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Re: My dear Joon...

Posted: Thu Dec 07, 2017 1:08 pm
by shireling
I went to my last Affiliate meeting yesterday. I'm sure now that I can't be one.

No matter how you slice it, the affiliate program, reads as catechism. And it was fascinating to me yesterday, to see just what it means to be a conservative Catholic. The current on-going formation person is worried that I'm Muslim, and she is the one who, I'm convinced, who has raised the alarm that I'm there to convert them.

If I haven't said it before, I'll say it now. Know what you believe. Study, pray, meditate and learn how to stand up for those beliefs no matter what you hear from others, because you know in your heart what speaks to you. Don't be afraid to hear what others believe; if you've done the work, you'll find it so rewarding. That has been the greatest gift the Baha'i Faith has been to me. I love knowing about other religions and philosophies; it's an avid curiosity that I've maintained all my life. When I was younger, I could be hurt by people who would mock my beliefs and feel inadequate when I couldn't answer the questions that were put to me. Yesterday, I felt much more like we were equals, having a passionate but respectful discussion. I wasn't out to convince her that I was right or she was wrong. I had hoped to show how we can still work together, that we have much more in common than not.

I don't think I was successful :lol: with Jane, but Joan does understand. Anyway, I am a Friend of Secular Franciscans - a FSF (we just came up with that), or maybe it was GFF (Good Friend of Franciscans.) So, I've got my own little niche, officially :D .


Re: My dear Joon...

Posted: Fri Dec 08, 2017 2:11 pm
by shireling
There are two things that have been on my mind that I want to address. One is Trump's decision (!) to make Jerusalem the capital of Israel. The other is the taking to court of individuals who refuse to provide services to the LGBTQ community - in this case, to bake a wedding cake for two grooms.

The second, I think, is more easily dealt with. Why, my beloved brothers and sisters, take that route? There are so many tradespeople who not only support, but are members of our own community, who would be honored to bake our wedding cakes and cater our weddings that, forgive me, it's silly not to seek them out. Yeah, so it's against the law to discriminate. Let them, and take your business elsewhere. These are folks who are looking to be 'persecuted' for their religion; do not play into that. Please. I can't bake to save my life, but if you guys came to me, I would ask what do you have in mind?, and get you to a pastry chef who would make the cake of your dreams. As for these, who seek public applause for their bigotry, I think this says it best.

And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites. For they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by men. Truly I tell you, they already have their reward. - Matthew 6:5

Now. As for the first...

This is so painful. Jerusalem is the third Holy Site of Islam. Mark that. The third. The first two are Mecca and Medina. How many such sites do the Jews have? I'll tell you a story - and these are my words, to the best of my ability.

In the beginning, the followers of Muhammad faced Jerusalem as the Qiblah, the Point of Adoration. Everyday, they would stand behind the Prophet and follow Him as He led. But, as time went on, Muhammad became discontented with the choice, and one day, the Angel Gabriel, the Source of the Holy Spirit to Him, appeared and said, "Come, and We shall give thee a Qiblah more to thy liking."

So, the next time the Call to Prayer was given, and the Muslims were assembled, facing Jerusalem, Muhammad turned toward Mecca. Some of His followers were deeply dismayed, and lost their faith; but there were others, who followed the example of their Lord, and were content. - from sara

What that tells me, is that Jerusalem should not be held in such regard that the people die for it. That Jerusalem has not had the stature for Islam since the days of the Prophet Himself. It's not that Jerusalem is not a Holy City; it most definitely is. But, the Prophet Muhammad Himself - may peace be upon Him - turned from it in His lifetime, and it has gone from first to third.
Either take it as your capital, no matter the name of your nation, or let it go. But do not shed blood for it. And that's all I've got.


Re: My dear Joon...

Posted: Fri Dec 15, 2017 1:16 am
by shireling
The Honey's doing better. We saw the NP and she's got him on Adderall for attention deficit. That's what he really wants to be treated for. When he can't concentrate, he can't read and then he can't post what he wants to say in the forums. It was either that or Ritalin - which he's had in the past. That worked really well, but then there was some sort of shortage (I can't remember but it had something to do with the manufacturer not wanting to go generic, I think) - anyway, there was a great hullabaloo and he was without his prescription, along with God knows how many other people, mainly kids.

They only do this with neuro/mental health, because, I figure, if you complain, they'll just say you're crazy - who's gonna listen to you? But enough of that. This is working so far and I'm happy that he's in there, typing away, with Maler on full blast, busting his eardrums.

I talked to my sister yesterday. My brother-in-law is better heart-wise, but now he's Type II. If he can lose the weight, like some 80 lbs or so, he'll be like Duane and can manage with diet and exercise. He's on Metformin like me; I hope it works for him. It has a tendency to upset your gastrointestinal tract. This one guy said it felt
like a moose was loose

in his gut - nobody has been able to describe it better. Anyway, they're going to a class - a diabetic cooking class, for Bev. It's so droll. You've been cooking since you before you were in the double digits, and now you're going to be told you're doing it all wrong. I love visiting my sister. She makes chicken paprikash; she can make pierogies from scratch, she's had more practice. MIne will nail you to your seat, they're so heavy - I could never get the dough right. Mom used to say, make sure you do before you serve them to company. They eat kielbasa, sauerkraut and potatoes at her house, boiled in the pot. I'll bet she even makes stuffed cabbage, the twerp. It's this time of year that I miss all that. Besides the nut and poppy seed roll, and all those cookies, damn.

Oh, and Duane has decided that he no longer likes pizza. Made by anybody - he's not into it anymore. No Papa John's, no Donatos, nothing store bought. *sigh* That was my go-to meal when I got caught short. It's not a bad thing - it's not really good for us. But, on a cold night, it could be wonderful. And that's mainly from when I was a kid, and there were five other people to feed. The connections to the past are mainly food, but that's what's so easy to remember. The smell, the texture, the taste - just a whiff and back you go.

Speaking of going back, the DNA kits went into the mail today. I hope we did them right. It'll be 6-8 weeks before we get our results. I wonder if we'll know sooner if we screwed up? I told Bev; she doesn't care. Ain't that American? :lol: What the hell - we're here! I'm just not that pedestrian, I guess. But I did check off that I don't want to be contacted by people that match; Duane does. I said, okay, you talk to them. I do want the genetic, anthropology, etc. - anything that will help science I am right on board with. Anyway, I had tears in my eyes as I pushed them through the slot at the post office. All those people I don't know who made me what I am - it is beyond cool. I'm so excited.

And then, on Saturday, a Franciscan priest gave a talk on the life of Saint Francis. He's done all kinds of research on him; he is convinced, and he may be right, that Francis suffered from PTSD (he was a soldier, which is easy to forget, when you're filling those birdbaths with the little tonsured/brown-habited statues standing in the middle.)

Boys in Assisi were put to work killing pigs for practice. You'd get a knife, and stab in just below the ribs and up into the heart. Eleventh century city states were fighting each other - the word about nationhood, from Muhammad, hadn't gotten around to there yet - and Francis killed people. He suffered for it, doing penances that he's never put on anybody else, fasting four times a year for all the men he'd slaughtered in battle. And this went on until an angel appeared, and said, that's enough.

Father also thought that the stigmata came from Francis's worry over his friend, the Sultan Malik al- Kamil. Things got a bit dicey for him, and there was nothing Francis could do. These two guys really hit it off; I could feel, right away, that they became wonderful friends, brothers from other mothers if you will. And Francis could do nothing, but internalize his fear and concern for his best friend, and it came out in these bleeding wounds of the Cross. *tears* I've really come to love this man, and that program Saturday just made it all the more so.

Father Quigley didn't pull any punches. He stated that the Church was going through a really evil time; it was making money hand over fist from the Crusades. Sign-up, sign-up your farm, get a plenary indulgence! Cut your time in Heaven's waiting room! Or, better yet, buy them! When you get back, if you get back, sign-up again! And if you die, the Church gets your farm! We'll put your wife in a convent! Lies were told that should have shamed the Hierarchy. But, they didn't.

I've known these things, but I couldn't tell my friends in the Fraternity. It really took a cleric, with the parish priest sitting right there. I don't think it ever occurred to most of them why there was a Reformation. Luther wasn't a bad man; he was a disgusted man, and he had ever right to be. How much of this will stick and stay with them - I don't know. But it seems to me that the people who needed these facts, who should hear these truths, are never around to hear them. Always, always present at gatherings, conferences, programs, but let the cell phone ring and they leave the room, missing the most important points. Always on the phone, from landline days in my community, during Feasts, Assembly meetings, and firesides! Made me want to scream! It still does. But, there were some thirty people in that room on Saturday at Saint Francis of Assisi Catholic Church, all of them part of the Secular Franciscans in some capacity, and I know they will not soon forget.


Re: My dear Joon...

Posted: Sun Dec 17, 2017 5:24 am
by shireling
I've been living on my inhaler the past few days.

Ever since I'd gotten that pneumonia shot, my chest has been congested. But, with the Albuterol, I'm fine. I've been going months without using it. Now my upstairs neighbor has a boyfriend who is just as heavy a smoker as she is. They don't smoke inside, they hang out on the balcony, but then the garbage curls down and makes its way into our place through the cracks around the windows. Actually, they can't smoke inside, since her little daughter has had these operations for her heart, but why in the name of God, wouldn't you quit?

I remember friends of ours who had moved from Oberlin to Bexar County, Texas to get away from grandparents (her folks) who refused to stop smoking in the presence of the kids. The youngest had the worst case of asthma; her mother said it was ridiculous, and lit up. A couple of puffs later, Brie was blue and an ambulance was enroute. But that didn't still stop the old lady from doing it again - must of thought it was a fluke that first time.

Anyway, I've been using it more often than it says to - I just feel so much better with it. Amy's the one I worry about, with her little lungs. She's always sounded snuffled. The vet said there wasn't any reason that they could find that would endanger her, but I worry all the same.

Michael's coming over tomorrow, and there's Devotions. Duane and I put together a Christmas Program, with four very rare songs (Gabriel's Message, The Christ Child Lullaby, Star in the East, and The Burning Babe), and a handful of scriptures from Islam and Baha'i praising Jesus. The one hiccup is the Star in the East has lyrics which don't match the CD I have; it's St. Olaf's Choir and I love the arrangement, but the verses are switched around a bit and the wording had been updated. I just didn't catch it until we'd printed out ten copies; I figure I can call it to everybody's attention before we begin.

I am so sleepy, the Mike will be here in the morning, so I'd better get to bed.


Re: My dear Joon...

Posted: Mon Dec 18, 2017 1:22 pm
by shireling
Devotions went well, but I'm worried about Mike.

His eyes were so red; Renee thinks maybe he just didn't sleep well. I hope that's all it is. He ate just fine, packing away like he always does, but he was quiet, even solemn. Anyway, we ate at the house afterwards. Colette had made this casserole with pierogi and brussels sprouts smothered in a cheddar sauce with herbs and shallots; Mike ate most of it. It's hard to believe I couldn't get this kid to even try a bite of anything. One of his sitters once said to me, "I think Michael would like food if he would only try it." *snort* He refused the frittata, though; it had too much green visible for his taste, and he still won't eat a piece of fruit.

Anyway, we came home right after. I hope he just went back to bed.

I had to use the inhaler once while we were out. I was asked if it were new, because nobody had ever seen it before. And I didn't need it so much for a long time. People were pretty good about not smoking, but now I've got the upstairs neighbors. In fact the last two tenants left the air in our place hazy - especially in the master bedroom. So, I've got the one I'm using and just bought another. I use it about three times a day, four if I count just before bed. I've already had two puffs this morning, and that should get me to 11 or so.

Amy's been pensive of late. A total change from her seasonal crazy. Right now she's just staring at the step top of the little ladder she's got to get atop the bed; okay, now the snores are coming. She's drifting.

I'm still tired myself. I should grab another few while I can.


Re: My dear Joon...

Posted: Wed Dec 20, 2017 12:29 am
by shireling
Sometimes I wonder whether or not my husband's family is haunted.

It's just that with the passing of each family member - the guys only, not my mother-in-law - the survivors seem to take on the characteristics of the ones that died. For instance, both of my brothers-in-law became additionally difficult after we buried their dad. It was as if, Oh joy :D! Now we can let fly the loonies because there's one less for Mom to deal with! I don't even want to begin to tell you what it was like when she went.

Oh, what the hell - why not? :)

The youngest was upset with me for not taking him home to live with the three of us. He said, that I had "inherited" him after his mother's death. Well, I doubt any of us would have survived that, especially me. It wasn't that he did this once or twice. It was multiple and very loudly, upsetting the other residents of the home. Actually, we were asked if we would move into my mother-in-law's home, and just take over. If we hadn't had Michael, we might have. But he was in a wonderful school program, all settled, and we didn't know that Duane's job was planning to dump him. Besides, again, I don't think my marriage would have made it through. We would have had two bedrooms there, with Phil living with us in the third, all on one floor with a laundry room and a kitchen window, a two car garage - God, it was hard to say no.

Anyway, since Phil's been gone, Duane has gradually become more and more pesky. Take today.

We had a mutual foot doctor's appointment at 11:30, so I'm thinking we had plenty of time. It's 9:45, I'm grooming the cat and he wants to walk in the mall. Says I,

I thought you didn't want to walk two days in a row.
No, I don't want to walk three.
I asked you yesterday, right at the corner of Whipp and Far Hills, if you wanted to go on Tuesday, with the appointment and all.
No. You asked about Wednesday.
It was Tuesday.
I remember what you said.
I remember what I said, too. And what you answered.

He gets down to the car, and I'm shuffling along at the rear. In fact, I'm doing more shuffling than usual these days, even when I'm not saddled with a huge bag of prescriptions because we'd both had so many changes in our meds in the 90 days since. It's just what's happening. More tremor, less balance, more stiffness, more awfulness overall.

I'm halfway down the sidewalk, he pops open the door and comes at me at a run. I'm thinking, He's coming to save me! Ah, no. He is bouncing up and down, screeching

I know what I said! I said not three days in a row!
All right already! Enough!

He goes back to the car, and some thirty seconds later, I get there too.

Wow, what a paragon of compassion you are.
I know what I said.
If you insist...
I know what I said!
Okay! You know what you said! You win!

We travel to the mall in silence. When he gets out of the car, I want this to get better. He's almost there, when I roll down the window. There was no cart available to help him walk on Monday.

I hope you find a cart today.
I hope you find a cart.

Twenty minutes later, he's back.

Find a cart?
Yeah. There were three.
Good. Would you like to have Arby's for lunch?
Would you?
Yeah, that's why you mentioned it.
We both laugh, and you'd never know there'd been a problem...

Yep. He's haunted.


Re: My dear Joon...

Posted: Thu Dec 21, 2017 6:52 pm
by shireling
Today is...are...the birthdays of Steve and Tom.

I dated them way back when. Steve was in my sister's grade, 2 years my junior, and my first kiss. It was backstage when we were producing, The Man Who Came to Dinner. I did makeup, badly, and he played Beverly Carlton, mainly because he was the only one in the cast who could do a decent British accent. And he was beautiful. He was tall and lithe, with shoulder-length black hair (a gift from the Cherokee-side of the family), and Elijah Wood blue eyes. Actually, it wasn't until I saw Elijah that I knew where I'd seen those irises before. He was also a brittle diabetic. It nearly killed him when he was two-years-old, and that's how it was discovered.

He used his needles for skin popping heroin, but he was careful to keep an eye on his sugar. He was selfish and an atheist. It was easier for his mom than to believe that God makes diabetic toddlers. Not that He does, but if you've already bought the ticket, you might as well go to Denial and check out the landscape. To this day, I don't know what possessed me to want to be around him. I guess I was just a different kind of kid back then. Anyway, the kiss happened when he asked me to go to the junior prom. I said yes, and he kissed me. It was awkward and my eyes were open, not at all like I imagined.

We didn't go to the prom. His devirginizer, Gloria, came back into his life, and that was the end of that. I think I saw him once at our old Mall in Parma, but never again. I don't think I ever want to see him again. I liked him better on stage, in Dinner, or Rashomon, back when we were all going to New York after graduation. I did learn to do a better job of doing makeup. Beards were my favorite thing, the crepe hair and latex, spirit gum for those with sensitive skin. And because of all the practice I got, I did the faces for the whole cast of St. Ambrose's passion play. Lots of beards, and those were just the women. Naw, I kid. That was a bunch of fun, even for something so sad, it was fun.

So, Steve would be 61. Tom, if he's still around, is 78. When we first met, he told me that he had 6 and 9 siblings, including him.

Okay. Seven and eight.
Yeah. I found it doesn't sound so daunting when I break it up.
Who told you that?
I just thought. You're horrified, aren't you?
Well, for your mother I am. Or do you have a stepmom?
No, just my mom and dad - all by themselves.

His dad owned a bar. They were Irish Catholics, first generation to sprout outside of the Old Country. He was also blue-eyed, with auburn locks and full-facial hair like a Viking. He was heavily freckled, rather squat and muscular, but his voice was odd. It was high and reedy; he spoke the way you'd expect a counter-tenor to sing. And he drank. A lot.

I drove us everywhere. He bought me wonderful meals - fillet mignon, lobster and the best table at Muy's. We went to movies, and plays. I had my first matzo ball soup with him. And he never drank when we were out, but he'd miss work catching up on it. His first fight, he told me, was a knock-down drag-out in his dad's bar, with his dad; I don't remember now who won. But, I thought that I was a good influence on him. If I could be around him all the time, I could make him stop.

He proposed. I said yes, and he kissed me. We'd kissed many times before. I took him home to meet the folks; the dog didn't like him. Two days later he went skiing alone. He 'hurt' himself, got stiff as a board to ease the pain, and called to let me know. It was then I realized that I couldn't do this, and I told him we were done. He called me a bitch, a cunt and a Trotskyite, in that order. The first two didn't bother me, but I wasn't sure about the third. I asked my dad.

Oh, he just said you were a communist.
Really? That's exciting!
Why? That's not a good thing.
I know, but it's so different and unexpected. It's a shame he didn't say that sooner.
So, I take it, you're done with him?
*sigh* Yeah. 'Fraid so.
If he calls back do you want me to handle it?
If you don't mind.
Okay. I will.
Thanks, Daddy.

I don't regret either relationship. I think they were good for me, learning opportunities. At the end of them, I knew I didn't want a drug addict or an alcoholic; maybe an actor would have been nice, though. Still, I'm glad I remember them. I hope they're sober and happy, if they're still alive. And that they remember me fondly. A little.


Re: My dear Joon...

Posted: Fri Dec 22, 2017 3:32 pm
by shireling

A Most Very Merry Christmas, and Blessings All for the New Year

from your friendly neighborhood shireling :D

Re: My dear Joon...

Posted: Sun Dec 31, 2017 7:14 pm
by shireling

(Source: shencomix, via kryptoncat)

Re: My dear Joon...

Posted: Tue Jan 02, 2018 12:45 pm
by shireling
It is cold here.

That's an understatement. It is just bitter, with wind chills in the minuses. There's some eight inches of snow, but the low temps are the problem. We stayed in from Saturday thru Sunday, cancelling Michael's visit - though I did buy gas and pick up a prescription on one of the two, just can't remember now. Yesterday we just couldn't stand it anymore, and went out for lunch.

There's a new drive-thru where I could wait inside the car, and that's why I decided to go and pick up the script. I'd already filled the tank, and thought that I was done with being outside. But the car window was frozen shut, so I'm parking the car and going inside. You know how you have one of those days when you just have to do something, and you're at a bare minimum for your appearance sake? Well, this this was mine. I got dressed over my nightgown, pulled on my boots and wore my car coat with the hood to cover the major bed head. And then I have to go into the store anyway. The pharmacy may be close to the entrance but it rarely shares the same wall as the door, and here I am walking past the bank, the seasonal items, the over-the-counters, and the mini clinic to pick up the Honey's potassium-helper. He'd run out days before, and when I went to refill it, it had none. It's my fault that happened.

I forgot to ask for refills at his last appointment. His GP relies on us to tell him, even though he has all the information right on the laptop. This time was the worst because I didn't realize I needed to do them all at one time. I'd been calling them in every other day as I found them wanting, instead of looking at the whole bunch at once. God willing that won't happen again.

But he is better, Duane is, and that's what matters. He did a whole lot of yelling at the Ravens (they got creamed by Cincinnati), and I was just waiting for the cops to come a-knocking. It's hilarious to hear him, he gets so worked up, which is probably why nobody called them - they were too busy laughing. The Adderall is for ADHD, but it doesn't seem to extend beyond what's important to him as far as the computer goes. There's no more shrieking that he can't find the words to make his posts, and that works well as far as not blowing up over trolls. As long as he can respond, they don't seem to get to him as much.

I've never known anyone whose voice can carry like his. I'm in the bedroom, right next to the tv, and I can't hear it over his coughing in the living room. It's not a big place, but you'd think that if you're less than a yard from the screen, that you wouldn't need to turn up the volume. What's bad is, that if I'm not recording and he's blocked out what I wanted to hear, I can't go back. And I can't record everything. Captions help - what a Godsend they are! But, so much for my continuing education if he's taking a shower; he just coughs through most of it.

I sincerely hope that things get sorted out this year. It's hard not to feel incredibly sad when it appears that the world is backsliding to this time a century ago. But, I think, for what it's worth, that some stuff has to play out. Autocrats, kleptocracies, military-based governments, false beliefs about sexual, religious and racial superiority, besides this nonsense about 'trickle-down' economics and the ensuing self-righteous claptrap about the morals of the great 'unwashed', all of that has got to be overcome. You can tell folks that various philosophies won't work because they haven't in the past, but that's not now. Now is different, we've just got to do it better, and harder, and longer. My in-laws were like that about depression; they would say that mental illness is overcomeable by sheer will - they just need to try harder. I'll never forget the look on my father-in-law's face when I suggested that he just give up. Well, you know, twenty years of trying with nothing to show for it, why not try nothing?

The people are wrapped in a strange sleep. - Baha'u'llah

They sure are. I really hope I'm around to see the undoing of these old saws. Meanwhile, it's January 2cd, and the day is moving along without me. Take care, joons.


Re: My dear Joon...

Posted: Wed Jan 03, 2018 6:44 am
by shireling
Just got an email from, and they're letting us know that they've gotten our DNA kits and in two to four weeks, we'll have our results.

There were commercials all over the place during the Holidays from a handful of these genetic companies, so Duane and I decided to have a go with ours. Michael is the one we really wanted, and then we'd just figure out from him where the two of us fit in, but there's no way you can get a kid who can't blow his nose, or blow out a candle to spit in a tube. So, we bought one a piece back in December, the kits came in a week, and once we'd followed all the directions, put them back in the mail.

They came with everything you need, except a computer to activate the accounts. The kits are numbered; you add the medium they supply to your gene pool :D in the tube, make sure it's closed, bag it up in the included bag and pop it into the first-class postage box - also included. In doing this, we learned a couple of things.

1) Use your birth name, or maiden name if you want to know it's origin. You can start a family tree if you want to, and they'll help you with that.

2) If you're a woman and you have a brother, ask him to participate too. Because of the Y Chromosome, guys have more alleles and you'll get a more complete picture.

So, we should know by the end of the month or first part of February. Right now, we're thinking - seriously - Anglo Saxon/German for him and Hungarian/Romanian/Slovenian for me, with maybe some fringe benefits like Celt and Gypsy. God I want those last two so much! I'll settle for sleeping with them - I want them that bad! Actually, I think I already have been, though Duane insists he's strictly English on his mom's side, and I've got only my grandma's word on my dad's.

But I'm positive about the Neanderthal. I was looking at my mom's shoulders, and her mom's in the stack of old photos I have, and I've got those arms from fingertips to shoulder blades, a direct line from both. All I'd need is the green tint and I'd look just like Fiona from Shrek; well, I would if I had a waistline. Anyway, I was watching Shrek Forever After yesterday, and I was blown away by how terrific she looked in her battle-ready peasant blouse and kilt. It is my ambition to rise to the perfection of a lady hobbit, dwarf or troll in 2018. To become my very own Shire, Lonely Mountain or Farfaraway Barbie, is, I believe, my destiny!


I'm so sorry, I have digressed into the weeds again. I'm just so excited about the DNA kits! *SQUEE*


Re: My dear Joon...

Posted: Fri Jan 05, 2018 11:02 am
by shireling
It is so cold here.

It's freezing all along the eastern seaboard. My great niece and nephew are having snowball fights without having to leave their Georgia home; my sister must be happy, as long as she can keep warm. Here, our pipes have frozen in the laundry room. My neighbor invited me to go to the laundromat with her yesterday, but I'd just squeaked by and missed the damage. I'm trying to talk Duane into wearing his shirts and jeans just one more day. He doesn't appreciate how hard it will be for me to try to carry the baskets downstairs and out to the car, and then reverse the whole thing for the drive back. I really need my cane and I can't do both.

Anyway, I made a little phone tree out of my neighbor's numbers to keep everybody up to speed on the latest. Yesterday, I spied the washroom door open. So up I go to close it, when I notice that the space heater's knob is turned up but it's not working. I unplug it, bring it home and find that the knob's been broken. *sigh* So, I glue the knob and while that's curing, I cut all the tape off the the thing. It's been on there a long time, just wrapped around the handle but there was a long piece hanging down that could catch fire. I take it all off, and move the unit to my vanity. I plug it in, turn the newly-fixed switch, and it pops. Sparks fly out, and the room fills with smoke. I pulled the plug, and set about clearing the air so that the smoke detector doesn't go off. I attach a post-it that it's broken, put it back where I got it, and call the 'office'.

But we don't have an office anymore. Or a maintenance crew or a truck to go with it. All gone. The complex staff was let go, and the Board sold the truck. As I'm going down my phone tree, I find that the last number belongs to the new board secretary. Yep, she's gone over to the Dark Side, and she knew everything before I told her. Now, from her, I hear that a new company will be taking over; we should be getting new washers and dryers. They'll still need money to run, no carded machines - which would take care of the free-loaders who have been breaking the locks to get into the rooms. I don't mean to be uncharitable but when you've got 12 apartments that need to share those two machines, having somebody come in from the outside is more than simply annoying.

Still, if that's the worst we have with this cold snap, we have really lucked out. I have to remember that. Anyway, I get called back, they switch out the heater for another, and we keep trying to thaw the pipes without them bursting. Stay tuned.

As for me, I'm trying to get atop of my health. Over the past ten years, I've had six friends die. All married women, of which Gail was the latest. There was only one that died after her husband, and that was because she had cancer. Things have always been difficult with the Honey, but the past few years have seen a upswing in some of his symptoms.

Instead of repeating myself once or twice, it can be four or five times. There are moments when he'll stare at me as I'm speaking to him, and at the end he'll startle and say, "What?" He doesn't think the Adderall is helping; I think it is. Not for me so much, but he is less agitated. He can read again, his mind doesn't seem to be racing, and he can write his posts on the forums without much trouble. It's just that none of that transfers to me. He's just not aware of my struggles, and I get tired of asking for help - especially when anybody else could see it and do something. So, since I intend to live as long as my dad and his mom, I'd better get cracking. All I'm doing right now is drinking more water - at least five glasses a day.

It may not seem like much, but these are 24 ounce glasses; I've been doing it a week now, and I feel much better. I need to walk and I have no excuse, since I'm taking Duane to the mall, but I will. Talk later.


Re: My dear Joon...

Posted: Sat Jan 06, 2018 9:53 pm
by shireling
It's day 10 of the Laundry Room Crisis...

Good news. The little space heater is running. Bad. Somebody keeps leaving the door open! The heat belongs in the room! You cannot heat the room, and melt the pipes by leaving the door open! It must be somebody new because I told Frank that when the hallways are 3 degrees, you can't break up the ice by KEEPING THE DOOR OPEN! AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH! Sheesh!

Linda and I were going to the laundromat this morning. I put together one load, and we were going to head out at 9 o'clock. At 7:40, she calls and says she's going across the way. I ask,

Where's that?
Where's what?
Across the way. You mean the street?
No, across the way.
I. I. No.
Over there.
:/ mean the next building?

Ok. Then I'm staying here.
Ok. Talk to you later.

She doesn't want to go alone. She's hard of hearing, and depending on things known only to her, she may not wear her hearing aids. And, she's afraid to go out - probably because she can't hear the serial rapist/murderer creeping up behind. Don't get me wrong, I love my neighbors, especially Linda. They are the reason I don't want to move. They are sweet and helpful, and when they aren't, they are endlessly entertaining. And generous. I've asked for a cup of milk, an egg, and an onion - that's all, since we moved in in 1991. And everybody I've asked was willing to give me a quart, a dozen and a bagful, should I so desire. But the fear I don't get.

I stopped carrying a purse twenty years ago, the same time I stopped wearing dresses. I don't know for sure, but I think one of the reasons why I've had such a hard time losing weight, is because of a bumper sticker I saw back in the '90s. I had just dropped Michael off at school when a car pulled in front of me. And at the red light I saw

Fat People Are Harder to Kidnap

Of all the bumper stickers on all the bumpers I've ever seen, I remember that one the best. It speaks to me. And Linda is like me, so I don't see why she should be worried. I would ditch the purse, though. That's what makes you so appealing to people who otherwise wouldn't notice you. I wear jeans; there's a pocket for my keys and one for my wallet, and I don't carry a phone.

A phone made sense when I was working. Or, when I was out at night. Alone. That was what I really missed this Christmas. Driving through neighborhoods and looking at the lights. But I can't see so well after dark, and unless I really want to go and can get a ride, I stay home.

Amy's sleeping behind me, snoring away. I have just finished putting away the decorations, except for three little birds that wear scarves - one has a hat - and a platter, with cardinals, supported by a book stand, and a pitcher, with cardinals, holding a faux holly bush. Right now I'm in the process of repairing one angel ornament. I want her to go back out into the world. She's getting new hair and some fresh paint for her gown. The main thrift shop will take her. It's Christmas all year around there. I'm trying to stay within a limited number of decorations, and Linda gave me one (that I like better :paperbag: .) She's a little girl, with a wooden round for a head, and a mass of sausage curls made out of twine...

Ahhhhh! Hairball on my comforter. Or hair sausage. She was asleep and then all of the sudden she's gagging. It's okay, all cleaned up.

Where was I? It doesn't matter. She holds a wreath, and looks like the rest of my decorations, while this little winged lady does not. As Ob-Wan would say, "This is not the ornament you're looking for." But somebody might be, and I owe it to her. I have a theory.

I believe that all things have a spirit. That what makes up matter has capacity to absorb energy. And if you cherished something, even though you may not love it now, it still holds the memory of that time when you did. Like toys. I have two dolls and a bear. They are all at least fifty years old, and when I bought them, they held themselves in a way that suggests dignity. They were important to somebody, they were adored, and deep down inside their kapok, they knew they were wanted. Even though the one doll was naked and the other came in her original outfit, they both gave off the same aura. A child loved me, they say. And, though she's gone, every time she thinks of me, I live. So, I want to give Silent Night her best shot at finding a new home. Somebody loved her before me, and somebody should love her after.

I need supper.


Re: My dear Joon...

Posted: Sun Jan 07, 2018 3:17 am
by shireling
I saw something yesterday that got me to thinking about this year.

Anne Patchett wrote an article about not shopping for a year. Specific no shopping, based on a friend's decision back in 2009. The friend looked around and thought she had enough, or too much, stuff. So, for one year, Elissa - the friend - made a pledge not to buy clothes, shoes, purses or jewelry. The year wasn't quite finished when she broke down and bought a coat, which made her feel guilty, but I think on the whole, that's a fantastic idea.

So far, I haven't indulged myself. And my choices would be different than Elissa's; for instance, I don't use purses. And I'm rather picky about jewelry. Last year I really went all out on Etsy, mainly for a couple of brooches and a handful of pendants, and I made the necklaces from nylon cord. I wear all of them, and I love them all, so I think I'm done in that department. Now that I've got one nice outfit, I don't think I'll need any more clothes for a while. And with three pairs of shoes, one pair sandals, and one boots, it's plenty.

That's a given - none of those until 2019. So, what four things can I not shop for this year? Well, I don't need any more action figures. Lord knows, I bought one Doctor Who, which is a combination of the Eighth Doctor and the War Doctor (and is kinda cool, having one of John Hurt), plus a Frodo that I ended up donating. I've got lots of music that I don't routinely listen to, so I can pass on buying more cds. I've just started reading Frankenstein for Science Friday's Book Club. We go to the library every few weeks, and I already have most of the classics here in my room.

No action figures, no cds, no books to buy...that sounds doable. Just between you and me, this is.

By June, I'm hoping to have slimmed down enough to wear the jeans I bought in 2014, which I did without trying them on :slowblush: . There's five pair *sigh*. Just hanging in the closet - not to mention six shirts in the extra room. And three shapers in my lingerie :lol: drawer. Lingerie. It is to laugh.

Oh, that's the other thing. Now I know how this is going to sound, but, after Gail died, things have been getting better for me. No more night sweats, except for last night, because I ate after 9:30 - so won't do that again. It's no affliction to drink the water. And I'm back to the little meals. I was afraid to mention it until I was sure it had taken, but I think I can trust it. I'm not walking until next month, but my feet are good. In fact, yesterday, when I'd put my shoes on, I felt something under the ball of my right foot. I took it off, felt around and there was a tiny grain of cat litter! Just one, itty bitty bit of grit the size of a pin head. It's as though she's gone ahead and intervened for me. *tears* Idk, but that would be like her.

Anyway, it's after ten and I need to go to bed. I'm going to need to take myself out for groceries in the morning. Good night, joons.


Re: My dear Joon...

Posted: Mon Jan 08, 2018 4:31 pm
by shireling
Duane's DNA profile came today. It breaks down as

48% - England - and we figured that
27% - Irish/Scottish/Welsh - :yay: I got my cushable! :yes:
17% Scandinavian - which we didn't know; we have nothing on Marlin's side of the family to tell us anything, so it may be where his
ancestors are from. Anyway, it comes to a total of
92% with an additional 8% divided over the Iberian Peninsula, etc. Now there's another part where he's got a second, third and fourth
cousin. I've asked him to forward his results to me (when I'll see how the rest of it breaks down, I'll add them to this post.) When I
get mine, I'll send them over to him.

This is really cool! I'm glad we did it.


PS. It won't let you email your information to anybody else, apparently. He could send it to me, but it said that I'm not authorized to view it. Okay :) .