Created to?

     Usually both Fine Arts Club and DUP come in the same week - the third Tuesday and Wednesday of each month.  When I joined, I didn't think about having to fix the luncheon or host at my house or give a history or a book review or be an officer.  Or sit silently during lunch while everyone else is chitchatting. What was I thinking? Just leaving home stresses me, especially when Eddy calls me a gad-about.  On the other hand, I feel utter bliss when I first wake up in the morning and wiggle and twist and stretch - my geriatric yoga, I call it. It makes me smile. I like to play games with Eddy and ride trikes with him; go for short walks with Amy; and close the day watching TV with DeRay.  My best days are when I don't have to go anywhere.  With few exceptions, I wish I were home before I leave even when I'm going to do something I enjoy doing, like swimming.  I remember the last time we went to the British Isles, at the Salt Lake Airport passengers disembarking from the plane were chatting about their wonderful vacation and I almost passed out wishing I were coming instead of going.  And paradise is when we're all home safe and warm.  Was I created to stay home? Is that the essence of it?

BEST FOR ME

I think I wasn't created

for clubs or the things related,

At home stretches, wiggles and twists

are some of my most treasured gifts.

                                                    

The Price for Civility

One of the things I love most about going for a walk or a trike ride in the early mornings is the greetings from others out and about.  It just gets your day started right to see the smiles and waves of fellow trekkers, especially total strangers. 

All that changed in a day.  This morning, I didn’t initiate any salutation.  If someone waved, I waved back but I didn’t smile.  I didn’t feel like it.

I was almost home on my trike yesterday when I passed two women walking, maybe 30 or 40ish.  I moved over to the other side of the road to give them space when one walked over to me.  “Is that your son who rides ahead of you?”  “Yes.”  “He always shouts rude things to us when he passes and I’m sick of it.  This morning he shouted ‘Yak.  Yak.  Yak.’  I told him it wasn’t appropriate.”  They were probably yakking.  Is that so rude?  “I’m sorry I said.  If you felt it was inappropriate, I’m glad you told him.”  “Some days he tells us he’s mad at us or that we’re dressed funny.”  “That’s just his way of saying ‘Good Morning’,” I tell her, “but I’ll talk to him.”  “Well, we’re women out here alone and it’s threatening to have a man yell at us.”  At 9 o’clock in the morning, she feels unsafe in this neighborhood?  I thanked her for telling me.  I spent the day talking to Ed about just saying “Good Morning”. 

When he got home today, I asked, “Did you say ‘Good Morning’ to everyone you met this morning.”  “Yep,” he boasted. 

Sad in a way that we all have to be the same.  Homogenized.  Pasteurized.  Pedestrian.  Ordinary.  Unimaginative.  Uninspired.  Prosaic.  Humdrum.  We can’t be our authentic selves because someone might be upset.  We can’t crack a joke.  We’re all wound up tight as snare drums even when we’re walking to relax. Is it any wonder a passenger on United threw a glass of water on the man behind her who attached a gadget that prevented her from reclining her seat?  Two more similar airline incidents in one week.

It affected me a lot more than I ever imagined.  One more character crushed.  Soon we’ll all be so well-mannered and identical that no one will be able to tell us apart.  I didn’t feel like greeting anyone with a smile and a wave this morning.  Who knows whom I might offend?

Sleep

Nights are so much fun.

I used to agree with Eddy.

“The best time of the day,”

(He cites each night when it’s time to go to bed.)

First of all,

I can’t seem to get to bed at 11.

On good nights, like last night,

It’s around 11:20.

Hooked on TV,

DeRay comes up around 1 or . . . .

He can’t comprehend why I can’t sleep

while I’m worried he’s collapsed on the couch

and needs resuscitation;

Or why his fiddling around in the bedroom,

brushing his teeth, stumbling over the garbage can;

a loud beep when he turns his oxygen machine on;

then bounding and wiggling to get settled in bed

bothers me.

Suddenly he’s snoring (lightly with his sleep apnea mask on).

Can I get to sleep?

Twenty or so terse naps in six or seven hours.

Ice packs.  Hot pad.  Killer knees.

The inevitable bathroom breaks.

Twitching, turning; - therapeutic?

Then I wonder why I’m tired all the time.

Whatever happened to going to sleep

and waking up rested 6 or 7 hours later?

Blessed bygone era.

All God’s Critters Got a Place in the Choir

Gays.
Gun Control.

Global Warming.

Did you know forest fires emit more pollution than all the cars on earth?

And volcanos?  There are always at least five erupting at any given time emitting fumes.

The weather fluctuates.  Always has.  Always will. 

A professor (by name) I know at Utah State who invented the heat shield for the space rockets submitted a report on global warming word for word like the scientists at some prestigious institution back east but on the front one said “evidence against global warming” and the other said “for global warming” and the one for global warming got the so many million dollar grant.  It’s all political.
Know-it-all.

Muslims.

Did you know the Koran is evil?  Evil.  Evil. Evil.

He has read it, have you?

Did you know Mohammad had a 14-year-old wife and an 11-year-old wife?

Well,

who are we to talk?
Am I wrong in assuming that all religions
are based on the divine fundamental core 
of the Golden Rule?

Women’s rights.

Priesthood.

Women can’t hold the priesthood because then what would the men do?

Obama.

Constitution.

The only books you ever need to read are the Bible and the Book of Mormon.  I read them cover to cover, front to back.

One hour and 20 minutes of lambasting some of the views I cherish and hold most dear as if we think like he thinks.

I’m friends with Mitt Romney.

I’m friends with Orrin Hatch.

I’m friends with the Governor.

I know many people in high places.

Does he think we are stupid?

Egocentric.
Homogenous.

Prejudice.

Arrogant.

Narrow minded.

Conceited.

Vain.

Insensitive

Self-absorbed.

Self-obsessed.

Careless.

Amy finally came in and said dinner is ready.  She’d heard enough.  “Do you want to eat with us?”  “No, we’ll have a prayer, then leave.”

A prayer?  After the way you’ve castigated all of God’s children who do not believe exactly as you do?

“I’ll say it,” he boasts, like we don't know how.

Amy has four little Muslim students in her class.

“Did you tell him our two cats are Muslim?”

“And one is a black Muslim.”  Oooooooooh.
"Too bad they are opposite sex
or they could be gay too."

I seethe.

It’s about more than I can bear each month.

Next morning

the Visiting Teachers came.

They retold the story President Monson

told in General Conference about the little boy

who was bleeding so they had to make an emergency landing

causing other passengers to miss connecting flights

but not one person grumbled or complained.

“And I’ll bet some of them weren’t even Mormon,”

her partner concluded.

Are we the only nice people in the world?

Are you discriminating against the elderly?

For 10 years we’ve been going to the Clearfield pool.

For 10 years we fit in as best we can.

The swimmers swim and the players play,

mindful of each other’s space.

Today, two people were in the first swim lane;

and one in the narrower second;

So Eddy and I went to the next lane.

More than half of the pool was empty.

Four little kids were on the steps in a swimming lesson.

A life guard came up to me and said,

“You can’t swim here.”

“Where do you want us to swim?”

“You’ll have to wait.”

“Wait?  When half the pool is empty?”

“Yes.”

A guy in the first lane heard us and said,

“I’m getting out.  You can swim here.”

So I put Eddy in his lane.

Soon the girl in the second lane got out

and the fellow swimming with Eddy

offered to move over and let me swim there.

Soon another guy came in and got in the lane where

Eddy and I tried to swim.

No one said a word to him.

Soon others came and there were three or four swimming

there like we’ve done for ten years now.

I couldn’t let it go.

When we got out,

I went over to this life-guard and asked

if he were discriminating against the elderly.

He said he wasn’t,

What would you think?

It’s a great big wide wonderful world.

Incompatibility

It’s evident to me

that hearing aids and diamond rings

are not compatible with my lifestyle.

The audiologist recommended that I wear my hearing aids

at least eight hours a day even if I’m  not talking to anyone.

“You need to train your brain to listen on that side.”

Fifteen years now I have been deaf in my right ear.

I’ve grown accustomed to turning my head .

The device in my right ear is designed to transmit sound

from the right side to my left hearing ear.

An interesting side note:

I complained to him that when someone sitting beside me in church

whispers in my ear, I can’t even tell she is talking.

“A whisper is perceived by the transmitter to be  the wind

and it actually blocks it out.  The sound has to be audible.”

Since visiting him, I have tried to wear them more

to train my brain

but how much time is left in a day

after I swim, shower, listen to my iPod with ear buds while triking

and spray my hair?  Or go for a walk in the rain or snow?

I wanted to start wearing my diamond ring again.

Well, it’s not my real diamond.  It’s a fake.  Moissanite.

Even after I found my real diamond, we didn’t pay to have it set.

I can’t tell the difference.

It took me several days to find my ring;

I put it on for church one Sunday.

Next morning I took it off to go swimming;

and never got back up to put it on again.

That was two months ago.

Hearing aids and diamond rings

simply do not seem to be conducive to my lifestyle.

Hard as I try.

What did you say?