too much stuff that my children will need to handle, and that's not fair to them. My message is to urge all able-bodied elderly persons to start now to declutter and discard. I was lucky to have my daughter come to help me with the process, but once I'm gone, she and her brother will be on their own, and it's a daunting task at best.

Beauty is in The Eye of The Beholder

Today was hair color and cut day, but it didn't go as well as planned.  I arrived at the salon at 10:15 for my 10:30 appointment, confirmed with a phone call yesterday, only to find out that my stylist had made a mistake and my appointment was at 11:30.  Not a big deal.  I was hungry, so I asked her if there was a café nearby, and there was, so I walked over to it and decided that a spinach omelet was just what I wanted.  No, no potatoes, no bread, no hot sauce: just a regular spinach omelet.  When it was served, it looked okay, but when I took a bite I discovered that there was no cheese, so it was quite dry and chewy. I went back inside (I had been told to sit outside as there was no single seating inside) and asked the waitress if she could put some cheese on the omelet as it seemed to have been omitted. She said yes, but there would be an extra charge. I declined, went back outside, took a few more bites, and decided I'd had enough--and walked back to the salon wishing that Sparkle was with me to eat the rest of the omelet.

When it was finally my turn in the chair, I showed the stylist a picture of a heavily-layered style that I really like and asked if she could cut my hair into that style. She said "Of course," but then warned me that it would take me some time each morning to fix my hair--and I'd have to use product and tools.  I told her I was willing to chance it as I really  like the style, and she set to work.  Color first because NO ONE in the desert of the female variety is allowed to have GREY HAIR! Whatever: it's only money to get the whole enchilada.

After a thorough rinse of the color processing, she began cutting and I asked her what style she had decided to cut.  She said she was going to "heavily layer" my hair, cutting into the natural curl, which is what she's done in the past and I really like.  She kept snipping and cutting, stepping back to check her progress, then doing some more snipping and cutting.  When she finished, I still had hair (which hasn't been the case in my past), but it was cut kinda funny and was quite straight: no natural curl evident.  It's a bit longer, which I like, but the top is really short (which I don't like), and I HAVE FRIGGIN' BANGS!  No woman of a certain age should have bangs!  They aren't flattering and they sure aren't cute, but there I was, staring at short straight hair with bangs.

Well, I have several cuts from Mary that I have loved, so I guess I'll have to give her this one. Tomorrow morning I'll wet it, walk the dogs, and see what nature and the winds do to style it. I already made a follow-up appointment for the Monday before I leave for the East Coast, so I'll wait to see if I want to keep that appointment based on the intervening month of me doing whatever the heck I can do with what I've got to work with.

Productivity

Sometimes it's hard to self-motivate, especially when there's no one here to see my efforts and/or appreciate them, like, for instance, cooking meals.  Why bother? If I go to the Oriental take-out, a meal lasts me 3 days that I don't have to cook and/or think about buying, prepping, and then cooking a meal. If I get a $10 pizza from KMart, it not only tastes really good, but it also lasts me for about 4 days of meals. But I've had some wake-up news in my life recently, so it's time to get off my ample ass and do some things that haven't been done in far too long.

Today is Day One.  I emptied 6 drawers in my headboard bureau, one of which was filled with socks. Now how many pairs of socks can one person wear?  Evidently, I 'd need a pair of socks and without rummaging through the existing socks in the sock drawer, I'd go buy a new pair -- or six, since they come in nice big economy packs these days. End result:  I had enough socks to make it through an Ice Age!  I decided to keep 4 dozen assorted,  including whites and colored and patterns, some with just feet and others with tops, and the rest are in a huge plastic bag in the back of the RAV to donate to Angel View. I can't remember the last time I wore a scarf, so I kept 4 assorted scarves and put the rest into a box to donate. Ditto the rest of the drawers, which are now almost empty.

I'm not sure how many days I'll be able to face this daunting task, but it gives me time to ponder what is coming next in my life, as well as listen to "my" music from the 50s, 60s, and 70s, as well as one of my favorite groups, El Divo, and one of my favorite female artists, Norah Jones, whom I had forgotten as her CD was way down on the pile.  I've already listened to Elton sing "Electric Boobs," as it was sung in that wonderful movie about the girl getting married and her sister has to do all kinds of errands for her and she and the fiancé get a little tipsy in the bar and they sing Electric Boots at full volume… yeah, not all memories are coming all the way back!

Tomorrow, I'm going to face my other dresser, and then I'm going deep into the closet, which will be a two-day task.  I have things in there from when I was in college (whisper) 50 years ago.  I have one dress I bought for work (whisper) 25 years ago and never wore. And the beat goes on … .

I figure that once I make progress with one room, I'll be more inclined to do another.  I have a neighbor who comes in every couple of weeks to do a deep clean, and she said she'll help me in the kitchen as I'm not even going to contemplate standing on a step-stool to empty cabinets.  If you think the things in my closet have been there awhile, I have stuff on the top shelf of the cabinet that has probably been there for at least a decade!  Yeah, really.  When I broke my back, I gave up standing on things to reach high shelves, and that's been quite a while ago.  I'll just bring the trashcan into the kitchen and make it a two-step process: she climbs and hands me things and I toss them into the dumpster.

Deep down inside me, I keep thinking that maybe if I get a handle on this place, maybe I won't have to relocate. If moving isn't such a daunting task, maybe I won't feel as if I have to move to get out from under what it's taken me quite a while to create: one big MESS!

So, rest and relax and then work on Day Two. Meanwhile, I wish the dogs could dance with me as "our" music has a beat and a lot of pep. Not like that crap kids listen to today.  Aahh, that felt good!

Cognitive Misfires

I have been having trouble with my memory for about two years, little lapses that have increased in frequency and import.  One of my dearest friends had a chat with me as she has really noticed that I lose my place while engaging in conversation and often repeat what we've already discussed. I also have a tendency not to remember specifically how to do tasks, such as putting the choke chain on Sparkle the correct way so it doesn't hurt her.  I literally had to take a photo with my phone of the correct placement so I can use that to make sure I hook her up correctly. My friend made me promise to talk to my doctor when it was time for my next appointment, and to write down what needed to be said/covered, which I did.

Today was the dr. appt. with my favorite doctor. I told him that my friends had concerns that I'm starting to forget things, repeat things, claim no knowledge of ever having something as a part of my life.  He laughed and, after looking at my chart to check my birthdate, said that happens to a lot of people in my age range and has become part of the "new normal" as we age.  He double-checked medications to see if any of my prescriptions could be interfering with my cognition, and told me to stop taking the daily aspirin as that "may" have a cognitive link.  He also told me I no longer needed to take the milk thistle as my bloodwork  no longer has a link to a possible liver issue.  He did a couple of little tasks with me and was ready to bring me up to speed.

He strongly doubts that I have early dementia, but he's going to put me through a series of lab tests to see if anything is going on.  He says that "cognitive functioning" naturally diminishes as we age, and he's leaning toward that as a catch-all diagnosis.  He's going to prescribe Aracept as a precaution after he gets back the lab work I'll be doing tomorrow, lab work that includes a check for syphilis (really) because that can cause the symptoms of Alzheimer's.  We already have another appointment scheduled for 7 weeks from now to touch base again and he told me he's convinced I just have normal loss of cognition, and nothing serious or to be worried about.

I feel better for speaking up about the cognition issues and am especially relieved that he sees my lapses as typical loss of cognition, rather than early onset Alzheimer's Disease.  I'm not totally sure what the medical difference is, but one is a natural progression of aging while the other is a specific physical condition that can, and does, affect people and their quality of life.

Good Neighbors and Fences

Robert Frost once wrote about good neighbors and fences, but his point was in asking who is walling one in and who is walling one out.  If we truly are good neighbors, we don't need a fence.  I have a chainlink fence around my property, including the long side of the property I share with a 3-unit rental. The entire length of the fence is planted with oleanders that serve as a privacy barrier.

My dog trainer is also a botanist (retired), and when she saw the half-dozen young children next door playing in the oleanders, she told them to stay away from the plant because it's poisonous. The kids heard the word "poison" and ran to get their mom, who then engaged in a confrontation with me because I shouldn't have poisoned plants coming through the chain link fence, where the children can touch them and get sick or die.

Yep, we went from zero to sixty in about 5 seconds flat.

I calmed her down and told her the children would have to chew on the leaves/branches to get sick, and she responded with the fact that they are just children and may do that.  She told me I had to take the plants off "her" side of the fence or she would call the police.  I assured her that I would take care of it as quickly as I could, but Nancy told her to tell her children not to play where the plants are. That was like adding fuel to a fire, so I quietly told Nancy to cool it and assured the woman that I would go see my gardener right then and see when he could take care of this issue for me.

I walked down to my gardener's home and left a note for him to call me, which he did.  I explained the issue to him and he shook his head that the woman would have been threatening me. I told him that I needed to have the removal of the oleander as soon as possible, so he set aside today (Monday) to take care of the problem.  He was able to speak to the woman in Spanish and tell her that the plants would not "kill" her children, but she was still freaked out.

Antonio, my gardener, just finished clearing "her" side of the fence, so the oleanders are trimmed back.  We'll keep an eye on it and hope that this satisfies the neighbor.  Antonio will add trimming them to his monthly gardening to-do list, which is fine with me.

The answer to Frost's question about neighbors and fences remains elusive, but cutting back the oleanders is now a part of my being a good neighbor.

OH, BOY! Did the rain come down...

The Coachella Valley is ringed with mountains, ranges that get snow in the winter and are considerably cooler in the summer than the desert floor.  From these mountain ranges in winter, we get rain run-off, as well as snow melt later in the year, that flows through the washes that cross the desert floor.  Yesterday, we had horrendous amounts of rain in the desert and mountains, and the run-off  raging water through the washes that attach to the mountains has caused significant damage and road closures.

There are major thoroughfares that cross Interstate 10 between Desert Hot Springs and the plethora of little cities on the western side of 10, including Palm Springs, Palm Desert, Cathedral City, Indian Wells, La Quinta, Indio, and others.  The rain combined with the run-off to turn those washes  into raging rivers that simply are not passable.  For all the workers who live either "up the hill" in the Yucca Valley area or in DHS, their access to their jobs was denied by the raging water and the debris it brought into the washes.

Of course, there are those who think they are smarter than the forces of nature and, thus, tried to navigate the swollen rivers. There were many rescues of people who made bad decisions, but their vehicles will have to be replaced once the waters recede and the debris fields, which now include their vehicle, are cleared off the roadways.  I'm not sure why people think the numerous travel warnings not to engage with the fierce run-off doesn't apply to them, but there are always people who think they can make it when no one else can.

The roads will be back open as soon as the crews can make that happen; however, until the roads are clear, people are going to be backed-up in long, slow lines of cars going one at a time through the limited access to the other side of the freeway.  Yesterday, many of the students throughout the Valley were sent home for safety, and I'm pretty sure they are staying home today, too, which makes this weekend a long one as Monday is also a holiday.

Don't mess with Mother Nature is still good advice.  Too bad so many individuals don't heed that advice.  Live and learn, but there's always a price tag associated with that lesson.

Facebook Fail

I don't know what I expected when I made the decision to use Facebook as a vehicle to keep in touch with people in my world, but I'm a bit taken aback by all the posts on my pages from people I may--or may not--know.  I open my Facebook account and there are photos and messages between people I don't even know. I have a long list of people I don't know who want to be my friend, which strikes me oddly: how do they even know I am looking for friends?

All in all, I'm not enthused with my Facebook experience.  I joined a local community group to get information about what's going on in my residential area, and there are word fights going on between the person who started the page and other people who have joined it.  There's profanity, poor spelling, atrocious grammar, and just generally things I'm really not into at this stage of my life.

I keep getting messages on my cellphone about people who want to be my friend on Facebook, but there is no sign of them on Facebook and I have no idea how to "friend" them from my phone. Some of the contacts I'd like to be "friends" with because they are part of my past and I'd love to know what they are doing in the present; other people I don't even know, but it seems that having a person in common means you want to "friend" these strangers.

I am not a big fan of the Facebook experience.  I'm going to give it a try for a solid month before I make any final decisions about whether I'll keep my page or go dark.  If I had to make the call today, I'd say toodle-loo to the world of friends I don't know.

UPDATE: OMG, now my gmail account is filled with FB posts and people!  I didn't know that what shows up on my FB page will also become part of my email experience.  This is too much, too invasive; I don't know if I'll last the month of trying this experiment.

Now Year's Resolution

It's a new year and time to reflect and then refresh one's life.  This year, I came up with 3 wishes for the New Year:  no more online buying; no further contact in any form with Publisher's Clearing House; and contact my children at least once a week, with a corollary, to use Facebook to facilitate that contact.

Of course, in order to use Facebook, I have to "do" Facebook and I have stubbornly resisted that engagement with all the force of will within me.  However, it is time for me to join the 21st Century and not just know that people only contact one another with electronic devices, but they also like to know what you're up to now and then.  Facebook is a media that can facilitate both of those goals.

My son spent an hour on the telephone walking me through the process of getting set up and started, but I'm disappointed that I don't have a page with things unique to me.  I immediately received a lot of other people's thoughts, feelings, and rages, and I'm not sure if I have to respond to those or can ignore them.  I need to put up a picture, but the only photo I have of me that I like is my senior year at Cal Lutheran photo, which I no longer resemble in any way, shape, or form.  I'm old now and wrinkles accent my facial features in ways that are not necessarily charming.  My face, which used to be an elongated oval, is now square, which matches my body that also used to be a lean, mean running machine and is now … squishy.

And when it comes to stimulating conversation with peers, I'm good with "Good girl, Sparkle." and "come here, Cinnamon," followed by lots of ooing and cooing and cuddling.  My life, which used to be an open book into the world, is narrowed to the confines of SoCal as I'm not as confident driving on the freeways as I used to be.  A big trip is across the highway to visit the communities on the west side of I-10, which is also where all the shopping is.  I love going to Costco and spending money there with reckless abandon just because there is nowhere to spend money in my community (other than the grocery store and KMart).

Somehow, I have to turn almost 74 years of life into stimulating, interesting, charming Facebook posts that attract people who know me to visit my page and feel as if they have been enriched by the experience.  We'll see how this happens as the days progress.  Wish me luck?

PS: I did use the college senior photo because that's what I wanted to do.  The rest of the world can simply deal with it.

My Hammy

The other day, Nancy came by with her dog just as I was getting mine out of the garage for a walk.  Nancy is a great lady, very kind, and we bonded over Sparkle when she was the neighborhood stray. When I took the dog as my own, Nancy was invested in helping me with her as even then she was an exuberant big puppy and a handful. When Sparkle saw her friend Nancy in my driveway, she suddenly bolted to greet her and her dog -- but I was attached to the leash.  Long story short: Sparkle dragged me about 20 feet and I was helpless to do anything about it as her leash was around my hand and I was trapped.

Suddenly, there was a sharp, searing pain up my right leg and I almost went down, but I was still attached to Sparkle and well and truly caught in the middle between Nancy's dog and my leash. I was able to wriggle my hand out of the leash, setting Sparkle free to do whatever she was going to do, but I was deep into searing pain that kept me grounded in place.  Nancy quickly got Sparkle under control and then asked about my injury.  I told her I think I tore my hamstring as the pain was excruciating, radiating from my knee to my buttocks.  I couldn't put any weight on my leg without it starting to buckle, so I just stood in place and waited to see if the pain would lessen and I could get out of the middle of the street (where Sparkle had dragged me).

Nah, it was a hurt that wasn't just going to go away.  The rest of that day, I couldn't get off the couch except to go potty--and that was a painful undertaking.  The next day, it felt worse, so I stayed on the couch again.  The third day, the aspirin and heating pad regime seemed to have loosened the pain a bit, but I'm still limping and favoring the leg.  Today makes 5 days post-injury, and it's not a whole lot better, but it is improving slowly.

Nancy was pissed at Sparkle, but I told her it was just what Sparkle does: she sees another dog on the street and wants to bolt after it.  Usually, I can control her--but Nancy and her dog were right there and I was caught unprepared.  Nancy blames Sparkle--and me, because I can't control my dog--which is unfair because it was just a moment in time and Sparkle didn't mean to hurt me.  Anyway, Nancy has been coming over every morning to take Sparkle for "training," hooking her to a neck chain and walking her while giving commands.  I'm not saying anything as it's nice of her to care enough to try and change Sparkle's sudden impulses.  I am not to say "come, Sparkle," but "heel," and lead her firmly where I want her to go--which I've done all along, but Nancy is a woman on a mission and she is motivated by kindness.

We'll get past this and Nancy's training may change Sparkle's impulsiveness, so I'm going along with the program.  Meanwhile, I'm staying off my leg as much as possible, and doing stretches to see if I can work out of soreness.  These things just happen, often to me, so I go along to get along.  And it's nice of Nancy to take the time to work with Sparkle when I can't even walk to the corner!!

Malek is Magic

Is there anyone who hears a Freddie Mercury/Queen song and doesn't stand and sing along?  The music is so powerful and has not lost its attraction in the years since Freddie Mercury died and took the unfinished music with him.

Yesterday was a rainy day and perfect for seeing the bio-pic Bohemian Rhapsody.  I was a bit leery after going to A Star is Born and hating it, but the Queen music is so strong and powerful it can carry a concert like few other artists can.  When Rami Malek took the screen, he had the same commanding presence that Freddie Mercury had.  Malek's portrayal of the founder of Queen was spot on, and I believe that the performance at Live Aid was used in the film, rather than reshooting it with Malek in the role as Malek was that good.  That may not be factually accurate, but I'm a bit of a romantic and want to think that the filmmakers knew they couldn't redo that event and come close to doing it justice. But that scene was magic and commanding and just darned good.  Malek is Mercury.

The theatre was packed and the film earned a standing ovation at the end.  I left the theater vowing to go see the film again as I was totally into it and stunned with Malek's capture of Freddie Mercury.

Doggone Confusing

Headlines can be interesting to read, especially if the reader has no clue what the story is about.  Take this headline from a local newspaper:  LQ couple found dead ID’d; dog safe. What would a reader expect the content of the article to be?

Someone tried to harm a couple’s dog, but the criminal was halted in his/her efforts to kill the dog by the couple, who then died from injuries inflicted during the fight over the dog's life.   Or, a couple was accosted by a criminal, who killed them but left the dog to survive the crime. Or, the couple committed suicide/murder, but didn't kill their beloved dog.   We'll never know what happened, but we know for certain that the dog is safe.

Of course I can fill in the blanks and feel reasonably comfortable with thinking that a couple was killed—somehow, and the dog, which was in the house, was not involved in the … murder, murder/suicide … , and the couple has now been identified by the process that is used to determine who the victims of a violent crime are. It just tickles me not only that the dog became part of the story, but it shares the headline with a double-death report.

Not to mention the "LQ couple" teaser.  Any ideas what that could be?

Back in the day, a good copy editor would rewrite the headline to focus on the death of the victims and omit the dog as not really relevant. What is a copy editor, you may ask?  One who has a reasonable command of the language in which the newspaper is written so s/he can read what is in the paper before it is published, thus avoiding embarrassing and/or confusing and/or just plain incorrect content (copy).

UPDATE: the couple, who lived in La Quinta, were victims of a murder/suicide and the dog was not killed in the commission of the crime.

I Hereby Resolve

Okay, so here’s the deal:  I’m fat and I don’t seem to be able to lose weight like I used to do with little effort.  I’ve tried eating only 3 times a day, and I’ve been careful what I eat (although I admit to a fondness for sweets at 10 o’clock each day with my mid-morning coffee), cutting back to about half of what I was eating.  I’m not a stress eater, nor am I a snacker of the salty-fat variety, but I have really bad food habits as I live alone and don’t like the effort involved in fixing a good (healthy) meal for myself three times a day.  I’ve tried protein shakes, healthy-eating diets, upped my exercise, and generally given it the old college try, but my belly is huge and my face is big and round where it used to be lean and narrow.

So, it’s time to do something again and, after thinking about it far too much, I decided to try something I’ve never tried before and see if something new and different works for me this time. I did some searching of the internet and ran across a Dr. “Rans” (phonetic spelling of his name as I don’t recall seeing it written anywhere). I listened to his lecture about “activating the AMPK gene and losing weight.” Didn’t sound any worse than other options I researched so I took a few notes and got this:

To lose weight, one must attack fat on a cellular level, particularly in deep belly fat situations. AMPK is the “master switch” of the body, so if one activates the AMPK gene, s/he can lose weight and live longer. Everyone has the number of fat cells they had from conception, so there’s no gaining/losing weight based on the amount of food one consumes, but on the number of calories and how they are stored.  Fat cells can expand and contract, and if cells are overfed, they lose function. AMPK is the “master switch” of the body, so if one activates the AMPK gene, one can lose weight and live longer.

All right, that’s a brief overview.  I listened for the full 45 minutes and the whole presentation made sense to me, so I decided I’m going to try this approach this year as what I’ve done in the past hasn’t seemed to help. According to this information, exercise improves health, reduces disease, and helps memory, but doesn’t help one lose weight.  I want to continue with my exercise routine, and may even up that a bit, but I also want to lose weight, and that happens on a cellular level. Hence the AMPK.

There are three keystones to this method, focusing on naturally occurring compounds that are available: berberine, which is the roots of plants and usually used as a diabetes treatment; gynostemona, an extract from plants that is an AMPK stimulator; and quercetin, which activates AMPK and reduces general sickness. This can’t be any worse than any of the other dozens of products and methods I’ve used to try to control my weight, so I’ll give it a go and see what happens.  I ordered enough for several months, and once I’ve put my money into something, I see it through.

My ultimate goal: not to stand on a scale and see that I’m down a pound or two, but to stand up tall and straight and be able to look down and see my shoes!  Surely that isn’t asking too much … .