My dear Joon...

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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Sat Aug 18, 2018 3:05 am

I just got off the phone with the contact for S.N.A.P.

She called me earlier today, and gave me a number for a person in my area. I shared my own abuse stories with her - they weren't sexual, but they were inappropriate. I didn't tell my dad about them until I was 30, it was so humiliating, the whole thing. I don't know what anybody could have expected from a five-year-old back then. It seems to me that a kid that age now, is more like a 7 or 8 year-old, educationally - what with all the stuff that's available these days.

But in 1959, to be five was to be three years out of diapers and that's it. I was thrown against the wall for pinching Denis (who I liked) by Mrs. Kane. When I mouthed off to her, she smacked me so hard that my head went into the cinder blocks, which were all painted that putrid lime green color. I literally saw stars. She was a real piece of work, that one. Screaming, yelling, punching - wonder how she's doing these days - decomposing, no doubt. And there were the sisters, Amay and Joachim. *sigh*

Where did people get the idea that you can manhandle other people's kids? Then I think, it's got to be the same place they assumed they could fuck them.

I'm not naive. This is all over - everywhere this happens, on some level. It's heart-breaking. I've been complaining for years about the mental and emotional abuse I've been subjected to in my local Baha'i community; I can't speak to anything else that hasn't happened to me or been shared with me by others when they don't. But what do you do when people are willfully ignorant? When they won't listen, won't believe or take the word of the abuser over the abused? I don't blame God for any of this, it's never had anything to do with Him. It's always been about power. And I reject this whole you're being tested nonsense for the garbage that it is.

When you're told about the harm that's being done, you have a responsibility to act. Like I did with my mom's older sister, being locked up with Alzheimer's, in the house all day long while her youngest daughter went to work and her son did nothing. So I'm not talking about actions that I haven't taken myself. You can't be so afraid of hell, that you'd allow it to flourish here on earth. Since when has it ever been none of anybody's business when a child is being hurt?

Know why I left my community? Because they couldn't be bothered to do the right thing. I had to come to the conclusion that if justice was stapled to their asses, they still wouldn't be able to find it with both hands and a map. How do I get the good people of this world to do the right thing? I still can't figure out how I can help these families being torn apart at the border. I have never been so angry and felt so helpless in my life when it comes to this regime, let alone the morons in my midst. God...

So, I walk away from bullshit and stay fixing what I can. Make laughter, bring smiles, mend the broken, and keep it together. I can't make anybody more godly, only me. But I can protect the little, the lost and the old from the beasts - that's my job, from here to my dying day. That's my job...


sara
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"He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God." - Aeschylus


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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Mon Aug 20, 2018 8:19 pm

I'm in a bad mood...


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"He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God." - Aeschylus


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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Wed Aug 22, 2018 10:48 pm

Okay, I'm better. Just not sorted enough to post.

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"He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God." - Aeschylus


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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Fri Aug 24, 2018 11:38 pm

I need a bit of a break. The abuse in the Roman Catholic Church has triggered my anger over my own situations, and I can't right now. Sorry.


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"He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God." - Aeschylus


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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Mon Aug 27, 2018 1:02 am

I spent the past few days talking to folks from S.N.A.P. (I should have let you know it stands for Survivors Network of those Abused by Priests), the Secular Franciscans, and BNASAA (Baha'i Network for AIDS, Sexuality, Addictions, and Abuse.)

Combined it helped a lot, but if I had not picked all three, I don't think I would have gotten what I needed.

I'd been to a BNASAA Conference in the past, and I thought I might make contact again, but according to what I've told, The National Spiritual Assembly of Canada thought it was time to move on. So it doesn't really exist any more, as a bonafide organization. S.N.A.P. is sort of on the edge too, though the news out of Pennsylvania might give it a transfusion. From the Franciscans, there's no attachment to personalities from what I've gleaned. Not even the Pope gets in the following list. It's God, the Holy Spirit, Jesus and the Virgin Mary - besides a few favorite saints and blesseds. It's a pretty safe bet that if the individual is deceased, especially by centuries, then they aren't likely to disappoint you.

Anyway, I've been able to bridge the gaps I've been having trouble with, largely because of this latest Grand Jury Report. Through articles I've found from The Washington Post, The Pittsburgh Post-Gazett, and a few others, apparently the way some of the survivors were handled, was to accuse them of gossip and back-biting, solely to destroy the reputations of their abusers. Boy, does that sound familiar. In bringing up the situation to the Baha'i who is familiar with BNASAA - and I mentioned the local assemblies which I had consulted - had one or more that accused me of the same. LSAs are supposed to be where you can discuss these issues. There were three elected bodies in total, and two of them were in the same locality, but because it was years apart, most of the members were no longer part of those elected. It was as though beginning anew. Also I was reminded that I could go to other assemblies, which this person has told me before :roll: , and I knew this was the case. In fact, I'd known this was an option since I was 20-years-old, and I hadn't forgotten that, but such is life.

Not all of us are on the same page in my Faith, like about where what is okay. Not all of us are on the same page in any Faith, for that matter. So, I am thinking about having a pseudo STEP program that those of us who are interested can participate in. I'm going to need to inquire whether or not this kosher - all they can tell me is that it isn't. And that's for all of our protection; it's difficult to explain to you civilians out there. Baha'i is a religious minority, and we can be vulnerable to members of the public who wish us harm, just like Jews and Muslims can be. So I'm going to get in touch with my Auxiliary Board member and see what's said. Watch this space.

In other news, I've tried on one of my new, but-I-can't-wear-them-because-I-didn't-put-them-on-before-I-bought-them jeans, and they fit :D ! Now, I couldn't even pull them up the first time, and this was the smallest pair I have. The other four are a size bigger, but I still need to drop some more weight before they'll be comfortable - let alone less likely to rip right up the bum. So that was reassuring.

We've had a furniture repair person come over. He took loads of pictures of the dining room chairs, the wedge from the sectional and the entertainment center. He was able to fix the ottoman on the spot, but he did warn us that it's fragile. In other words, do not let anyone sit on it. And we've had a contractor come to check out the hall bath. We did get a quote, but I need to ask him some questions about particulars...

I am done for now. Thanks for coming here, my joons. It warms my to heart to know that there are folks that read my mind scribbles. Take care and always be safe.


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"He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God." - Aeschylus


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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Mon Aug 27, 2018 9:23 am

Michael was here yesterday.

Renee had to switch to a lady house (for developmentally-delayed women living in a group home), so that left a man we'd never met before. She felt she had to give me a heads up about him, not so much because of me, but because the home manager was having chipmunks and bunnies over the very idea of it. It appears that this fellow is transgender.

Which would be a new experience for me, not having known anybody who was - or that had at least shared that with me. And I'll grant you, there's a wistfulness about him; a femininity that would break the surface for a moment, before fleeing to the shadows. It wasn't just his shoulder-length hair, or the ghost of the delicate features he must have had in his youth. When that did, you could see it in his face, and hear it in his voice. I'm not saying I didn't have reservations when Renee told me, but the knowing helped.

We took Mike for a haircut, bought flowers for the cemetery, and took them to the family grave site before heading to lunch. All the while, Robert and I talked about a whole slew of things. When we got home, I felt bad about rushing them along - he wanted to get a feel for how it went - and I tried. But Mike wants to leave right then, and I want it end on a good note. I called Renee later, and thanked her for the call, asking her to pass the good feelings I have about him. I would definitely like him to come back in future.

It's early here, but I did feel up to posting about yesterday. I'm going to go back to bed for a bit, since Amy and I have both been fed. Take care, my joons.


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"He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God." - Aeschylus


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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Mon Aug 27, 2018 11:24 pm

There's more to the furniture repair than I thought.

I called this morning and was told that it's going to be up to me to buy the wood, and particle board for repairs. Do I really need to say that this came as a shock? I mean, the dude took all these measurements and photos, so I'm thinkin' he's buying the materials. Not so. He will, when he gets around to it, deliver his specs to the company, who will then inform me. So, I'm going to hie me to a store where I can get two measured slabs of particle board, one measured shelf, and one 2"x 4" piece, I think that's the size. I don't know if I'm supposed to have hardware on hand. I feel less daunted about the whole thing, having slept on it; now I'm just worried about how I get this stuff home and get it upstairs.

Btw, Duane has been to the last physical therapy appointment, and he's to do these exercises for life. He can cut back over time to once or twice a day, when he's further along. After this last time, I said that I'd been wanting to check out London Bobby, which is a fish and chips shop located next to (I thought) a pizzeria. Well, we get inside and it's all pizzeria, with the fish and chips menu on a board just above the kitchen door. Like, "Oh, btw, we also sell fish & chips!" Mike used to come here when he was in junior high, and he'd fold boxes in exchange for a slice, but I wasn't prepared for the way the place looked.

It was greasy. There's no other way to describe it. There's a small dining area off to the side, and everything looked coated *shudder*. I wanted to take a putty knife and just scrape it all down. Meanwhile, the crew noticed us and we were informed that the items we were there for, had not yet arrived on the truck. But, if we could wait a couple of hours, the meals would consist of two beer-battered fish, potato planks, cole slaw and two hush puppies for six dollars - beverage extra. Five ninety-nine is six bucks, I am not fooled. And that is only if you don't want the fish to come on a bun. Now because of the one guy's accent - which was vaguely Manchesterian, and not at all cockney - I would have eaten there, just to listen to him, and blind myself to my surroundings. But, since I was not alone, and the Honey prefers eleven fish sticks, an abundance of crinkle-cut fries and no less than seven hush puppies per lunch, we did not stay *sigh*. I am so sorry I set foot in there. I had visions of a nice clean, well-lit little cove with fish and chips served in newspaper alongside bottles of flavored vinegar, like when I was a kid and Arthur Treacher's was all the rage. Now it's Long John Silver's, and has been for ages, but I wanted a little taste of somewhere I'll never get to, now that I'm so decrepit.

Anyway, speaking of decrepitude, I'm getting worried about the meds I'm taking for the diabetes, with my active weight loss. I probably don't need the glipizide any more, and I don't want to have low blood sugar issues - which can kill you just like high ones can. So, the next appointment Duane has, I've piggy-backed onto, and I'll need to have fasting lab work before. I feel fine, but then I never had symptoms. My A1C, when I was diagnosed, was 13.7; I was literally a walking bag of Snickers. And as the numbers came down to 5.1, I started having trouble seeing, pains in my feet, numbness in my hands, etc. - which was so weird, because I never had the slightest problem before. So that is coming up. Oh, and the other day, we were going to the library, and decided to have fajitas at the Mexican restaurant in the shopping center.

We hadn't been there in while, and it's very nice - family run place, and I was apprehensive because the last time, I couldn't fit into the booth. THIS TIME I DID :yay: ! And I'd brought my Tupperware with me for left overs. I save my tortillas for them, and I dump everything into the container, except the flan. It was great, and so was later, when it was just me and the leftovers, watching The Darkest Hour (see it, please. It's got a few inaccuracies - like Winston getting on the underground to Westminster, and asking his fellow riders how they'd handle the Nazi hordes - but it's a great companion piece to Dunkirk.)

Oh, my...

I'm feeling so much better. I can tell because I am actually enjoying the trouble that Mr. Trump is finding himself in *chuckle*. Couldn't happen to a nicer guy :) . I have plans to watch as much as I can of Senator McCain's funeral - I've been following every day since his passing. What an amazing individual he was.

“He was a man, take him for all in all,
I shall not look upon his like again.” ― William Shakespeare, Hamlet




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"He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God." - Aeschylus


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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Mon Sep 10, 2018 12:10 am

I had to go back to see what was going on, I've been so discombumberated.

We had no Michael today. The tail end of Gordon came up our way and change our hot sweaty weather to a damp chill. Everybody at his house has got the coughs and sniffles, which is sliding into the creeping crud - that's a medical term. So, Renee called this morning, coughing so hard that she could barely get a word out, and since I had already set up the grilled cheese sandwiches, adjusted the seats in the car, and was just waiting for them to arrive, I ended up changing back into jammies, and the Honey ate the grilled cheese for breakfast.

I'm sorta glad it was cancelled. It's miserable here - meteorologists all agree. It rained, more like dumped, whole tons of water on the verge starting late Friday night. I shouldn't complain. The flora just looked like if it could pull itself out of dirt and move to a more inviting clime, it would. The grass was the worst; it had turned a straw-brown, and if it could talk, it would say its feet hurt. Poor things. Trees and shrubs seemed fair to middlin', and flowers were saying, 'Oh for the love of God, just mulch me now!'

But I'm a sucker for the change of seasons. I love the fall, I love that it's got two names. I wanted to name Mike 'Autumn' but got overruled - not that I mind that now. We don't have the crisp apple days so much anymore; mostly, they're damp and rainy, which while not ideal for getting out and enjoying the outdoors, is wonderful for the complexion. At least that's what I've always heard. Among my friends who don't smoke and/or imbibe, that seems to be true. Michelangelo was told that the face of his 'Pieta' Madonna, was too young and pretty to be the mother of a man in his thirties. He responded that chaste women always look younger. I guess you could add sobriety to that too. But I digress.

We've got an electrician! And now we have light in the living room (he fixed the wall switch), and God willing, next Thursday we will have it in the kitchen (I have hated that ceiling lamp from Day 1), and a working fan in the master bath. As for the furniture repair, I've got to find another company. They took 90 bucks off my credit card, and all I got repaired was the ottoman. It's okay. God will get them. So, I'll call another this week, through Home Advisers. That's where I got the electrician. They do not mess around, and they're free. When I think of what I spent on the subscription to Angie's List - well, let's not go there. Anyway, that's the next step. And then I need to get in touch with the bathroom contractor. The trustee is going to cover that, unlike the rest of the repairs, so it's not the money. It's the time, and the fact that this room is in the middle of our home.

The work they'll be doing will block off the bedrooms, and is guaranteed to mess with my claustrophobia. I told the guy, I'd rather buy another car than do this - I feel so overwhelmed. Originally, when we were thinking of moving, this was all going to be done after we got out of here. Now that we're staying...you get it.

My brother came to visit last week. As much as he resents our late father, he's just like him. Knows everything, assumes he knows what I'm saying after just getting out a couple of words, puts words in my mouth - oy. But we did go to Olive Garden; I got my eggplant Parmesan, with angel hair pasta on the side. They made the change when I asked because I can't twirl the regular spaghetti, which was so nice. We did talk about the church and all the abuse. He believes it, and he is mad. It annoyed him to no end, when as a lay teacher, he had to take a course on how to avoid 'inappropriate touching'. He was so angry about that, saying he hoped the priests were getting the same, but we sort of knew that wasn't happening.

He's very disillusioned, even more than me, but I'm not surprised. I'm not waiting for Christ to come and clean up this mess - which, btw, is so unfair to Him. He didn't cause it, He didn't make it. It's not like God hasn't been giving us guidance since Eden, but to kinda quote Hamlet, 'break my heart for I must hold my tongue.' I started one small fight just by opening my mouth; no point in pushing it - not at least until I've had dinner.

We got a couple of things in the mail - applications for absentee ballots, for November, and the Census. The last time I got that, we were living in Xenia, I think. There was more stuff this time, and very nosy I thought. The citizenship thing was in there. Let's see - height of education, number of residents at the address, healthcare, current able-ism, income, whether or not we used natural gas (bottled or piped.) I'd say for some folks, most of this would be a horrifying invasion of privacy - and they'd be right, in my humble view. But, how else is the government going to know what you need in your area of residence if you refuse to tell them? So, that took about an hour or so to fill out online (the last one was paper, I remember.) And we put the ballot applications in the mail the next morning. When it comes to voting, we're already agreed on where to go with this.

Speaking of which, my phone has been ringing ridiculously. People wanting to know how we're voting, people assuming how we're voting because we're old, white and where we live, and people just coming right out and asking what's our party affiliation. I tell them. I don't know how most of our friends handle it; Mel goes into a long spiel about how she's a Baha'i and isn't involved in partisan politics. And for years, she wrote in the names of Barbara Jordan and Daniel Inouye for President and Vice-President, although neither ever ran for the office. I remembered thinking that if she wanted to waste her vote, there were other ways of doing it, but then I'd think of Hamlet. Anyway, I figure the person calling me should not be disappointed, so I tell them. Who does that hurt? They go away happy, and I'm good for the rest of the day.

Oh, and I had a Nurse Practitioner come visit. My current weight is ta-da, 237 :D ! I'm two down from Trump! So, it was 264 in February, 250 in June, and 237 the Thursday before last. So, if I'm good, I'll get to 199 by New Year's Day. I want so much to get off my diabetic meds, and I'm doing pretty well. I was going to have an appointment tomorrow, but I cancelled; I'm just taking Duane in for his. All this week, until Thursday, we have doctor's appointments, for joy, for joy. Don't ever get old, my joons. To paraphrase Joan of Arc, there's more to life than sitting in a waiting room.

Well, that's it - I can't think of more. Take care of you and yours, and may tomorrow be better than today.


love,
sara
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"He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God." - Aeschylus


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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Sun Sep 16, 2018 1:52 am

What a week it has been...

Monday was the GP - in fact, the first two days were all for doctoring Duane. The good news is that the Honey is off the pain meds for his back, and we're getting a combination blood pressure/potassium pill that will make filling the box easier for him. Tuesday was the dentist; his cleaning came back good and no cavities. Wednesday was podiatrist for us both; they have a new tech, and I got stabbed in my left big toe, just above the nail. Today was the first day that it quit hurting. Thursday was the cable guy, and the electrician.

The cable guy was a gem. He loves history, and as he worked (replacing the splicer, the cables and reprogramming the remote before having me run some channel-changing tests), we chatted about all the Francis and Sultan poster, the pictures of 13th Great-Grandpa Saint Phil - it was awesome. He's leaving his job and going back to security; he was a cop for a while and misses it. I rarely get to spend time with such people, not being in school myself, and I hope that he does well wherever he lands.

On the other hand, the electrician came with a helper (did not introduce him); neither one covered their shoes (cable guy did); he asked me if I bought a new lamp to put on the kitchen ceiling (I didn't, and we did not discuss me doing that); he or the helper cracked the plastic panel that covers the one half of the lamp (I waited for him to admit to it - I heard it from the back room - and neither man did, just pretended as if it was always like that); and as I slipped out to get a pen to write him a check, he flipped through my checkbook. Also he did not clean up after himself, and neither did his friend.

I've had tools stolen from me in the past. One guy pocketed my best hex key and when I pointed that out, he dropped a messed up one of the same size in my tool box, and left with mine. Another liked the looks of my hammer, and when I complained to the office here in the complex, I got it back in the same condition. It's not like they don't know what they're doing. They know what their stuff looks like; they just chose to steal, and hope that you won't call them on it. Even if you do, as in the case of my hex key, that's no guarantee that you'll get it back. Who in the hell do they think they are? So, Mr. Electric knows his profession, but is not professional and as a result, will not be back. But Home Advisers have been made aware, and now I'm onto the next job - which is the furniture. Btw, on Monday we're shoring up the contract for the hall bath, and they probably won't get to it until December/January, which is fine by me.

As for the furniture, I want the entertainment center done first. It might be easier to make us one; that needs to be discussed with the powers that be. Meantime, I am in quite a bit of pain.

Sorry to be moaning about this, but my right shoulder and knee have been aching. The over-the-counter stuff that I used to go to, did absolutely nothing this time. Just packs from the freezer all this week. When I got the cut at the podiatrist, it was on the other foot, and that helped to even things out. I tried my knee brace on and off, and that eventually got the joint to settle down. It hasn't bothered me all day today. But the shoulder is just so annoying. I can't help but wonder if it's got to do with the barometric pressure down south, with Florence. *sigh* God help those people. And Puerto Rico is still a mess, there's no excuse for that - or the persistent lying. But I digress.

Maybe if I lay down with a freezer pack, it'll help. After all, the knee calmed down, finally. Good night, joons.



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"He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God." - Aeschylus


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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Sun Sep 16, 2018 1:56 pm

Last night the Honey told me that he was more depressed than ever, and that he wants to kill himself. For the first time this month.

We've been through this, although I don't remember if I've ever written the all of how maddening it is, in here. On those occasions, whenever he's said stuff like this, that's when we went to the hospital. He even suggested the hospital this time, but I said nothing doing. Hospitals are for physical ailments and trauma; they absolutely, totally and unreservedly suck when it comes to mental health. Over the past years, he's been admitted for depression/anxiety/manic episodes and, just about as soon as he's in a bed, he hates it and wants to come home. The staff cares - they really do - but they can't agree on treatment. The meds are all over the place - take this, no don't take this, take that at bedtime - or is it in the morning? Did I say take...what did I say?

So, we curled up in bed, and I told him how nuts this was making me. I'd been holding off, because I don't want to guilt him besides, but this has been all on me. Oh, and when we do go to the hospital, and I try to explain that he's on the autism spectrum, he gets upset with me for doing that, and/or the doctor wants only him to answer his questions, and then Duane doesn't!

:bang: :bang: :bang: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH! :bang: :bang: :bang:


Okay. I'm better now.

Today is the picnic at Saint Francis. I said, look, let's play UPWARDS (it's like Scrabble, but you build words on top of others. I think it's more challenging, actually.) I thought that we should take it to the picnic with us, to see if anybody else wants to play, and I suggested that he take his evening meds before we begin. I thought this should help him get at least a bit sorted. He agreed, and I beat him by 76 points :roll: . But he fell right to sleep when we were done, and this morning he's more himself.

And the electrician is still haunting me. I sent an email to Home Advisers about him, and the response was that they would handle it. Now, this morning, I'm in the kitchen, feeding the cat, and a minute or two after I leave, there's a crash. On the floor is the metal strip that holds the plastic panels over the florescent bulbs; the one panel that has stayed unscathed since the day I first met it, is still that way, while the other has given birth to a whole litter of shards. I send another email, asking what I should do besides buy two new matching panels. I don't want to call him. Stay tuned.

Right now, I'm writing Profession Cards for my Secular Franciscan friends. I really like this quote in my siggy from St. Brigid, and I've been writing it on the left-hand side of the greetings for the past few birthdays and such. She's a peach, St. Brigid, though there's a whole bunch of miraculous stuff attributed to her that, well, frankly, 'meh'. If this was the only thing she ever wrote, and she lived most of her life like it, that's good enough for me. I don't need plugged chickens to suddenly start laying, or the sea to split, or some suitor to suddenly give up and marry somebody else, or bees to spell out 'Jesus' on a napkin. Actually, most of those were attributed to somebody else, though I'd pay the bucks to see that last one.

Anyway, the Honey has had breakfast, he's listening to music and I guess we're okay for now. He's going to be with me, and I'm taking him everywhere I go. I've quit crafting completely, and we aren't having any Fraternity get-togethers until after the holidays. I'm going to ask him if he'd like to go with me to Tacitus in October, and we go as a couple to Feast, and as a family to Devotions. I've got it in hand.

So, back to the Profession Cards. I have one more to write, and then I can take care of this place. Love you, joons. Be good.


sara
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"He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God." - Aeschylus


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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Wed Sep 19, 2018 12:03 am

The Honey's okay. It's like it all never happened.

Sunday we went to the Secular Franciscan Family picnic. I had three chicken wings and two thighs; Duane had one piece, so I ate what he didn't. We brought four bean salad (green, wax, kidney and garbanzos in a sweet and sour dressing, with sugar as the sixth ingredient after the beans and water), a 2 ltr. Coke Zero and us. We lost track of the Zero, and when we found it, the family that had it thanked us with the empty bottle, and pronounced it delicious. Hey, it happens. Almost all of the beans were eaten - a great boon to the diabetics in the bunch - and I got two pieces of German chocolate cake to solace me over the Coke's demise. And a handful of pumpkin yogurt pretzels.

I think I had more fun this year because Duane came with me. Sister Mary, Duane and I played three games of UNO - I got flattened by the two of them. Sister Mary said she hadn't ever played it before, but she sure picked it up quick.

She's from Uganda, one of eight kids, six of whom are girls. So when she said, at 13, that she wanted to be a nun, nobody gave her a hard time. Her dad told her he didn't understand it, but her mom had plenty of girls left to make her a grandmother, and said it was fine with her. So many young women that I've talked to have had to run away from home to do this, so I was surprised. Boys becoming priests are much more acceptable, especially to their mothers. They don't see the Church as competition for their sons' affection, like they would daughters-in-law. It's been 45 years since Mary took her vows. It certainly seems to agree with her.

Ann came over to me, and told me that I need to have letters after my name. What she actually said, was that I needed to pick out something to call myself, like the rest of them are all OFS (Order of Franciscans Secular), and those three letters appear after their names. So I've been working on it, and I've got a couple. These are in Italian:

ADF for "amico di Francesco" or "friend of Francis"

BDJ for "biscotto di Jacoba" or "Jacoba's cookie" :)

I prefer the latter, but they may not let me have it. It's maybe not dignified enough, but the story of Lady Jacoba and her almond cookies, is so charming and lovable that it was the first one I thought of. BJC is "Brother Jacobi's Cookie" which I would like, too. As the story goes, she was a aristocratic lady, with money, and sons, and she really liked Francis. She made these cookies, which have a variety of recipes - one of which resembles cannoli :? - but they look mostly like these short-bread nummies with almond slices on top. She had contributed funds for years so that the brothers could keep going, a lot like Mary Magdalene and the Women's Guild in Nazareth. And she was about 20 years Francis' senior, quite motherly and when he knew he was dying, he asked for her - and the cookies. Well, she had a feeling that he was poorly, so she set to baking and made a whole slew of these dainties before anybody got there to pass the word along. In fact, by the time she heard, Jacoba was just cooling that last batch.

Hundreds of cookies were packed up and off she went, so that the entire monastery could have a nosh or two, but when she got there, some idiot said she couldn't come in. Why? Because she's a woman, that's why. And when Francis heard this, he was royally ticked off and said,"That is Brother Jacobi, and Brother Jacobi is welcome here as much as any other brother! You better open that door and open it now!" I don't know if it went down like that, but I like to think it did. He could be too nice, you know, that's the problem with saints, but I digress.

So Lady Jacoba, a.k.a. Brother Jacobi, pulled her wagons full of crisp almond cookies into the Franciscans' courtyard, and headed straight for Francis's room, cookies in hand. And she sat by his side, and fed him. She may have even said, in a most loving way, "Hush up and eat!" but I don't think she needed to. I think he did her cookies justice, and washed them down with sips of red relish until he could hold no more. They're buried not far from each other, and I like to think that the spirits of the cookies still reside in their tombs. Every now and then, if you're very good, the scent of Jacoba's baking surrounds the faithful, and fills them to the brim with goodness from the hands of the Blessed herself.

*sigh*

At least, that's what I'd like to think. Anyway, I'm sleepy and I have to get up early to wash clothes. Good-night, my joons.



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"He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God." - Aeschylus


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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Wed Sep 19, 2018 1:29 pm

No dryer today.

A note says that it's sucking down quarters, and not putting out. So, I was up at 4:07, and that's what I found. I was so looking forward to washing all this and having well-stocked dressers and closets. I went back to bed, and when the place that owns the machines opened (they're an hour behind us), I called and talked to LaToya. She said somebody will be out; the original neighbor, I'm sure, was told the same thing on the 17th. Anyway, the baskets are staying put in the living room until I can get everything done.

It's okay. I'm not upset, because I have the freedom to do this. I'm not trying to fit it in between going to a job, or taking care of my babies. Being my own boss, such as it is, makes it possible to be here and take care of our business. Duane is better, at least he's not saying he feels far from God, or abandoned by God, or that he wants to die. It's hard to explain to people who don't know us, and frankly, nobody does, what this is like.

Most of our friends only see us at gatherings. Nobody comes to our home, unless it's to repair something. And when we go out, we're either shopping, having lunch at the same two places every week, at Saint Francis of Assisi Church or the homes of some local Baha'is. Nobody is with us long enough to see the problems we have with mobility (which is an issue for him, too - far less than me, but he does at times), or speech. He doesn't listen to me; he hears but I have to repeat myself because he doesn't pay attention. And there's always questions "What is that?" "Why?" etc. It's draining mentally and emotionally - sometimes it's not enough to love someone, but this is what I signed up for, and he is the love of my life.

The hardest thing is going to hospitals, and having the staff, who for whatever reason, don't see me as one who cares deeply for him. I've had people openly accuse me of Munchhausen. I remember when it was all the rage :roll: back in '70s, and while it does exist and there are some really sick puppies out there who hurt their family members, I'm not one of them :( . Oh, I got it when Mike was small, too, when he began having seizures. I got questions like, "he's high-maintenance, isn't he?" And I'd say yes, but that's leading to a presumption on their part that I'm fed up with him, hurt him, and God forbid, don't want him.

It doesn't help that I don't have people who can vouch for me, and hold up what I say is true. And when I've needed them, it's been 10:30/11 o'clock at night in an ER, surrounded by strangers.

Anyway, Rosemary - God love her - drove us out to the contractor's for the hall bath's remodel, and we're on for December or January. The job is slated for 10 days, and that was what the trustee wanted - a time limit in the contract. We chose the most popular items on purpose so that they'd already be on hand in the warehouse. God only knows what this tariff nonsense would do to us; the cost is staggering as it is. We paid $39,900 for the place in 1991; the bill is going to run $11,600 - almost a third of what we paid for our whole home. The electrician's finished with us; I can't believe how much better we can see in here. Oh, and I worked it out with him. I've been so stressed, which not news to you after what you've read here, and it's all good. I've been coming across as a crank, and I know it. I was explaining the hyper-vigilance - it's not an excuse, and he said he gets it. He's going to stay with us. Next week, the furniture repair company is coming out, the new one, and it may be that all I can afford now is the entertainment center.

We might just as well have one built from scratch. It may eat my whole budget for all seven pieces, but the rest of our furnishings are reliable, except for the sectional chair. This huge stand, with the box TV, box turntable/cd player/cassette player/radio, some 40 LPs, world globe, framed photos, Gabriel and Michael statues, and triple candle holders with candles, is defying gravity at this point, and I worry about another earthquake pushing it over the edge. We've had them. They're not much, compared to some, but all we need is one a bit bigger to bring it all crashing down. So, I may just have to let the rest go if the funds are over even by so much as dollar at this point. Or maybe we can still do the sectional chair? In addition? We'll just have to see.

Oh, I am so bummed that my clothes are just sitting there. There's a laundromat across the street, but my stuff never comes out as clean, to my eyes, when I go there. And the dryers are set at ten minute increments. In order to check for doneness, when I open the doors, my stuff always comes flying out at me. No, I'll just wait here.

Well, the Honey is awake. I've been up, like I said, since 4 AM, and I've got work to do, even if it's not washing clothes.


sara

PS :yay: The dryer's been fixed!
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"He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God." - Aeschylus


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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Fri Sep 21, 2018 12:02 am

One of my friend's from the bazaar crafting lost her mother early this week.

Cathy came over and dropped off another bunch of these snowman/s'mores Christmas ornaments (they are so cute; I've already assembled 4 of them from the last time.) She told me about Dottie's mom. She's the one who collected rosaries, and I gave her the Crown Rosary with the seven decades I got from Lynda. If you remember, she's a convert who used to be a Lutheran minister, and this rosary was Seven Sorrowful's with the heart of the Virgin pierced by seven swords. I'll get a heads up for the funeral. I didn't know she was so sick :( . I really want to go. I had to miss the last two because of doctor's appointments.

The trustee called this morning to get authorization from Duane to pay the contractor. Now we just wait. It's funny. I was okay living with the room as it was, until we signed the paper. Now it's annoying me.

The weight loss is going apace. This morning, when I got in the car, the seat belt didn't need that extra plastic clip to make it fit better. I just pulled it over, buckled it and wa-la! I don't know what I weigh right now, and I don't want to until I have my next doctor's appointment. The scale doesn't always tell you what's going on. Sometimes, your body's redistributing and you're actually losing inches, but it might not show up on the scale. In fact, you might show a slight gain, and that's depressing - I know, I've lived through it enough. I'm still doing the same thing - Glucerna between 5AM/6:30, water 20 ounces x 3, Coke Zero 20 ounces x 1, whatever lunch is @ Noon, water again x 3, Coke x 1, Glucerna between 5AM/6:30. I'm not having spikes, or low blood sugars - I love that I have complete control over me. I nap every day, and it's working well.

I want to add that staying away from the scale is the best thing I've done. Instead, I try on clothes that haven't fit in the past. or, like with seat belt, try it without attachments. If we were still going to amusement parks, I would probably try the two roller coasters I love (they couldn't belt me in :lol: - how humiliatin' :lol: ; I was right behind a man that was 6'7" - he couldn't fit his legs inside.) So, I only know what I weigh from my doctor's offices. All three weights are from appointments, and the next is December 11th.

Speaking of naps, Amy is snoring behind me. I was all prepared to comb her earlier, but she didn't want it. I love her so much, what a sweetheart. I've got a nice husband, and a great kid, and a beautiful cat. Who could ask for anything more? This morning at the mall, I saw an African-American lady in the parking lot, walking toward the SEARS. She was wearing a white cotton embroidered blouse, a yellow patent-leather belt at the waist of her multi-print gored skirt, and a wide-brimmed yellow straw hat. Her complexion was like cream-filled coffee, and she wore dangling gold earrings. She was so lovely, I pulled up along side her and told her so. I just had to. Sometimes, well at least once a week or more, I see some of the prettiest people and I just can't keep it to myself. It's genuine on my part; I just have to say something.

I especially love black women's responses - and they're most often the most lovely-turned out. And I do like that I get called 'baby girl' (as in "Why, thank you, baby girl! :lol:) That's mostly what I hear :) .

I am so glad that laundry's done. After the guy left the dryer, the washer did the same thing. Same problem with both - they needed their coin boxes emptied. I apologized for calling back, and the repair man was nice; I didn't have a situation until the second load. Also, we're supposed to have a terrible storm tomorrow.

I'm worried about the power going out, so I'm not getting all the groceries we need. Today, I just picked up some paper napkins (which we were out of :/ , that never happens), litter and Shebas for Amy, and Glucernas for me. There's coupons that will give you a 3 dollar refund if you buy 4 six packs of the shake, but I only get two at a time. And that's now once a week, since I've been at it for while. We've been so lucky here - no tornadoes or flooding. There were a few in and around where Florence hit, the loss of life is so awful. That one man that lost his wife and baby, it just breaks my heart. They didn't leave and a tree fell on their house. He's in the hospital - dear God. I always grab Amy when it gets bad, and hole up in the hall bathroom; I tell the Honey, but most of the time he doesn't join us. I'm so glad we have the weather radio for those times. I looked at the temps over the next couple of weeks and tomorrow is our last day in the 80's (or 30's for you in the Celsius Club.) I am so ready; I am so done being too warm.

I'm still working on my lettering for Ann. I'm thinking about calling her tonight and seeing if I can get away with the 'Brother Jacobi's Cookie' (BJC) after my name. All she can tell me is no, but I want it so bad! It's me, it's what I am, I'm so in love with this story. I really like her, Lady J. of A.

Take care, my joons.



sara
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"He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God." - Aeschylus


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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Mon Sep 24, 2018 9:35 am

Always an adventure, life.

On Saturday, the Honey walks in and says he needs to make a call. He can't install the software he just bought. So I'm asking, what software, who from? And he tells me he got a pop-up telling him that his computer needed help. He completely forgot that we're paying The Geek Squad a monthly fee to cover any such problems. So, I call the number, explain that this was a mistake and we want a refund issued. That's when all the fun began.

'Lee' and 'Walter' from somewhere in the Middle East, begin playing with their phones, each in turn, so that they sound like they're breaking up. They hang up on me, scream at me when I call back (which causes their accents to become pronounced), hang up on me again, and I think, okay you wanna play? We can play. I call the bank, dispute the charges (it was 41.95 - which amounted to 83.80 because Duane submitted it twice), and cancel the credit card. Since the purchase was pending, the dispute is on hold until it goes through. Meanwhile, Webroot catches the software, cans it and fixes Duane's computer. *sigh*

God, I was so mad at him. I was even more angry when he said I was making too much of it. The bank is calling his purchase fraud because the card is only in my name. He wrote down the number the last time he used it, and if he hadn't told me that he needed the call made, I wouldn't have known. After this past week, nobody, but nobody rains on Mama's parade.

I remember seeing the Clarence Thomas hearings. I remember him calling Anita Hill's accusations a high-tech lynching, which made all those white boys cringe and clinched the SCOTUS seat for him. After all, they don't want to appear racist, now do they? I don't know if anybody else I knew at the time was as ticked off as I was, I don't remember any discussion. 1991 was the year my mom was dying, and we got Mike's autism diagnosis, which is probably why nothing stands out, but my blood was boiling. And here we are again, with the same batch of dudes, saying the same tired old garbage, and then I've got this thievery going on in my house on top of it, because my husband's attention-deficit.

It's not an inconvenience to have to do this. The card just sits and we don't even carry it, but if he wants something - a book, an online class - he just has to let me know and I get it for him. He once used our debit card to make such a buy - I'll be damned if I can remember what it was - and I about ran him out of the house. Now, he has his own, to his own account, but he knows better. He probably knows better now with this, too, but just when I think I can safely draw breath, I'm disputing charges and cancelling cards.
The last time I complained about this sort of thing to a friend of mine, she said, "Wow. God must really love you." It's a tests and difficulties thing among Baha'is, taken from The HIDDEN WORDS mainly, that God afflicts those He loves for their good, and progress of their souls. Think of it like, pruning a tree to advance its future growth, but I digress.

We saw Michael yesterday, and I told him that I was getting my hair cut. And then I did. I couldn't stand it anymore. I'm not a kid, it didn't look good to me. So I called the shop, my lady was in until 5 PM, and I was there in 10 minutes. I told her just do whatever you have to and make the back look like it belongs to the front. It's cute, like a pixie bob. And I have to say that this whole kerfuffle over Kavanaugh (who has another accuser on board since I saw the news last), has really affected me. I am done, stick a fork in me and pass the steak sauce. Thank God, we never had a daughter, because if anybody had done anything to her, they would be breakfasting on their family jewels. It's been hard enough, worrying about Mike all these years, but a girl, after what I experienced myself...you, of course, get my drift.

Two things. If you don't get drunk, you're less likely to behave like a beast. And if you don't behave like a beast, you're more likely to collect what you've earned. This is going to be interesting, joons. Let the games begin.


sara
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"He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God." - Aeschylus


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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Tue Sep 25, 2018 1:00 am

The trustee says that Phil's headstone is at the cemetery. I need to call tomorrow and see if it's been installed.


sara
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"He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God." - Aeschylus


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