Category: coping

Random Thoughts at 34,000 Feet (Up)

Shirleyjdietz4 Comments

This is going to be a long flight and I’m bored already. Oh how I wish I had not forgotten the crochet hook. My plan for four hours of waiting was to crochet more of the bookmarks for my Cambodian kids. I have a big ball of thread and no implement.  Since I wasn’t going to read my book, it is in the suitcase in the bin over my head. I’m not getting up to dig it out – too much trouble.

No needlework, no book, that leaves eating and sleeping.  I know better than to think there will be much to eat on this domestic flight.  No one eats any more on domestic flights.  Well, I was wrong, here come the peanuts, all 21 of them (I counted). That shaved a minute and a half off the flight time. I know better than to think I’m going to fall asleep with the baby being loud behind me, and the person coughing all the time somewhere back there.  I must not breathe their air.   

It’s hard to sit straight in these seats for very long. I twist and look out the window until my neck hurts. All the scenery is pretty far away. Oh, but there is a big river, If I had to guess, I’d say Mississippi.  Maybe we’re getting close to Minnesota. 

Trying to make myself sit straight again. Suddenly aware of how many times and places I do sit crooked. Like in my car, always leaning to the right, away from the door. I think my bones and muscles have adapted to poor posture. Need to pay more attention to that.  They’ve done something to make these seats harder.  It’s punishment for going economy class.  For that we all get punished, and someone has already done the puzzle in the airplane magazine.  They are trying to make me go crazy. 

Clouds look like popcorn. Mmmm…. popcorn. Butter. I’m thirsty.

More male flight attendants than female on this flight, kind of interesting. And the guys are doing all the refreshment service in the cabin. The lady must have gotten the first class cabin. Wonder if I’ll ever ride first class?  In my dreams…  What have they done to make guys want to be flight attendants?  Maybe it’s because they let them be comedians and make you tube videos.  Guys love that.

It is so noisy in here. There were a bunch of announcements and I hope they weren’t important because the engines drowned out the words. I didn’t catch a one of them.  I want some noise cancelling headphones.

I can see the top six inches of head of nearly everyone in the plane, from the back. Head tops are curly, straight, bald, that one needs a color touch up, grey, white, baseball cap. I can tell which women have gotten professional cuts – they have actual styles.  I try to guess how old everyone is based on the back of their head.  

Woman across the aisle has an outfit that looks severely odd. I’m trying not to stare. Lime green ankle length dress with a straight skirt and what looks like a three foot long hood hanging down the back. Looks high fashion, matches her jewelry and haircut. She’s spent some money somewhere but I wonder if she’s comfortable.  That shiny white box is her purse?!  She is so “Project Runway”.  Thankful for my comfortable clothes.

Chocolate. Nice lady next to me gave me a Hershey kiss. She’s going to her grandson’s wedding. She asked me where I was going. We are aware of the opposite prevailing emotions behind a wedding and a memorial service, but acknowledge that we are both going to be seeing a lot of family.  She says that is going to be good.  So do I. 

What on earth am I going to do with my mind for the next two hours? Aaarrraaghh! (silently) Look through my purse for the tenth time for that stupid crochet hook. 

Wonder if the husband made it out of Tampa and back home safely.  Worry about him.  Worry about him driving my car.  Hope he doesn’t crash the car. 

Thinking about my car some more. Can hardly believe that we got 5 people and four sets of luggage in LC (little car). It’s a good thing the ride to the airport was only 50 minutes. I guess I’m getting more used to, and more appreciative of that car. It definitely has some good technology and gets good gas mileage. I’m getting used to putting my “stuff” in the back seat, getting used to the awkward drink holder that I can never get my cup out of, getting used to taking the husband’s phone out of the cubby he always tries to put it in so that I can move the gear shift, getting used to the way I have to climb up and out of my seat, getting used to waiting five minutes while the husband gets out of his seat.  

What time is it? Are we there yet? Oh gosh, 45 more minutes….

I can tell we are in the midwest. The land is all divided up into regular sized squares, none of those irregular lines around the geography of the south. Every once in a while, where the roads intersect, there is a conglomerate of buildings, a town. There’s that big river again, with a barge. Has to be the Mississippi. Every inch of land is some kind of field – so many different shades of green and brown and once in a while a yellow one. The cloud shadows are so obvious from up here.  The early settlers would turn over in their graves if they could see this land being so covered with farms and houses.  And they would never believe that I would be seeing it from the sky. I don’t believe I’m seeing it from the sky.  Hope the plane doesn’t crash.

Can hardly wait to get a crochet hook and make up for all this wasted time. Must go to Walmart as soon as I get to Hayward. Wonder if I’ll ever live in Hayward again. That would be kind of full circle, no it’s more like a double circle. I started there and left, came back to start our family and left again, and to return would be the second homecoming. Two circles. I never would have dreamed there would be a Walmart in Grandma’s back yard – never in a million years. Wish she could see it.  Wish the early settlers could see a Walmart.  They wouldn’t believe it. 

Engine speed is changing now and I can feel us moving to a lower altitude. Such a difference in noise level. We must be getting close to Minneapolis and I am so glad. My neck is really stiff now. Have to move and stretch soon or I’m going to self destruct. So glad this isn’t a 16 hour flight to South Korea. Hope the plane doesn’t crash. 

Ooops. Forgot my sunglasses. Oh well, Wisconsin in the fall – the sun might not shine the whole time I’m there. The lady in the lime green outfit just stood up. The dress has ruching up the sides and all kinds of chiffon draping and fluttery things in the front. Never seen anything like it. Can’t believe she wanted to wear that on the plane. What was she thinking? We are definitely pointing down now.  Hope the plane doesn’t crash. 

No Question Marks Allowed

Shirleyjdietz6 Comments

Was just looking over my last few post titles and seeing a run of question marks that I didn’t realize was happening.  There are going to be none in this post.  This is going to be difficult since there are no subjects that I don’t have questions about.  For such a decisive person, I am perfectly comfortable with many uncertainties. In addition I am very skeptical of people who think they’ve got it all figured out, not only for themselves but for everyone else too.  That is not to say that there aren’t things that I have proven to myself to be true and certain.  There are some. 

Today I went to visit Jack.  He is one of my “older than me” friends who has had several months of acute illness followed by surgery, followed by infections, setbacks, weight loss, more setbacks, and endless rehab.  I don’t know how he remains as positive as he does.  

A home assessment visit was supposed to take place today and I was invited along since I may be helping him when he finally gets released.  It was cancelled.  He has a fever and didn’t feel well enough. Today I could feel the gloom and he had very little to say.  I think he is living in the kind of decline that most of us fear is going to happen to us someday, if we live long enough without a quick accident of some kind.  And for Jack it is even more of a dilemma since for the last few years he has been watching his wife Carol, go through an even slower, more agonizing decline with Alzheimers.  He is concerned for her and for himself. They are in the same rehab hospital so he at least can see her frequently.  

At home today, while I was thinking about Jack’s situation, the TV was non-stop talking about the latest journalist beheading.  It was another instance of imminent death which I’m sure the victim saw coming.  I wonder what it was like to anticipate that – and then immediately I don’t want to think about it anymore, don’t want to visualize it or feel the details.  It seems like the world is unusually full of death, be it quick or slow.  Maybe it has always been this way to those who were aware of the suffering, but it is pretty hard not to be aware of it in this present age.

All troubling thoughts about death and suffering eventually connect me to what I believe about myself and about God.  To all people I would not be hesitant to say I am certain we all will die. To some people I would say I am certain God exists, knows and loves us and wants to bring us through this life to a better one in the future.. I am certain he can be known and loved by us once we really understand him.  But to others I would not say this because of the questions they need answered, and which I cannot answer.  I think I understand these people because of all my own uncertainties.

Here’s the good thing.  As I wrestle with my thoughts on death, meaning of life, what I’m certain of and what I’m not, I feel no condemnation from God for having questions.  Unlike this post where no questions are allowed, they seem to be allowed and welcomed, certainly in the past but now as well.  I think it’s very possible that God uses questions, uses uncertainty, and is able to demonstrate his answers better because of them.  

I’m not going to anticipate decline in my old age and I’m going to encourage Jack not to be afraid.  I’m not going to fear terrorism and imagine all kinds of atrocities happening to me (well, maybe a little, well yes, I’m afraid of some of it).  What I do feel is a great curiosity and a hopeful anticipation of having my questions answered,  And it will be good when that happens. Of that, I am certain. 

 

Could This Be You?

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wpid-20140831_174115.jpgDear WritingSelf,

Do not get discouraged when you can’t think of anything you feel like writing. Feelings are a sneaky enemy of getting things done. They make you think you have nothing to say that anyone wants to hear, nothing to write that anyone wants to read, and this is not true. Your feelings tell you all kinds of things that aren’t true but we won’t go into that right now.

You know your mother always wants to read what you write and haven’t you been surprised at comments from others as well? If only one person gets something of value from your letters and posts, isn’t that significant? Even if it were just Mom, she matters! People matter! I know you try to tell yourself you are just writing for your own satisfaction – it doesn’t matter if anyone else ever reads you – but that’s only partly true. We’ve been over this before. People read because 1) they’ve been through the same things and like to know someone else has as well 2) they haven’t been through the same things and are curious and like new ideas. You care about people and want to contribute to that process so you write. You write for people. You write for yourself. Both are true.

And didn’t you start writing, even with the first letter when you were young, because you had a unique way of looking at ordinary things? Didn’t you want everyone to know that their way of seeing the world was also unique and possibly inspiring. There really is nothing new under the sun but there might be a new way of thinking about that experience, that act, that situation. Your way of thinking might expand someone else’s world a little even if you’re not on some “best seller” list.

Pleeeease, don’t think about all the other amazing (more amazing than you) writers you’ve found online and let that discourage you. The majority of people on this planet never write anything. The fact that you want to write makes you part of a small number of people willing to write the history of all people as they write about their own lives.

You’re having a dry spell, so what?. Are you going to pretend that you’ve never heard another writer mention something like that before? It will pass. Go make a list, write a letter to a friend, jot down a silly poem, describe what you see out the window or what you had for lunch. In five or ten years, that might be a precious reminder of this time in your life.

And last but not least, God put it in your heart to be a writing person for a reason. Keep writing and find out what it is.

Beep, beep, boop?

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What?  Who did this? To those of you reading who are not also bloggers, I will explain.  One of the latest updates to WordPress, my blog host, includes a cute little “beep, beep, boop” message wiggling around in the center of a blank screen for a few seconds after certain commands are instituted.  It’s a thing to look at while you’re waiting.  Evidently someone thought that us bloggers would lose interest and wander off if we didn’t have something new to look at for three seconds while our post is being published.  I’d like to meet the originator of this idea and try to figure them out. I’m always amazed at the things people will think to do.  Actually, sometimes I’m also amazed at the things people don’t think to do – the old rule, never say never,  applies equally to never say always. Both good things to remember.

This last week, every time I sat down at the computer I lost interest and wandered off.  One day I didn’t even turn the thing on.  But that’s ok.  A week of inactivity online doesn’t bother me much and gives me the opportunity to write about what I have been into while I haven’t been writing.

– Equate extra strength Headache Relief,  for the headache that doesn’t seem to want to quit.  Although I’m probably not doing my stomach any favors, I’m grateful for the four or five hours of relief and super wakefulness that I get from swallowing a couple pills.

Hello headache, my old friend...
Hello headache, my old friend…

– Intraocular injections (shot in the eyeball), for the eye problem that was dramatically improved, in the doctor’s own words.  I’m grateful that it’s working and that I don’t have to get another one for five weeks, although I am getting used to everything about them (except the cost…)

the back of my eye
the back of my eye

– Childcare, for several of my yòoung friends who I realize I’ve been missing.  How come you guys can grow up in what seems like no time at all? Gracie, Lydia, Josh, Zeke, Shiloh – grateful for time spent with you that makes me feel younger even while I marvel at you getting older.  I’m troubled by the fact that I’ve never played X-box.  Is that weird?

Childcare for her, adult care for me...
Childcare for her, adult care for me…

– Old letters and old files, for the urge to purge and to organize. Lots of stuff has been burned or shredded, but lots else has been rediscovered and readied for the next project, memoir writing.  I’ve always been alarmed by my lack of memory for details of the past.  Not only did I forget all those details, but I forgot that I’d written them down in letters to others.  This morning, reading letters written to my mother ten years ago, all I could think was “Really, I did that?” and “Did some other person’s life sneak into my letters?”  Grateful for the written record of the past.

I'm more prolific than I remembered.
I’m more prolific than I remembered.

– Appliance shopping, because the washer and dryer that have wanted to leave my house for years, finally broke free.  Grateful that within hours of starting to shop for replacements I came across a used set that is probableyten years younger.  After only one session with the furniture dolly, the truck, the hoses, wrenches and plumbing tape, they are installed in my laundry room and functioning almost correctly.  The printed message under the temp dial that says “all rinses are cold only” really means they are scalding hot only.  I think I know how we can fix that.

the Laundry twins, Hi and Dri
the Laundry twins, Hi and Dri

– Air travel websites, for the supposed improvement of doing it yourself.  Instead of calling a knowledgeable person and telling them when and where I want to travel I can now spend hours online hunting for the best connection at the best price.  And American Express Delta Frequent Flyer card, how dare you revoke the companion ticket feature without telling me.  Planning my revenge…

Did. Not. Happen.
Did. Not. Happen.

– the garden that was, the heat that is, that yard that will be.  Grateful for the healing work that takes place in me when I’m outdoors.  Grateful for green things, if they’re plants – not, if they’re worms.

Good green
Good green
Bad green
Bad green

 

– Face time, with friends and family who care.  I am realizing that the purpose and value of life is all in the relationships I find and nurture.  Realizing also that God is that friend and that family member who makes it all possible.  Having less work away from home has given me more time to nurture the relationship with him and I am so grateful for that.  Gives me some precious times of discovery, comfort, peace and excitement. Arlette and I took a lovely walk yesterday and talked of all these things.

Nature walk with my friends Arlette and God.
Nature walk with my friends Arlette and God.

 

My friend Arlette (and maybe God too, on her left)
My friend Arlette (and maybe God too, on her left)

Community

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That is a word to wrestle with (or, with which to wrestle, just so 6th grade English teacher doesn’t fight to get out of her coffin…).  Monday nights my email inbox fills with weekly digests of all the bloggers I have followed.  I recognize most of the names and think of something I’ve read from them that really intrigued me and gave me a reason to push the follow button.  I try to always have a reason. 

Yesterday, which was a Tuesday, I settled down to read and interact.  I know this is essential to being part of the community and I want to do it.  I got as far as the first site and ended up reading several long, thoughtful posts.  And then it was time to quit reading and interact with some housework and a doctor’s appointment.

This happens so much of the time.

One blog out of so many.

Anybody else have this problem?

I despair of keeping up after having started a reading relationship.  And from what I understand, it is reaching out to new writers and encouraging them that really builds community, following more and more blogs, more and more to read, comment on, keep up with.  The problem is not that I am a slow reader.  The problem seems to be that I am really interested in what I’m learning about someone.  And I do seem to need a lot of time to think about what I’m reading.

This community of bloggers is a big, fascinating marketplace.  I’m not upset (eh, maybe a little) because I’ve already accepted that I have limitations.  I can’t be best friends with the whole world, but I can get better acquainted with some of it.  So, today Lord help me decide where to read, where to comment, what to write.  I will rest in that, for today. 

It’s Not A Crime

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This is not a post from a sweet,  gray haired, “got it all figured out” Christian lady . I am just a person who sometimes lies awake at night wondering about life and who I am and why I’m here.

This is a week where a family member has died. It’s a week when a child has asked me “do you think it would be okay to have fun and not be sad?” I have come to a conclusion. It is not a crime to be happy. The world is full of terrible things, even so, it is more of a crime to be sad than to be happy. We were made to be happy. That is good news.

All the terrible things in the world didn’t come about by chance. They were not put here for us by an uncaring God either. We chose those things ourselves, most of them, and others came because we chose to hang out with a bad gang bent on destruction. Those terrible things, all of them, came when we didn’t believe what we were told about how to be happy.

It is somewhere deep in our being to think, and then say “NO, I do it myself!” Why is it so hard for us to believe that we are not the smartest, most reasonable, most capable, most invincible beings ever? Why is that so hard? Why do we act like a two year old child when we are told what will be best for us? Why does it take us fifty, sixty, seventy, ninety years to realize that we are not in control and that our days are going to run out. Those days go by faster and faster, begging us to look the issue straight on, to decide whether we will let ourselves acknowledge our parent who knows more than we do, our creator, and call him God.

I am not a preacher or a missionary. Sometimes I wish I were a missionary and could go to some land where life is very difficult, much more basic and simple. People there do not need to be convinced that there is a God. Most of the time they just need to be told and they recognize it as what they’ve been longing to hear and know. I live in a land where people think too much about some things and too little about other more important things – but there is a lot of thinking going on. Thinking like that young child, which is pretty much “what do I want now?”

This whole question of what’s going on with life can be learned by studying that parent – child relationship. It’s all there. I’ve had kids. I know. I’m not talking about all the bad variations of it that we have managed to come up with. A true parent longs for the child from the moment it is conceived in the mind, becomes more in love with it as it develops, protects it, delights in seeing it progress, grow and assume unique qualities. A true parent is concerned with the lifelong happiness of the child and has a better picture of how that is to be achieved than does the child. The toddler sincerely thinks he is capable, because he knows what he wants now. He does not know what he will want later – he has to be told that and don’t expect him to understand. Really, you can’t even tell him.

Don’t try.

Can you see how we are kind of like toddlers all our lives? We try one thing that we want after another, trying to feel big and important and smart and we will do it ourselves. We are not able to understand. We will test. We will insist. A good parent knows this will happen and plans for it. A good parent would die to keep their child safe and bring them through those tests. I am not a perfect parent but I feel that way about my kids. I think God feels that way about me.

I live in a world that is crazy with design and beauty, full of things meant to be good, meant to produce growth. I’m like that baby that grows up in the home provided by the parents – it’s child-proofed and I’m surrounded by toys to amuse and educate me. I’m watched over, cared for. Could I possibly think I put all that in place myself ? More and more, I know that I did not do it myself.

I lie awake at night thinking about this. Why does this even make sense to me? Why doesn’t it make sense to everyone – that’s what I wonder. Am I missing something?

The Singular Experience

Shirleyjdietz1 Comment

 

Trapped in a singular experience

One in which the intensity is almost unbearable

This is war, this is accidental life, unplanned,

Sudden, a hostage situation of the mind

Waiting for deliverance, for the rescue, for the revealing

Of the plan, the moment when the captor drops his guard

The moment also unexpected, but clear

Now? Now? Now. Waiting.

Where’s the Lid?

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Who would expect mayhem in such a peaceful place?
Who would expect mayhem in such a peaceful place?

It’s as if someone left the lid off the crazy bottle lately and little demons are spilling out all over.  Evidently I completely missed a life or death battle next door last night.  True, the person who related the story to me is a bit given to drama –  if he was really being chased around the yard by an angry woman with a shovel, would I not have seen that? Sigh.  We have two adjoining houses in the oneacrewoods.  We’ve rented out the second house ever since my parents stopped coming down in the winter.  I would say that probably 75% of the renters have been people we enjoyed having next door.  The other 25% have given us some bizarre stories to tell.  I have come to understand that this is all part of being a landlord and no matter how careful one tries to be, situations change, things happen.  The ideal appearing applicant is still a human being with life problems and things can go crazy down the road. I wonder if the message I see in all the recent events is that it’s time to make life a little less complicated.  Simplification can be a beautiful, freeing thing and I might be ready for some of that.  What am I going to want to put up with in five years? ten years? or, for instance, when I’m 90? This week I went to visit the 90 year old lady, living by herself, who needed some help dealing with her security company (read about it here) .  We were able to solve that problem without too much trouble, but I became aware of other problems that come with age and limited mobility.  After we cleared a place off at the table where months of mail was stacked, our conversation turned to how she hadn’t eaten much that day and wished she had a complete food for herself like she did for her dog.  Some sort of pelletized people food would be ideal.  She still drives her truck to the store for milk but she admitted that it was getting a little scary.  And yet she hesitated at my offer of help.  Her mind knows she is not taking good care of herself but her body makes it hard for her to do any better. We are all getting older and we need to watch out for each other and help each other when we can.  I’m just saying, who do you know who needs some  looking after?  Food for thought.

I Would Like to Say but I Can’t

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I can hardly talk.  I’ve had this predisposition for laryngitis since I was a teen but I’ve been so healthy the last few years I had almost forgotten what it was like.  When it happens I know I’m going to attempt to say something but I don’t know if I’ll be able to make a noise or  not, and if I do it will probably not be audible as speech.  Then I’ll have to push myself to talk louder and my throat will tighten and actually begin to hurt.  The first cough will come, very dry and bark like.  It won’t satisfy the dryness, the itch, the involuntary spasms in my larynx until I cough again.  And the more I try to stifle it the worse it becomes until tears are streaming from my eyes and I’m in a coughing free for all.

Where do I not want to be when all this takes place?  Several places.  My worst memory of it was in a plane over the north pole during a 16 hour flight from Cambodia to Atlanta.  I was trapped in my window seat by two other people, and I don’t know where I would have gone even if I could have gotten out.  Another inconvenient place is church, on stage, playing the piano.  Not good.  And then there was today, on the quiet, serene orthopedic floor of the hospital. I  had been talking too much and it triggered an episode that I thought would not end well.  Fortunately I ran into a sympathetic nurse who not only brought me water, but cough drops as well.  Coughing like that makes one feel like a major source of the plague.  Maybe I was.

I was visiting  my client/friend, well, back up a little.

Last Monday I got a text in the evening from my client who is mostly paralyzed, having a C-5 spinal injury.  She does drive a specially equipped van and had been out doing errands that day.  It simply read “I almost got killed today on Manatee Ave.”  With an opener like that, I thought surely she would tell me more but no.

I talked with her again a day or so later and learned that her electric wheel chair had gone off the sidewalk, over a four inch curb and nearly dumped her in the street.  She had been saved  by her seat belt and two young men who pulled her back into the chair and the chair back onto the sidewalk.  Other than losing her lunch during the panic she didn’t think she was injured.  But over the next couple of days there was evidence of pain, then swelling in her leg and finally an x-ray that showed a broken femur.  I knew nothing about this last finding until last night when I got an email from a friend with a partial name of a hospital and a room number.  It was late. I went to bed.

This morning I got up early, before testing my voice, and scurried over to the hospital.  Her room number was 932 but, funny thing, there was no 932 in that hospital, and no one registered by her name.  And it took a lot of vocal energy to find this stuff out, believe me.  So I sat in my car and thought of another hospital where she could have gone.  I experienced the agonizing frustration of talking on the phone, having no voice.  It’s not like I could use body language or charades or pencil and paper.  She wasn’t at that hospital either.  I went home and sent out several queries by text and waited for answers.

I did finally find her in the next town south and made it down there by mid morning.  Other than the above mentioned coughing fit, the visit went well and I was glad I went.  This is why.  She is scheduled for surgery and when going to surgery, jewelry is removed if possible.  My client had a ring that no one had been able to remove from her finger.  It was valuable and she was not wanting to have it cut off.  I knew a nifty trick to remove a tight ring that I had learned years before from a youtube video.  I was dying to use it on this perfect occasion.  Everybody should know this method because it really works great and is so easy.  You can use thin elastic, ribbon, even dental floss.  I used crochet thread because I happened to have it with me.  So, I’m going to end with this and you should watch it because you never know when you might be someone’s answer to prayer.

The Way Things Are

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I have no control, not really.  I may make appointments and think I know where I’m going to be, but it’s never really the case.  It’s such a true saying “wherever I go, there I am” and that’s about all I can count on.  It’s okay.  It relieves me of a lot of responsibility. I didn’t even get upset last night when the post I’d spent a couple hours thinking through and writing down disappeared when I inadvertently moved my hand in front of the touch screen.  I guess WordPress doesn’t have automatic update/save.  That’s the way things are.

Today I am put in charge of a situation to solve for someone else, if I can.  I have total compassion for people who by some strength of body and mind have managed to live to be old, like over 90, and still are taking care of themselves.  But things get difficult and maybe it’s hard to remember how you used to take care of difficulties with contracts and bills and harassing phone calls.  So you are happy to let someone help you.  I was volunteered for this job.

My friend C. who is younger, only a year or so past 80, has taken to looking after a neighbor, the above mentioned person.  A while back she fell in the driveway on her way to the mailbox and couldn’t get up. Someone noticed and came to her aid.  Later when C. was with her he suggested she get some kind of device she could use to summon help.  She had one – it was in the house, when she was in the driveway.  He found out she was a bit disturbed with a bill she had gotten from the security company.  She had an experience with a rather sharp tongued customer service rep when she called to ask about it.  She didn’t understand and C. couldn’t explain it to her but he told her Shirley would take care of it, not to worry.  Right.

After half a dozen calls I finally get to someone who might have info on this account and, as usual, I have to have a password or they won’t address the issue with me.  That’s the way things are.  What are the chances our 90 year old friend will remember a password she chose three months ago?  I don’t remember passwords I chose last week.

It’s a strange day outside.  It is bright and sunny except for the three or four times (about every hour) when a cloud has coasted overhead and dumped torrential rain for 10 minutes or so.  We are in Florida and that also is just the way things are.