Glimmer of Hope

I'd heard about Winston Churchill's "Black Dog" of depression that hounded him (sorry) most of his life. But as one essayist described, Churchill's mental illness may have given him an edge on reality that led him his country into war and banishing those who schemed to appease Germany. This opinion of Churchill's mental state is shared by many biographers of the prime minister. The simplest description of the man's troubles are described at www.nami.com.

It was the glimmer of hope in the face of insurmountable challenges that propelled WC to lead a successful campaign, write several dozen books, and present memorable speeches. As long as he kept writing, moving, and pushed his political agenda that "black dog" was pushed away.

I need to find that glimmer of hope if I'm to live much more than another 10 years. Bear with me, dear reader, as I try to lose myself in the one thing that drowns out so many voices: writing. Although my best written work has been with newspapers (bless that deadline) I am hoping I can find something more to enliven me, possibly found on a keyboard?

Futility has hampered me for many years. Why should I write when there are no readers? Friends have said I can write for myself, which isn't a consolation, given I don't plan on going back and reading over my musings. We all struggle with "how will I be remembered," and writing a book is one answer. At least it will be for part of one generation.

Perhaps I could write a collection of fairy tales for my granddaughter Alice, something that would hopefully be passed down to her children, etc. I would need an artist to enhance any text-laden pages. I could publish a book of my poetry. Or write an autobiography of my experiences. My favorite time growing up was in Hawaii before statehood. Mom and Ed had recently married so he was unaware of things that haunted his wife, until much later. Phoebe was born while we were in Waikele, the navy base where Ed was stationed, so it was a happy time for my parents.

But I had a way of getting in trouble, which led Edward to use a belt on my five-year-old bum, at which point I would lose control of my bladder. His clenched teeth and unbuckling his belt was enough to start peeing my pants. This happened so often that he started putting me over the toilet for my punishment, with my willie facing into the water. By that time I was already drenched, exacerbating his anger.

iGiveup

I really want to be at least tech-knowledgeable, but it's hard to keep up. Love to learn how to use an iPhone,iPad, iPod, etc. I do have a cell phone (with a monthly fee of $15 -- thanks to Consumer Cellular, with about five people on my contact list, and I check it every week, at least. 

"But what if someone calls you and would like to hear back?" True, I really should check it at least twice a week...I don't have enough (any) calls to warrant hourly updates, and haven't figured out if it is even possible to post on FB or send emails, although I've had this cell phone almost a year.

I try to text, but the buttons are so small. I see people typing with a flurry using their thumbs. Moreen, who is 75, can text her sister, son, and grandsons no problem. At work my colleagues were using an iPad to scan in tickets, but one of them said "just call one of us," meaning mostly everyone else on staff. 

Then there's the expense of all those toys, and getting signed up with a carrier for a monthly fee, and even having time to play with all of it. I haven't used an eBook -- I'm surrounded by dozens of books at work and three shelves of books at home (all early editions of books to be released in the next few months.)

I finally needed a cell phone several years ago when my sister Phoebe and I were planning our trip up to see Dan and Rachel get married, and Phoeb wanted to know how she could reach me, and she turned me on to CC mentioned earlier. For about three years I didn't use it enough and canceled that phone, only to get involved in my church where I only gave them my new cell phone number. 

Even if someone did call me and leave a voice mail, I just now got a new password.

I thought I was being efficient...

Getting stuck between my bed and the wall wasn’t really how I wanted to start the day.

I was early getting ready for work so I thought I would do some cleaning. I pulled my bed away from the wall so that I could use the hand vacuum under that part of my bed I haven’t cleaned in, oh, 20 years. 

I was lying on top of the bed, reached as far in the corner as I could but I started slipping. I had only moved the bed about two feet from the wall. I grabbed the silky comforter as I started to slide, realizing the comforter was why I was slipping. So as I continue my slide I rolled so my back was the first to wish I had moved the boxes further away from the wall. I was then on my back, staring at the ceiling, plastic and cardboard boxes corners poking me. 

I finally let go of the dustbuster, and got out after several attempts that included trying to reach the window sill (too far up), moving the boxes aside (they didn’t move) and thinking I didn’t have my cell phone to call and say I would be a little late. What was on the floor was now on my pants, shirt, and shoes (well, at least it’s cleaner back there now.)

Squirrels' Dining Habits

We awoke recently to find all the fruit had been picked from our two, three-year old tangerine trees. One tree was days away from harvesting (maybe 20 tangerines) and the other tree still had green fruit and buds coming in. All gone, taken to a squirrel's burrow.

Before the tangerine trees we were convinced by a landscape company that we should have two lime trees in our backyard. They grew for 10 years and were putting out a steady supply of limes. Problem is, neither Moreen or I like limes.

Neither did the squirrels. Year after year there would be a couple dozen limes from the two trees. But, no, the squirrels didn't take those, which we would have preferred over letting the fruit drop to the ground.

The varmints have also mowed down any efforts we've made to plant veggies or flowering bushes. Once the seed breaks the ground, off with its head. We keep talking about getting planting hanging baskets to grow what we want, because squirrels wouldn't be able to get to those.

At least, not yet.

That's the Rice Dish

There is a fantastic cd collection, three cds of French cafe music, we sell at the store for $15. I was telling a customer about the music. "It's got all the famous French musicians, including Edith Pilaf." Adrian started laughing and said, "Edith Piaf, not pilaf. That's a rice dish."

Good to the Last Drop

I'm dating myself, but Maxwell House commercials always ended with that line, "Good to the Last Drop."

I started drinking coffee a while back, much to the chagrin of my dentist, because of the stain. When I'm out, I'll stop at a 7-11 or the AM-PM, which is where I went today. Misty sat in the back seat while I put gas in my car and I convinced myself that a mid-afternoon coffee would be tasty. I got a medium coffee, but it was too hot to drink. I'll usually find something in to cool it off, if nothing else a little water from the bottle in the car.

When I saw the ice selection on the nearby soda choices, I thought "a piece of ice will cool this off.." But when I pulled the little handle, about five ice cubes landed in the cup. That cooled it off, but it also watered down the coffee so much that it was almost tasteless. Well, I had to buy that cup, so I looked around for something to give it some flavor. I emptied three of the half and half containers, two packets of Sweet & Lo, and spritzed some chocolate flavoring from one of the choices. Still no flavor.

So when I got home, I put the coffee in the microwave for 30 seconds, again making it too hot to drink. But I wasn't going to put any water in it. A little cream would cool it off. I love mocha coffee, so I put three heaping spoonfuls of hot cocoa powder in the coffee. Finally, it had some flavor. As I was finishing it, and drank to the bottom of the cup, there was a thick syrup at the bottom. I'm presuming this was the sediment from all my efforts to reverse my iced, tasteless coffee, into something that was worth swallowing.

I'm curious to go back and do a calorie count on all the additions I made to that $1.59 coffee. Or maybe not.

Leaving messages

One of my jobs at Warwicks is to call customers when a book they ordered has arrived. This last week I called a number and said "Marty's book has arrived at Warwicks." Okay, I'll tell her, was the answer. A minute later the phone rang back that Marty didn't order a book. I told the guy the phone number and he said it was the wrong number...But a Marty lived there!

My favorite is calling a woman about a book on Las Vegas that she had ordered. The recording, with music in the background, had the woman's seductive, sultry voice saying "Hi, there. I'm not home right now, but please leave a message. I'm probably out looking for some action at one of the nightclubs. Maybe we could meet there later? I promise to show you a good time."  Huh? Well, I did leave a message, but she never came in to get the book. Damn, would have enjoyed putting a face...or body...to the voice.

I frequently have phone numbers that answer with a recording "this person has not set up their voice mail. Please try again later." I usually try on three occasions. Then there are the calls that get a busy signal every day I call in a week. Or, 'm sorry, that number is no longer in working order, when the customer had just put in the order a few days before.