Late date for Thanksgiving

 

Gorgeous orange wet leaves

Walking home from the bus yesterday, it was raining (no relief) and I saw these really gorgeous orange-colored leaves covered with raindrops from the incessant rain of the past few days. The entire West Coast is experiencing a huge rainstorm, and we are not being spared.

And here I am, nestled in bed like always, but without the slightest idea of what I will eventually write about. I went to bed too early last night and because of that, I woke early this morning. Early even for me, so here I sit, pondering the morning and wondering what will pop out of my brain this time.

I had vivid dreams and thought perhaps I could harvest some of them, but you know what happens when you wake up and think about your dreams: they evaporate with nothing to do but let them go back into the misty corridors of my mind. One little piece still remains, and I thought for a minute it might be real, a thought that I had amassed some bits of material and piled them up neatly. But no, that was the only remnant of my dream that still stuck around. And now I've sent it away, too. Here goes, my now-awake thoughts finding a direction.

I have stopped getting those eye injections, and so far, there has been no more deterioration of the worn-out retinas that are responsible for my failing eyesight. That is what they were supposed to do: slow or stop the progression from continuing to fail. Since nobody knows for sure if they helped or not, I am quite curious to monitor my eyesight as it exists in the moment. I am very fortunate to be able to continue to read, if not easily, I can still do it if I have a bright light behind the text. That's why I am able to use my laptop to write this post. And that means I might not have too much continuing deterioration, but who knows? I can only take my days one at a time, and continue to do for as long as I can, find work-arounds for it all, and stay active as long as  possible, but cut myself some slack for not wanting to walk in the rain all the time. I have quite a few raincoats, which are all getting used, and I find some of them work great, until they simply give up. They can be reinvigorated by a good washing and drying, I'm finding.

I have made a few essential friends during my volunteer work at the Senior Center. Both of my frequent rides home are becoming really good friends. Both are recently widowed (within the last year) and are making new lives for themselves. Friday I saw the two of them in deep conversation with a new friend. She is a beautiful woman, dressed elegantly in pink and white. A fragile frame but a lively and interesting mind, Elaine is 94 and recently  lost her husband after a long illness. This was only her second time at the Center, but she has already begun to find a new life. She said she really didn't like eating alone at home, and finds the community that surrounds the lunchroom crowd to be delightful. And she herself is delightful. She doesn't drive any more and uses the WTA Specialized Transit service to get around. Right now, those of us over 75 pay nothing for fixed routes and a small fee for a bus to come to your home and return you there. The fares are increasing, though, and starting next summer, I'll be paying something, not that much but something, for my rides. 

I'm glad they are not cutting services, just making the difficult choice to raise fares. There are people I see riding the bus who would have a hard time paying anything at all, and I'm hoping they can come up with some way to help those people. I live in a very caring environment and think they'll figure it out. Perhaps those of us who can afford it can pay to help others. I'll keep you posted as to what they come up with.

I am taking every opportunity to keep myself healthy, happy, and active. If I had tried to find just the right place to retire, I could not have found any place more perfect for the two of us than Bellingham. It was just a happenstance that I found it online and then we visited before we moved here. It does rain a lot, but that's the reason, I suspect, that more people don't move here. Just like the rest of the country, or should I say world, we have our struggles and wrestle with too much growth, too many people leading to overcrowding and other community problems. But considering what so many places are facing, we are not doing too badly. When I was young, it was inconceivable to me that we would have such a population explosion. Nobody wants to talk about it, but it's real and very concerning. Check out this World Population Clock if you need something to consider before deciding to find some place less crowded. (Hint: there isn't any place)

Well, when I first started writing this post, I didn't know where it would lead. But here it is, worrying about our planet's health when one species has become incredibly dominant and endangers the entire ecosystem. I'm not sure where I'm going with this thought, but there is nothing I myself can do about it except point to it and marvel that we are not all looking at it every day and wondering what to do about it. In any event, I am now stirring in my bed and thinking about starting my day, getting up and doing my exercises, going out to breakfast with my friend John, and seeing the wonderful world as it really is. 

Dear friends, until we meet again next time, I wish you all good things. Be well.

It's always something

My laptop in front, John's in back

This picture shows you the place where I (and usually John) spend our weekday mornings, drinking our coffee and tapping away on our little iPads. John takes off his reading glasses and goes to the bathroom rather regularly, and I took the opportunity to capture this iconic scene while he was away, and while I was waiting myself for a trip to the bathroom. When he joins us, Steve sits at a table like these to the left of me.

These days, I usually write a blog post (this one) on Eye on the Edge, published on Sunday mornings, and on Tuesdays I write a shorter, less involved post, on DJan-ity. This is my current writing regimen, but I do occasionally forget the Tuesday post. My ability to keep track of things these days is slipping, slowly but surely.

However, I do remember that each day is not a simple rehash of my daily habits, but each day is discrete and (hopefully) memorable. Being able to look back at my days through these writings for the last almost two decades is really valuable. I was trying to remember when I got my last Covid shot and then had that bout with the virus, and there it was. chronicled in an earlier post. My recollection of how sick I got was also surprising; I remembered it as being rather benign, but the post reminded me of how sick I was for a few days. I didn't end up hospitalized, because I was well vaccinated and recovered fairly quickly, with no respiratory distress. It was still no walk in the park.

As the days, weeks, months and years pass by, I feel very fortunate to live in a place where the weather is mostly benign; I read about the extreme weather, with rain, wind, and even hurricanes that other parts of the country endure regularly. We are not immune from bad weather, but it comes and goes rather quickly. Last week we experienced several inches of rain, lots of fierce winds, but it passed by, leaving us with puddles and some standing water in the streets, but nothing that couldn't be navigated easily. And then yesterday, Saturday, was a really beautiful sunny day with light, almost nonexistent, wind. I went to the coffee shop with Steve, and the two of us walked five miles at the harbor before returning back to our starting point. It was a glorious day in so many ways. I was a little worried that my right hip might act up, but other than a twinge now and then, it was just fine. I felt so glad that I didn't have to ask for a short cut back but kept up without any problems.

But there is always something, these days, to remind me of my advancing age and that most octogenarians need to find less strenuous workouts. When I consider my activities today in comparison with earlier times, I realize that I have done exactly that. My right hip has been bothering me ever since I took that flying leap on the ice last February and was laid up for weeks. It still goes out on me every once in awhile, but it's much, much better. And that is because I continue to move as much as I can, not taking the opportunity to stop exercising. It's part of my life and has been since as long as I can remember.

I still can walk that far, maybe a little farther, but I could no longer manage the harder hikes that I took for granted a few years ago. Because of my failing eyesight, it's helping me to cope with the changes. But it's always something, isn't it? As we age, we need to accept that we are not as capable as in earlier times, not grieve over it but find new ways to enjoy our daily lives. I am guided by many of my peers who write their own blogs about coping with difficulty and finding new ways to keep active. And a few have shown how to gracefully accept their inevitable decline and I hope to do the same. We have each other, fellow travelers on this beautiful blue rock we call Earth.

I have been missing the Astronomy Picture of the Day website, which stopped putting new stuff up when we started this shutdown. We have now surpassed the length of past shutdowns and there is no signs of it ending anytime soon. Sigh. I really feel for the workers who go every day to their job and don't get a paycheck. But I am hopeful that my Social Security will continue, and that the shutdown will not affect my ability to pay bills and buy groceries. We are all hoping it will soon end and things will return to normal, or a semblance of it anyway. But it's always something, right?

That was the catchphrase that Gilda Radner used during his time on Saturday Night Live and became the title of her memoir, which is now released in its twentieth anniversary edition. Twenty years!

I had wanted to wrap this book up in a neat little package. I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned the hard way that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. --Gilda Radner

Ain't it the truth, Gilda. And just like that, I have found a way to end my post, with her wonderful words and a wish to listen to her voice once again. I'll get the audio version of her memoir and smile and laugh along with her. 

https://www.amazon.com/Its-Always-Something-Gilda-Radner-

 So, dear friends, I will wish you, as I always do, many happy moments in the coming week, and wish you all good things. Until we meet again, be well.

Still weathery but lots of fun

Some of the costumed Halloween workers

We had a great deal of fun at the Senior Center during the Halloween festivities. You may not recognize some of these people, but you have probably seen them incognito during previous journal entries, but now they are not quite so recognizable. I didn't dress up; there are so many previous years when I spent a good deal of time finding just the right costume. But that was then, and now I am quite happy to enjoy other people's fun costumes.

One of my favorite past year's costume was decades ago, when I decided to become Harpo Marx for the day. I found an old floppy top hat and men's clothes, but the most important part was an old brass horn. Many people reading this post might not have even known who he was, since Groucho was the brother most people recognized. (Learn about the Marx Brothers here.) There were actually five brothers, who performed in vaudeville for many years before becoming movie stars in its early days. Since I am old, I remember seeing the old comedies they performed in. I sure enjoyed learning about them and trying to be a passable Harpo. I didn't speak for the entire day, using the horn as my "voice."

My other memorable costume was becoming Dolly Parton. I bought an appropriate wig and paid a friend to give me some over-the-top thick makeup to look like her, complete with voluminous hair and a glittery outfit. That was fun, too.

As I have grown older, I have somehow lost the desire to play dress-up or pretend to become some famous person. It's just one more thing that has simply fallen away. There are times when I look at my life today and wonder how much of it has become part of the ether, and how much might be possible to remember and reconstruct, even all these years later. Just thinking about dressing up has reminded me of part of my past that I had completely forgotten.

Everybody must be the same way, I think. The young engeneu I was in my early teens is maybe still somewhere inside my soul, but it's been buried for so long that I'm not sure I would even recognize that part of myself today. As I have aged, the old lady I have become feels right and appropriate, but it was so gradual that I cannot even contemplate returning to that reality. Do you ever think of yourself as a child? I wonder.

Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don't resist them - that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like. --Lao Tzu

Now that I am losing the ability to see the world around me clearly, I am finding that there are many other ways to appreciate being alive than simply seeing. People are incredibly helpful to me, when I cannot do something alone, I often find someone who is happy to help. It also makes me realize how much I can still accomplish, and I hope that will be true if my world grows darker. I often think of Helen Keller and how much she accomplished without the seemingly essential gifts of sight and hearing. Helen died 1 June 1968 at the age of 87. A quote from the internet: “I seldom think about my limitations, and they never make me sad. Perhaps there is just a touch of yearning at times, but it is vague, like a breeze among flowers. The wind passes, and the flowers are content.” (Helen Keller)

She is my inspiration in life. Once she found her passion for learning, she became an internationally recognized scholar and read (in braille) more than a dozen languages. She wrote books and essays all her life. I will never be as accomplished as her, but I can find joy and love whenever I look for it.

And with that thought, my dear friends, I will leave you for the week. My dear partner still sleeps next to me, and my gratitude for him is boundless. Until we meet again. I wish you all good things. Be well.

Weathery and windy

Some of the great crew

 I love my volunteer work very much. Every Thursday and Friday I join others, like the ones in this picture, to set up the lunchroom, serve the clients who come every day (not everyone comes every day, but many do), and clean up the place after it's all over. I am totally impressed with the system, which seems to work pretty seamlessly when everybody shows up who is on the schedule. You notice we seem to be mostly female, but we have some great guys who join us too.

After we arrive in the lunchroom around 10:30, we work pretty constantly until 1:00, when everybody needs to have left so the next project can take place in the lunchroom. This past Friday we saw a tap-dancing class come in when we finished. By 1:00, we will have taken all the tables down (there are 11 of them, each seating six. It works out well, actually, and during lunch, the regulars will find a seat and enjoy the wonderful lunch that the cooks have prepared for them. On days when salmon or salisbury steak is served, it can get very crowded. The place can accommodate up to 175 over the period. Mostly people eat and leave, especially if we are truly crowded and there are no seats left. But many come every day not only to eat, but also to have social connections.

This past week, I had an appointment in Fairhaven to have my ear wax cleaned out. I found out about this service from one of my yoga companions on Wednesday and called them to find out when I might be able to use their service. It turned out to be 3:00 Friday, the first opening, so I took it. Once we finished our work at the Senior Center, my friend Michelle drove me there, and since there was time before my appointment, we did a little clothes shopping. Michelle is an expert at finding good deals, and I ended up with two blouses before I went into the office. It only took a few minutes before I was seated in a comfortable chair and removed my hearing aids. The woman who did the work was quick and efficient. It didn't hurt, but I did have quite a bit of wax in my left ear, and I listened to the whistling and other interesting sounds as she cleaned them out completely. I was thrilled by the difference between walking in there and walking out: I could HEAR so much better. I had to turn down the volume in both hearing aids before I was comfortable again. It wasn't cheap, but it sure was worth it. I will be back, but she said I shouldn't need another treatment for at least a year.

I sure wish there was something that easy to treat my eyes, but there isn't. As I continue to lose my central vision, it has become quite uncomfortable to drive very far; I only attempt it for short trips in well-known areas, and only when the weather is sunny and bright. I can still function well in most settings, using head lamps when I am outdoors in the dark, like walking to the bus in the morning. Bright lights sure help everything I try to do with my failing eyesight.

However, considering my advancing age and abilities slipping away, I am very fortunate to still continue to function well enough for now. These things don't stay the same, and I am doing everything I know how to keep moving and keep myself going in the right direction for as long as possible. I love my life, and I know how much I love still being able to enjoy almost everything I have always done. 

Being a morning person, I have a routine that helps me start every day with serenity. Once I make a cup of tea and take it back into my bedroom, I slip back into bed, prop myself up with pillows and enjoy the tea while I solve the wordle of the day. It usually takes me about fifteen or twenty minutes, but it so satisfying to start the day with an accomplishment. I do occasionally not get the word, but it's rare. On Sundays,  once my tea is gone and the puzzle solved, I get up, dress, and go onto the front porch to do my Tibetan exercises. It is obvious to me that these essential practices help me start every day with a smile. My dear partner still sleeps next to me, being a night person who goes to bed long after I do, and I then get up and tiptoe out, hoping not to wake him. John will be coming to pick me up at 7:15 for our usual Sunday breakfast.

I also realize how lucky I am to have found a virtual community that I care deeply about. If I have time before getting up, I sometimes have the time to read blogs that were posted since I last visited The Old Reader, which lists them for me, and I read them every day. If you are one of my  virtual friends, I read about your life and usually leave a comment. It is a community that didn't exist a few decades ago, but for those I follow, it's been part of my life to care about your trials, tribulations, and concerns. It helps give me some perspective on life, as we are all on this boat together. So, don't ever forget how important you are to at least one of your followers.

And now it's time to get up. I wish you, my dear friends, all good things in the coming week. Until we meet again, be well.

No Kings Day

Before the rally

Yesterday, before the No Kings Rally in Bellingham started, I got there early, having gone to the ecoffee shop with Steve and then we went to a short walk. We decided to go to the site of the upcoming rally and see how it looked before the throngs would arrive. Before Steve left to join a scheduled breakfast, we did see how the scene for the No Kings Rally.

Me and new friend Roseann

I found a spot on a bench and made myself comfortable, and in the process I met a new friend, Roseann, who shared the bench with me for awhile. It was spitting a little light rain, but nothing to worry about. I was well dressed with a jacket and my raincoat over it. 

By the time I was deciding to walk around and take pictures, as more and more people arrived, I saw that many of whom were dressed in costumes: a red Handmaid's Tale outfit, lots of inflatable whatsis, and even a few seven-foot-tall people on stilts. It was a lot of fun, and I kept getting overcome by emotion as I saw more and more people showing up. This is the best final picture I was able to get:

It was so much bigger than this

Once I arrived home, which was by bus, I was a little damp but not really soaked as I would have been had I gone home later. During the rally, our spirits rose and we all had a fun time together. I walked back to the bus station and turned on the TV to see what the rallies looked like in other parts of the country. It was an incredible turnout, all in all, and I'll be interested to see what the final numbers will be from across the country.

San Francisco 

I found this information from the Independent about how many were protesting in the streets of America:

Nearly 7 million people across the country turned out for the second “No Kings” protests against President Donald Trump and his administration, marking the largest single-day demonstration against a sitting president in modern history, organizers said.

Looking at the weather through pictures, it looks like it was really nice across most of the country. We had some rain, but that is to be expected here in the Pacific Northwest. I am so glad to have had the chance to be a part of this historic event. Even though my eyes are getting worse, as long as I can still walk and function in the world, I will remain a happy old gal. And continue to write and read posts.

Time goes by, and since I know there is only one direction to travel with my eyesight, I sometimes get a little down over it all, but I can also be happy to be doing as well as I am. I saw several people whom I have hiked with in the past, and we were very happy to be out there together, adding our protests to the world. It is a very good life, and I live in one of the best places in the country, so it seems wrong to focus on what's wrong with the world and not on what's right. 

And here I sit, quiet surrounding me as my sweet partner still sleeps next to me, and I know that John will pick me up in his truck/chariot and transport me to Fairhaven for our usual Sunday breakfast. Yes, there is much to be grateful for, and I choose love and light instead of gloom. Why not? Isn't life to be cherished as long as we have it? I continue to be surrounded by good thoughts and good people, so I am content. I hope you have a wonderful week, dear friends. Until we meet again, be well.

Wet, soggy but delightful

Wet pavement and brilliant trees

 Yesterday, I met Steve and John at the coffee shop and we decided, as a group, to stay out of the weather, which was unremittingly wet, and go instead to a local restaurant (the Daisy) for breakfast. I sure didn't have much desire to pile on the rain gear I brought, just in case I could be cajoled into braving the weather. Nope, nobody else was champing at the bit to go catch some rainbows. We enjoyed a very nice breakfast, and then John headed home, reminding me that we would see each other on Sunday (today) for our usual Fairhaven breakfast.

Steve and I waffled a bit before deciding to just go for a drive around town in his nice warm (and dry) car. That picture above was taken on Cordata Parkway, before we found a parking place at the community college where he works, and he took me on a tour of the Chemistry Department. The college is quite beautiful at every time of the year. I see the campus a few times a week on my bus ride to the Senior Center North, for my yoga classes.

Gentle scene from the first floor

There was a time, not so long ago, that I would not let a little thing like rain stop me from going on a hike. But that was then, and I've decided that it's just fine for me to stay inside and wrap myself in a favorite blanket and sit in my favorite chair.  And now that I am just a few months away from my eighty-third birthday, I have been telling new friends that I am already 83. Gotta get used to those huge numbers gradually, right?

I had a great week, considering everything going on. I have been trying to keep my spirits up as I watch my beloved country struggling every day with the politics of it all. I try to pretend that we will be all right, but I have my fingers crossed most of the time, hoping it will indeed turn out for the best.

I worked in the lunchroom both Thursday and Friday, getting more than 10,000 steps each day, and I talked to my sister Norma Jean for an hour or two on Wednesday. She lives in Florida, and I live in Washington State, thousands of miles apart but connected to each other by love, decades of life, and the internet. She's never known a world without me in it. And I cannot imagine my world without her presence. Fortunately, we are both in pretty good shape for our ages (she's two+ years younger and never lets me forget it). One of my favorite actresses, Diane Keaton, just died this week, and it reminds me once again that we are, each one of us, headed for the same fate, although I think she was too young to die, only 79. As I age, I find that anybody younger than me should still be vigorous and healthy. That is getting harder as I know that it's a privilege to be an octogenarian, not at all guaranteed. 

Steve outside his office and labs

It ended up raining just under an inch yesterday, with the same amount forecasted for today. It's been awhile since we've had that much rain, so it was really needed for the ground to get saturated before the cold comes. I am ready for the change in weather, and I look forward to continuing to enjoy the beautiful world that surrounds me. Although I can no longer see it clearly, it's still there, and I am still able to walk to the bus, take care of the seniors who look forward to my ministrations, and stay active, although in a limited capacity.

I have so much to be grateful for, but it's not easy watching my eyesight continue to deteriorate, slowly but surely. Of all the maladies I could have imagined befalling me, losing my ability to see clearly is not one I would wish on anybody. But apparently the rest of my physical body is doing well. I get to visit the dentist in the middle of the week, which I really don't like but see the necessity for the cleaning and examination of another part that is gradually deteriorating. *Sigh* I can either lament getting older or embrace it and make the best of it. Fortunately everybody I love and hang out with are also on this journey with me, so I am not alone.

You, my favorite virtual friends, are finding your own ways through the maze. I am jost so glad you are still around, still here to tell me about your own worlds and how you are coping. I send a heartfelt prayer in your direction, letting you know that you are not alone. Climb on board and let's see what adventures lie ahead this coming year. It bodes well for us all that we are still connected and engaged in life. Until we meet again next week, dear friends, I wish you all good things. Be well.

Into the fading dreams of yesteryear

Spooky times are here again

This delightful decoration is something that I have enjoyed from this nearby neighbor every year. It's always a little different. They have good Halloween stuff, and then wonderful Christmas stuff, before they put it all to bed for the winter. These are mostly new this year, and I especially love the dancing skeletons. (Makes me wonder if they show any difference between males and females, since the pelvic structure should be different for each gender. Right?)

Yesterday, I walked with my friend Steve for the first time since he moved and spent several Saturdays dedicated to getting his several-years-long home moved into a smaller apartment, but one that should be adequate for him and his children, when they visit (two, a boy and a girl. If you can call people in their twenties children. But you know how it is: your kids will always be your kids and expected not to age too quickly.) My son Chris lived to be forty, had a full life and then joined the Army in his thirties. I'm glad he met Silvia, whom he married while he was stationed in Germany. She had a son who was a boy of ten or eleven when they got together. She spoke very little English, so I never got a chance to know her well. Nobody expected Chris to die so young, but I for one am glad he got to experience matrimony and fatherhood, even if he wasn't the boy's the biological father. 

Chris has been gone since 2002, more than two decades. I don't think of him often, but he used to visit my dreams fairly regularly. Not so much now, for some reason; maybe it's because he's reincarnated and is busy living another life. I like to think that we might actually get more than one chance to go around the Universe. But who knows?

I was a very young mother, just shy of my nineteenth birthday when he was born. Neither of us knew what we were doing when we first met, after his unremarkable birth. He weighed seven pounds, seven ounces, and was a pretty normal looking newborn. We were both at the Army Base Hospital, on a ward with seven other mothers. I was the ony one attempting to breastfeed; the others were happy to have their milk dried up and give their babies formula. I don't remember now why I was so adamant about wanting to nurse him. In the early 1960s, it was just not done, and I would turn my rocker around so that I didn't have to watch the other mothers with their bottles. I ended up breastfeeding him for almost six months and wish I had kept it up, but the pressure was still there to join the others and I figured that I gave him a good start in life.

In those days, giving birth was treated very differently than it is today. I was kept in the hospital for several days, and when I gave birth in a civilian hospital to my second child three years later, I wasn't even kept overnight. Thinking of my life as a mother, I am reminded of many memories of happy, laughing babies and a happy mother. Everything changed when Stephen, my second child, contracted spinal meningitis and died. My marriage ended, and I entered a long period of depression. Eventually, however, I rejoined the world and put my sorrows behind me. The one who paid the highest price was Chris, who not only lost his brother, but his mother as well. Derald, his father, stepped up and really helped Chris through that hard period. I was of no help at all.

I had a wonderful job for years, working at the National Center for Atmospheric Research in Boulder, Colorado, and I got to travel extensively, including many trips to Southeast Asia. Now, here I am, an elderly woman living out her retirement years, with the wonderful man I met while skydiving in the early 1990s. SG and I have now been together for more than three decades, and although we are both dealing with health issues, that's pretty normal for people our age. It's been over a decade since I last made a skydive, but the memories I cherish of those days will remain with me forever. At least I hope so! I no longer take anything for granted, including keeping my mental capacity intact. Losing my sight has been no picnic, but I am adapting, and I can still type on my laptop and read the blogs of some of my dear friends in the blogosphere. It's like my virtual family, actually; I have been following some for decades and feel invested in their lives. I've lost a few friends over the years, and it's no easier than if we saw each other daily. When I think of how different my life would be without you all, I continue to be filled with gratitude for what I can still enjoy every single day.

Lavender at the harbor

I am not sure whether you can see the pretty color of the lavender I saw yesterday at the harbor, because I wanted to try to find a way to share the delight with you through my camera lens. And I am hoping that you will also find a way to share some beauty in your own life with others. It feels good, and looking at the world through a lavender tint makes me happy. Today John will pick me up and transport me to Fairhaven for our usual Sunday breakfast, and then I will return home to share my day with my guy, which will punctuate with hugs and laughter. 

Until we meet again next week, dear friends, I wish you all good things. Be well.