Renamed: Keep Her in Her Place

I guess it wasn't meant to be. I had a profound rant going against the Catholic Church for a new publication on an old topic, subjugating women. I wrote it in an email, tweaked it, selected it, and accidentally hit ctrl+v instead of ctrl+c. Oops. There showed up a new strip from Dan Wheeler's Happy Freaking Ray of Sunshine that I had copied yesterday and sent to a friend. Damn. My selected text went to AOL's Dead Entry Office.

If I had a memory, I could reproduce. Sorry. I recall something about some people being emotional junkies, teetering on the edge of the joy juice rush, and others preferring to hide in the dark, avoiding even an accidental brush up against a real feeling.

I have low blood pressure. I am supposed to write this on my driver's license so that if I am in an accident the hospital won't assume internal bleeding and give me transfusions immediately. I attribute this to my unwillingness to eat anger. I prefer to confront anger, kick around any issues and arguments, and generally keep at it until the issue dies, then walk away from it. If I can't do that, I probably will accept that I can't do anything with the anger and get sleepy. It must be my body's way of diffusing the anger.

I admit my theology is weak. I am an atheist and have been since I was about 7 or 8 and realized I had a choice. My mom was fundamentalist Baptist, and my dad was Episcopalian or something like that. I think maybe my mom also worshipped Edgar Cayce. So my knowledge of religion is probably incorrect. However, I have the impression that the Catholic Church feels women have their place and the men of the church will define it.

They seem to justify this by saying all the apostles were men. Dan Brown, the author, wrote an excellent book of fiction disputing this, but we will never know. It was 2000 years ago. Maybe there were female apostles, but they were too busy cooking, cleaning, raising the children, tending the gardens, slopping the hogs, caring for the horses, keeping the hearth alive, and providing respite care to the elderly members of the extended families to have time to write down their chapters.

The Catholic church refuses to allow half of the world's population to be priests or be seriously involved in running the church because they don't have a penis. Two millennia ago that might have possibly made some sense. Today, it seems they are losing out on a chance to keep up with the needs of the digital world and changing family structures. To insist that the structure not change is like asking a child not to grow. 

While the Pope has not sent me an email asking for my opinion, I think that letting women have some positions of power and influence in the church would breathe some life into it. Letting priests marry could help recruit new seminarians. Personally I would prefer to take marriage counseling advice from someone who at least might take the information to heart some day.

The Vatican is also concerned that we are becoming a world of polymorphous sexuality. Personally, I like the sound of that. It has a nice, blended texture to it. But, no, no, it's bad. A church that was founded on love and acceptance does not allow the concept of different. Someone who is hardwired differently from the accepted norm or chooses to walk down the less trodden sexual paths is banned. At best, you can stay with the church if you become someone else.

Maybe not for me, but the churches fill a vital need in our communities. The Catholic Church is huge and provides needed services and comfort and a sense of love and belonging to millions of people. To refuse to grow with the changing needs of members seems senseless.

I need a nap.

 

Do me, Bubba!

Several years ago, my niece used to stay here most weekends so she could attend my judo class. It was a good arrangement, as she babysat my daughter so I could get out. We were about the same size and shared many things.   However, some things should not be shared. I saw her brushing her teeth one morning. Jenny! That is MY toothbrush!  Yes, I know, Aunt Sue. I have been using it for six months.  

I figured after that I could tolerate almost anything. I have suffered through laser hair reduction. I would say removal, but according to my dermatologist, only about half of the hair is killed at any one treatment. It's an ongoing process. It hurts, having those little hair follicles being stabbed with lasers. Razor cuts hurt, too. I actually have very little body hair, but I don't like to shave.  

So, to continue along with my self-torture, last night I went and entered a tattoo parlor for the first time in my life, smiled bravely at the well-inked Bubba behind the desk, and said, "Do me." A few hours later I walked out with permanent, slightly bloody eyebrows.  

Did it hurt? Yes, but less than the laser. Less than the Lasik I had done on my eyes. Why did I do it? I was mighty tired of needing the eyebrow pencil daily. If it's hot? It melts down my face. In the gym? Forget it. Taking clothes off and on? It gets on the hem or neck. Dating? On his shirt.

I don't look good without it, so I went with the next best solution. It was gratifying to wash my face this morning and still have on eyebrows.

I forgot about them, OK?

I admit it, I am really bad about taking pictures on vacations. I took these and a few others at the baseball stadium.  I feel too 'touristy' carrying a camera around!

These were taken from the hotel room, facing Lake Ontario. The view included the lake, the SkyDome, railroad tracks, and the CN Tower. We were so close to the Tower that I had to break it up into two pictures.

I sure do hope to make another road trip there soon. I am now obsessed with the idea of going up the CN Tower and standing on the glass floor. That rush is going to knock me down!

What class was that?

One of my senior citizen computer students showed up ten minutes late on Wednesday. No one has been late before; except me, once.

Out of pure habit from having taught martial arts, I said, "Hi, now drop and give me 20 push ups!"

Hey, teach!

I was a preemie baby. I was born six weeks early by c-section, weighing in at 4 pounds at one week of age when I went home. My mom, possibly misunderstanding the doctor's instructions, handled me as little as possible and did not allow anyone else to touch me for a year. She apparently had a fear of contagious diseases for me, although I was probably the healthiest child ever born. Just small.

Neither of my parents liked to read out loud to me, so at age three they taught me to read for myself. I haven't stopped being a voracious reader yet. At four, I was old enough to attend school, since I would be five in September. The school said no, I was too small and would not be able to keep up. My mom, reasons unclear, insisted that they test me. All I knew was my mom had to talk to someone at the school about my older brother and I was to go with the librarian. I remember this visit. I read to the librarian from what were probably third grade books. We did some work on paper, some basic math, too, if I remember correctly. I started school at age four.

By age five, all I wanted to be when I grew up was a teacher. I wanted to teach math or reading. Eventually, my desire was to teach math to upper grades. I started college with the intention of doing just that. However, after two years as a math major, the counselors in the education department told many of us that there were too many teachers looking for jobs, and most of us should change our majors. I did just that, albeit reluctantly. I never lost the desire to teach.

In my 30s I began martial arts classes. I ended up teaching judo and being involved in many other disciplines. I loved the teaching. Watching a "victim" fall as planned can put a real smile on the person doing the throwing. A good fall can be a beautiful, graceful thing.

After a long career as a social worker, which was not really a chosen field for me, I find myself volunteer teaching computer classes to senior citizens. I have mentioned this before, and I love the classes. Most of our students have never used a computer at all. Digital phones petrify them. Calculators are a mystery. I do my best to remove the fears, get some creativity going, and get them over the digital divide. Onewoman whined to me that her husband used her computer to store pictures of race cars, which annoyed her. I taught her how to change the names of files. That was the only time I ever saw her smile.

So why am I not a professional teacher now? No certification. But wait, I could teach in a college right? Sure, but what? I have a bachelor's degree in sociology (so I could help the ex get through pharmacy school, I took the easy way out for myself). I have an all-but-thesis master's degree in sociology. I have a complete, started from fresh, master's degree in business administration. My career was social work. So what do I teach? I have no interest in sociology any more, even if I remembered all of the theories. I was not a manager, and I never took a class in social work.

However, yesterday in my Introduction to the Internet class, an elderly gentleman, who owns his own successful business but comes to us because he doesn't want his employees to know he can't send an email on his own, learned to change the background on his desktop. Pretty basic stuff. His face was lit up like a five-year-old's on Christmas. How can I give that up?

Random thoughts

My travel high is past, the laundry is done, and I am left alone with my thoughts. My thoughts are not linear, although I am generally logical. My brain jumps around like a Mexican jumping bean after too much tequila. I hop from topic to topic, maybe three at a time. People have to pay attention in a conversation with me to be sure we are still on the same page. I can't help it. It is just how I think.

Tomorrow is one of the last sessions of my Internet class I am volunteer teaching to senior citizens. This is one of the more advanced classes we cover; yet people sign up who can't handle email or basic word commands. Some are at the most elemental hunt and peck level, if they recognize a keyboard at all.

Some of the things I end up explaining in detail can be very entertaining. I had to spend at least 15 minutes explaining what an email address is and why you can't just guess at what the address might be. I carefully explained that you could send one email to someone at hotmail, AOL, CompuServe, whatever, and all at the same time.

Cut and copy had to be done by example. Once they cut something and realized it was gone, we had no more issues with that. Pasting affected them like magic. A lot of the processes do amaze them. I have to remember how it felt when I was first learning. I stress that there are no dumb questions and to show the computers no fear. I do as much hands on (the computer) as possible.

When doing Word lessons, we have to spend much time explaining what a page is, and how lines wrap, and how backspace and delete work. Even the word "font" usually is unknown. These classes are very basic. Last class I had to explain the origins of “tab.” I have explained in the past where the word “floppy” comes from, since current disks aren’t.

But I love it. I hope to be teaching these classes for a long time. The entertainment value alone is worth it.  Watching a face light up with new knowledge is rewarding enough.

I also need to plan another vacation. I want to return to Las Vegas or go on a cruise, but neither seems to be happening soon. I have been on maybe nine cruises and loved each one.  Maybe next I will just fly some place new. I am grateful to have a friend who will now provide doggy camp for my beagles. She and her husband find the dogs’ antics to be charming, not destructive. So it costs me a Brighton bracelet or two. Maybe next time I can get her a Tiffany necklace. It is worth it to know my girls are safe and spoiled.

The little lemon beagle I have sat for will be back this weekend, even though they have now moved to Ohio. They are considering traveling out of Detroit from now on so they can leave their dog with me because they feel she is in good hands with me. I am considering going to their condo in the Shaker Heights area sometimes to dog sit. Why not?

If I keep going here, I will hit another 15 topics. I think Connie at indigosunmoon calls this “thought salad” or something like that. I can see why!

 

Oops

If you are going to turn off the water to a toilet until you fix it, don't use it.

Door jamming

Main Entry: door·jamb
Pronunciation: 'dOr-"jam, 'dor-
Function: noun
Date: 1837
: an upright piece forming the side of a door opening

"Upright piece forming the side of a door opening," my bum! When I picked the dogs up from doggy camp they were so excited to be leaving with me that they rushed the door together like squirming dervishes and caught me in a tired moment of unbalance.

I found out exactly what "door jamb" means. I ended up with bruises on my face, neck, wrist, arm, and left hip. I have marks on my neck from the links in my necklace. Very attractive.

The worst part was the damage to my watch, since I will heal. It gouged my wrist and the band looks like it went through the garbage disposal. Poor little Rolex.

I will not worry...

My last few routine blood tests have shown my white blood cell count has been decreasing. The count is below normal and my doctor and I have no idea why. I am anemic, and this time it is not from low iron. Everything else tests perfectly. My blood tests are normally very boring, other than sometimes low iron. My ferratin (stored iron) tends to be just fine, however.

I asked if there is anything I can do to improve the count, and was told no. If it isn't back up to normal in three months, I have to have bone marrow tests done. He looked concerned, but told me not to worry.

Before I left on my road trip, I had too many books in my bag for my classes. I ended up with a pulled muscle in my back. I will be on Flexeril, a muscle relaxant, for two weeks. I will be sleeping with ice packs too much to remember that I have a low WBC.

 

Home again, home again

Moev, yeah whatever CD

Wanting

Agony is born of desire
What do you want for nothing?
Agony is born is desire
That's what you get for wanting

I'm sick of futile lessons
And empty information
My teachers ask me questions
I need some consolation
That's what you get for wanting
That's what you get for wanting

Agony is born of desire
What do you want for nothing?
Agony is born is desire
That's what you get for wanting

I've spend my whole life yearning
Living and learning
Living and learning
Living and learning
Saving and spending
Spending and earning
Anticipating
Eternity burning

What do you want for nothing?
Agony is born is desire
That's what you get for wanting

Agony is born of desire
What do you want for nothing?
Agony is born is desire
That's what you get for wanting

i'm sick of vain compassion
And saying "liberation"
The angels ask me questions
I can't find consolation

That's what you get for wanting
That's what you get for wanting

Agony is born of desire
What do you want for nothing?
Agony is born is desire
That's what you get for wanting

I've spend my whole life yearning
Living and learning
Living and learning
Living and learning
Saving and spending
Spending and earning
Anticipating
Eternity burning

Agony is born of desire
What do you want for nothing?
Agony is born is desire

Agony is born of desire
What do you want for nothing?
Agony is born is desire
That's what you get for wanting

Agony is born of desire
What do you want for nothing?
Agony is born is desire
That's what you get for wanting

What do you want for nothing?
What do you want for nothing?
Agony is born of desire
That's what you get for wanting

What do you want for nothing?
What do you want for nothing?
That's what you get for wanting

What do you want for nothing?
Agony is born of desire
That's what you get for wanting

 The drive home from Toronto was surprisingly pleasant. I listened to the Moev yeah whatever CD almost the entire way. They were a Canadian band, so it seemed appropriate. I went straight through, getting to my class6 hours after leaving the hotel. The only real issue was my having to do the Blue Water Bridge with an hour delay on it. I do not do bridges. They terrify me. The combined thought of a bee chasing me onto a bridge would be enough to send me into catatonia.  

The bridge is flexible. I understand that they need to be in order to stay there. If they are rigid, they might break in the wind or with the weight of traffic on them. Logic fails me when I am stuck in stop-and-go traffic, waiting to be inspected by immigration, and the bridge is flapping all over the place like an old sheet on a clothes line. Luckily I made one quick little 3-minute stop right before entering the bridge. Otherwise I would need a new car seat.  

I left 5 pounds in Toronto. I apologize to the person who is going to go home, get on the scale, and realize the pounds have been found. I was eating light and walking at least 10 miles a day. Who needs sleep?  

Sadly, I missed the CN Tower. When we went to go up it last night, a fog had just rolled in. I have seen clouds before, and that is all we would have seen up there. I was getting quite excited about standing on the glass floor that high up and looking down. I guess I will have to go back!

Canada, ay?

If your computer breaks, well, too bad. You are not going to find a techie or geek any place. They are all here in Toronto for a Microsoft show. I have never seen so many young men (mostly men, although there are some women) walking around in khaki pants and tucked in shirts. They have laptops and techie toys in their little hands and a Microsoft tag around their necks. I have been walking all over and have seen the MS IDs more than a mile away. I find them strangely sexy.

The good news is that if anything here breaks, I am covered!

I still haven't made it to the CN Tower, although it seems touchable outside my window. If I could get some distance on a jump, I could probably smack head first into it. I hear there is a glass floor up there to stand on. I can't wait!

Today I went shopping instead. I hit Eaton Centre on Yonge Street. I was walking for most of the day. While they predicted rain all I saw was a touch of haze on Lake Ontario, which is also right out the window. After Eaton Centre, I walked down Queen Street and browsed the little boutiques. What a pretty city. There was a public forum box for someone to stand on a give an opinion on anything. It made me think of a few gentle journalers. I didn't buy anything, but I enjoyed the walk and the lovely weather. I also like listening to Canadians talk, ay? It's hawt outside, not at all like hawk-key weather.

Now I think I need a nice, long, hot bubble bath. Then another walk. My dogs are staying with some friends who live in the country, and I am past feeling guilty for walking so much without them when I heard what fun they are having without me. The cat is home, happy to be dog free for a few days.

I do not want to go home. I don't ever want to drive this downtown Toronto freeway system again!  I am the type who can get lost in a bathroom. I swear the sun was on the wrong side of the car on the way here. I was told to take the Gardiner expressway to get here, and also the Queen Elizabeth. At one point, I was on the 427 or something and it split in two - into the Gardiner and the Queen Elizabeth. Did you hear me scream?

Maple Leafs

I never listen, do I? Connie (indigosunmoon) told me to bring my camera. I did, but I left it in the room when I went for an early morning walk along the skyway near the SkyDome. I ran into something being filmed, so I took some stairs out to the street level. Suddenly a young guy, attractive, in good shape, wearing spandex shorts, comes flying up the stairs. So I moved to the side, since he had others following behind him. I couldn't see around the corner, but they just kept coming. Oh, the view!

They very politely and quietly walked past me, smiling, thanking me for waiting, until I finally asked one how many of them there were. He said 15, and that they were almost all there now. I heard a little ding in my head when I saw an older man following them, carrying a clipboard. Uh huh. "What was THAT?" I asked the man, with a smile. He said, "The Toronto Maple Leafs Hockey Team." "Oh, my," I breathed. OK, I have seen all the sights to see here in Toronto.

Sorry I didn't have the camera with me. I think they probably appreciated my not asking for autographs or pictures, since they were sneaking up those back steps. Still. It would have made my daughter happy if I had gotten some photos.

So I continued my walk, going down to Lake Ontario, by way of the SkyDome, right next to the CN Tower.  I saw some men setting up some hot dog stands pretty early when there was no one around, so I asked if there was going to be a game today. Yes! I got a ticket and will be going to the Blue Jays baseball game in about an hour.

While I was quite freaked by the drive, especially the freeway system in downtown Toronto, I am very glad I came. Tomorrow the malls!

Toronto

I will never, ever again drive in a downtown city! But then, I always say that! I have arrived, shaking and well. Tomorrow - the shopping!

Get your motor running

I have been restlessly pacing my home like a caged wild animal for over a year. This is not a good thing for someone with a serious traveling jones. Finally I am going to head out on the highway.

Tomorrow I will be packing up the hounds, dropping them off at a friend's house almost an hour away, then going over the Blue Water bridge into Canada and on to Toronto. One of the few places even colder than Michigan. I will try not to panic on the bridge. I will be looking for adventure.

There will be no bees/wasps/hornets/WTFs, no poison ivy, no weeds, and no crabby old cats begging to be groomed. It will be a city of fun and joy. I will sleep in a strange bed as late as I want, I will go out and see the sights without worrying about the dogs and their little schedules. I will walk without anything tugging on a leash.  I will delight in whatever comes my way.

I will see things I have never seen before, eat in new restaurants, and will revel in the differentness of the whole city. That means I will get lost a lot. I have no sense of direction whatsoever. I try, but it's a lost cause. Pun intended. Everything is always new to me, since I don't remember how I got there in the first place.

As always before a trip, I am all scattered, trying to get everything done before I go. Everyone stay out of trouble until I get back!

 

 

The Gardeners

  Once again I ventured out into the yard, hoping to get some control over my weeds. The wet spring really made a mess, since I couldn't get out to keep up. I put on my white long sleeved top and heavy jeans, work books, and went out when it was muggy and looking ready to rain. Ha! I will beat those stinging insects yet.    

 First thing, I survey the area I want to weed out. Immediately I see a sentry flying lazily and I almost bolted for the door. Instead, I waited a minute, and it left. I didn't see any more close by, so I quickly ran up to the weeds and grabbed a few. The weeds are big enough that I have to really either tug hard or cut them off. No bees, wasps, hornets came at me. I worked awhile, surprised for the freedom. I saw a few a ways off, appearing to keep an eye on me, but not looking ready to attack. I started to feel a little confident.    

 Luckily I wear heavy leather gloves. I reached for a weed, and through my mind ran, "leaves of three, let them be," and then it hit me. The little buggers must have been planting that poison ivy. I looked up, and there they were off in the distance chuckling at me, their fuzzy little feet over their mouths so I couldn't hear them snickering, stingers waving in the breeze. I am sure I saw one pointing directly at me, shaking with glee.    

At least now I know where the poison ivy came from.

Hornets and Screamers

Across the street from me live the Screamers. They are not a newly married couple, but rather a couple of young girls. They used to ride their hot wheels up and down the street, screaming at the top of their lungs. They did this for hours at a time. I used to get tired just listening to them.   They are out now in their pool, but I decided to see if maybe the hornets took holiday weekends off. Sadly, they do not. I even tried going out close to sundown, but there are insomniac hornet sentries. Who knew?

So I was playing a game with the hornets. I would rush up to the weeds, grab one, run back to the trash can. I hope no one took pictures. I also learned that it is not a good idea to drop clippers into a large holly bush. Those leaves will rip the skin off of a sensitive poison ivy rash.   

In an attempt to outmaneuver them, I decided to lean over the brick wall. I have a 3-foot courtyard in the front around the porch area, and I figured I could lean over and grab some weeds. You know, attack from a different side.   So I leaned as far as I could into the nettles and grabbed at a few big ones. My weight was pretty much forward and I felt slightly off balance. Just then, the Screamers let a big one go.

Government Employment

I am 5' tall. This is a good thing when I ride on airplanes, but not a good thing for most furniture. The biggest problem I had was at work. Desks and chairs are made for 'normal' people. Since we had modular offices, I did get the desktop lowered. Still, normal chairs made my back ache. Sometimes it hurt so bad I wanted to just lie on the floor and cry.

Some co-workers got letters from their doctors and the state bought them ergonomic chairs. I was jealous. My doctor gave me a letter. I was turned down. I tried off and on with new letters, but was always turned down. I changed offices, tried again with new directors, and was always turned down. Other co-workers continued to get chairs. I eventually took it personally, but never gave up. I tried at least once a year for 11 years.

Yes, that is correct. Eleven years. I was in pain for more than 11 years, since I didn't ask for a chair until I was really hurting. I never missed any work as a result, but I was glad I had a field job and did not have to sit all day every day.

Towards the end of my career I had foot surgery that kept me off the streets, workwise. Driving was unbearably painful. I was transferred to a temporary job of intake, which meant answering the hotline for child abuse calls all day long. The chair I had was intolerable. It was old and broken down, and I could barely walk to my car at the end of the day, even though I tried standing part of the time (on one foot).

I noticed a co-worker on that staff had a new chair. We discussed it, and she had basically the same issues I did. I had just been turned down again and was getting angry about it. Finally I asked her for a copy of her doctor's letter. I faxed it to my doctor and asked him to write the exact same letter for me. I figured then I would have a basis for a grieveance if they denied me yet again.

So, five months before I retired, I got permission to get a chair. I found the perfect chair for me. It was wonderful. My pain lessened. I took the chair back to my regular office with me. My boss had her eye on the chair. She is the same height I am, approximately. I caught her sitting in it with a smile on her face now and then.

I stopped in to see her yesterday. She has my chair. I was afraid to ask if she had to document it for 11 years or not.  No one will get that chair from her unless they pry it from her cold, dead fingers.

Protecting the Home Front

There was a bee/wasp/hornet/WTF in my house.

                                                           RIP