A Merry, and Blessed Christmas. Really.

I mentioned to my good friend Bill that I have a blog and have made regular postings for several years. In the last year my life has changed so much, thanks to my friends at Mt. Soledad Presbyterian Church and especially Pastor John Moser. So any postings before Oct. 2018 all were written before my transformation at the church.  I had been praying for a church to attend and one morning I awakened with the church on my mind and the Holy Spirit's whisper, This is the one. I attended the next Sunday and almost every Sunday since. 

As you read my entries, keep in mind that my faith in Him has changed my life, spirit, soul, and body since that revelation.

ENJOY!!!

Jim Stewart

If I really am as old as I feel...

This week I visited a senior living facility. $2k a month includes three meals a day, housekeeping, laundry, a studio apartment, free WIFI...It sounds wonderful. Really. I'm tired. Not so tired that I want to die (let's pull back on that throttle, shall we?) I'm tired of all my responsibilities with the library book sales. In process of training the last of five new volunteers, I know when that's done that I will rest easier knowing the shop will be fine. I asked Kara if she would manage it, and she said she would, in another year, which leaves me having to carry the responsibility for another 12 months.

That in itself may be pushing me so much that now I'm desperate for respite. If the adage is true that your as old as you think you are, then I'd say I was in my 80s, another 20 years away.. After my fall on Monday I think I've aged at least 6 months. My right knee hurts so much I can't stand up using that leg for support. When I fell on the floor of the shop on Wednesday afternoon, it was very difficult to stand up, but I was determined to do it no matter what it took. But I just don't have the strength in my legs to get myself off the floor.

A trainer at the gym showed me how to roll on my side and then use my arms to get up, but my arms aren't very strong, either. I just hope I don't fall again.  Meanwhile. the simpler life is so appealing.

Dragging myself to freedom

A neighbor's house is targetted for a major remodel. I'd never been in the backyard or in the house. The gate was unlocked, so I thought I'd take a peak. I found the entire house unlocked: back patio glass doors, front doors, which pleasantly surprised me. What an adventure! It was a house from the
Sixties with three bedrooms, one bath, a kitchen, garage. I checked a few drawers to test if the house
was truly empty. I discovered it was.

My mind started racing, thinking of all the ways a house like this could be used. But no electricity or running water was a setback. And the stink of cats permeated every room.

So I took a closer look outside. I walked across the patio, down some cement and rock steps, to the bottom of the property.

And immediately lost my balance, falling on top of a broken fence. The wood fence had been knocked down and a new fence built in its place. I  missed the rusty nails (which would have added to my experience) thank God.

But I was on the ground and there was nothing to grab onto to pull myself up. The new fence posts weren't thick enough to provide a handhold. My legs are too week to stand up easily.

So I started dragging myself to bushes, which were useless. I fell back again, just inches from an 8 - inch metal bolt sticking out of the ground. I imagined someone finding me, trying to figure out how someone could fall down on a spike. He had to have been pushed, say my defenders. No, he was exploring and fell back, landing on the spike, say those who found me.  I imagined Moreen finding me, which gave me a reason to continue sitting down, with my legs in front of me, dragging myself up the hill.

I couldn't get purchase on a rock, a rock border, bushes. Hello? I began saying. Then louder and throwing in Help for the hell of it. All I needed was someone to give me a hand and pull me up. All I needed! But no answer. The house on one side was bring renovated, so no one there.  And I saw that the backyard on the other side looked like no one had been back there since they bought the house 50 years ago.

Hello? Help! Hello? Help! No one arrived. So I kept dragging myself up to the rock steps. Finally, a step had enough room on one side to get me on my knees, off the ground, to the unlocked garden gate, and home.

I arrived 45 minutes after I had told Moreen I was going to take a quick walk around the block.

What's YOUR rabbit hole?

I am fascinated with movie trailers. YouTube has many, so just type in "trailers March 2019" and most everything that is a new or expanded trailer will come up. At two minutes, even the worst movie  can be presented. Your only skin in the game is time, and in this case I can watch trailers for hours at a time, given the chance. I get hungry, tired, have an endless "to do" list, and other than that I'm hooked. Unless I put a list in front of me of what I should be doing, it's tough to let go.

What is your obsession/rabbit hole?

Bike Ride Observations, 1999

March 1999

Bike Ride Observations

Blue ten-speed under me coasting to Pacific Beach the wind behind me slow incline ahead, like she said "It's all downhill from here!" The anticipation of the return going back up the hill. Should have worn more than a sweatshirt, my hands are already cold and I'm only a block away from home On the sidewalk, against traffic, so I don't have to cross again for the bike path

Peddle hard to get up the small hill Coasting again, passed newly quenched shrubs and grasses Crisp air from the recent rains A slight smile and then Whizzzzz! A cyclist on my leftIf I'd been six inches off course, "Pow!" She sped away, the empty baby seat waddling under her behind as she stood for a strong push with the legs Couple with the dog with different colored eyes Hello! How are you today? Doing well, thank you. And you? They're back of me now A whole group of people Husband and wife with stroller Black dog on leash Two cyclists speeding forward Luminescent green and black pants Black bike gloves Matching helmet and shirt Off the path and up tree-lined Bellevue Breeze so fresh against my face A car pulls away from the curb leaving a cloud of exhaust in its wake Someone's cooking hamburgers, the smell of fresh meat on a skillet, starting to brown A house has a fire in the fireplace

Black lab panting on the side

La Jolla Hermosa, family scattered on the wide street

"Sorry, sorry" the father says as I drift by

He's pushing a stroller down the middle of the street

A child on a bike with training wheels nearby

Another running along side

Dogs seem to be everywhere walking this way and that

across the street

I pass through, the end of the street lined with apartments

windows so clear one can easily see the vintage '60s lamp

a mirror on the wall, couch pillows peaking over the inside sill

Off my bike, walk onto the sidewalk, passing two couples on bikes

coming around the corner, no one wearing helmets

Mine protrude's over me like a space helmet

Watch for cars, cross the street at the "closed" coffee shack

where drivers can stop for a quick drink and pastry on the way to work

Smell of cigarettes but no smokers nearby

Surprised to smell the smokey bar from across the street

A guy in cap pulling a woman close, glancing out the door

Down Bayard, many stop signs. Cars line the streets

Everyone's home, it's 5 p.m.

Dinner time or other occasions

Mother with four year old being walked/pulled

Barbeque, fresh coals lit

Air so crisp, hands colder than before

Hispanic man following another up the alley, talking together

One speaking over a shoulder, the other laughing

Carefully through the intersection's stop sign, four way, safe

Garnet, where's Trader Joe's? Must be west.

I cross the walk that's green and then across Garnet

Further east than I thought

Pass a couple, each with a hand in the other's back pocket

aware of the rump muscle movements as they walk, smiling, chatting.

Parked cars along the street, wait for me to pass

Stores open, neon signs, exhaust again, a busy street

Cars veer far left to avoid me, thank you.

Turn right and lock my bike (4-3-52)onto a poll behind Trader Joes.

Carry my helmet, wearing my black backpack

Pick up an orange plastic basket, black handle

"Where are the Clif Bars?"

See those monkeys hanging over there? In that aisle.

Thanks, I head that way noticing that many aisles are marked

with air-filled creatures, parrots on the next aisle over

Two peanut butter flavored and two chocolate fudge Wander around trying to find the  jam

A 6'5" woman, blond and big boned (easily) with a four-year old, tiny

a child's voice, "Can I have this?" Come on.

Two jars cranberry, raspberry, orange marmalade, one boysenberry

Wait behind a lady buying wine

"How's it going?" asks the clerk.

Fine, thank you, I reply

$16.34, in cash with a $20, don't need a sack because I have my pack

but put the carrot juice in a sack

My back weighs another 10 pounds than when I started off

Heavy against my lower back

Pass a coffee shop, where everyone out front is the color of coffee with cream

Down the alley to find a cross street with a light on Garnet

Waiting at the corner, aware of being watched.

He has a big helmet, they think.

Up Cass now, more traffic but more to see

Outdoor gym, I bet the metal's cold

oil spots on the street nearby where cars park in the early morning

St Bridgids with 20 and 30 year olds filing in

Must be the folk mass. They look happy, not obliged

But also not wanting to have to do penance for missing

A man with flowers knocking on a door that says in a red sign "Closed"
^—'peering in the window

Laundromat, gust of sweet air from laundered clothes

Three Hispanic women, one with a wide face, short, probably Indian blood

jay walking, talking in Spanish, to the curb with effort stepping up

Green Garden Nursery where I went twice to buy "organic" soil

with cow bones and blood, Yuck.

Cross and cut through the gas station, around the pumps and cross onto Turquoise

pass the French Gourmet Restaurant and Bakery

Pacific Beach Nursery

Lucky's Market (so you're not lucky if you shop at Ralphs?)

Up the alley

pass a couple, she's wearing snow-weather gloves, heavy tan coat, on their walk

A home laundry putting out sweet, warm air

Home like a mini-hacienda, much noise of birds

Bird Rock Elementary playground

Family playing softball

811 and 12 year old boys playing push and pull down to the ground, laughing

Man in helmet and shorts with three golden labs

Black boy sitting by the fence, watching.

Back to La Jolla Hermosa

What variety of homes

I smell a steak cooking,

Roof with heating duct on top of the house, lovely!

Father saying "that a boy" to his boy on bike

Tire swing looks like a rocking horse

Voices of children

Grey car color of grey house

More sounds of birds as the sun sets, out for their meals

Houses so close they could pass things between bathroom windows

Let's see how close we can build our house to theirs

Some shaded under beautiful elms

Quieter now that dinners cooking 5:15

Hermosa ends at the south end of the bike path

Bellevue again, manicured lawns

White car idling with no one at the wheel and no one around

I'll be just a minute, she thinks and forgets about the car

Sports utility vehicles, every other car, black, white, red.

Bike path's pretty empty now, other cyclists headed this way

Mockingbirds calling

Woman with dog who's husband's a surfer

Hi! Haven't seen you in a while.

Hi! I know, she titters

her dog meets another, neither leashed

Jogger on left side, running on the wrong side

Excuse me, excuse me, I'm on your left as I pass by

thank you, but no response.

Over the bridge and see the cement gully around the property,

earth moved and now settling before homes are built

Pass the house the Beachem built

Small hill, I'm tired, my rear hurts, decide to walk

Coast down the other side.

Fire station on the left, slowly go around corner to start back up Nautilus

Walking, helmet off,

Always hoping to see money, such as $100 bills, but only empty Pepsi can

pink tissue, Skittles candy box, sandwich size plastic bag, faded ad

My first nasturtium, bright yellow above a leaf-lined slope, soon to burst with color

Small green pants with tiny yellow bells

Aranda, and trash overflowing at home where Oklahoma in-laws are staying,

helping the neighbors clean

Drop my helmet and run into it (while I'm walking! Jeez) and it

cracks, a big bite on the side, but it will probably stay for now,

although that piece is hanging. Brother, could have been avoided.

Off my bike, home, to the garage, dryer going, empty it, warm for my hands.

Turmoil & Trouble

April 10, 2018

I would be fine if I went to sleep tonight and didn’t wake up. I’ve had a couple of situations this last week that makes me think I may be losing it. 

Tonight I got a note from an eBay customer that my listing of a first edition was incorrect. I tried to make that change, but because there was an open bid on the item, I couldn’t change it. Not being able to change it threw me over the edge. I sat at my desk holding my head, rocking back and forth, unable to make the change, but knowing I needed to. I’ll just wait until tomorrow, I told myself. So I went for a walk around the block and came back in feeling awful. 

This morning I went to US Bank to deposit $220 to my savings account. 100 of that was from Moreen for my birthday. Put my ATM card in the slot, and then the cash, and the bank recorded that I’d only put in $200. That’s not right, so I asked for the cash to be returned. I got $80 back, no receipt, and my ATM card was stuck in the machine. I told one of the bank employees, who went into my account and said that there was no record of my making any deposit. My head was spinning I was so angry and confused. No, I can’t wait in the lobby. I’ll just wait out here. I’m so angry, I told the lady. I stood outside and knocked my head against the ATM machine. Earlier I’d hit it when my money didn’t come out. She came back and said I needed to call the number on the back of my card (which was finally regurgitated) and the bank would do an audit next week and then they would see if it was correct what I was saying. I turned around and walked away from her, my mind in so much turmoil. I wanted to open the bank door and yell “FUCK” as loud as I could. Instead I walked slowly back to my car at the library. On the way back I stopped in the alley by CVS and with my back to the wall, banged my head a dozen times on the wall, enough to cause pain but not to leave a bruise I guess. 

I got in my car and decided I’d go to SD County Credit Union and open new accounts. I left the paperwork in the trunk of the car. I told the clerk at the credit union what had happened and told her I decided instead of getting mad I’d get even, and reiopen accoiunts I had at the credit union, where I was before going to US Bank. 

No one from the bank came outside to apologize to me or say how sorry they were that this had happened. Yes, I could have been some crazy many making up the whole story. But still, I was a regular customer there and there was no effort to appease me, even offer a cup of coffee, or “come sit down and you’ll feel better.”

Two weeks later the bank sent a check for $200.

Finding a home church #2

Premonition or coincidence?

In my search for a church I considered all the options in La Jolla, saw where the churches were located, maybe checked online a little. But one morning I woke up and the first thing I thought of was Mt. Soledad Presbyterian Church at the top of Nautilus. It was so vivid and clear I thought I'd better followup on this and look for God to confirm His will.

That morning I drove the 2 miles and parked near the church to scope it out. There were two almost filled parking lots and I was amazed because it was a Saturday. I went to look a little closer and saw a long table with coffee and cookies. I liked that it was Starbucks coffee. Shows people are thinking beyond 7/11 and other coffee venues. When a fellow came out, I asked him if he church is busy like this every day. No, the church isn't that busy usually. But on Saturday it's the meeting place of the largest coed Alcoholics Anonymous in San Diego.

I thought that was a plus for the church that when the facility isn't being used by the church, it can be reserved for community needs. Two stars so far. I walked around the outside of the building, saw all the people sitting in chairs (not built in pews. Three stars.) From where I was standing I admired the view of the Mt. Soledad Cross, noting that it is the same color as the church. I could hear a choir singing, which isn't my thing, but I found out later that a choir practices there for community events.

There must be at least an acre in front of the church that is unused and full of low-lying weeds. There is sparse landscaping around the church building. I liked that idea of leaving land fallow so the rain can better penetrate the water table. Star number 4. Since then I've been thinking of ways the land could be used and planting trees is the top of my list. (But no one has asked my opinion so mums the word for now.)

I returned home and immediately checked the church web site to see how much I could learn from what has been posted, and I became well informed about the church and its small membership (100).
I found out later there had been a split seven years prior when 2/3 of the congregants left the Presbyterians and started another church.

There's much more, which I will write in subsequent posts. Mt. Soledad Presbyterian Church