"Worried", "Relieved", "A Trial of a Different Sort", "Having Fun At Last"

July 31, 1999

"Pruning the Pile"

All of this voting at Diarist Net about which entry is better, A, B or C, may help focus my own mind on what makes better writing, and thereby improve my own efforts. For instance, there are three entries nominated for best account of a public or news event, A: An Umbrella, B: Our Man in Kosovo Wants Ice Cream  and C: Empty. They're all well-written. But one stood out from the rest. One educated me very well on a news item I'd not heard. Who knew opening an umbrella in China could be so dangerous? Not normally, but if it's the anniversary of the Teinnman Uprising, and you're on that square where it took place, and that umbrella has a word printed on it, it can be. Especially if it is the word "Remember". One of the other entries was about the bombings at gay bars in London. It has all the politically correct views. Shouldn't I as a queer-identified person have chosen the one about issues related to gay people? But I didn't.

I chose Our Man in Kosovo Wants Ice Cream. over the one about the bombings at gay bars in London and the one about the Chinese. Both A and C had a strong sense of 'Over there, versus this gray space here'. Thus, they seemed detached and intellectual, despite all the right views. There was something different about choice B. There was no sense of detachment from the events in "Our Man in Kosovo Wants Ice Cream". The author was able to converse with the soldier stationed there, via the immediacy of the web. This added a new insight, beyond merely thinking about it. She told us something SHE EXPERIENCED, something we couldn't have thought ourselves, had we read the same news items. When I cover a news item in my own journal, I should always bring something unique from my own experience to it. I'm not sure I always have done that.

This morning, being the end of the month, illicited another sort of nominating process. Time for the Thirty Days pick of the month. I love this one, for I get to pick MY OWN entry. With the thoughts gained over the earlier pruning process, I took to my own lot with the same knife. Somber Thoughts made the grade. Oh, I fixed the wording a bit and added a relevant photo, before giving the webmasters of Thirty Days the URL. But it had started with the vital juice, my own vivid experience.

I love learning more about how to improve my craft. I look back on my earliest entries and hope there's been growth. Who knows what I'll write like when I'm sixty, and have leavings at several servers of my little bits and bytes? I'm looking forward to finding out.

"Worried"

Laura's not been breathing well. She can't really sleep at night for the breathing troubles. I don't know if the greater humidity is a cause. (My joints have been noticing it more in the morning.) She gets these weird 'stitches' in her side. Today one of those 'stitches' threw her down on the floor.

She should be resting, BUT WHAT DOES SHE DO?? She heads off for Bookman's forty five miles away in Mesa, with Julia, in the car that Julia can't drive. She says she needs to keep her mind off of it.

When Shayna got back from cleaning the house for a dear friend, I told her the situation. She bolted right out and headed up to Bookman's in the hopes they'll still be there. I have to stay here because a customer is coming around 2:00pm.

So I'm sorta freaked. I got the thing done that's due at 2:00pm, but can't concentrate well enough to wrestle with the other stuff. Laura's been having trouble with breathing for several days now. We took her off that DHEA stuff that she was taking 'for extra energy', in case the androgens in that stuff was adding to her troubles.

Trying to clear my mind, I was writing a close friend about these events, when I looked at the content of her letter I was replying to. She had been corresponding back and forth with a friend in Virginia:

>Our subject was of 'holodecks' and
>what we would create if we had access to one! My favorite would be on a
>deserted beach, all alone at dusk, watching the sea birds as they
>frantically try to catch their last fish dinner of the day, the sounds
>of the waves rolling in, the sun starting to sink into the distant
>water....... ah, holodeck take me away!!! :-) As you can see I am still
>wrapped up in this - a very nice thing to be wrapped up in, don't you
>agree?!

Yes, I sure do agree, holodecks are a lovely subject. I rather like her beach. I'd visit there. How about the one in the picture below? It's an old pic I nabbed off the web (Yes, I boldly and rudely stole it from Lonely Planet, of a Sealer's Cove somewhere in Australia. I wanna go. NOW.

No, after Laura's feeling better, and take her too.

"Relieved"

This evening, Laura's feeling more like her self. While out, she solved the mystery of her inability to breathe well. The whole trip, she kept coughing up the taste of hair color dye. A few days ago, exactly the same time Laura's super bad breathing problems happened, she and Shayna went to the big bathroom in the addition to color their hair. Shayna's thick mane of hair takes THREE boxes of hair dye. So there was four boxes worth of fumes in an insufficiently ventilated room. I could even smell it over here in the main house, coming through the air ducts. They had had the fan going, and the door cracked open, but it wasn't enough.

We're just relieved that it's not a worsening of her heart and lung troubles.

Whew.
It'll go away in time.

August 1, 1999

"That could be my mother!"

Laura's feeling MUCH better this morning. She's playing Might and Magic VII, the latest version of the D & D game that all the HEROES OF Might and Magic games are based on. It's got impressive music with full scale orchestras, singing choirs, and such, along with impressive animations. But it looks, on the surface at least, similar to Daggerfall, but Laura assures me it's much different. I may try it. Although the Heroes of . . . II and III are still intriguing me.

crop of cacti visited in December, 98

I amused myself this morning by bringing up old pics in Picture Publisher, and found the 'mother' of this crop. By the others taken at the same time, we must have been on a hike in the Catalina State Park's Birding Trail. Ah, for cool days when we can go hiking again. Sigh.

The heat here has been really quite ordinary by desert standards, except for the rain and humidity. But, while waiting for everyone at the exercise place yesterday, I caught a front page article on the heat in the midwest. There's been twenty three heat-related deaths in Illinois this year. A large photo of an elderly lady sprawled out, barely conscious on her apartment floor riveted my eye. Yikes! That could be my mother. I should call her today.

August 2, 1999

"Singularly UNinspired"

My mother had a feeling I was worried about her. No, she's not cooked liver yet, but she's been suffering. Her tiny one room air conditioning unit was making a strange sound during the 104 (41C) degree heat, so she only ran it at night. Placing fans around her during the day, she poured water on herself to keep cool. I told her how we here in the sizzling Sonoran desert paradise have had to do that more than once.

(I asked Julia if she knew off hand what 104F translated to in centigrade. She did a few lighting fast calculations and pronounced '41'. So I got off my lazy butt and looked at our thermometer, which features both F and C. She was right! Julia batted her eyes and wanted to be 'bragged on'. She knows her stuff.)

I'm amazed at all the obscure information Julia carries around in her brain. She's got this unusual bump on the back of her skull. We always say that's where she stores it all.

August 3, 1999

"A Trial of a Different Sort"

I called the 1-800 number I was directed to call after 5pm last night, and learned all potential jurors were relieved of showing up. I was grateful. I'd since come up with a truthful enough statement, should I have been seriously considered. I don't feel comfortable judging the defendant, for if I made an error in judgment, I would feel too guilty. But I was all too happy to not need it.

I was all set to thoroughly enjoy the day, for I'd sewed strenuously the day before. The phone rang about 8:30, and I picked it up, thinking if it was a sewing customer, I was happy to be home to help them. It wasn't. It began a rather gruesome morning dealing with a Very Difficult Person. (VDP isn't in the CAST of characters, so you won't find him there.) After working with him for a few hours, eventually Laura was able to bring things to a state of harmony. VDP has unpredictable mood swings, however, and we don't know the next time we'll have another such event.

But, for now, we have détente.

August 4, 1999
Sometimes I Hate Being Right

There is one topic of conversation at our household of late - VDP. I don't like for him to have so much power over us. But it fairly consumes us. I can't think to write anything decent, at all, let alone do any long neglected artwork. All I can do is remember. Remember over three years ago when I warned Laura that we really should not get in such close association with this person. My intuition attennae were bouncing wildly all over the place. But she didn't believe me. Sometimes I hate being right.

Meanwhile I'll try to keep my mind better occuped by doing useful things like laundry and sewing today.

~ ~~ ~~~ ~~ ~

The Thought of the Day today:

Not to be cheered by praise,
Not to be grieved by blame,
But to know thoroughly ones own virtues or powers
Are the characteristics of an excellent man (person).

Saskya Pandit

Such a person would be very even tempered. They wouldn't swing wildly up at hint of praise, or sink into dank depression at suggestion of blame. They probably could face anything with a calm serenity. They could even deal with VDP with the patience of a saint.

I am not such a person. Is it possible to learn?

Yet, I wouldn't to be so even tempered as to be nearly flat-line. But maybe a little more evenness? VDP did call this morning, apologizing for yesterday's tirade. He was drunk. The skunk only swilled three cases of beer. Yes, you read right, thirty six cans of beer! He'd better be chagrined, I say.

So things are back to normal here. We hope to amuse ourselves this evening with pizza and maybe a movie from Blockbusters.

I decided to scratch on the Muse's door. Maybe she was distracted. This is what I got. Should I have come back later?

. . . all of it crashing too far forward, time needed for a reset, remeshing, re-alignment, reactionary waste set out, clear the slate, wash it down flat - On this basis, we'll begin anew . . . JAL, 8-4-99

August 5, 1999

"Having Fun At Last"

We thought Smoke Signals was going to be a comedy. It was billed as a comedy. There were a few humorous spots in it. For instance, I loved it when the two young Indian men start singing "John Wayne has no teeth", but it was about deeper things, as well. Victor and Thomas go on a trip to Phoenix, to retrieve Victor's father's ashes. All along the way, the two talk about various things. Victor is bitter because his father left the family when he was only twelve. At the movie's end, when he lays his father's ashes in the river, the course of events has lead him to come to terms with who his father was, and who he is.

I could be bitter, as well, about how my Dad let his wife Nancy throw me out of the house, back when I was staying with them. I was twenty two, and recently recovered from a nervous breakdown I'd suffered while in college. Fortunately the woman waited until then. It would have really been awful if she hadn't. Though I still could be bitter. Yet, it's especially important, when they're dead, and you can't pull them back into life to yell at them, to forgive them. Why Dad wasn't built of sterner stuff, why he just let Nancy push him around, I don't know. But I understand the man had his limitations. He didn't want Nancy to do that, he just was rather powerless when she was concerned. It could have been because Nancy had extremely manipulative techniques, such as threatening to commit suicide if she didn't get her way. I think that's why Dad married her in the first place.

But that's a story for another day.

We enjoyed the movie, even though we had expected lighter fare. Today, I went shopping with Laura and Shayna. Julia, on vacation from work, had stayed up all night working on her web pages. So she stayed home and slept. I'd done too much staying home of late and was keen to get out. Laura hoped to get a nice dress. Shayna hoped there'd be a goodie for her, and I just went, looking to see what I could see.

The only one to get a fancy dress was Shayna. It's a rose flowered black flared dress with lace at the neck. She's looking forward to wearing it with that cape I'd made her. But Laura was getting discouraged because almost everything in her size was hideous. She did find a slender black dress that was awful as a dress, but a little shortening made it a special blouse. After shopping all the usual places, and feeling quite bad, Shayna told us about another store, Dress Barn Woman, that had the larger sizes. Success, for at last we found Laura a black skirt bordered in a lacy filagree trim.

Even I was happy to find something. Lane Bryant's current offerings are drab, drab, drab. I don't like drab, for it does little to give color to my face or distract from my larger features. But the Elizabeth store was more fruitful.

Swatch from my new blouse!

I love plaid seersucker. I never have to iron it, it's cool, it's comfortable, and I found another blouse of it in the warm, clear tones that flatter my complexion. I'm happy!