11/29/09:
Jay is now officially 58. We spent most of his birthday yesterday up in Bellingham, checking out Village Books' Espresso book printing machine, ate at Indian Flavors on Meridian,
picked up fig jam at Mediterranean Specialties (kind of near REI), and searched out the lot that used to house Eldred Fuel Company— whose ancient thermometer we recently rescued before the wrecking crew demolished an outbuilding on the property Jay's parents used to own. Check out the picture Jay took here. We had a nice day.
I picked up a book at the library yesterday too, Doris Lessing's The Fifth Child, which I uncharacteristically finished in one sitting. The tale engrossed me, and bummed me out at the same time as it was a bit close to home when interpreted through the filter of my own life. Life is indeed what happens while we are making other plans...
Do we have free will? Sure, we get to decide lots of things. If you need some input about your life or other things you can get free answers from an online Magic Eight Ball. Of course what you get to have free will about depends upon your circumstances, such as whether you were born a female in Afghanistan, or born in rural Mongolia, or to a wealthy family in La Jolla, or live in an isolated country ruled by a despotic dictator. Free will and destiny, both forming our lives at the same time, just as Forest Gump discovered. Maybe it is kind of like driving with no map... where am I going? Ciao.
Coming home from very lonely places, all of us go a little mad: whether from great personal success, or just an all–night drive, we are the sole survivors of a world no one else has ever seen.— John le Carre
11/28/09:
Happy Birthday 2009,
58 years in the making.
Another year of adventures,
and expected surprises.
Musty books, factory tours, fig jam, digging dirt,
Laughter, work, and learning.
Happy Birthday Jay,
with dreams of more.
11/24/09:
PAINKILLER
Ardent work is a painkiller,
like just your handwriting on a page,
and doing mathematics—that connects with central
neurological tracks, vast circulatory blood-
lights, into aphrodisiacal
forgetfulness. And the more aching a line
of poem, the more it lulls.
Intense dancers on broken toes
insist they never noticed. Like Tchaikovsky
using his tears on laboring music scores, the
melody narcotic. Or running the good
race eludes the hurt.
Mind over matter? It's the brandy gift
of life. Or from a crack in Nothingness—
creation of the world. And must have
been some backbreaking,
godless job. Enormous, long time
over-hours. Working like a dog, that
sweet analgesic postponement
of the End.
— Jane Mayhall
It's not what they say, but what they do...
Debate continues on health care reform, the offerings are a far cry from what I had hoped to see. Debate also continues about health care reform's price tag. Interesting that the cost of war receives so little attention, since the cost of war and the cost of health care reform appears about... hmm, oh yeah, about equal. Still, same as 8/22/09. Choices...
Almost all of us long for peace and freedom; but very few of us have much enthusiasm for the thoughts, feelings, and actions that make for peace and freedom.— Aldous Huxley
11/22/09:
We went to Rexville Grocery yesterday evening to one of the cheese and wine tastings they have every once in a while. We not only enjoyed the wine and cheese (bought a chunk of lovely blue cheese), but I ran into a gal I used to work with. I had walked over to look more closely at a painting on display and looked in recognition at a lady standing there. She looked at me too and said "Do I know you?" to which I replied "Yes, you do." She continued to look puzzled and said "From where?" I responded "I have no idea." We eventually determined we had both worked at DSHS for DDD but she worked in Everett and I worked in Mount Vernon— we had ridden back together from a Seattle training convention one time. Even without memory problems I have memory problems, but I am not alone.
For a chuckle, if they have not already removed some of the fun, click on the picture of the laptop table you can attach to your steering wheel. You can check out "reviews" and "customer images" placed there in fun, so enjoy. Later, ciao.
Seeing ourselves as others see us would probably confirm our worst suspicions about them.— Franklin P. Adams
11/18/09:
Isn't it interesting how beautiful the colors are this time of year? Vibrantly alive leaves and plants finish their season, framing the end of their time in glorious color before they drop to earth, disappearing into everything. Middle age brings fall into view, colors heightened with the deeper perspective time brings. As with the leaves on the maple in the front yard, some who have shared in the coloring of our lives cling sturdily, while others shake free before we know it, disappearing into everything. So it is.
Things have dropped from me. I have outlived certain desires; I have lost friends, some by death—Percival—others through sheer inability to cross the street. I am not so gifted as at one time seemed likely. Certain things lie beyond my scope. I shall never understand the harder problems of philosophy. Rome is the limit of my traveling. As I drop asleep at night it strikes me sometimes with a pang that I shall never see savages in Tahiti spearing fish by the light of a blazing cresset, or a lion spring in the jungle, or a naked man eating raw flesh.— Virginia Woolf The Waves (1931)
11/14/09:
I wrote on my April 2005 page about working with clients who had dementia, and their families. I often ran into people with dementia who focused on moving back to somewhere they used to live– their families would start desperately entertaining the idea of the client moving too. The reality usually was that the client did not really want to get back to somewhere, but wanted to get back to a place where their mind had been clear. They had lost the ability to make this distinction, they had forgotten that one can't step into the same river twice, had lost the ability to realize that going back to a place would not bring back a time. Time and place are two separate, intertwined things.
Families and other loved ones of my clients with dementia had their own ways of trying to get back to a time when the spouse or the parent did not forget. They too wanted to get mom or dad back– the person they knew, who remembered. The client would find themselves "corrected" about names and other information, often some of the most mundane information– no mom, that was chocolate ice cream, not vanilla. I used to marvel at how petty these "corrections" were, that they were correcting information that did not matter and causing the client to feel confused and once again betrayed by their own mind. People did actually take fairly well to suggestions to respond to the feeling, the idea rather than the content– yes, that ice cream was good wasn't it? It wasn't until later on that I really understood that the effort to "correct" the person wasn't so much about getting the person oriented as it was about getting the person to respond like they would have in the past. Yes, maybe if we keep telling them they will learn, a more than futile idea in this case. But, indeed, if we try hard enough maybe we can regain some control of all of this, maybe they can remember it was chocolate like they used to. If only we could, then they would be whole again, they would be back, here with us in the same way as always. Yes, if we can only help them remember...
Personal experience is always a good teacher, despite life's lessons not necessarily being to one's liking. Naomi Feil is a pioneer in Validation, a method of communicating with people with dementia. You can click on that word to learn more...
The world economic crisis has now coupled with swine flu to bring to the forefront issues some had hoped to continue ignoring. Yes, those damnable poor people might make the middle and upper classes sick by going to work sick instead of not going to work, and not getting paid. What in the world would make those wacko socialists, preaching that god-awful equality crap, think people who work full-time but make a pittance should get the same leave benefits as those making a more comfortable living? If God wanted the working poor to have sick leave He would have given them better jobs. It is interesting that other countries do have more universal leave policies, with varying results depending upon choices made about how such policies are structured. Guess what? It just may not be a choice between all or none but an actual choice amongst a spectrum of ways to be. It may be that we can choose consciously how we will be. Yeah, kind of like those guys who founded America, consciously choosing and not being afraid to think, challenging entrenched power, challenging ourselves to be more than we thought we could be. There have a been several articles and pieces in the press, the New York Times pieces include the graph here, which you can click, should you wish to check it out. 
The people who desire to remain ignorant still abound. The Onion carried an article today about just such a man, who is serious in his ignorance. It is worth a read and may give you a chuckle before you grimace...
As you can see to the right, Jay is waiting... later man, ciao.
My way of joking is to tell the truth. It is the funniest joke in the world.— George Bernard Shaw
11/13/09:
The celebration of my birth continued Wednesday evening, with a night out for dinner and music at Rock Fish Grill in Anacortes, regaled with the bluegrass music of The Stilly River Band– an enjoyable evening out with my favorite person, Jay. Thursday at work Susan brought cupcakes and ice cream, as the girls and I lately have seemed to be preparing for the coming holiday feasting. Co-workers Merle and Alicia got me a neat social worker coffee mug and one of those new super-thin wallets. A nice birthday, 56 years down the road, composing my story still.
I took some pictures before work on the 4th and now include the rest of that showing. The little white flowers (alyssum) link to my favorite picture taken that day, the bright fall leaves of our snowball bush– click to check them out. The bright yellow flowers to the right link to a picture that includes some of the bush morning glories that volunteered to be part of our flower garden this year. All of the foliage is fading into fall colors or laying about on the ground, while a surprising number of flowers yet remain, seeming to enjoy fall's coolness after such a hot, dry summer. Beauty is all about us, catching our eye and attention now and then.
Ah, 56. I will never be this young again.
Language is the blood of the soul into which thoughts run and out of which they grow.— Oliver Wendell Holmes
11/11/09:
It was a pretty fall day today, sunshine instead of rain to celebrate and honor veterans of the armed forces. We had cookies with red, white and blue napkins at work yesterday– provided by staff. After work several of us girls went to a local Mexican restaurant for feasting, as you can see from my picture to the left we had a jolly time. It is always nice to spend more enjoyable time with good people you work with– time away from work.
The dermatology office called yesterday to let me know the culture showed no infection so my swelling/redness is most likely just a reaction to my internal stitches. The area is calming down, although I am still not wearing my regular shoes but have graduated to some loose athletic shoes. The medical assistant said my stitches were PDS. Next time I'll try something different...
I had the day off today and instead of going to work reported to duty as welcoming committee for workers from Classic Insulation Company, who came to add insulation up in the attic of the old part of the house. They did a nice job and tried hard not to make a mess and to clean up after themselves. We are hoping to be toastier this winter and pay less for the electric heat in that part of the house. We got a great deal as Puget Sound Energy paid for half the cost. Cool beans.
The problem is not entirely in finding the room of one's own, the time alone, difficult and necessary as this is. The problem is more how to still the soul in the midst of its activities. In fact, the problem is how to feed the soul.
For it is the spirit of woman that is going dry, not the mechanics that are wanting. Mechanically, woman has gained in the past generation. Certainly in America, our lives are easier, freer, more open to opportunities, thanks—among other things— to the Feminist battles... Instead of stilling the center, the axis of the wheel, we add more centrifugal activities to our lives—which tend to throw us off balance.
Mechanically we have gained, in the last generation, but spiritually we have, I think, unwittingly lost. In other times, women had in their lives more forces which centered them whether or not their realized it; sources which nourished them whether or not they consciously went to these springs. Their very seclusion in the home gave them time alone. Many of their duties were conducive to a quiet contemplative drawing together of the self. Nothing feeds the center so much as creative work, even humble kinds like cooking and sewing... The art and craft of housework has diminished; much of the time-consuming drudgery—despite modern advertising to the contrary—remains. In house work, as in the rest of life, the curtain of mechanization has come down between the mind and the hand.
— Gift From The Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh
See you tomorrow, when I turn 56. Yikes, it is once again time to wish myself a Happy Birthday— how lucky! Ciao.
11/8/09:
Let's see, what the heck is going on? Work has been overwhelming and I seem to have lost the ability to keep track... I still have some floater spots, otherwise known as daddy long-legs to me, hanging in my right eye. I don't think I mentioned that my left foot has been red and swollen in the area of the larger biopsy there back in September. It seems I am sensitive or allergic to the dissolving stitches and my skin/tissues are reacting– I have been unable to wear my regular shoes for a week and a half and am back to wearing my summer crocs in the rain.
My cousin Diane shocked me this week by announcing on Facebook that she was back home from the hospital– shocking since I didn't know she had gone there. Diane was kind enough to call today to find out if she had missed my birthday, she sounded still under the weather from her pneumonia. Best wishes Diane, take care of yourself 'cause we like having you around.
I have recently re-read Gift From The Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh, once again garnering insight and inspiration. I wrote about reading this book for the first time several years ago on this website and so took off this afternoon on a quest to find that entry and refer back to it. I ended up re-reading many, many old pages of mine until I finally found the entry on my August 2003 page... times flies, still. I saved some spots in the book again this reading, to share with you, and in looking back at the 2003 entry have discovered I shared so little then, in my effort to not bore the audience. This time, I give you more:
We all wish to be loved alone. "Don't sit under the apple-tree with anyone else but me," runs the old popular song. Perhaps, as Auden says in his poem, this is a fundamental error in mankind.
For the error bred in the bone
Of each woman and each man
Craves what it cannot have,
Not universal love
But to be loved alone.
Is it such a sin? In discussing this verse with an Indian philosopher, I had an illuminating answer. "It is all right to wish to be loved alone," he said, "mutuality is the essence of love. There cannot be others in mutuality. It is only in the time-sense that it is wrong. It is when we desire continuity of being loved alone that we go wrong." For not only do we insist on believing romantically in the "one-and-only"—the one-and-only love, the one-and-only mate, the one-and-only mother, the one-and-only security—we wish the one-and-only to be permanent, ever-present and continuous. Page 72
Because it is not lasting, let us not fall into the cynic's trap and call it an illusion. Duration is not a test of true or false. The day of the dragon-fly or the night of the Saturniid moth is not invalid simply because that phase in its life cycle is brief. Validity need have no relation to time, to duration, to continuity. It is on another plane, judged by other standards. It relates to the actual moment in time and place... Page 76
I will put on a couple more excerpts this month, sharing what I consider to be a pretty timely book, written over 5 decades ago.
Oh, I ran across the good old "Cost of War" counter on one of my old pages and thought it was well worth keeping front and center, given our proclivity to spend money on war rather than anything else. I added it to the bottom of this page and plan to keep it on my monthly pages as long as we have troops actively engaged in war or war-like activity, which most likely is the rest of my life. For a refresher on interpreting such large figures you can refer back to my August 22 entry.
I ran across a quote in my search back through the history of my pages today that bears repeating:
In the century now dawning, spirituality, visionary consciousness, and the ability to build and mend human relationships will be more important for the fate and safety of this nation than our capacity to forcefully subdue an enemy. Creating the world we want is a much more subtle but more powerful mode of operation than destroying the one we don't want.— Marianne Williamson
11/4/09:
I was ready a few minutes early this morning and stopped to take some fall flower/foliage pictures in the front yard. I like sedums and they like our front yard because it is sunny and dry. I have 2 large ones in the flower bed that runs next to the front porch, which is formed from a length of wood dug up by the backhoe from the side of the drive and a large red rock I purloined from the side of the road when we went to Winthrop. The plants there love it, soaking up the heat of the cement porch that form the planter's backside. The sedum heads have passed their late summer red/pink time and have moved on to their lovely fall burned-red phase. In another month they will have become darker and the heads, stems and leaves will have formed a natural dried flower arrangement to grace our entry– at least that is how I see them.
I still have a couple of daddy long-legs in my right eye, hopefully they will tire of their shenanigans and disappear entirely soon. I use a neti pot almost daily to clear my sinuses. When I am doing that and tilt my head so that the liquid is running out my right nostril into the sink, I can see the daddy long-legs spiders (yes, I know they are not really spiders even though they are arachnids) almost touching the side of the sink. I try to wash them down with the liquid, but they are too tricky to succumb... it is a wacky world. As Jay said 9/24/09 (dutifully recorded by his wife) "The meter's running for all of us." Enjoy it while you can. Ciao.
I can feel good or I can feel bad, and a lot of what I feel is in my brain... So when I get up in the morning, I say to myself, "This is going to be a good day."— Ann Richards, late governor of Texas
11/1/09:
It was a big weekend, what with both Halloween and daylight savings time to enjoy. We had zero visitors last evening and are stuck with lots of chocolate, although the pile is shrinking as I write. Today the weather was finally clear and I planted 40 tulip bulbs and 40 daffodils. Jay took the pick axe to the rest of the flower-bed-in-the-making that used to be driveway so I could plant some in there for spring enjoyment. I also planted some hyacinths in the front planter alongside the porch back a few weeks ago when we bought the bulbs. We will probably try to plant some bulbs every fall as this is bulb flower heaven here. I had some that got destroyed in the construction last year; we need plenty so I can report back each spring with pictures...
I think I wrote a few months ago about my neighbor friend Mrs. Becker having a stroke. Margaret has recovered quite well and is now living in an apartment at one of the local senior complexes. Jay and I went to visit Saturday and took her out to Sager's for lunch. We had a nice meal and a nice visit, got to check out the complex and see Mrs. Becker's apartment. She gets dinner provided there as well as a breakfast buffet and had been given some squash that she just hadn't gotten around to baking since she doesn't need to cook much. As it turned out it was our favorite kind, which we are fresh out of... yes, we had it today along with an acorn squash of our own. I was nice to see Margaret, we miss having her across the street keeping track of us and us doing the same.
Welcome to November, the month both Jay and I were born, thus Birthday City– more on that later.
If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.— J.R.R. Tolkien
Jardot's World: November Edition, 2009
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