My dear Joon...

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shireling
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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Sun Apr 01, 2018 9:58 pm

This is terrible.

I'm not doing too great. I can't remember ever being this depressed this time of year. Most of the time, I figure if I can get through March, I can get through anything. But, this first day of April means that I've got the rest of it to look forward to, and I don't want to.

Been weeping and sobbing and no amount of chocolate (and there be chocolate here, it being Easter and all), has shaken lose this deep blueness. It's a dark well of despair, without a single ray of sun to be seen anywhere. I just spent the past hour, hour and a half, pouring out my heart to a friend who can little handle this, and to whom I have no business burdening. O God.

It's ridiculous. I have no reason to be this sad - none. Well, yes I do, if I think of what's befallen this country of mine, but it's more than that. We finally saw The Last Jedi. I started tearing up from the moment I saw Carrie Fisher, and was in full throated-bawl by the credits. She should still be here, damn it. It was a good movie, but she should still be here. Duane says, "Is that the end of it?" I don't know, you tell me. I hope it is, but then I thought The Hobbit could use some editing - a whole bunch, come to think of it. I think it would be good to stop here. In fact, I think that Star Wars #7, should have been #4. And #4 should be #5, etc. Or #7 should be #8, leading right to A New Hope. *sigh* It hardly matters; what am I even talking about? I so identify with Luke Skywalker right now.

Maybe this is my April Fool's joke, and I won't be depressed tomorrow. Can always hope. Here's to a better tomorrow, if I can't get there today.


sara
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"I would like an abundance of peace. I would like full vessels of charity. I would like rich treasures of mercy. I would like cheerfulness to preside over all." - St. Brigid of Kildare

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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Mon Apr 02, 2018 5:40 am

Not depressed anymore.

Can't sleep though. It's 1:23 in the morning here, and I think if I can just do something else except lie in bed, maybe I'll get tired. It's no fun having holidays without family. Oh, I know I've got the Honey and Amy, but when your child lives away, and there's not a hope in hell of your ever becoming a grandparent, I mean, if all goes well, you won't - you hope you won't...

I miss Mike's little boy time.

I'd spent the past few hours online trying to find this amazing Virgin Mary statue, with wings and holding a chained up dragon. It's called Our Lady of the Apocalypse - it doesn't get much cooler than that

Image

Awesome, is She not? And that's only one version of Her. It's not the Virgin Mary, at all, but Religion about to give birth to the Fulfillment of the previous Faith. So, the world ends as everybody knows it. Not a physical conflagration - God doesn't do that nonsense - but a spiritual one, that happens every thousand or thousands of years. Some folks know this, and some don't, and we all suffer the ill-effects of those who don't. Some call Her 'the Flying Virgin', the Sally Fields of The Book of Revelation. I was hoping to acquire Her, but I was too late, mainly because I couldn't remember what She was called, and She was quite affordable, too. Bummer. Oh, also I'm beginning to realize that all of these Visions are Manifestations of the Woman of the Apocalypse, and She is not to be messed with.

Anyway, tomorrow is Monday, and I'm glad. Weekends aren't much fun, like I said earlier about holidays, and I'm under the weather, then it's not so bad, I can sleep it away. I have no idea why I was so down, I am getting sleepy, so this was just the ticket. I'm not quite ready to turn in, but I can't think of what else to bore you with.

'night, joons of mine,
sara
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"I would like an abundance of peace. I would like full vessels of charity. I would like rich treasures of mercy. I would like cheerfulness to preside over all." - St. Brigid of Kildare

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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Mon Apr 02, 2018 10:40 pm

It snowed. Again.

I'm all ready to go, sandals on, shopping bags, cane, and car brush in hand, and immediately turn around to put on boots. The Honey and I have a very great, insurmountable in fact, lack of understanding of when it comes to cleaning snow off the car.

He has not driven in 10 years. It will 10 years exactly on August 26th, and while I was glad that he had cleared off the windows, I couldn't see over the snow he'd left on the hood and trunk (bonnet and boot to you joons in the U.K.) So, he sweeps, as one does, the snow down toward the head lights on the passenger side, but not where I am. That he sweeps from side to side, making a nice neat pile the height of my nose; I can't see over that. I'm making motions to do the same as he did on the other side, but he persists in doing same. I start cursing, I get out, I grab brush, I finish job. And he tells me that I could see - so, I was leaving a warm, cozy car just to make him look foolish? Really? My ego does not extend to that.

He is 6' 1/2" tall, and you'd better remember that half inch. I am 5'2", with longer legs than torso. His torso is as long as his legs, he's proportioned. So we fight all the way to the Mall, over what I can't see over. From now on, he is not to clean off the car, ever again. In his world, it was a waste of time to brush clean all the car lamps and license plates. I don't think I need to explain to you why my city's finest would consider that a ticketable offense for not doing it. And this all happened, right after this...

I'd just stepped out of the shower, and became nauseous. No problem, I think, I will just plant my face in the receptacle. WRONG! Almost immediately, the other end begins to leak. So I put that part on the receptacle seat, grab towel, take deep breaths and start yelling desperately for husband, over his oscillating desk fan and Maler's Opus #7. After several shouts, I hear him speak: 'Where are you?'

"I'm in the bedroom!" He opens the door.
"I need Glucerna!"
"Glucerna?"
"Bottles in the fridge's vegetable bin. I need one..."
"Vegetable bin?"
"O Honey, please! You've seen them! I need one! Blood sugar's tanking! And underwear."
"Underwear?"
"In bag in closet - please grab one."
"I need to go to the bathroom."
"I sympathize, but I need those! Please hold it and get me stuff!"


After what seemed like a lifetime later, I have both, and he is enthroned on the other commode. If I had known what lay ahead, I might have handled Girlfriend's snow coverage differently.

My doctor wants to hire a home health aide, but at 20 bucks an hour? For stuff like this? I have thought of a service dog :) . With a canine companion, I could have had my tummy filled and my bottom covered in a fraction of the time, with equally fewness of words. I can see it now. A Saint Bernard, a basket under his chin, holding my necessities! Good Doggy! Of course, Amy would object. And it wouldn't be fair to the dog. Duane doesn't like them, and I'm not the person I used to be when it comes to walking, and scooping, and playing Frisbee :( . *sigh*

Anyway, I have found a whistle attached to my mailbox key :D! And I tried it! And instead of calling the Honey twice, over same fan but different classical composer, only to end up walking down the hall to inform him personally of lunch, I blew the whistle! And he came! :D I. am. so. happy! So now, the whistle is in my pocket and just as soon as I can find something better upon which to attach it, I'll do that. So it shall be written, so it shall be done. - Yul Brynner, The Ten Commandments.

Speaking of food, I need supper. Tootles, my loves.


:hug:
sara
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"I would like an abundance of peace. I would like full vessels of charity. I would like rich treasures of mercy. I would like cheerfulness to preside over all." - St. Brigid of Kildare

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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Wed Apr 11, 2018 11:49 pm

This morning was the second in a row, that there was no snow on the ground :) .

Today the high was thirty degrees above yesterday's, and it sure is welcome. Tomorrow morning - I haven't checked the weather as yet - but Sister Petra Clare's Mass is scheduled for 8:30 AM. I want to go, and I can get there and back before Duane is up, probably - at least I think so. Btw, the pendant of the icon she created (it's of our 16th Great-Grandma Blessed Margaret Pole, just to refresh your memory) isn't water-proof; it's resistant, but I noticed that after a particularly rainy outing, one of the lower corners had a bit of the picture peeling away. I couldn't tamp it back down - it just crumbled on my finger when I touched it.

I'd already taken a bunch of swipes of clear polish to the piece; I just didn't feel it was safe as it was. But that bit didn't get the coverage like the rest. So, I took a magic marker and touched up the dark piece of her dress that had melted off. That went well, but then I was worried that the nail polish might come undone, and smear when I painted back over it. Luckily it didn't, and it looks fine again. I had gotten so much done this morning - FOUR LAUNDRY LOADS :D ! - that I won't have a thing to do beyond self-stuff, making the bed and getting Amy squared away, on Thursday.

As it turns out, what we'd hoped for is not coming to pass, about my in-laws' estate. It also explains why things which we were promised, like home repairs, aren't happening. Apparently, monies that were allotted to the Honey's brothers, are being kept by the county where they lived. They both spent the last years of their lives in those nursing homes, and, without our knowledge, the bulk of the estate was retained by the county seat because the guys were wards of the state. It doesn't matter that their payments were met; there's a clause that allows the local governments to hold onto whatever's left, and that supersedes the parents' will. We weren't really part of that whole thing. Helen wanted the boys cared for, and that's what her will set out to do; I think she'd have been pleased with most of their care.

At the time this all was set down, 1988, I was pregnant with Michael. Duane had just been awarded at his job, and everything was looking up. By 2000, my mother, and mother and father-in-law had died. My father had remarried, and was driving us nuts. We had bought our home in '91, the one we're still in. Michael was found to be autistic, Duane was laid off and on disability, and Lloyd was re-housed. Phil was still living in the family home, and that was about to be sold out from under him. Anyway, I can rejoice in that we are no worse off than we've ever been before :lol: . But I had hoped that we would be a bit ahead at this point. Once I get to age 65, I'll be out from under the ACA. Here's hoping that Congress won't destroy Medicare in the meantime.

One happy new thing: I have a Brazilian friend who is helping me to get an Our Lady of the Apocalypse. This is what she looks like, from the shop in San Paulo

Image

She's about 7" tall, and I love that She straddles the moon in order to keep hold of the dragon. I stumbled onto Her, as I tend to do, and translated the page. After seeing all of the others (which are dated from the 17 and 1800's on Ebay), and find that they are asking for anywhere from 1,300 - 3,000 bucks for what amounts to museum pieces that I can't possibly maintain, I figured I could afford 85 rials. The trouble was that some parts of the page were still in Portuguese, so I called Terrie to ask what they meant. The next thing I know, I'm being told that her brother lives in the area, could buy it for me and bring it here when he comes to visit in this summer - if I don't mind waiting. Of course I don't! That is so lovely of her, but that's Terrie. She's more concerned that I not get taken (it doesn't look as though they do international shipping from this shop), and wouldn't hear of not stepping in. The Lady is new, made of resin and a good size. I was going to have the Catholic bookstore take delivery - they agreed to for me - but now, Terrie is bringing Her to my home :D. I am so pleased :D .

Well, I need dinner. Take care.


sara
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"I would like an abundance of peace. I would like full vessels of charity. I would like rich treasures of mercy. I would like cheerfulness to preside over all." - St. Brigid of Kildare

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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Sat Apr 14, 2018 11:15 am

My luck finally ran out with the cold/flu season.

Starting Tuesday, I woke up with a sore throat and that was the end. It's still hurting, and there's sinus, and a whooping-type cough. I'm taking multi-remedy stuff and that gives some relief, but it doesn't last. So yesterday, while I was at the grocer's, I stopped into one of those mini-clinics just to make sure it wasn't strep.

I'd forgotten that they need a whole history and med list; I just thought that they'd look down my mouth, and tell me what it was - I mean, why not? There's something about being in a store that makes it seem less medical, like watching an arbiter on TV and figuring this isn't a real court; that I could have paid my bill with a chicken or a gallon of milk. But it's not strep, just some ouchiness with a side of the creeping crude. When I go out today, I'll pick up some more over-the-counter so that I can keep going.

There's a fund-raiser today. I bought two bags of clementines, in lieu of an entree because I can't carry much, and a bag full of items that people might want to buy. I've already been up and medicated myself, went back to bed, got up, took the drugs which ease my existence and downed a near pint of Glucerna. I just feel lousy. And if that wasn't enough

A dialogue started in my head. I think it's the cold talking, but, there I am, I'm minding my own business, and who should be making a phone call but Warwick Fallon. He hasn't had a word to say in over a year - in fact, if he were real, he would be dead by now. But, since his story doesn't take place in real time, and everything's been in stasis, I hadn't thought too much about him. Of course, he's been worried about Richard, and his own health, and who is going to take over the responsibility of the golem, but as most characters do, I suppose, he's not been too concerned about me. Me, who makes it possible for him to draw breath on these pages.

Anyway, "A Marvellous Proper Man", just began spooling out, and it was all I could do to get home and put it down before I forgot most of it. Even so, it needed a bit of fleshing. I had to do that on my own, since Brother Ryan and he have been deathly quiet since yesterday morning. I'm glad, because I really wanted to find out what happens. It's a bit like Jurassic Park meets My Fair Lady, without all the screaming and singing - though there will be some of both, come to think of it.

What started this up again, I think, was "Westworld". Season 1 just finished, and after watching the 1973 movie again, I thought I might check it out. You know, it amazes me that there are people who would want to go to a place where they could do dastardly deeds without consequence. I mean, :wtf: . Why wouldn't you want to find out what it was like living as a Plains Indian? Or working as a volunteer in an army field hospital, during the Civil War? Or being a slave on a plantation? See it from the other side! Learn something! Do something historic!

"No!" Says the average Guest of Westworld. "I'd rather rape, and murder, and burn; eat people and horses; watch hogs date cattle, and cats diddle with dogs!" Okay, I exaggerate, on those last few. But the narratives - if you can call them that - are so gruesome and awful. And I'm waiting for some humanity to raise its timid head, and every time it does (say, have a maintenance crew member cover a naked Host), they're made to feel like idiots because these aren't people - they're objects. They have no modesty, they do not feel the cold, unless their programming tells them to.

Mel used to ask me why I watched "The Sopranos" - those folks being as they were. And it was mainly because of Tony. When he went into therapy, and explained how "noble" :/ his bunch was, like the Romans of old :/ , taking care of their own :/ - when they weren't hustling protection money from them, or breaking their kneecaps when they couldn't pay. It was fascinating, because he really believed it! Like all little fascists do!

I don't believe people are like that. Apparently Michael Crichton did. And I loved Jurassic Park; I still get teary when I see those herds of dinosaurs in the first half-hour of the film, and John Williams' soaring score wafting over them. But would I want to live among them, hell no! They poop bigger than I am, for one. Which is why I think the Lord, in His infinite wisdom, DID NOT PUT HUMANS AND THESE BIG THINGS ON THE PLANET AT THE SAME TIME! YES! AND I BELIEVE GOD MADE ALL THIS - OVER BILLIONS OF YEARS, YOU WACK-A-DOODLES, WITH THE SEVEN-DAY-CREATION PLAN! DAVID COPPERFIELD MEETS JENNIE CRAIG! MAKE THE CRETACEOUS PERIOD COME AND GO IN ONE WEEK!

See. This how I am on cold meds and diabetic shakes - it's not pretty. I should drink some hot/honey/lemon tea and go back to bed.
Hope I feel better soon.


sara
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"I would like an abundance of peace. I would like full vessels of charity. I would like rich treasures of mercy. I would like cheerfulness to preside over all." - St. Brigid of Kildare

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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Tue May 01, 2018 2:53 am

It was ridiculous, I suppose.

When we married, I was excited and scared and hopeful. I thought that we'd have the kids we wanted, the jobs we deserved and the homes we could afford. And when we got too old to work, we'd have each other, the grandkids and home. We lost our jobs due to a combination of the robber-barony of the '90's and our own declining health. It's a nice home, and as I sit here, typing in my bedroom, I can't see living anywhere else. And we've gotten the right kid, and we're very blessed to have him.

There's something to be said for checking out your family's past. In my own lineage, I can't get beyond my great-grandparents, not without experts who know at least one Eastern European language besides Slovenian. Duane, on the other hand, has (De) Spencers, Stuarts and Staffords, Hastings and Howards and Plantagenets. There's Rollo the Viking, William the Conqueror, and Richard Rich. Of his many times great-grandparents, one was left to die to in the Tower when he refused to attend a Protestant Sunday service put forth by his cousin, Elizabeth I, while two others were sent to the ax, by both Bess, and her father, Henry VIII.

Philip Howard died at 38 from dysentery, a prisoner in the Tower. We compared a photo of our son Michael, age 19 then, to a painting of Philip at 18, and the resemblance is uncanny. The brows, the nose, the lips, those apple cheeks. The jaw line isn't square, but who can tell with those collars? Young Philip was canonized by Pope Paul VI in 1970, one of the 40 Martyrs of the Elizabethan Reign. Duane is descended from his one and only child. Both of my in-laws, Mom & Dad, have common ancestors throughout. The only joy I get is that there's no direct line to the Tudors. They're cousins, so they're family, but my lil' old Plantagenet fan girl heart is delighted that they're not closer.

Image

At first I was jealous. I'll admit it. I mean, all those names that you can just google and they'd be there - who'd've thunk it? But, since last week, I'm finding myself more appreciative of my mongrel bits and begottens. The Honey has nodes on the right side of his thyroid, that are going to be checked out, and we just had a dental visit (again), for some chipped teeth.

The thyroid is hyperish, and these nodules have been under watch for the last couple of years. This last ultrasound showed two of the buggers have grown. So he's off the med to help the function, and over the next few weeks, he'll have another look-see. Results from that will help us decide if we want the whole organ removed, or he'll get a dose of radioactive iodine which will shrink the suckers. The first means the rest of his life on pills, but the second would mean that the rest of his life would be okay. It won't have the time to grow back, in the life he has left - unless, in addition to everything else, he's got a touch of Vulcan.

And then there's his teeth. Three are chipped, right smack together. Two can be filled, but the front tooth could have what's called a 'build up'. If that should hold, he won't need a crown, and crown will cost, what these three teeth together will, doubled. We could buy two Comfort Height Toilet Cadet Pros or two Pressure Assisted Crappers with that. It's astonishing to me how aligned the alimentary canal and household plumbing is. But such is life.

Yesterday Duane and I went to a gathering for the 9th Day of Ridvan. The Bane and Wife were there, and it went fine. And it did, I think, because of what I told him. He gave me wide berth in a condominium party room, barely bigger than our front space. She ignored me, I ignored her, and Liz and Dick buffered me. Whenever there was a seat open to my right, one or the other planted themselves there; Duane was on my left. It would have been perfect, had not Barb rushed out to tell me how proud she was of me as we were leaving.

I felt like a puppy who'd managed to make it to the lawn. It's a DMZ, and the war has just been declared. We're not going to their house, or any other in our fair city. As far as we're concerned C/WT is our community. Duane said that even if we should survive the B_, that he doesn't want to go back. The three others that came, were fine, and I got to introduce Duane and myself to Rick's bride, who is an absolute peach of a lady. But we were there, we showed up, because that's our spiritual home. We have everything we could possibly want. We can host Feast, Holy Days, Devotions; we contribute to their Funds. They accommodate our little family well, so much so, without pretense or pity, that it's easy to overlook how nuts they make me when it comes to Justice. I do feel it's been obstructed around here, in favor of Unity. But you can't have Unity, unless you pass through Love, Peace and Justice. That's the protocol - like it or not. And, btw, that's the topic for the next Devotions. I volunteered for it, so I'd better get cracking. I've got time, but if I really want to make a point, I can't wait until the last minute...

Okay. It's almost 11 PM, and I am very tired. Have a nice day, joons, or night, depending on where you are.



sara
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"I would like an abundance of peace. I would like full vessels of charity. I would like rich treasures of mercy. I would like cheerfulness to preside over all." - St. Brigid of Kildare

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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Sun May 06, 2018 4:36 am

Once there was God, and God was alone. And He wanted someone to love, which is the most human thing. So He planned for Humanity to come into being, and like all good Parents, He began to nest for them.

From the Love grew the Elements, the Dust, and all the Stuff. It gathered and swirled, finding places to settle until all was Peace. Now, with Peace, God could lay out His plans. What would make the Cosmos, and Nature - all the bits and pieces He had brought forth in Love, with nothing left over. Peace was fine for building, but how could these parts interact? Grit and grains, so tiny they couldn't be seen with the naked eye, were drawn to one another. Some were made of such stuff that they melted, and burned. Plants harmony was short-lived. They twined and crawled across the ground, grabbing for the Sun and whatever water they could catch. With their long spindly toes, they kneaded the soil and lifted their heads in riots of color.

Amoebas sang as they spread, and the animals took their place among the created. Some ate the amoebas, some ate the plants, but others, smelling the delicious scents of their fellows, hunted them down for breakfast. It took time; some say it was only one week of seven twenty-four hour days. But I think it took just as much time as was needed to make it perfect; God, being God, would not rush something so sublime and precious as this home for His children. And Justice saw to it that the Stars burned bright. The Planets moved, the Galaxies hummed and clashed. And one little blue Planet looked good enough to eat, and God saw it.

It grew all that the Children needed. When it was ready, and all of the Great Ancient Beasts were gone to bone, and their lush trees, grasses, and dung were crushed by the Earth into veins of coal and rich pools of crude, God set Man upon it.

Unity was the final part. And all was unified within the vastness of Space. Each had and played the part for which it was created. All but Man. Man, God had gifted, with free will. Oh, there was some instinct - what could be called intuition - but Man was largely left to his own agency. The protocol of Love, Peace, Justice and Unity worked very well for all the others in God's Orbit. They followed His direction without complaint, from the tiniest quark to the largest world. Some would say, it is because they cannot think, that they lack sentience. But might they possess a wisdom which we do not?

At any rate, God saw that His plan worked so well, as far as the home for His children, that He considered it for the Teaching and Growth of Humanity. But, to this He added Law, and saw this as a Fortress for their protection.

Say, Law is the floor. Love is the frame. Peace the walls, and Justice the roof, door and windows. And Unity becomes the house. However, Man needed Teachers - God saw this. With Man's free will and no one to guide him, he would behave worse than the innocent animals, who only take what they need. So, God sent Prophets, like Isaiah, to hearten the people, and Manifestations, like Noah, to begin the course of an ever-advancing civilization*.

And once more, there was Love, with Jesus. The nomads of the past had settled in Cities and Towns, and the ways of making blind and toothless denizens, no longer made sense. Hundreds of warring Tribes and their Factions, embraced the Peace of Muhammad, and became a Great Nation. In The Bab, I see Justice. Others may not, and I don't insist on anything; this is only what I see. But among His followers, was a legendary Poet, Táhirih.

She was born Zarrin-Taj, in 1817 Persia. Her father, finding her a bright and engaging pupil, educated her in private, and later bemoaned the fact that she had not been born a boy. Had she, he declared, he could praise her in public and be one in whom he could take pride. She wrote early and often, but it wasn't until her discovery of the teachings of Shaykh Ahmad, and correspondence with his successor, Siyyid Kazim, that her lettering began to truly flourish.

Traveling to the Shi'a Holy City of Karbala, she had meant to meet with Siyyid Kazim. But Táhirih arrived too late, the great Shaykhi having died days before. But from what she had learned, Táhirih was soon made aware that the Promised One of Shi'a Islam was alive in the world, and, independently of anyone else, became acquainted with the teachings of The Bab, and embraced His faith.
+

While the Báb was imprisoned in the north of Iran, His Cause continued to spread throughout the country. In June 1848, a large group of His followers met in the village of Badasht. Their gathering would prove to be a defining moment in the movement’s history. There, they debated what their movement stood for, how to achieve their goals in the face of a rising tide of opposition and how to secure the Báb’s release. It was at Badasht that they realized that the Báb’s mission represented a sudden, complete and dramatic break with the religious and social traditions of the past. And into their midst, stepped Táhirih.+

The conference was electrified by her explicit clarifications of the implications of the Báb’s message. He was, she announced, the long-awaited Manifestation of God, and the founder of a new and independent religious dispensation. To demonstrate this, she appeared on one occasion without the veil required by Muslim tradition. Her action proved to be a severe test of faith for some of the Bábís, and news of the event further aroused the antagonism of the Muslim clergy. - from Baha'i.org


She was seized, and placed under house arrest. Then, one dark eve, a group of men arrived, demanding her. Her hosts found her in her room, adorned and perfumed as a bride. She gave her remaining belongings to the lady of house, embraced those who had cared for her, and was ridden off into the night. To this day, we do not know where she is buried.

Baha'u'llah has said, "Justice bringeth forth the appearance of unity." And Unity is the basis of Baha'i belief. If it then be said, that Baha'u'llah is Love, that Abdu'l-Baha is Peace, that the Beloved Guardian, Shoghi Effendi, is Justice and The Universal House of Justice is Unity, what denial can there be? The Globe itself is ripe for this, and I can't help but wonder, if what I see now, is necessary for the whole World to realize that nobody can go it alone. That we need to love, to make peace, to be just to one other, and see ourselves, from now on, as One People, as Earthlings...

And who will be the ones to say that is not the Future?


sara

*All men have been created to carry forward an ever-advancing civilization. - Baha'u'llah, GLEANINGS, page 215

+ all italics are mine, and all the contents herein were written by me, unless otherwise stated.
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"I would like an abundance of peace. I would like full vessels of charity. I would like rich treasures of mercy. I would like cheerfulness to preside over all." - St. Brigid of Kildare

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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Thu May 17, 2018 12:55 pm

I'm finally content with the Devotions program.

Ultimately, I didn't like the wiki section on Tahirih and ditched it in favor of what I've known of her for over fifty years, and two paragraphs from Baha'i.org. I'm glad I started on it when I did :) ; Sunday's the day. Michael won't be coming. Renee's out of town, and so we cancelled. It'll be easier to do this without him. He's never liked art in school, and that's continued. There'll be a couple of prayers, the 'creation' story, a craft period (I'm thinking folks will probably want bookmarks; we're a pretty avid bunch when it comes to reading), and a little nosh after. I'm hoping people will enjoy it.

Today we're hosting the Feast of Grandeur. Duane chose the Writings, and I'm responsible for refreshments. But, I just have been having the worst couple of weeks with my shoulders, and I couldn't think of what to feed everybody. So I fell back on my second super power...ordering pizza.

I've always wanted to have a catered feast. You might have thought that in all these years I would have done it already. But when I was able-bodied and could rub together any two brain cells of my choosing, it seemed extravagant. And besides, there weren't the delivery options that there are now anyway. So, we've got meatballs, veggie pizza, salad with choice of three dressings and brownies. We'll bring a bottle of Coke Zero (vintage 2019, meaning that's when it'll go flat if you don't drink it by then), and the Scriptures that the Honey's printed out.

I could have had the beverages provided, too, but it's Pepsi *shudder*. I have been known to drink Diet Pepsi, under duress when I simply can't stand the thought of water, but it would never be choice I'd give freely. Now we do like their Root Beer, Mountain Dew, and Dr. Pepper, but for diabetics, if you want to have more carbs for dinner, it's got to be sugarless. There's nothing as wasteful to me as drinking sugared cola. I mean it's down the throat and you're done, when you could be having the equivalent in, say, pasta. Btw, my heartiest apologies to those of you who look upon Coke as the anti-christ, but hey, isn't it wonderful that we live in a world where we have choice :D ?

On Monday, we bought Phil's tombstone. It's amazing how little time it took. I found an example online

Image

We like the Baha'i within the 9-pointed star; we think Phil would love this. We love the stone, too. It's the same grain as the rose granite my other in-laws have, but with the black, it will draw attention. Phil loved the Baha'i Faith, and this is another opportunity for him to let people know about it. I say it took little time, but this has been on our minds for months. Once we saw this, it wasn't hard and I was happy to go with whatever Duane wanted. I was glad to see him speak up, and I could just sit back. It'll be months before it's ready, but it'll be complete and in place by Philip's birthday in December.

Speaking of Philips, Fourteen Times Great-Grandpa Saint Philip Howard will be arriving today. His portrait is my Mother's Day present from my guys :) . I'll have to go hunting for a 10 x 12 1/2 frame for it - it's an odd size, alright - but then we won't have to sacrifice any of it to fit. I was afraid I'd miss it, so I've asked for the delivery tube to go to Linda upstairs.

Geek Squad's coming tomorrow. I've got so much happening, and I haven't forgotten Duane's thyroid situation. It's good, it's benign, but we're still not done, and there's a bunch to write. But I did want to say that's he's fine *teary*. I'm so glad, I was scared. Anyway, I've got to wrap this up.


later joons,

sara
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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Sun May 20, 2018 11:17 am

Thyroid.

It is one, of if not thee, weirdest looking organ in the human body - sort of like Spongebob on a bender. Anyway, like the rest of the endocrine system, you definitely want it behaving, or at least have the best possible solution when it isn't. This time last week, we knew nothing except that the Honey would be having a scan come Monday morning. As the nurse took him to the back, I heard her say, "Did they tell you this was in two parts?"

Anyway, he's not gone two minutes when she comes back to me, and says that it's going to have to be rescheduled. Why?!" I query. "Because," she replies, "he's not stopped taking the Tapazole."

"Yes he has."
"He says he hasn't."
"Listen. The last dose was on the 24th. I buy and supply him his drugs. I pulled out the rest, and stuck the bottle in the back of the drawer. His doctor told me 4 times, and her nurse, 6, not to give it to him. He. has. not. taken. it."


One quick word on this stuff. It's for hyperthyroidism, and I know just enough about nuclear medicine that they didn't have to belabor the point about getting him off of it, but it mattered so much that they wanted to make it abundantly clear. Btw, as we were leaving, I asked if Duane knew what the pill looked like. He didn't. Anyway, he swallowed just a smidge of radiotracers, was told not to eat or drink for an hour, and then to come back the next day around 3 PM, to read what the organ uptook in an ultrasound - hence, the part deux.

From thereon, it was downhill. The scan was inconclusive. The next day, we meet back with the specialist. She says she wants a fine needle aspirate done, and we'll go from there. That following morning, we're at the pathologist's who rubs jelly around my hubby's neck, makes two dots with a marker (for the one 1 cm node, and the other 3 cm), numbs them with lidocaine, and starts stabbing the spots with all the vigor of a Singer sewing machine. I stood next to Duane, holding his hands across his belly, and telling him to hold still - it was fine if he wanted to squish my fingers, just so long as he didn't move.

He was great, and my digits survived the ordeal as well. So. The slides showed benign cells, which was fantastic. However, this sucker needs to stop growing. Back we go to the thyroid doc. Results show that Duane's not a candidate for surgery, but a dose of radioactive 131 (iodine), is the most likely ticket to whip this varmint into shape. On Wednesday, the 23rd, we'll be off to the big campus for that.

What scares me, and I do mean scares, is that for 72 hours after, I can't be in close proximity to him. It's a good thing we don't sleep in the same bed; we each have our own room, so I won't have to take the couch. He'll be excreting the radiation over the three days, and in that time I can't hug him, the throat being the place wherein the glowiness will reside. I haven't asked, but I'm assuming that he has to keep away from Amy, too. I thought I might make a sign for his bedroom door, ABANDON HOPE, ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE! with the date and time that I can finally ignore it. So, that's what's in store for us this week.

BUT WAIT! THERE'S MORE!

I had called Geek Squad a few days before, and an absolutely adorable Valerie showed up, looking like she'd just left Cosplay. I am not kidding. Geek is the operative word here. She loves anime, and was simply tickled to death that I, in my dotage, knew Sailor Moon. She's got the backpack, the pink-tinted pigtails, the Japanese schoolgirl tie and suspenders, and sports a GEEK SQUAD badge on her hip. I am envious, I'm not afraid to say, of not only her outfit but her smarts. She is a brilliant kid, and after 5 minutes she had subdued my laptop. But, it was Duane's computer, doing its best Queen Nehelenia imitation, that took 5 hours Val will never get back.

Long story short, she disconnected the vertical hard drive, carried it to the car (neither one of us can do this anymore), and once safely stowed, packed it off to the shop. Last night, I got an email around 10 PM to come and get it, it's ready. Valerie has offered to hook it back up, but we didn't think it would be ready so soon. I mean, why not, it was on Friday that we took it in, so with the linux OS system and all, the guys figured it wouldn't be done until Tuesday around 6 PM. So, that's the pickup time. Now, we can get it sooner, but I'm doing the Devotions Program today - Sunday - and for some reason, I can't make a reservation through my account online. *heavy sigh, low growl accompanied by fist-fulls of hair.* Anyway, it's just after 7 AM here, and things will just have to stew until then.
Oh, and they don't do linux :roll: , so the thing is being downloaded into a hard drive with Window 10. Anyway, I'll have to get that all rescheduled. I hope it's soon.

Yesterday, about three hours north of here, I went to a discussion about the Virgin Mary. That's something I really want to get into, but right now, I think I'd better quit and save it for later. After having one doctor visit that morphed into five more, plus a surgery, devices throwing tantrums, and worry about my Honey, I just don't have the energy right now. Thank God for my neighbors.

Linda came downstairs with a full pot of her famous chicken and rice soup, Rosemary bestowed a half-loaf of peanut butter bread on the Honey, and Jenny, seeing how knackered I was when I got home yesterday, has offered assistance at a phone call away. I am so, so, so blessed. And just plain exhausted from reliving all this...


'hi-ho-hi-ho, it's back to bed I go,'
sara
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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Mon May 21, 2018 9:15 pm

Good news - Computer is back home with Linux OS gone and Windows 10 installed! :D

Bad news - Computer needed hooked up to function. :(

Good - I hooked up computer, by pretending it was a hyper-alimentation device used to deliver nutritional components to cancer patients. It didn't know it wasn't, and now the mouse works and he's online. :D

Bad - Honey can't find Favorites. He can't find Documents. It looks like download didn't work. WTF is BING? :(

Good - I called Geeks. They are very nice. :D

Bad - No Geek available until next Saturday. :(

Good - But that Geek will be Valerie! :D

Bad - Can't get Valerie before Saturday. Squad has no Cancellation List. :(

Good - We have given up on getting help from Valerie until Saturday. :D

Bad - Honey has Dental Appointment on Tuesday. Don't like Dentist at all. :(

Good - Honey has Dental Appointment on Tuesday. He needs broken tooth fixed and cavities filled, so Dentist is necessary. :D

Bad - Don't have extra wife to chat with while Honey is being repaired. :(

Good - Don't have extra wife. I might not like her. :D

Bad - Go to Nuclear Medicine Wednesday. :(

Good - Maybe I can sleep in the waiting room? :D

Bad - Can't hug the Honey or let him near the cat until he stops glowing. :(

Good - It's not permanent. :D

Bad - It will take 72 hours or 3 days to excrete glowiness. :(

Good - Three days doesn't sound as long as 72 hours. :D

Bad - I'm worried about the Honey. :(

Good - People are praying for the Honey. :D

Bad - This whole week sucks. :(

Good - We're going to 'Steak n Shake' after Dentist; hope teeth will be okay. :/

sara
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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Fri May 25, 2018 9:27 am

The Iodine-131 didn't happen.

I set up everything for Duane. One of my neighbors was going with us, and I fell asleep around 11 PM. I wake up about 10 after 2 with this over-whelming sense of dread, and I can't shake it. I called the Crisis-Line, talked to one of them for over an hour. Got the chaplain from the hospital on the line, did the same; he said a prayer. It's illogical, the whole damn thing.

He's got a whole bath to himself, but how do I protect the cat? I'm supposed to separate out his clothes, wash them apart from mine; the same with his sheets and towels, but that won't affect the machines? We don't have our own washer and drier - we share one set with eleven other families. And while he's in his room, there's a four-year-old with multiple heart surgeries in the room above him, and a lady, my age, right below. He's to use plastic utensils, and we throw them away. But they're radioactive, right? That's why he can't use our metal forks and spoons. And while these sit in the dumpster, they're irradiating everything around them - including the ravens, squirrels and possums that manage to find their way in. The more I talked, the more frightened I became. Not to mention the fact that both of our mothers were exposed to kill their cancer, and they died anyway. So by morning, I was hysterical. There's a computer tech coming on Saturday, I told a the nurse in radiology.

"It'll be okay. Just wipe down the keyboard."
"What with? Can she sit on his chair to work?"
"I wouldn't."


How, pray, is any of this different from hiding under your desk as the nukes arrive?

When we were starting our family, he made the decision about adoption. Somebody said that adoption takes two yeses - or one no. I was very conscious of the risks of having our own, not to mention the fact that I saw babies given up after birth and I could have loved each and every one of them. But Duane's not like that. So we punched through the infertility, and after one miscarriage, we had Mike. Leaving the behavioral clinic, diagnosis in hand when Michael was three, Duane apologized to me. I nearly decked him.

So, here we are again. Another big life decision, and one that makes me want to flee to the hills. The next appointment with the endocrinologist is June 1st. GOD DAMN IT...

At least Valerie will be safe.


sara
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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Sun May 27, 2018 1:00 pm

Valerie's been and gone. Both computers are working fine, and I wish now that we'd done all of that sooner. It's hard to remember sometimes what I've covered in here. I'm don't feel any differently about the radioactive iodine procedure than I did when I cancelled it Wednesday morning. But I did finally leave my current GP.

It felt like I'd been with her for a decade. I hated going there. I hated the paperwork she handed me, and the unbelievable list of garbage diagnoses attributed, most of which were about depression. She would never once consider that it was her handling of me that was making me upset. That I loathed her willful inability to listen, besides the things she told me about working in some civil-warring nation's hospital, and its armies of soldiers, all refusing admission to patients, unless you paid them.

When I asked her why she was telling me this, she shrugged and said, "I just wonder what kind of healthcare you want."
"The kind where I call you and tell you when there's a problem. Not every ninety days..."
"Well you're not doing what I'm recommending, and I have problems with that."
"I don't think they're necessary, besides I can't pay for them. Right now, I owe 1,400.00 for the echo you ordered."
She was aghast.
"That much?!?"
"Yes, that much - over and above the 1,200 bucks they'd already taken from insurance."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
But, that didn't stop her insisting on the colonoscopy, mammogram, etc. What part of I have no income don't you get, doctor?

So, I called the office I was going to with Duane, and asked if they'd take me back. It turns out that I was still listed as a patient, and that I had only left him in August of 2016. If you'll remember, it was because he was suddenly "out-of-network" with CareSource, and I had to find somebody else. Anyway, he's refilled my anti-depressant (which she had allowed to lapse; as of Saturday, I would have been without them for going on seven weeks), and the appointment that I had scheduled with her, has been picked up by him. Just having my prescription back (I've been taking them since Dr. C_ gave me my first script), has made me feel more like myself. Just having the bottle in my hand as I left the pharmacy Wednesday morning and walking back to the car, was having a placebo effect, and five tablets later, I no longer feel like I'm falling.

I'll have to pay him out of pocket for the appointments, but otherwise, I'll be covered by CS. I did think of cancelling it, and giving him the monthly 117.79, like a retainer, but then, what if, let's say, I'm in an accident? So, there's just 17 more months to go until Medicare :D !

:roll:

Happy Sunday, my joons,
My joons, here and there.
My joons, far and near.
My joons in the park, my joons in the dark.

On boat, in a moat, with a goat eating groats.

Wearing bows in the snows,
On a train in the rain,
Eating buns in the sun,
Shouting loud to the clouds.

With a bevy in a Chevy,
To a lodge in Dodge,
Across a fjord in a Ford,
As slick as a Buick...



sara

PS Sorry, Dr. Seus
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"I would like an abundance of peace. I would like full vessels of charity. I would like rich treasures of mercy. I would like cheerfulness to preside over all." - St. Brigid of Kildare

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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Sat Jun 02, 2018 1:26 pm

We had until Tuesday next week to let the specialist know if it's the iodine or surgery.

She's threatened to drop Duane as a patient if we haven't made up our minds by then. Friday was a horror. He's said he wants to go the swallow route, and if I felt then as I do now - which is that I no longer care - it would have been decided before we'd headed for the car. If he wants to take the 131, then fine. But I'm not doing anything differently. No separate washing, utensils, etc. If there's such a minor risk, as she's insisting, then why should I complicate my life?

That the "nurse" who was "informing" me, is no more educated than I am. And what Dr. G_ said made it seem like nothing by comparison. I would go for the knife, myself, but now I'm thinking, I have hypothyroidism. Maybe, just maybe, I can get a jolt from his procedure, that would fix it? I'm not talking having a cuddle, but what if I go about my routine as if it all never happened? It may be worth it. After all, what could it hurt? Btw, we tried to find an email address for the endocrinologist, but there is no such thing. So, I got the phone number for Duane, and he left the message, saying that he wants the 131. They should respond to it come Monday.

If it over stimulates my thyroid, I'll have it removed, and I won't be any the worse off than I am now. If it does nothing, it's the same, but if the iodine gives it a kick that corrects it, then so much the better. Just making lemonade, like I've done for the past 36 years. So, that's the end of that.

Mike's coming tomorrow. I'm so glad. I'm looking forward to the visit. The farmer's market we frequent has reopened under new management, and this'll be the first time we'll be paying it a visit. There's a Devotions on the 15th, and he's always here for Father's Day, so the month is covered for him.

That's all. There's nothing more right now...


sara
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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Mon Jun 04, 2018 11:15 pm

Why. Why. Why. Why.

Here we go. Gay couple plans wedding. Goes to bakery to purchase cake. Baker denies couple cake, because of religious beliefs. Couple sues baker. Case goes up the chain to the Supreme Court. Supreme Court rules for baker because couple was mean to him. Essentially that's the ruling. Grooms were so upset with this baker, that the Court ruled 7-2 in favor of the confectioner.

Now, I've been married 36 years. I don't even remember what our cake looked like - I've got pictures, but it could have been a card board cut out. And my parents ate the top of the cake, which was by tradition, to be saved for our first anniversary. My mother informed me that it was history probably before we consummated our union (just so you know, we are an old fashioned couple.)

Anyway, and I'm sure I've said something about this before, because I can't believe I didn't, that when the answer was no, why wouldn't you just say, "Okay. Sorry to bother you," and hie yourselves to a baker whose first words would be "Congratulations! What have you in mind?"

Petty little people who put PROTECT RELIGIOUS LIBERTY signs on their lawns, and think that it violates their rights to countenance the protected rights of others, don't deserve the publicity. You know, in your heart of hearts, that's what this was all about. This baker was seeking martyrdom, and you, my children, my dear sweet grooms, gave it to him, with piping and frosting roses. It was precisely what he wanted, and verily, he has his reward.

But do ask yourself, what if you had won? What if the court, in lieu of any penalty, had insisted that this baker extend his business to you? Would you still want this person to prepare the cake? Why? Would you purposely rub his nose in it? If the answer is yes, than I would say, than you're just as petty as he is, don'cha think?

I've got a suggestion...

Wherever you live, find LGBTQ-friendly businesses, and support them. Give them free publicity, through word of mouth, social media, etc., and let them give you the best that they have to offer, to celebrate this next phase of your life. Why would you waste your precious time, your resources, and anything else to punish somebody who couldn't care less about you, and only sees you as a means to an end? As me sainted mother would say, "Piss on 'em". Since when did money - yours and my hard-earned bucks - have a sexual orientation? If a local merchant doesn't want to take it, then, by gum, go and find somebody who does!

Folks who matter, that is, them that loves you, will also spread the word of these lovely tradespeople, and increase their clientele. If I was in need of a cake, the place I'd call is the one around the corner, with the pride flag decal in the window. Being diabetic puts a damper on so much in my life, but I'd never give the satisfaction to anybody who despised me because of whom I loved.


sara
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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Fri Jun 08, 2018 9:14 pm

O my God...

Another unbelievable loss, in the long line of losses that extends back almost to the beginning of the current century. But, these past few years have really been awful, and it's hard to say where I'd begin it. Bowie and Rickman, Prince and more musicians than I can easily name, and the danger is that they may all flow together. The cancers and the accidental overdoses, get mixed up with the deaths by gun and hanging.

I'd never heard of Kate Spade until Tuesday. I'm not into fashion, even a little bit, and I was touched by the outpouring of grief and tributes to her. Looking at the whimsical designs that were her handbags, and bright colors that were her trademark, I'm even more dismayed by her death. How can anybody have such a rich, childlike appreciation of design, or shapes and color, and not have it sustain them? Even more, how can anybody not find the strength to stay for the sake of a child? What kind of legacy is a suicide note to a thirteen-year-old girl?

Which brings me to Anthony Bourdain, whom I'd watched for years. I love No Reservations and Parts Unknown. I learned more about Puerto Rico and Cambodia from him, than I'd ever have gotten from any school. In the one instant, he made me laugh, and in the next I'm sobered and thoughtful, over the lives, culture and food he'd engaged. Injustice and gatherings, poverty and seasonings, all coming together to give me the flavor, however brief the taste, of lands I'll never have the bounty of going to. The people I'll never meet, and the food I can only see, passing on my TV screen in a parade of the world that was Tony's.

I'm no stranger to suicide. I tried to kill myself when I was fourteen. I took an entire bottle of my mother's Librium and crushed a full bottle of aspirin. Mixing them together, I got the tallest glass from the kitchen, filled it with water and drank them down. I don't know why I called for help, but I do know why I did it. My mother had gone back to work, leaving me alone with a list of jobs and two siblings who, not only wouldn't help, but made them all the harder to carry out. I started dinner, did laundry and made the beds. I was twelve when this began. And by the middle of the second year of sitting at the supper table, hearing what I hadn't gotten done, hearing what I hadn't done well, hearing my parents complain about their bosses, and nobody listening to me, I wanted it to stop.

They pumped my stomach, started IVs and called my parents. I spent the whole day in the hospital, and it was dark when we went home. I saw a psychiatrist, took pills and my father bought me a parakeet. Weeks later I was back at school, and nobody said a word since...

Bourdain also had children, a daughter, whom he must have adored. I can't imagine leaving my family like that, especially my kid. Especially my kid. My kid is what makes everything worth it. He keeps me going, as we must all do, living through these times when dicks rule. How on earth could I ever leave him?

It's not our place to take our own life. But many of us do, and only we know why. My heart breaks for those left behind - wondering, worrying, the tears, the anger and all else that must surely follow. The worst is what author Marzieh Gail called, "opening the door to illicit death", and making it easy to embrace a permanent solution to a temporary problem. But, when you hurt so bad, who knows what's temporary any more?

I'm sorry, Kate. I'm sorry, Anthony. Rest easy, and may you find the peace that eluded you here.


sara
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