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Reading a book for credit in a program at church is painful. The book? Resist and Persist. Some of the humor is hard to get because it is so painful and real. Erin Wathen is a minister, and bears witness to many things that are current. Society V Culture is my take on the book. Living in a culture that grows love, joy, peace, patience, and fruits of the spirit is always at risk of encroachment by floods of me.

'Self, self.' was the cry of Edgar Cayce (the sleeping prophet).

What I tell people casually

A book, The Four Winds, by Kristin Hannah has captured my attention! I'm trying to finish by Friday so I can return it. It's a good goal. Less than 200 pages to go. While I was waiting for a woman to recover from surgery, I walked around the facility (and it was raining buckets in San Diego), and sat and read at every turn. The author addresses prejudice and the way people judge appearances. During the Great Depression, did people already call it that? My only quibble.

The camping experience was good. My friends have a Tesla and there are charging stations (that cost nothing! Included in the price of the vehicle). Singing was great, and the people are quite diverse. A new friend calls herself a God Salesman (she's a chaplain). She officiated at my other friends' wedding.

Now, I'm concentrating on the house, yard, and improvements in the overall situation. I called my nephew this morning. He was taking my sister to a doctor appointment and couldn't talk. The trustee of the estate said she was going to rent the house my brother left my sister and me. I told her she had done enough!! He also left two vehicles: a truck that is in pieces can be hauled by BAT.com (stands for bring a trailer). They rescue failed projects, also known as 'basket cases'. One friend Brian suggests i also go online and seek out Mercedes enthusiasts. Easier said than done. Better to do what I do best and muddle through.

I was out of town when the rain caused flooding. My heart goes out to people whose houses flooded. The people here got busy and sent volumes of water down to a concrete-lined pond in the front yard. It overfilled (but it leaks and is already down a few inches). The trees like it. One of our buildings was dug into the hillside (my dear spouse's doing. When the ground gets saturated, the water seeps in!). A French drain is needed. This has nothing to do with the country. The man's name gave this system of perforated pipe, moisture barrier, and rock beds below ground level its name.

Journeys

This was the BIG weekend, where the All California Fasola Folk gather to sing. You don't know how profound the effect is until you have been immersed in the sounds that bring ecstasy, laments, and everything in between. I had invited my new friend to go. The one whose niephling had died on Christmas day. At the last minute, nope, and that was fine. But the fact is,this was a fish trap. Easy in, but impossible to get out of. Until the abuse became too much.

Interestingly, I am not the kind to notice the abuse because I have had to endure and survive. When your spouse who you trusted becomes a creature who has no other thought but how you will fulfill their needs, it becomes apparent. Add to that, the dwelling place of the new friend was compromised. I won't go into details. That I will save for the book.

I had left some things at the house before the convention, and after it became obvious I didn't have the book I borrowed, I determined to go back to this person's house to ask if it was there. It was, in a bag on the floor under their personal items. I have a similar hoard consisting of papers pertaining to my interests. Writers do this.

I stayed one more night against my better judgment. We drove to three different stores to purchase items in preparation for recovery from surgery. I drove to the hospital, stayed all day, and when it came time to be discharged, I wanted to head south. There was no one who could (or would) pick them up. I had to drive north again, drop them off, pick up my ice chest, food, and a blanket. Then I said so long.

Today I am washing EVERYTHING.

Fine, just fine

Not really, but it's par for the course. I blew up at my new friend, who I had talked to on the phone after we met at a church events and is Somebody in another universe (Servant Leader Under Tutelage is what I aspire to. You can turn that into an acronym if you like).

This friend came for a sad occasion, the death of a family member. I was ready to move their return tomorrow, but after I lost my temper, phone calls were made and someone was going to take them home. I thought it was a bit of a barney but then, grief and anxiety work strangely. We aren't long-time friends, so this was our First Fight. If we weather this and look back on it from a perspective of forgiveness and tolerance, it will seem like small potatoes.

House guests and fish last three days, then the stink gets too bad. This happened at Day Five. I won't get into the details. Well, yes, I will. I had driven to a tourist destination to drop off some items I didn't want or need (that were my husband's). They were welcome! There is a free shuttle that takes you to points where you can park, go to a museum, or ride until you return to the point where you embarked. We made two more stops, then I said no to the last request because there was ice cream that might have gotten soft.

The blowup was over what's for dinner. I was trying to take the easy route, tired after driving and shopping and they wanted tacos. I involved the tenants in the cooking and prep and the guest wasn't having it. The funny thing is, they accused me of being controlling. The best thing to do is apologize. Once. Then fog. That's a term in assertiveness training where you acknowledge their point and own your shortcomings (which are many). No one's perfect. Practice!

The tacos were prepared by my guest and were fine. I went to a meeting at the same place and brought back cake, then went to bed

A Pause

I haven't blogged in a while. If I knew how to upload pics of quilts (there's this thing that plugs into the phone and connects to the laptop that might be able to transfer them from my phone but it's a stretch), that would be why. Yesterday was the deadline for the lifeline to the people in the back country who will need them. There is a steady stream of people who visit the health council near Viejas, meaning old woman. There is a casino and an outlet mall I love to visit just beyond the office.

The count is 36. Add the three I forgot at home (in my haste to arrive before the church service started), and we're pushing 40. I have one more (Captain America flannel with charcoal backing) ready to add the batting, binding, and finishing touches. The one thing I leave out is the label because these are the bread on the water things that one tosses overboard in the sea of humanity. It never feels like enough.

Weather on the way

I took a picture but have no earthly idea (pushing 75) on how to post it here when I don't have the app on my smart phone. Dumb user.

Pink aloft, gray below. Water standing in pots, buckets and bins behind the house (east side). The property slopes to the west and 3/4 of the way down, there is a concrete lined pond that has fissures in it. A constant seepage keeps it from overflowing except when we have epic weather. This may be one of them.

This just heard on the radio (NPR) 'Heavy, heavy rain.'

Rabbit, rabbit

It's just something that is said on the first day, first thing. Don't ask me why. Because time runs, hops, and cycles back to its warren like a Joni Mitchell song?

Not much to say today. The house is getting a workover. Thugs are needed to move items out of the corners so I can clean. Haven't I heard that people in ancient societies broke their implements and started over at the turning of the year? All my papers would make a fine fire.

Ah me!

Rough sailing. My voice is raw from coughing. Vocal rest is the only remedy and a concert is tomorrow night. NyQuil helps me sleep, but also contributes to the rawness. It will be over Sunday (when we wring out one song in church).

My house is telling me it's time to leave. The toilet wouldn't flush. I plunged and it came up in the shower. Snaking the system gave no relief and we called the company to pump. It was a clog in the line. Baby wipes came out in a big nasty clump. Next, the guy who built this house addressed some electrical issues. There was an outlet that had never worked on the outside of the house. I said I didn't really need it because there are four (4!) that have power. Two of the six outside outlets did not work.

Last night none of the lamps worked in the master bedroom. I thought a bulb had burnt out but three? I sent an email before going to bed and a knock came moments after I got up. He came to fix that and now, a kitchen socket that I use with the toaster is dead. My electric kettle will tell me which others don't work. Seeing a pattern.

A tenant who helped me dig out the septic lids, is resting up (he promised to get busy on re-burying and leveling). My builder suggested planter pots set ON the covers so that all one need do is lift them off the next time pumping is needed. Two 15 gallon pots and one foxtail fern are placed, then looks like it will be up to me. The area has always sloped, so hazardous. It will be a swale (a declivity where water can collect and nourish the enormous Pepper Tree above).

Meanwhile, I hear from other tenants that rats are bold! When the tenants cook, out they come, demanding to be fed. Sticky traps have varmint footprints. They are thugs.

The Caine Mutiny? Here?

The captain was a tyrant on a small battleship, That rubber tree plant on the deck, for instance. But shit in my shower is just. Wrong!

I'll explain. The other day, I flushed and it did not go down. I plunged and it came up, you guessed it, in my adjacent sunken shower. There was a clog. My tenant ran a snake everywhere but the most important of the places, which was from my toilet to the main line, where there was a preponderance of moist wipes. I do not put these in the commode.

I had been visited by a friend who may not have known how much this would cost me. I am at the point of saying, 'Whooo did it?' in the manner of the actor in the movie.

Boring?

Only if you are using a drill. I have been too busy to blog. Sad, but no one really follows me, so who cares, right? I have started talking to a woman and she talks to me in a caring and kind way. We'll see what happens.

Meanwhile, yesterday I stopped at a volunteer gig and a guy I much admired and was sure he was connected (he was, for 18 years, but she died a month ago) was working on a project so naturally, I lent a hand and zip ties to put up garlands. This is also a kind person.

I still have relapses of grief but they are lessened by the fact that today a young feller helped me with my front porch. Next time, maybe we'll make it inside.

A glitch

It volunteer, but arrived an hour late because I had been packing to go camping after my shift. A Karen didn't want me anywhere near her and faulted every last thing I tried to do. I left. The rest of the team is more balanced. I have been listening to the news and it is not good. Israelis and Palestinians, Republicans and Democrats, Law and disorder. Nevertheless, I had a chance to reboot and get my sort on with the papers. This is what I do. Go set up for one night, read and sort, and purge papers, pack up and return with almost as much, but a sense that I have made progress. It's a good goal.

I had agreed to this day for a my phone therapy session. I was about 10 minutes early and planned to stay by the entrance to use their hot spot. The day before, I went to the office and staff helped me with the app, so I was ready. When I presented my proof of insurance and car registration, they told me at the gate that the former wasn't there. After all the stress and rejection, I lost my shit and began slapping my head. This just made them (both Latino—irony--a couple of Latino Border Patrol Agents were walking about probing the weeds across the road for brown bodies). Abort mission to check in. Go to Plan B.

The call went through. To say I was upset would be an understatement. My purse has no tissue and my nose was dripping. She noticed! I used my sleeve after pulling a receipt out of my purse and trying to use that. You may think it's mucus, but it's snot. At 10 minutes in, the call dropped. Because the app was still open, I couldn't answer any calls. It was somewhat of a relief to be done. Poor little white girl. I'm upset about what I hear on the news on NPR, which tells me I should listen to classical music.

Israelis want aid organizations to repack loads onto pallets approved by them, then when they don't make it to the border, they have to come back and return everything to the warehouse. All their effort wasted while people die! And I'm powerless.

The solution proposed by the gate staff was to download an app from GEICO, which they (and I) tried. No soap. It was at 75% of complete when I gave up. I went back to my car and looked, and lo, there was the proof of insurance. So I drove back to the gate and told the guy to read it and weep. They asked for my driver's license, which I produced, and I was allowed in. But now I'm marked. If I see them again, they may have a grudge against me.

At my site I was unloading the car and up drives a Sheriff. He asks how I am and I tell him I've been better. I don't get out as often as I used to and it's getting harder to achieve. It's one of my dreams to camp and get organized. Death like an overflowing stream of paper!

I did have a moment of clarity that I could have been spending a very different time in a camp (with bars)! The peace was disturbed. But in my book, if people aren't alarmed by what is going on, they lack compassion. I put that in a note I handed off on my way out the gate.

A further complication: a 9a.m. Saturday meeting was planned, so I packed everything up early and arrived at the hot spot to check email a quarter past to find out it was postponed a week. The very good news: I banked 10 hours of sleep. Next time I'll position the tent differently because nights are turning cold and a heater is needed.

Sleep deprived

It's my own fault. I went dancing, and as you do, it's not easy to go right to sleep at the old 11p.m. but a new 10, so what do I find on Netflix but the Diana Nyad biopic with Annette Benning and Jody Foster as best pals and swimming fanatics. You'd have to be to brave the open ocean with jellyfish, sharks, and what-all (the dolphins were a pretty cool encounter). Super marathon, several tries to swim from Cuba to Key West FL (103 miles, if she's lucky) nonstop.

Can anyone really sleep after seeing a very good movie that makes you feel like you're there? Then one questions what has been accomplished in the waning years of a life. Not a lot, but at least there is job security. Plenty more to do.

Well, I woke up

So that's a thing. I just obtained a scary adult book. Now, before you get all excited, it's by a United (an oxymoron these days) Methodist Minister and PhD Historian, John Fanestil. The title: American Heresy, The Roots and Reach of White Christian Nationalism, Fortress Press, Minneapolis, 2023. Yes, it's scary.

I was not paid to deliver this message. I bought the book (ISBN 978-1-5064-8923-0) because I'm frightenend for my country in this age of tumults and usurpations. And full disclosure, I'm white, Christian, and ashamed of these yahoos.

Sleep?

My daughter used to say, 'I'll sleep when I'm dead. And she is. It was cancer. She wanted to live.

10th of the month

When I was in Hawaii, I bought a humuhumunukuapua'a fish calender with blocks (long one for months, square for days. Did you know there aren't enough sides, so you have to turn the 6 over to make a 9 because of the repetition of 1s and 2s? You're welcome for the information. The Car Guys, Click & Clack, had it as a Puzzler). I have to rearrange more than one bock on certain days, today being one.

I haven't been posting because I'm embarrassed, ashamed of the situation. If I was a poet, it could go from bad to verse. As it is, I'm a punster, and that's all you get. The people who live around me are moving. I wish I could move. Away.

Enough said? People complain that my emails are cryptic. Truth.

Parsing a song

I sing fasola, so this one pops up when I'm anxious. It begins, 'Come, humble sinners in whose breast a thousand thoughts revolve.'

The second verse starts, 'I'll go to Jesus' (which I like way better than the verb 'come'. Much less sexualized). The first verse has the word, come on subsequent lines. Where does one come to? Prayer? Song?

Fun fact: the pleasure zone in the brain is smack dab in the anxiety zone. Remove one, and you much reduce the capacity of the other.

As for me, I chose anxiety AND pleasure, though not at once. Overcoming the first usually allows me to claim a modicum of mastery over my mood.

Trolley Dances

I bought a ticket and showed up at the appropriate place (different troupes performed at one of three stops. I had attended one before this, with more stops, one performance at each). I can tell you now that it started in Old Town San Diego's Trolley Station at the ramp and stairs. A guitar and fiddle played the music. I liked this one the best because the song, 500 Miles, written by a woman, was very familiar. Dancers had 1930s style hats and their costumes were tan and sepia. They used the stairs, rails and suitcases to good advantage.

The second piece was in the tunnel under the tracks. From there, we traveled (by trolley) to the County Administration Center's Water Park and Playground where Folklorico (Jalisco) and Hip-Hop groups performed a couple of dances each. The last stop (at UCSD's Park & Market location that has a theater, Digital Gym, where I have wanted to go to see a documentary about Lou Curtiss, Folk Arts Rare Records owner, organizer of musical events and mensch, but that's another post).  We went inside the building and watched professional dancers do amazing things, then outside and around to a plaza where a woman wandered among the dancers and sat on a bench. She hadn't bought a ticket but she WAS a dancer! She showed me her tattoo when I asked if she was there by design. I affirmed her. The dancers, to their credit, did not break stride, but they did chide her for intruding. I thought it made that performance extra special!

Because life happens in the midst of our well-planned lives!