Harry's Talking to the Son

Here's Harry's article, since I can't type it anywhere else.
Being smart is not an excuse for lacking common sense. Our son is a smart, good boy but sometimes I wonder about his common sense combined with his stubborn streak. We all went on a vacation together to Boston recently and our son was our driver. It's great being driven except for the fact that he drives too fast and doesn't practice defensive driving. Jaynee and his girlfriend both told him he drove too fast and he should slow down around curves but he refused to listen. He just didn't take their complaints seriously. Jaynee was nervous and I was worried but there was nothing more we could do other than tell him.
I am grateful he has his own apartment because I couldn't deal with him and his bullheaded attitude. I suppose that belief goes with the territory of being young and immature--although like I said he is extremely intelligent. But you cannot put an old head on a young man. It would be better if our son took note of what his mother and father say; I think it would be helpful. Perhaps he will grow up in the not too distant future; I hope so. He has a lot to learn about life.
Some people feel they need to know everything and cannot tolerate being wrong or "shown up" as less than the most knowledgeable person. Luckily our son doesn't reach that point. We all need to learn from each other. Being wrong isn't a character flaw.
Feeling as though you must be right all the time is an impossible task and a serious personality problem. I wouldn't want our son to fall victim to that obnoxious behavior. There aren't many areas in life where he thinks he has nothing to learn. I think his driving owes a lot to young male hormones, highways and not having seen tragedy. I hope he will accept whatever wisdom we can offer. There's no need for him to invent the same wheel we experienced as young people.

Just a Note While Waiting

I'm waiting for Harry's computer to finally come up with the page I "requested." All done.

A MOUSE IN THE HOUSE

Finally, I found my log-in and I can write in my favorite blog again! I've been writing in Live Journal, but I can't put any pictures in it, so I like this much better. It's much more attractive too. The news is: my hard drive went bad and I'm using hubby's computer; there's a mouse in the house; we're going to look at houses in Delaware because we really can't afford the houses and taxes in Delaware County and we'd like a nicer house with nicer everything. So, first, I'll have to put everything back into my computer whenever it comes home. Second, Moon had the mouse in his mouth; I picked him up and he growled. Then I looked and boy, did I put him down fast! Little Autumn has been watching him but not trying to get the mouse. Third, we have to figure a way to buy a new house and maybe to pack up our stuff. Fourth, I'm really hungry but I'm not going downstairs with a mouse down there. Uh oh, I messed up the picture. Well, it's 1% better than nothing.

Passover and Eat, Eat, Eat!

Sunday night. There's noise outside; the dogs aren't barking yet though. I'm almost ready for bed. Last night we held our Passover Seder; we did it late because our son had classes at the normal time, but it's still Passover. My cousin did the prayers and we did something different this year; we talked about freedom sliding over into the situation in Sudan and now Chad. I always loved the Passover service but this was relevant which that never was. Nobody, even my cousin, knew who the rabbis who were mentioned and the language was so arcane. Discussing our freedom and how little there is in a lot of the world felt right. We didn't even have to get into W or his cohorts.
And our daughter's new boyfriend joined us. They're very serious and we like him. Plus, he brings cakes! Probably, that's not the best thing for this family, but they are awfully good. I gave away some at Harry's suggestion, but I've been munching on everything from last night and when I'm not into them, I'm eating my strawberry/coconut bread. I froze it as I do most cakes so it doesn't go bad. I can eat frozen cake and cookies in case you wondered.
But my new thing is eating cereal for dinner Monday through Thursday. I can't take my eating anymore. Those fat deposits on my hips drive me crazy. My brother suggested walking for twenty minutes a day. I forget, but I know it's a good idea. I forgot; my daughter and I made a french custard too and Harry and I polished that off tonight also. Creme Brulee. It was marvelous. As were Harry's potatoes and meat. Our daughter made the green beans and our son, the caesar salad. We really did have a terrific meal. Now it's time for cereal.

The Freedom of Choice in Retirement

Tomorrow we start looking at houses again; the first one is unaffordable. I just looked it up; it's gorgeous, new, but out of our reach. Oh, well, it will be fun anyway I guess.
I just ordered jersey shorts; every year I think I have to buy new ones. I weigh a little less but I'm built far worse and it's harder to find clothes. Suddenly, I have a lump of fat over each hip; where did they come from? The dimples on my backside have spread down my thighs and are becoming uglier; they're transforming into old lady lumps. I need to move soon so I can get back onto my treadmill and maybe start riding a bike sometimes again.
I'm painting a lot and enjoying it too. I'm loving retirement in general. For the first time in my life, I'm totally free. I have no mom or dad--although I wish I did--or bosses to tell me what to do. I can go to bed late, read in bed, and get up when I feel like it. Everything I do is voluntary. There is an absence of additional stress. Whatever emotional garbage I experience is from inside me and that's my choice too. I choose to see the pain that's been pushed down all my life so I could function. At least, I'm trying to look at it, experience it, and help myself see life completely through my adult eyes. That's how I describe my goal now, but it may change. All I know really is that I've always had a river of pain coursing unseen through my heart. I believe it was born when I was a child, lonely and desperate. I wanted to die; I didn't believe, couldn't imagine, ever getting what I needed. But I have and that desperation still flows, escaping infrequently as rage or overwhelming blind pain. I didn't recognize it, didn't even know it was still there, until July when I had a horrible reaction to prednisone or the lack of it. Suddenly, I felt the darkest pain for which I had no words, just paralyzing agony.
I thank God I worked; thank God I have a pension; and get down on the floor, on my knees to say thank you from the bottom of my heart, for this retirement.

Moving Thoughts and Bread

Our daughter visited today with her new boyfriend. He is cute; she was right, and he's a nice guy--smart with a heart. We'll see what, if anything, comes out of this. My girlfriend Nancy was here too; she was really the only person who I expected before today, but it's always good to see them. I expected more time with Nancy but they took her home, so we were cut short. Nancy's an artist too, and I wanted to go over my new work, so I'll just have to pick her up again. I'm just a lazy driver; I get tired.
I'm now making breads in case anyone visits; I hope I keep it up. My breads are terrific. The one I made yesterday is Coconut/banana/strawberry/raisin/nut. I love coconut and the bread's pretty excellent.
My freezer is full of bakery breads, rolls, ice, junk, and my breads. And the house is sort of jumbled; I'm waiting to move even though we haven't even looked at more houses since the last one went bust. I lost a lot of steam with that; it was a big disappointment. I have a list of houses to check with our agent though and maybe I'll look more tomorrow.
I'm thinking of trying to keep the cost lower than I planned, if that's possible. I'm worried about health care, prescriptions, and real estate taxes as we get older. It won't get easier and we're in the middle class who really shoulders the burden in this nation. (Even though the poor are truly oppressed.) I think I'm being short-sighted and selfish and if I really thought it through, I'd stay in this house and count my blessings and my money. I'm pining for my dream house but just because I'm pining doesn't mean it's a good idea. I loathe living in a row house looking out on trash cans; seeing neighbors up close and personal all the time; fighting for a parking space; and struggling with the steps. That still doesn't make it a good idea. I do love traveling but I'd rather live in a good house. I can answer my traveling bug by visiting my brother, which to me, is just fine (and I think it's actually okay with him.) I think I will find a house and we'll move and that's the way it will be because I just don't have brakes where maybe they should be.

Autumn Kitten's Photo and An Artist's Life

I finally was able to hook up the new digital camera--I haven't thrown the broken one away yet--to the computer and after three hours of trying to get it to work I was able to find the "On" button on the camera and "Voila!" It worked! So tonight I can put a picture of my little sweetie, Autumn on here and soon I can put a pic on of the painting I've been working on for a couple of months. This camera is as easy to use as the old one but I guess it does better pictures. I liked the old one too. And we also used one of those throw-away cameras over the last few months. I have those pictures to put on here too.
We spent last week in Boston visiting family, going to Salem, and relaxing. It was our graduation present to Brian and his girlfriend and Brian drove. It took him about six hours driving I think because he drove way too fast. We all told him about it but he didn't believe us. (His driving made me crazy and stressed out. This week I've had a taste of the old lupus fatigue and that's why I'm sure.)
Monday night I had a psychic reading which I've printed out. The biggest best thing she said was that one of my kids would have a pregnant wedding soon. Not much could make me happier than that. We'll see. I believe they see what could be and the timing is frequently off. One psychic years ago predicted accurately Honey's signing a contract for her teaching job. The psychic had it down to dates and the only thing wrong was she said I was the one who'd be signing. Another one predicted Brian. This one picked up lots of my family and a friend too who'd passed over. I couldn't decide whether Big S was Uncle Sam or Little Sammy my cat who died a couple of years ago. Or someone else entirely. You never know. An officer Harry worked with thirty years ago has come to him twice and they weren't really friends. It's just who can sense them. That night, the light in this room came on by itself and after my brother called from LA, it suddenly switched off. (The show Monk is using Bruce's apartment window from the outside. He can't look out, but it's so neat that I'll be able to see his apartment on a television show. Except neither of us have any idea of when it's on or anything.)
She predicted we'd move next winter, and then to southern New Jersey which I think is incorrect. I think we'll go to southern NJ as we often do, and maybe this house will sell next winter. If we wait for KeyKay to finish fixing everything, that sounds right. (He's doing a beautiful job and everyone wants him.)
KeyKay helped Honey move her birds (finally) yesterday. She's had them for at least fifteen years and probably more and nobody wants to babysit them. Their pictures are in the dictionary under "Biting the Hand That Feeds You." She couldn't spend enough time with them and they were bored. The minute they arrived at this birdlover's house, her big parrot jumped onto the woman's finger and sat watching television with her. The smaller gorgeous parrot got on a stick and was making eyes at the woman's other birds. The report is that T-Bird the African Gray is singing, talking, and enjoying the television shows in addition to lots of personal attention. Good! African Grays are very smart birds, like a five year old. I saw him literally pick up the bottom edge of chair material and look underneath. I'm glad he's happy at somebody else's house.