Weaner Pigs

Creamy Potato Soup with Peas and Sun-Dried Tomatoes

2012-02-11T12:46:00.000-08:00

Creamy Potato Soup With Peas and Sun-Dried Tomatoes

4 red potatoes, diced
1/2 yellow onion, diced
1/4 cup red lentils
1/2 cup cooked brown rice, mooshed up
3-4 sun-dried tomatoes, cut up
1 cup frozen peas [these go in later]
Seasonings to taste: cumin, grated turmeric root, coriander, dill, ground rosemary, liquid smoke, salt
olive oil [optional]
Silk plain soy milk

In a nonstick wok, Saute onions till carmelized
Throw in diced potatoes, lentils, rice, tomatoes, 2 cups water and seasonings.
Simmer 1/2 hour to 45 minutes until lentils and potatoes and tomatoes are soft.
Stir in soy milk, 1/2 to 1 quart. Stir in frozen peas and heat until flavors are blended.

Is There Any Remover of Slime?

2012-02-06T14:01:00.000-08:00

I got slimed* last night at work by someone whose motivations are clear to me but it would be backbiting to reveal. Wish I could bring a raincoat to work.

It's two o'clock and I haven't had breakfast yet. Looks sunny out.

Planning to go to Feast tonight.

I need to say 500 Remover of Difficulties to purify myself from the slime. Takes about 3 hours, usually. Whatever it takes to stay emotionally fit for work, I guess. Beats unemployment.

Angus Cowan said once that he worried about saying the Remover of Difficulties. He thought he might prove to be the difficulty, and be removed.

Is there any Remover of Difficulties save God? Say: Praised be God. He is God. All are His servants, and all abide by His bidding.

~the Bab

That last line is a real poser for me. I hope I have it figured out before The End.

I've heard people joke about someone standing by a car on the freeway with a flat tire [the car, not the person] saying the Remover of Difficulties. Maybe God is removing exterior difficulties, but after the last time I said a string of 500 of the prayers, I decided the main difficulties are interior. I decided to just trust that I am where I am supposed to be, doing what I am supposed to do--at least, my best--and I need to just trust God.

Who has more power than God over my life? Other than me, fumbling along, inadequately making my dumb choices? Obviously, except for the times God is de-creating bullets, my guess is He just works with whatever circumstances are available; that is, not changing people's freedom of choice. [I just figured out I mean individual people's, not mass humanity's peoples'.]

I hope by the end of my two days off I will have done something meaningful, and be de-slimed. Wish me luck or say prayers, whichever is your pleasure.

*Sliming is saying anything to someone that makes them feel sick, shameful, sad, angry, etc. and saying it with that intention.

Knit, Pearl! or, How to Knit in the Dark

2012-01-23T11:15:00.000-08:00

We were out of electricity for three days. It ran out somewhere, I guess. Trickled off into a gutter somewhere, maybe.

The first day I trekked to the Bank. Closed. Ace Hardware for electric lanterns. Safeway for fresh produce, which is what we lived on, together with bread and butter, bread and peanut butter, and so forth. I made a big salad and rigged up lanterns with batteries, and was reading after dark when my daughter proposed I learn to knit.

I had thrown in the towel on knitting when I went to a not-very-fun class and learned I was doing it backwards, but I had new yarn and needles ready. Pearl learned to knit from her aunt and had just learned to purl for her new project, a scarf for her boyfriend. Whenever she lost track she was counting stitches: knit, purl, knit, purl . . .

So we rigged up a lantern between us and she showed me how to cast on and make my first stitches. She's a good teacher. I started with 20 stitches and by the end of the evening it had accidentally expanded to over 40 stitches, with lots of holes. In the morning I took it out and started over.

The trees are lying in shards in front and behind my house. When I returned from my errands, a great portion of the birch tree was lying where my car would have been, if I had left it there. Seemed like some kind of sign, to me.

By the third day I was sick of salad, sick of sitting in what must have been a 40 degree house, spending time under the covers until it was necessary to quickly leap out of bed, don 2 layers of clothing, eat something, change and go to work. It was a thrill to come home from work in the evening to find the lights on.

I'm using up the popsickles.

Spinach Tamales or Queso-less Dillas

2012-01-07T21:24:00.000-08:00

I've been inspired by the use of spinach in Indian cuisine, and noticed what a creamy taste and texture it can have when cooked. When one chooses to leave cheese out of the menu, it's challenging to find an adequate replacement, although I've noticed that a lot of Vegan recipes cheerfully throw in a little nutritional yeast as if it were a viable substitute. In any case, my culinary thoughts have been drifting spinach-ward, with some satisfying results. I made tamales with a spinach filling, which I enjoyed a lot. Having some filling left over, I also made corn tortillas with the spinach mixture inside, and found it surprisingly creamy and delicious. Take that, cows! By the way, I learned recently that a single tamale is actually a "tamal."

Spinach Tamales With Tomatillo Sauce

First, soak several corn husks* separated in hot water for 30 minutes. Later you will [should you choose to accept this assignment] tear some 3/8 inch strips for tying around the tamales to hold them together. I usually need to tie two strips together to make an adequate length.

Dough
2 cups water, 3 cups masa harina, 1 teaspoon salt [optional], 1/2 cup olive oil [also optional.]
Combine all in bowl, mixing with hands.

Sauce
3 tomatillos with husks removed, diced; 1 nectarine, diced; 1 tomato, diced; 1/2 raw jalapeno pepper, seeded and diced; 1/2 cup cilantro, chopped; 1/2 onion, diced; about 1/2 cup sliced black olives; 1 teaspoon each of salt, agave nectar or honey, and cumin.
Combine all in 1 cup water and simmer 10 to 20 minutes.

Filling [Note: this also makes a fantastic dip or filling for queso-less dillas.]
Place all the following into the bowl of a food processor:
1 package baby spinach, briefly dipped into boiling water and retrieved when wilted. [You can then use this same water for the Sauce, above.]
1/2 cup cooked brown rice; 1/2 cup raw cashews; 1/2 cup cilantro, chopped; 2 cloves garlic, sliced; 1 raw serrano pepper, seeded and diced; 1/2 cup black beans + 1/2 cup no-fat refried beans or any combo to equal 1 cup; 1 ripe avocado deprived of its peel and pit; 1 teaspoon cumin; 1 teaspoon salt; 1/2 teaspoon nutmeg [that complements the spinach.]

Blend until mixed and creamy.

To Put Together Tamales:
Assemble dough, husks, filling and sauce in a convenient arrangement on a work surface.
Place husk on work surface with smooth side up and point toward you. Place a little less than 1/2 cup of dough into center of husk and spread out with hands to a thickness about 1/8 inch. In center of dough place 1 tablespoon of filling and about a teaspoon of sauce. Fold right and left sides together, fold point up, and enclose all with the string, which you tie. Place each tamal into a pressure cooker [or other steamer] upright. When all tamales are made, steam in pressure cooker on high for 30 minutes. [In other type of steamer, count on about 2 hours.]

* Corn husks and masa harina flour can be found in Mexican area of grocery store. Usually.

Building a Stronger Team

2012-01-07T20:59:00.000-08:00

Following some tests at work, with changes in the management and some rearrangements of leadership roles, I was asked to write down some of my concerns for the Unit Manager. This being my day off, I was inspired to use this as an opportunity to air my personal philosophy about leadership in the workplace, which I wrote up as a one-page sort of essay:

Building a Stronger Team

When we consider what makes effective leadership in the path of service, i.e. in the workplace, it is helpful to remember that we are all spiritual beings, and a nicely diverse company. As workers we are human and fallible. So to me it is helpful to keep certain concepts in mind:

* We are all deserving of respect.
* We are each doing our best at any particular time.
* We all want and choose to be here.
* Everyone had meaningful information to share.

Quality communication is service-oriented, respectful, clear and kind. How we communicate makes a difference in the quality of work produced, the continuity of care, and the efficiency of tasks.

* If we communicate in a negative way, such as fault-finding, criticizing, or using a harsh tone of voice, people can withdraw and develop an "exterior locus of control." They become the person unhappily slogging through, not using their creative capabilities for fear of being criticized or attacked.
* If we communicate in a positive way, with clear limit-setting but focusing on the strengths and positive qualities of each person, people can develop an "interior locus of control." They take charge of their duties. They employ independent problem-solving. They feel free to exercise their creative capabilities, knowing their contribution will be valued.
* We can learn to communicate positively by applying this technique: if a person has nine qualities you dislike, and only one quality you are attracted to, focus your attention on the one positive quality. You may find your attitude improves towards that person.
* Anyone in the workplace may have a useful piece of information or a different outlook to share. The most effective communication runs in all directions, not just from the top down.
* The language of leadership is most effective when it is service-oriented, rather than power-oriented.
* Flexibility is often more effective than rigidity.
* In the health-care field, common sense is a valuable commodity.
* Communication is best when it is direct. The measure of a workplace which is psychologically safe is that workers give feedback directly to each other, instead of complaining and gossiping behind someone's back.

On a separate page I also typed up a Baha'i quotation:

If ye be aware of a certain truth, if ye possess a jewel, of which others are deprived, share it with them in a language of utmost kindliness and goodwill. If it be accepted, if it fulfill its purpose, your object is attained. If any one should refuse it, leave him unto himself, and beseech God to guide him. Beware lest ye deal unkindly with him. A kindly tongue is the lodestone of the hearts of men. It is the bread of the spirit, it clotheth the words with meaning, it is the fountain of the light of wisdom and understanding . . .

Why Can't You Just Conform?

2012-01-04T15:43:00.000-08:00

Having spent yesterday at work sneezing and coughing and blowing my nose and various snorting, I called in sick at work today but snuck out to the library to pick up items on hold, and to avoid cabin fever. Checked out my books and caught a glimpse of my friend Loyd in the parking lot, standing by two cars with their hoods up. Turns out he had tried to jump start a car for a Korean gentleman but something was wrong besides just the battery, as the jump didn't work. Loyd had to go home, but I told him, "I'm in sh** at work again. There's a new sheriff in town, and too many chiefs and not enough Indians. They're all so aggressive, they're all just, 'rrraaahhrrr' at your throat."

Loyd always understands when I talk about work. It doesn't take a lot of song and dance for him to get the picture. He told me a lovely story, standing the rain with his shirt getting soaked and the drops of rain rolling down his face, about a bank teller in the 1950's looking at Loyd's signature on a check, and at his name. Loyd wrote his signature again so the teller could see it. Finally the teller said, "why don't you change it?" Then, "why can't you just conform? I did."

The Most Exciting Moment

2011-12-26T22:20:00.000-08:00

tonight came when Pearl was following me in my CRV as I returned the U Haul truck, and we were cruising down Meridian. I was feeling pretty comfortable with the rig after driving it all day, not worrying too much about keeping my speed low, but when I came to a yellow light I didn't want to lose Pearl, so I stopped rather abruptly. Okay, I slammed on the brakes. BAM!!! The dolly in the back of the truck slammed into the front of the truck with the sound of an 8 gauge shotgun going off behind me.

It got my attention.

Elation From a Job Well Done

2011-12-26T21:22:00.000-08:00

Today I moved a large sewing room and another room full of boxes and some other miscellaneous stuff out of my husband's house, as he was evicted without prior warning to me [I live separately in a townhouse.] I brought my daughter, picked up a 10 foot U-Haul truck, and we drove to Eatonville. There was supposed to be a crew to help us, paid for by the previous owner, but they never showed up. Fortunately I had already secured my three sewing machines and my most important tools when I came down to make arrangements to pick up my things.

I bagged fabric and Pearl boxed up tools and notions and patterns, and the new owners asked their adult children to help move some of the most important furniture. I was fortunate to locate two stashes of my Queen Bess silverware, a wok, and so forth, and pick up a down comforter, a bedspread I made many years ago, and one of my old prayer books with personal notes and prayers written in, which I found upstairs on the third floor. A lot of other items were impossible to locate, however, as the new owners have boxed most things up and it's not possible to get to everything.

I brought down two flights of stairs eight very large terra cotta "bricks" and 4 large shelving "boards" for a "bricks and boards" book case system I've been moving around for years, which were on the third floor. By this time my quadricepts were like jelly. Then I brought down the boxes, loaded up a carpet which I had hand-finished the edges of when I set up the sewing room, and did the final clearing out. The entire job took five hours. The last time I had to disassemble a sewing room it took months and a paid professional to help me sort out the miscellaneous minutia.

We finally drove home, completely exhausted, to face the task of unloading the truck and my car, this time with only the two of us. I fetched items from the truck while Pearl stacked them up neatly in the garage, then the two of us figured out how to unload a large particle board shelving system, and an extremely heavy cabinet which folds out to create a 6 by 4 foot work surface of the correct height. We unloaded the entire truck, plus my CRV, all by ourselves, and nothing was broken, including us.

No more parking in the garage until I get my sewing room set up at my townhouse. Sniff. A good motivator.

We had to stop at a gas station for both vehicles on the way back to U Haul, and were separated when Pearl behind me turned into a gas station and I didn't. So I got the rig turned around on Meridian and came back for her, gassed up and returned the U Haul after the office was closed.

Then we went for a well-deserved, healthy but delicious Indian dinner, and back home for a hot shower, with a sense of elation for all we accomplished.

In one of Baha'u'llah's Writings He points out that we ought not to pride ourselves on our possessions, because we may own them today, but tomorrow, others will own them. There is nothing like an eviction to reinforce that lesson.

Baha'u'llah and the Mind-Blowing Creator

2011-12-15T16:11:00.000-08:00

Seems like there is so much calamity in my life, I never know what to pray about first. I'd like to pray for mercy but then I remember:

My calamity is My providence. Outwardly it is fire and vengeance, inwardly it is light and mercy.

~Baha'u'llah

So if I prayed for mercy I'd probably get more of the same.

I find it comforting to read the Writings of Baha'u'llah, however challenging.

I keep coming back lately to the same remarkable essay by Baha'u'llah, number XXVII in Gleanings of the Writings of Baha'u'llah, which builds beautifully one concept after another. It would not be possible to quote from it extensively, however, I would like to share some highlights.

Concept # One, in the initial paragraph, describes how God created the Universe out of nothingness. This is a paradox to the human mind, because there are passages where 'Abdu'l-Baha states that the quality or name of the Creator is inherent in the Unknowable Essence we call God, so there was no time the creation did not exist. Using the analogy of our sun in the solar system, part of the essence of the sun is the quality of releasing or putting out rays of light and heat: if the rays were not released, the sun would not be the sun. So as long as there has been a Creator, there has been a creation. And yet, in this passage Baha'u'llah describes the universe being created from nothingness:

All-praise to the unity of God, and all-honor to Him, the sovereign Lord, the incomparable and all-glorious Ruler of the universe, Who, out of utter nothingness, hath created the reality of all things, Who, from naught, hath brought into being the most refined and subtle elements of His creation, and Who, rescuing His creatures from the abasement of remoteness and the perils of ultimate extinction, hath received them into His kingdom of incorruptible glory.

There are two parts to this process: being created, and being rescued from a state of remoteness from God. So to the limited and logical, linear human mind this is a paradox, that the creation is a never-beginning, never-ending process, by the Creator.

Nothing short of His all-encompassing grace, His all-pervading mercy, could have possibly achieved it. How could it, otherwise, have been possible for sheer nothingness to have acquired by itself the worthiness and capacity to emerge from its state of non-existence into the realm of being?

I had never thought of this notion before, that to come into existence requires capacity and worthiness. Everything, from the Big Bang to the initial squirms of life in the primordial soup, to the emergence of oxygen-creating microbes which changed the atmosphere into what is currently breathable to life as we know it, depended on the light and mercy of God.

Leapfrogging over most of this passage, more is revealed. Even the continued existence of the creation from one moment to the next is dependent on God:

There can be no doubt whatever that if for one moment the tide of His mercy and grace were to be withheld from the world, it would completely perish.

One might look at the Creator as cruel, unpleasant, despotic, and controlling, to think that every breath we take is dependent on Him. As humans like to be in control of our lives, it is a disconcerting thought. But the more positive thought is that we exist because of God's love for us, because He loved His creation, and we were created and continue to be created from moment to moment because of God's grace and mercy. That would be the humble way to see the position of creation and humankind in the universe.

So, the Universe, Life, and Everything We Know About has been created and is continually in the process of being created. God's not done yet.

Concept # Two:

[From the same passage]: Having created the world and all that liveth and moveth therein, He, through the direct operation of His unconstrained and sovereign Will, chose to confer upon man the unique distinction and capacity to know Him and to Love Him--a capacity that must needs be regarded as the generating impulse and the primary purpose underlying the whole of creation . . . Upon the inmost reality of each and every created thing He hath shed the light of one of His names, and made it a recipient of the glory of one of His attributes. Upon the reality of man, however, He hath focused the radiance of all of His names and attributes, and made it a mirror of His own Self. Alone of all created things man hath been singled out for so great a favor, so enduring a bounty.

For readers of the Bible, we may recognize that man [humankind, not just males] was created in God's image. We potentially may reflect all of God's attributes, and have the capacity to know and love God. This leads to:

Concept # Three: These energies with which the Day Star of Divine bounty and Source of heavenly guidance hath endowed the reality of man lie, however, latent within him, even as the flame is hidden within the candle and the rays of light are potentially present within the lamp. The radiance of these energies may be obscured by worldly desires even as the light of the sun can be concealed beneath the dust and dross which cover the mirror. Neither the candle nor the lamp can be lighted through their own unaided efforts, nor can it ever be possible for the mirror to free itself from its dross. It is clear and evident that until the fire is kindled the lamp will never be ignited, and unless the dross is blotted out from the face of the mirror it can never represent the image of the sun nor reflect its light and glory.

So here is a human soul with the potential to reflect the attributes of God, and with the unique capacity to know and love God, but unable to do so without outside assistance. What will happen next?

Concept # Four: And since there can be no tie of direct intercourse to bind the one true God with His creation, and no resemblance whatever can exist between the transient and the Eternal, the contingent and the Absolute, He hath ordained that in every age and dispensation a pure and stainless Soul be manifest in the kingdoms of earth and heaven.

Baha'u'llah goes on to say that this Soul, this "mysterious and ethereal Being" has a twofold nature: physical and spiritual; and a double station: the Voice of God Himself, and the human station. These Souls are what the Baha'i Writings refer to as "Manifestations of God," who have come in every time and at whatever place They are most sorely needed, to communicate from God to humankind.

From the foregoing passages and allusions it hath been made indubitably clear that in the kingdoms of earth and heaven there must needs be manifested a Being, and Essence Who shall act as a Manifestation and Vehicle for the transmission of the grace of the Divinity Itself, the sovereign Lord of all. Through the teachings of this Day Star of Truth every man will advance and develop until he attaineth the station at which he can manifest all the potential forces with which his inmost true self hath been endowed. It is for this purpose that in every age and dispensation the Prophets of God and His chosen Ones have appeared amongst men, and have evinced such power as is born of God and such might as only the Eternal can reveal.

Concept # Five:I will say this, then let Baha'u'llah have the last word: the outpouring of God's Grace is never ending. These Manifestations of God will continue to appear forever: Can one of sane mind ever seriously imagine that, in view of certain words the meaning of which he cannot comprehend, the portal of God's infinite guidance can ever be closed in the face of men? Can he ever conceive for these Divine Luminaries, these resplendent Lights either a beginning or an end? What outpouring flood can compare with the stream of His all-embracing grace, and what blessing can excel the evidences of so great and pervasive a mercy? . . . From the beginning that hath no beginning the portals of Divine mercy have been flung open to the face of all created things, and the clouds of Truth will continue to the end that hath no end to rain on the soil of human capacity, reality and personality their favors and bounties. Such hath been God's method continued from everlasting to everlasting.

If I Only Had a Mind

2011-12-09T21:26:00.000-08:00

This is how crazy the last three days have been: I arrived in University Place from Puyallup for my appointment on the last whiff of gas in the tank. This almost never happens. I always look for a place to fill up at a quarter tank. Obsessive. So a line popped into my head while I was filling the tank, "my life is so chaotic," it turned eventually into this familiar ditty with new words:

Oh, my life is so chaotic
My brain is cyanotic,
My thoughts all left behind.
I could sort out all my papers,
I could get over the vapors
If I only had a mind.

Danger Averted With a Happy Ending

2011-12-09T21:03:00.000-08:00

The other evening at work went beyond hectic to chaotic, so when I was approached by an upset family member not once, but twice, I had a horrible sinking feeling that my organization for the day was shot if I gave her more time than I had to. Also I have an instinctive fear of angry people, so I avoid them rather than approaching and trying to establish a rapport. Penny wise and pound foolish, as she complained to the management and I was suspended the next day, and spent the next two days off in a fever of anxiety about whether or not I would get to keep my job.

I prayed a lot, meditated, tried to keep myself from beating myself up too much, and thought about how to prepare myself psychologically to drop everything at any time for any reason, cheerfully. This is called "customer service." I didn't get as much done on my days off as I would normally have.

Today [Friday] I waited to hear from the DNS, as I was normally scheduled Saturday and Sunday, and had just about resigned myself to having them off instead of working. I went to an appointment, picked out a gift for my daughter's birthday, and was returning to Puyallup to have my PPD read* and wondering if it was moot, pulled into the parking lot at work as my phone was ringing with an unfamiliar number. It was the DNS, asking to see me.

In his office, he said that a lot of people think I have a cold demeanor, but that there was really nothing to the complaint against me. So I gave my version of how I would be very happy to work on improving my approach to people, and he set up some sort of remedial sessions with the staff development individual, and I believe there was a meeting of the minds. And I have my job.

Cause for celebration, so I went out to India Karma with my husband and daughter and we had Vegetable Korma, Bharta with tandoor-roasted eggplant pureed and spiced, with peas and potatoes or whatever, Channa Masala as my husband likes garbanzos, and an extra dish of Vegetable Biryani. I like to have things to bring home. Also my daughter ordered Saag Naan, which is sprinkled with spinach and delicious, and we had Papadum as an appetizer. I discovered they have mango juice, which is just about as good as Mango Lassi which is made with yogurt, which I am avoiding as a dairy product.

Yum.

*PPD: a test to see if one has been exposed to Tuberculosis, which is read by a nurse in 2-3 days so is time sensitive.

Dahl Soup, Beet Applique, and Moth Dreams

2011-12-03T22:39:00.000-08:00

Went back to Eatonville yesterday evening where my sewing room is and this morning started work on a uniform top with extra embellishment. I had found some fabric of a muted dark red perfect for beets, and some complimentary floral fabric with similar reds and greens, so for the first time I decorated a uniform top. I appliqued a bunch of beets with greens on the back of the top. That's as far as I got. [I will sew the top on my next visit.]

I like the effect, and the beets seem realistic, and the greens are good, but it's out of balance. There are no stems between the beets and the leaves. I had forgotten what an important part the stems play in the conformation of a bunch of beets, maybe because I enjoy the stems less than the beets and greens. Too late to fix it now.

It reminds me of the latest project I made, a duvet cover for a silk comforter I had gotten at the Fair. I had picked up books on butterflies and copied the shapes from the book for appliques on the cover. A couple of weeks later, after so much hard work, I finally figured out what made me uneasy about the whole deal. The shape of the butterflies was not one you would find in nature in a live butterfly--still, with the wings outspread. Butterflies rest with their wings together. The butterflies photographed for the book were probably deceased. I tell myself they are just resting moths . . .

A lovely 24 hours out of town, fixing up a room for myself so my husband can listen to the TV all night long and sleep. I can't sleep with it on and he can't sleep with it off. So we accepted reality and both slept well. In the morning I sewed and he made dahl soup with red lentils, potatoes, garlic, and lemon juice. Absolutely delicious. I hated to leave, but had chores at home.

Dahl Soup

1 cup red lentils
6 to 8 cups water
2 to 3 baking potatoes
4 to 5 peeled garlic cloves [adjust according to taste]
4 lemons or limes, cut in half and juiced
salt to taste

Put lentils, water, potatoes, garlic and salt in water and cook on medium heat about 45 minutes or until potatoes are tender and lentils are dissolved. Stir in lemon juice at the end.

Friends and Family

2011-11-21T10:36:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was joy. Would have blogged about it then but too busy having the day.

Saturday tried to make Three Sisters Fry Bread with cornmeal, beans and squash, from a VegNews article/recipe by Robin Roberston, website also globalvegankitchen.com. I believe my primary mistake was to make something fried; also I used too much water so the dough was sticky; also I probably used too high of heat. In any case I ended up with oily, hard, overcooked patties instead of something light and nutritious.

I had plenty of dough left so Sunday morning I made muffins with the rest of the dough, which were pretty dense, but edible. I brought these as well as some of my rye bread to the Waffle Devotional, and my daughter came with me. We had a wonderful Giving Thanks themed devotional, met and reconnected with some lovely people, and then went out shopping.

Our hot culture stores of choice were St. Vincent de Paul, Goodwill, and then Hancock Fabrics. We scored some great boots for my daughter and a warm cotton bedspread [for use as a blanket, as I already have a comforter] for me.

At Hancock Fabrics we replaced the sewing kit that people barred her from retrieving from her most recent living situation, and we found some great coordinating upholstery fabric for recovering my dining chairs and making a tablecloth. For the tablecloth I found a linen-type fabric with equal ~4-inch stripes of sand and sage; for the chairs, the same fabric with a sand background and 1-inch sage polka dots.

This may be the first time I actually came home from an outing and turned around and started a project then and there. For recovering the chair seats, I hadn't thought about getting or locating more upholstery tacks, so I had to recycle the tacks I could pry out of the bottom of the seats, and try to hold the fabric in place with wide tape, use minimal tacks, and then reapply the chair frames to the seats. The first one turned out somewhat sloppy, so I redid it.

For the tablecloth, the selvedges of the fabric were finished, so I used cotton crochet thread and a blanket stitch to finish the ends, listening with Pearl to CD's on her computer, and my husband [who had joined us from Eatonville] working on his poetry. It took hours to finish the blanket stitch, and I stopped and made some soup primarily for my work lunches, as well as a late dinner, in the middle of the project. To finish the tablecloth for a fancy touch I sewed decorative wooden buttons at the four corners.

It's such joy, working with my hands, and a luxury I rarely take time for. Pearl found, first my nephew Robin Elwood's My Bird CD, then a CD of my brother's music I hadn't heard before, although I had heard some of the songs, and I felt as if the band Lindsay Street and John and Sally were there with us, sharing our family time.

Pea and Potato Soup

1 cup yellow split peas
2 red potatoes
1 red garnet yam
1 carrot
1/2 onion
3/4 quart plain soy milk
1 1/2 cups frozen peas
1/2 portion Golden Curry flavoring
1 clove garlic, chopped

In pressure cooker, saute onions while you cube the vegetables. Add split peas, potatoes, carrot and yam, plus 6 cups water and curry flavoring into cooker and cook on high for ten minutes, with natural pressure release [i.e., off the burner.] When lid can be removed, stir in frozen peas and soy milk to a creamy consistency, heat and serve.

For My Brave Friend

2011-11-18T09:59:00.000-08:00

Woke up with a couple hours sleep yet to fit in, not uncommon for me. Thinking about an upcoming devotional meeting, where the first part is devoted to God, and the second part is devoted to waffles. Fine and good, but people often make scrambled eggs and sausage, yogurt and so on. So my plan is to bring alternative comestibles to share. Still, giving in to the desire to eat those other death-dealing foods was my downfall in the past. I have to remember that just because kind souls provided them, no sausages ever actually leaped into my mouth unaided.

Although my newfound belief in and commitment to saving my eyesight, my hearing, my mind, and my organs and limbs, let alone my life, has given me a new sense of life, and a charge every time I make a choice for life and not death in my food choices, it's easy to lose focus. It's easy for my resolve to become eroded by constant exposure to animal sourced foods. I'm sure eventually it will become second nature to make these choices, as long as I never give in. But it's a white-knuckle experience.

So I was thinking about "getting through" the next few socialization opportunities and retaining this focus, and remembered the 23rd Psalm:

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His Name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

My enemies being certain foods, of course, not people! And I promise not to dump oil on my head at the table. And I'm still looking for Shirley, Goodness and Mercy. Sometimes they get lost.

I also ran across this quotation from Shoghi Effendi posted on Facebook, which has to do with teaching the Baha'i Faith, not to do with changing my eating style. Nevertheless, with all due respect to the beloved Guardian, these words seemed most appropriate to my journey:

There is no time to lose. There is no room left for vacillation. Myriads hunger for the bread of life. . . . To try, to persevere, is to ensure ultimate and complete victory.

I hope to do a following post soon to outline why changing away from animal-sourced foods is so crucial to the survival of humankind and to the planet, and why it is so urgent.

Hurrah, thank you and all to my brave friend Rachel who is currently choosing life by doing a juice fast, coincidentally with my choice to turn towards a plant based eating style.

In Which I Have Fun in Public

2011-11-17T21:25:00.000-08:00

Our Director of Nursing at "Mountain View" is leaving for a post closer to her home, so several of us staff members met at Applebees for dinner to say goodbye. She has such wonderful qualities, honesty, a quirky sense of humor, rarely found in DNS's, and she'll be hard to replace. I will miss her.

When the dinner was planned, I had just committed to the plant based whole foods eating style, so I stopped by Applebees to scout out the menu then. I had steamed vegetables with a house salad, and learned Rule Number One: Always ask questions. The house salad had cheese and bacon on it, and they very kindly made me another one without. So I had found an edible entree and figured I was set for tonight. Honestly, this was the only plant-based entree in the entire menu.

So tonight when the group of us were seated, I scanned the menu through and through and didn't see this entree. Oh, dear. Fortunately I asked the waiter, and he said they still make that entree but it just isn't listed on the menu any more. Not popular enough. So all was well. Along with a salad with greens, cucumber and plum tomatoes, the steamed vegetables included cauliflower, broccoli, baby carrots, zucchini, and potatoes. Delicious and ample. So I was able to talk about my change to a whole food plant based diet with the friends at my table and impart a lot of information. For example, that casein contains an opiate-like substance, and some other foods such as chocolate that also affect our brains and keep us "hooked." [See Breaking the Food Seduction by Neal Barnard, MD.]

I'm sure followers will recall that in 2009 I also made this switch, eventually defeated by my occasional, then constant, "cheating." This time I wasn't planning on discussing this in my blog, but I'm feeling so good about it, and feeling so much better, and getting such a charge out of taking control of what I choose to eat, it's hard not to talk about it. So I am. Anyway, I invented and learned so many recipes last time that I was much better prepared to make the change this time.

We had so much fun, meeting in regular clothes instead of scrubs, away from the stress of work, talking about where we were from [Cairo, Ghana, the Philippines for my tablemates], children, marriages, school, languages, travel, cruises, childbirth, surgeries, so on and so forth. I discovered other people at work like me a lot better than I imagined. We had a blast, and decided we should go out more often.

I made rye bread today from the simplest of the recipes I found on the internet. I used a lot of cornmeal, as I had seen in some other recipes, and it turned out hard on the outside, sweet and a little dense, soft and crumbly on the inside. Maybe difficult for sandwich bread, but tasty and filling anyway.

Experimented with kale the other day, plugging it into my formula for pea soup: sauteed onions, vegetables, a star vegetable such as cabbage or beets, and dry yellow peas, plus 8 cups of water, ten minutes in pressure cooker and slow pressure release. It failed miserably. Neither the kale nor the peas cooked thoroughly, so I cooked it longer, then finally pureed the entire mess. If all else fails, puree. So it was rich and satisfying in pureed form, but I doubt I'll try again. I'll just have to learn other recipes for kale. I'm not defeated that easily. Kale is just so full of wonderful nutrients.

Gratitude Day

2011-11-10T11:20:00.001-08:00

I'm working Thanksgiving, but in any case, I wanted to say something about the meaning of food, fellowship, sharing, not sharing . . .

I mentioned in a previous blog that a couple of years ago I went to a local restaurant having a buffet for Thanksgiving which included the turkey and dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy, rolls and salad and so forth. I went by myself, went through the buffet a couple of times, and left feeling filled but unfulfilled. And I realized that the celebration of "Thanksgiving" is not eating selected traditional foods. You could eat those any time. Thanksgiving is sharing a meal or get together with friends and family in a spirit of generosity and gratitude.

As I sever myself from 90% of the foods I associate with Thanksgiving feasts, I am thinking about what makes sharing food at an event meaningful. For me, when I go to Baha'i Feasts or to potlucks or holiday dinners and so forth, to be truly honest, sharing the food [all of it, and then some] has been a very important part of the event. If I did not eat some of the foods it was usually because I was on a diet [extremely rare occasion] or trying to go vegetarian or so forth. Not to partake to me kind of means being left out.

Time to stand back, look at myself with honesty, and realize that socializing over a plate of food makes socializing more interesting and bearable. I don't have to be fully present with the other person. I talked with my therapist recently about this is probably one reason people who "drink" enjoy their beverage of choice at parties: for some people this masks social anxiety and smooths the way for them to enjoy the party. And I don't say this being judgmental. This is just being human.

Now that I have opted to act as the pickiest person on earth, someone who doesn't eat meat or fish or eggs or dairy products, I will have to focus primarily on the act of socializing with people and being fully present, rather than focusing on what there is to eat. A challenge for me. I feel as if an outer, unconscious layer of "skin" has been peeled away from my emotions. Raw, alive, and unpeeled.

Which is appropriate if my primary focus is now vegetables.

I am open to any ideas for a whole-foods, plant based menu for Thanksgiving.

No Face, No Mother, No Moo.

2011-11-09T18:13:00.000-08:00

Had a good day today and it isn't done yet. Up early for follow up visit to ophthamologist, who AGAIN put drops in my eyes to numb them and more drops to dilate them, which lasts all day. Anyway I gave him the update and he said my eyes look great. Then I decided not to drive back to Puyallup then back again to Tacoma for a later appt so I stayed in town. Whole food plant based lunch at Marlene's Deli, then a haircut, then shopping for more soup cups at Goodwill, then to Value Village [where by a miracle I found what I believe is a pizza peel thing helpful for transferring bread dough to a warmed baking stone] and my other appointment. Then home.

Walked to downtown Puyallup with my daughter and we explored the Library and several Antique shops, then home. If I live that long I wanted to make rye bread and do a hand sewing project. I'm also having a new mattress delivered tonight. Which is good because I'm about ready for sleep.

I may need to bake rye bread another day.

Every time I make a whole food plant based food choice I get an enormous charge out of it. I just never believed in myself before.

An Eye to the Future

2011-10-28T22:57:00.000-07:00

Arose early [for me, now working the late shift, 6:30 is early] and picked up my daughter, who I was bringing to my appointment in Seattle as my "designated driver." She also helped with companionship and support, not to mention that it is always a treat to spend a day with her. I drove to Madison Street in Seattle, next to Swedish Hospital, to a group of Neurologists who are also qualified as Ophthamologists, to try to find out why vision in my left eye in the last few days has gone from "sort of funny" to "looking through a brownish haze or smog."

First I went upstairs to Radiology and signed in for the MRI scan of my brain. My daughter signed in as my designated driver. I have heard so many stories of people who freak out at the last minute when confronted with the MRI tube, and discovered at a young age I am somewhat claustrophobic [when we took turns being locked in the outhouse] that I decided to accept a mild sedative. They won't give that without the patient bringing a driver.

It turned out that I probably wouldn't have needed the Xanax but I didn't mind having it. [The moderate dose I took turned out to be sort of a blessing on the drive home, which was a little harrowing with the rain and heavy traffic.] Anyway, I sort of enjoyed the MRI. The only disconcerting parts were the loud sounds made by the imaging process, and the inability to move.

Downstairs we shared a snack, as breakfast was at 9 AM and the MRI was finished at 1 PM. The neurologist put in yet another set of eye drops, tested my eye pressure and the field of vision in both eyes, and did a color test. He suggested getting an MRI and I explained that I had just had one, so he found it on his computer and took a look.

The upshot was that he believes I have optic neuritis. If I was a little younger, it would be suggestive of MS, but I'm a little past the usual age range for developing MS. Possible causes include diabetes, which causes poor blood flow to the optic nerve, causing it to swell, or it sometimes can be triggered by a vaccination. I have diabetes, and also had a flu vaccination at work about 2 weeks ago.

The good news was that this condition usually resolves in 6 to 8 weeks, according to my neurologist [imagine, having my own neurologist, kind of like having a pet] without any treatment. Alternatively, if I wasn't willing to put up with the symptoms or they became worse, he could administer a steroid. I'm not crazy about steroids because of the awful side effects. So I should recover more normal vision in a few weeks.

Hurrah!

We ate a decent lunch at a nearby cafe, parking cost me $12, even though parking for patients was not supposed to exceed $8 [neither office validates parking], and it took 3 hours to drive home in bumper-to-bumper traffic in the rain.

At home I made a fantastic soup with dahl [red lentils], cauliflower, garlic, soy milk and spinach.

Planet Eyeball

2011-10-27T18:57:00.000-07:00

I received a referral from my optometrist to an outfit that treats macular and retina problems, on Alder off of Center Street. I had an earlier appointment in the North end of Tacoma to which I arrived with a flat tire, and learned to put air in the tire from a paid air compressor at a gas station [Adventure # 1] which I did prior to the appointment.

After my initial appointment, there was still air in the tire, but I needed to know what had gone wrong with it and get a repair, so I went to Les Schwab. [Adventure # 2.] No, the tire cannot be repaired, because it was driven on while flat. Why can't I just go bring a tire from home and have that put on? [I had kept my tires after having these put on last year, as they were nearly new.] Because once they removed the tire, they won't replace it. But I hate to pay for a whole new tire. Guess what? The original tire was under warranty. Yay!! They put on my full-size spare and promise to phone when my new tire has arrived to the shop.

Off I go to the Macular Retina place, [Adventure # 3] which wasn't that easy to find, but I found it. There are photos of planets everywhere. Orange planets with interesting features and canals on them. Anyway, I am admitted and have three sets of eye drops put in; one to numb my eyes, then two to fix open my pupils. I had the latter done at the optometrist and have grown to hate the effects. It takes hours to wear off, and I am stuck driving around with these cheesy dark lenses and all the lights are fractured and look like stars. This on top of the blurry vision in my left eye, which I am attempting to assess and resolve.

I describe as clearly as possible the changes in my vision in the left eye over the last week or so. The doctor seems mystified and is beginning to talk as though this may just be in my head. I am not encouraged.

The doctor also checked my blood pressure, inflating the cuff a total of four times to double-check my high blood pressure, and [oh, Sweet Jesus, as my arm is about to explode] instructing me to see my PCP and treat the hypertension, i.e. go back on medication. So I agreed, being under pressure.

Anyway, they looked at my eyes in various ways, don't see much. Then they decide to photograph my retinas with dye, to check the perfusion to my eyes. The MD injects a yellow dye into the vein in my hand, while the very pleasant practitioner takes photographs of both eyes as the dye takes effect. It was fun and fascinating. Kind of the high point of this adventure.

Now we return to the original exam room, and the doctor performs a very high-tech test: he holds up a red folder [my chart] and asks what color it is with my right eye [red] and what color it is with my left eye [dark red.]

The upshot of this was that he referred me to a Neuro-Ophthamologist office in Seattle off of Madison Avenue, because, as I have been wondering, he was thinking this may be a neurological problem. And these are the very people to see for that.

When I connect with the Neuro-Ophthamologists it turns out I obtain an appointment for tomorrow, [Adventure # 4] and I get to have a brain MRI prior to this. Oh, my. Yes, I am somewhat claustrophobic. So after I stop by Les Schwab and have my new free tire put on the car, I drop in on my daughter and ask her to be my designated driver. This way I am free to receive medication if needed to make the MRI bearable--otherwise it's not allowed. But I have every intention of driving the car back myself. By the time I spend hours in the other office, whatever I take, if anything, will have worn off. But it will be great to have my daughter with me for all this, anyway.

When I was still in the car at the Macular place after winding up my phone call to Seattle, the MD tapped on the window. He was off to surgery, and mentioned he had been thinking he might have to do surgery on me today if my retina was torn, but it wasn't necessary.

And I still have to report to Jury Duty on the 31st, phoning in the evening before to see if my group needs to come in . . .

Health Issues

2011-10-25T08:09:00.000-07:00

I'm up early. Wrenching myself out of sleep early, I feel like a beet pulled up out of the ground. I made an appointment with the last optometrist I saw, for first thing this morning. They wanted to see me yesterday, but I have to work. The vision has become blurry in my left eye. There is no outward, visible change in my eye; it's either internal to the mechanics of the eye, or neurological. Guess I'll find out.

I'm getting more serious lately about turning away from animal-based foods; reading Dr. Neal Barnard's Breaking the Food Seduction, Geneen Roth's Women, Food and God, and realizing ways this might be possible. The "muscle" it takes to turn away from spontaneously provided foods [from other people, e.g. at work] is not really there, but I'm not pursuing my cravings so much. Also, the more I eat plant-based foods, the better I feel, so that helps.

I have this great idea for forming a group or club based on exploring alternatives for healthy nutrition: meeting, cooking and eating plant-based foods, watching movies, reading books, and discussing them. Stay tuned.

Baha'i Institute for Higher Education

2011-10-22T14:05:00.000-07:00

Last weekend of the Intensive Program of Growth here in W. Washington/Cluster 19. Tired. Met for prayers in the AM at Lisa's with George, Lisa, Joe, then Gwen and so on so forth. Sorry, So On So Forth, didn't learn your names.

Said some prayers, G. went to be with the Tacoma Tigers football "little league", Gwen and Joe and So Forth were doing a Book One, so I slid on out, came home to get ready to bring healthy snacks to a Fireside at Dawn's with a young lady who is a graduate of the Baha'i Institute of Higher Education. This is a grassroots organization of Baha'is making sure a college degree is available to people in Iran where the Baha'is are excluded from the official universities. My understanding is that Shiva is the first such graduate to be accepted at an American university, PLU. What an honor it is to have her here.

Black Bean Soup with Squash

2011-10-16T16:44:00.000-07:00

For lunch with the Intensive Program of Growth today I made Black Bean Soup with Squash. I wanted to serve something hearty, hot and delicious, as well as having many valuable nutrients and virtually no not-so-valuable nutrients. People seemed to enjoy this.

Black Bean Soup with Squash

2 cups dried black beans, rinsed, soaked overnight, and rinsed again
1/2 cup red lentils
1 onion
2 delicata squashes, seeded and diced
1 red garnet yam, diced
2 fat organic carrots
1 package of spinach
a few leaves of fresh basil and cilantro
Seasonings to taste: sea salt, smoke flavoring, ground rosemary, cumin, coriander, dill, basil, oregano; 2 cloves garlic, sliced.
Would have been good if I had it on hand: frozen corn, and fresh turmeric root, grated.

Dice onion and place in pressure cooker with a tablespoon of extra virgin olive oil to carmelize while you prepare other ingredients. Dice everything, put it all into the cooker, add beans and red lentils and seasonings, cover with water, put on lid, and cook on high for 10 minutes, allow natural pressure release. Stir in spinach and more fresh cilantro and basil. Serve. Now that you've enjoyed this, it's a Whole Foods Plant Based Diet selection. AKA vegan.

We had this with crusty french bread, sliced sharp white cheddar, and macaroni salad, small mandarin oranges, chips, tea or 100% grape juice. You could also try toasted rye bread with this. [For vegan meal, omit the macaroni salad and cheddar, and make the bread whole grain.]

Open Thou the Door

2011-10-16T16:05:00.000-07:00

I memorized a prayer over night:

O Lord,
Open Thou the door, provide the means, prepare the way, make safe the path, that we may be guided to those souls whose hearts are prepared for Thy Cause, and that they may be guided to us. Verily, Thou art the Merciful, the Most Bountiful, the All-Powerful.

~'Abdu'l-Baha

Friday at work was challenging, with someone who needed IV fluids, so an IV start, and IM and oral antibiotics, which took an extra hour and a half. It's a good thing I have a simple medication pass, so I could hurry up to finish in my last 45 minutes. So when I came home I was revved up. Then I was anticipating people coming to my house Saturday and Sunday for a Baha'i Intensive Program of Growth, so I was revved up about that, and went to sleep about 2:30 AM and woke 7:30 AM. Did the final dusting and sweeping, set out dishes for lunch, etc, and instructed myself not to take it too hard if no one showed up.

My goal is to find receptive souls in Puyallup, beginning with the neighborhoods near me, and expand the number of people participating in devotional meetings, study circles, children's classes and youth groups; it is hoped that they will become attracted to the Baha'i teachings, investigate, and eventually expand the number of Baha'is in Puyallup. Building more spiritual communities is our focus.

So the schedule was to pray and spend time consulting in the morning, in preparation for direct teaching work after lunch. I had Marian, George, Chris, Rick, William, and Joe in the morning, and Dawn came in the afternoon. We prayed, talked about our goals, sang and consulted, then ate potato soup with green peas, yellow split peas and tomatoes, and had sandwiches and so forth. Most went to the Salishan neighborhood for teaching. Dawn, Marian and I went teaching in the Stillwater Apartments which I pass on the way to work.

A lot of people at work live near by, but I'm not sure exactly where. I'm extremely shy about sharing the aspect of my life closest to my heart--my faith--at work. So I was very concerned about meeting people I knew, as I crossed the fence between my work persona and my Baha'i character. Sure enough, many of the people we met were connected with "Mountain View." So I was exposed as a Baha'i several times. I'm waiting for doom to fall.

In the evening I washed clothes, cleaned up and went out to Feast in Tacoma, shopped on the way home, soaked black beans, memorized a prayer, and listened to Beethoven's Appassionata before bed. Woke at 8:30 this morning, went, Omigosh, and made a Black Bean and Squash soup. Today George, Dawn, and Joe came over, and Marian promised to pray. Nearly comatose with exhaustion by this time, I went back to the Stillwater apartments again after lunch with George and Dawn.*

I phoned Marian later to ask what time she was saying her prayers for us, because lightning struck twice. We visited a couple and spoke with the husband who goes to the Sikh temple in Renton. He was very friendly, and I would have liked to talk with him for a long time, but he wasn't interested in any devotional meetings, children's classes or youth groups, or study circles. What enticing smells of curry emanated from their home, even though we had just eaten.

Upstairs we met a young woman with two children interested in devotional meetings at her house, with a possibility she may become interested in children's classes. And across the way, still floating on air, we met a young woman with children who had just escaped from a domestic violence situation, who is interested in an introductory conversation about the Faith, and may come to the Women's Empowerment Devotional on Friday.

We called it good and went out for coffee.

*There is a story about 'Abdu'l-Baha who returned to the place he was staying during his visit to America, very exhausted. He went upstairs to His room and emerged a few minutes later completely reenergized by prayer. I do feel better after the teaching event.

Mentally Alert Salad

2011-10-03T11:37:00.000-07:00

That would be something else, a mentally alert salad. Make you think twice before sticking a fork into your greens. Funny it doesn't work that way with a hamburger . . . except for some folks who are more mentally alert to their food origins than the rest of us.

For the last, I'd say, two months, since watching Forks Over Knives, I've been following my cravings, mainly [for those with a morbid interest in those things] fried fish. I discovered Halibut is flavorful; generic fish is not. I can now safely predict that the more deeply I am moved by the arguments for a whole food plant based diet, the more I envy those whose lives have been transformed by adhering to its strict limits, the more severe my food cravings for other types of food become and the more abrupt their onset. It is completely predictable. I was just beginning to settle down after F. O. K. when I watched 40 minutes of Dr. Neal Barnard describing which substances in dairy products tend to keep one eating them . . .

The also predictable result of relentlessly pursuing these cravings, instead of occasional aberrations from a moderately healthy diet, has been a lack of mental acuity. Some foods make me dopey. Just not as alert. Slow and lazy brain cells. I start worrying about early onset Alzheimers.

Amazingly I started to realize, after this latest binge, that I was craving fruits and vegetables and whole grains and even legumes. So I made this salad, ate it with a beautiful red, ripe pear [don't ask me about the variety--I'm not that alert] and a slice of whole wheat toast. A wonderful meal and a rousing experience. I could feel my mind and body transforming with just one lunch.

Mentally Alert Salad

1/4 of a cabbage, thinly sliced and chopped [optionally you could grate it. That would be great.]
1/2 onion, diced
2 fat organic carrots, grated
one can pickled beets, sliced [the beets, not the can]
one can of beans [in this case, red beans]

Salad dressing*

That's it. Simple and delicious. I don't even know why I'm charging for this recipe. Oh, yeah, I'm not.

Walking to work there was definitely more of a spring in my step and a smile on my face.

* I have this idea for a salad dressing based on pickled beets, but I haven't worked it out yet.

Projects

2011-09-10T20:47:00.000-07:00

Walked to the Puyallup Fair Friday morning, stood in line for awhile to get in on the free admission, admired the quilts. While I was there, I saw an elderly man leaning against a chair, thought he might lose his balance & said something.

"That's my wife's quilt up there," he said. I said, that's very nice; he said, "she died three years ago. I wanted to see what happened with the quilt. Every night I talk to her, tell her how my day went." I got teary-eyed. Said, maybe you can wrap up in the quilt.

Stood in line for a burger at a place that wasn't quite organized yet, taking far more orders than they could cook up. A lot of us were in line for a long time, then a counter opened up and someone who hadn't even been in line came up. Lady behind me complained, he rounded on her, she tried to apologize but he wouldn't listen. Then when he got his burger before her, more drama. From when I got in line to when I received my sandwich: 50 minutes.

Went to the rodeo for $5, have never gone before. I think they had a rodeo in Albion when I was very small, if that counts. It was a blast. I'd like to go again.

Bought a silk comforter [silk fibers on the inside, not the outside], decided it would be better to be a little mean to silkworms than kill ducks: besides, feathers have a tendency to work out of a feather bed and poke you. So I left the fair resolved to sew a cover for the comforter.

Fortunately I have a pair of Egyptian cotton king-size sheets I bought several months ago at a thrift shop, and decided to use those for the duvet. Decided to doll it up a little bit from plain white by appliqueing butterflies cut from colorful scraps, but I was dreading the applique process, wrestling around an entire king sized sheet on the machine, until I figured out I needed to cut squares/rectangles from the sheet, sew on the appliques, then reassemble.

In twenty four hours I have the applique work done. Except for the fact that, without details, the outlines of butterflies resemble hats. So now I'm adding detailing, and that's as far as I got today. Back to work tomorrow.

Fire and Snow

2011-09-02T08:08:00.001-07:00

So I visited Baha'i Views and took a virtual canoe trip through the Willapa Watershed, and my first impression was that most of these photos with beautiful scenery and wildlife would make wonderful inspirations for landscape quilts. My first feeling was intense envy of the time and energy and experience of folks ready to step out and paddle out into the wild in their spare time. I get this with my sister's weekend bicycle rides, also. But the envy is really just the result of my longing for nature, which is awakened by seeing and reading about these journeys. That's the fire.

The "snow", the relief, is the tremendous bounty of seeing the photographs, reading about these experiences. If I can't be there, at least I can see the pictures. Bittersweet.

These are the angels of fire and of snow.

~Baha'u'llah [approximate quotation from memory]

Buttercup Versus Rose

2011-09-01T12:56:00.000-07:00

As a child one special experience with my mother was roaming the hills in the spring to pick buttercups, so I always saw them as a rare and lovely wildflower. A few years ago I decided to plant buttercups in my flower bed, only to discover a few months later what a persistent and pernicious pest it can be, sending out runners all over the yard. I don't know if I ever got rid of them. What I thought was simple and innocent turned out to be truly obnoxious.

Little sweet tidbits of gossip can be like a buttercup, rare and enticing when you pick them, but difficult to extricate from the fabric of communal life.

In the garden of thine heart, plant naught but the rose of love.

~ Baha'u'llah

Time to Retire

2011-08-04T08:08:00.000-07:00

People with dementia often go back in time and get "stuck" there, due to the deterioration of the temporal lobe. We have someone at "Mountain View" who apparently spent a good deal of his life running a boiler room. He often reports a crisis going on at the plant, and his frustration of needing to get there to put things in order. Sometimes he'll say, "a man got hurt today."

The other evening he was trying to leave the facility by every exit. "They won't let me leave so I can go take care of the plant," he said. "It makes me so mad, I just feel like quitting!" "You know, Stew," I said, "maybe it's time to retire."

Donkey Burgers

2011-07-29T13:25:00.000-07:00

I recently recognized that there is a very good chance I have Asperger's Syndrome, on the spectrum of Autistic disorders but less challenged. A good option, if you are going to be on the spectrum, for intelligent people. Which I guess I give a good imitation of intelligence. I used to go to student Counselors at PLU and they were all named Molly, and they all eventually put on a puzzled expression about why my life wasn't working and said, "Well, you're obviously bright . ." If I was dumb, my life might make more sense.

Facets of my mental operations that indicate a different wiring: social disconnect, literal thinking, vulnerability to bullying without knowing why [I thought it was red hair], ability to imitate accents [also animals, if that counts as an accent], inability to mathematically prove my mathematical solutions [it's just obvious], earning me a D+ in Plane and Solid Geometry; definitely non-kinisthetic, a little clumsy, always getting confused and tangled up in conversations [leading to endless miscommunications and misunderstandings], interrupting and blurting out my ideas the second they hit, job bouncing, gullibility, inability to think or move quickly [a real liability in entry-level work], slow-to-never learning to ride a bicycle, very slow to learn to swim, very slow learning to drive, extreme honesty, irritable and sensitive, sensitive to light and noise, early awakening.

Following a group conversation is one of my challenges, especially in a large family. For me, joining a group conversation is like jumping into the middle of a Virginia Reel dance without a partner and wondering why things did not work out so well.

It's not so easy to receive the piece of paper that says Official Diagnosis. I've been aping neurotypical behavior for fifty years.

Anyhow, I was elated to figure this out. It illuminates my life. I'm no longer stuck wondering what's going on. I can go, well, no wonder, and get on with it.

For more information, there's a wonderful book called, Asperger's From the Inside Out by Michael John Carley. Or the internet.

Epilogue: I had this incredible epiphany the other day when I was invited to join in a group of Baha'is visiting people in a neighborhood to build spiritual communities. Although everyone has apprehension meeting new people and starting conversations with them, I was always terrified beyond all reason. So I avoided it. After I realized I have AS, I realized this was why I had avoided teaching [not preaching] the Baha'i Faith. I had this mythical conversation in my head, thinking about the people who really suffer for their faith. "I don't need to go to prison or be tortured or executed for my faith. I'm just not wired that way . . . so, since I'm not wired that way, I don't actually need to teach . . ." I burst out laughing at the absurdity.

Resourceful Girl Changes Light Bulb

2011-07-29T12:49:00.000-07:00

Where have I been? I've been busy, that's what. Now that I'm down to one reader . . .

A day off that I wasn't sure would be a day off because I promised that if one of the other nurses got called to jury duty I would come in. I decided that it was only fair, since so far I have called in sick, asked for funeral leave, requested Holy Days off, asked for time off for my nephew's wedding, and asked for an extra day off so I can "do" Ethnic Fest an extra day. Only fair. It took all morning to find out if I was needed or not, so anyway I finally decided I was off the hook, ate my grape nuts with applesauce and soy milk, and I need to buy more grape nuts by the way, and I decided to do a load of laundry, and just when I flipped on the light switch for the little foyer where the laundry sits behind louvered doors [always wanted to use the word louvered], the light bulb blew.

No problem. Right on the shelf over the dryer is a box of CFU's. And I'm looking at the shallow light fixture and thinking that there's no way a CFU is going to fit in there, imagining that the light bulb is in there vertically. So if I need to, I will just leave the fixture off. CFU's all the way.

So I get out my very short stool which I use as seating at my very small and short dining table which is really nothing of the sort, more of a sort of small coffee table, but if I used a regular non-dwarf dining table it would take up my entire very small dining room and all I would do is cover it in papers as my ancestors did before me. So I use a very small table. So I get out this little stool and it's just tall enough for me to reach the light fixture, and now my problems begin.

I start loosening up the screws at the side that hold in the glass fixture, I've done this a thousand times, no problem. One little screw, two little screws, darn. The third screw is stuck. Okay, I need more traction. Don't have a piece of leather, which would be ideal. A piece of that rubbery stuff with holes in it meant for opening jar lids. Doesn't work. Now what? At this point I actually consider calling the landlord. To change a light bulb? No way. I realize this screw, although everyone knows they can be turned with fingers, actually is a screw and has a screw slot in the end.

I probably have fifty screw drivers. Somewhere else. I don't know where they are. No junk drawer here. Go upstairs. Find a drawer that has unsorted junk from one of the junk drawers in the old house [which is probably unsorted from the junk drawers in the house before that.] Oh, good, a short screwdriver just the right length . . . and it's a Philips head. Okay, here's a little metal jackknife. It opens. Knife blade. No good. Try other side. No soap. Won't open. May never know if it's a screw driver blade.

Knife blade won't close. I try a multitude of methods, which if they work, position my fingers in front of the blade so I will be maimed if the blade closes. Doesn't work. Probably for the best. Again I consider calling the landlord. Since I haven't rented an apartment alone since my college dorm room, I'm not sure of the protocol. Surely some of his tenants are so feeble they can't change a light bulb?

Here's a cardboard nail file. Probably break. Here's a hair clip. Metal, thin, a good possibility. Then something makes me try a different drawer. Here's another jackknife. Has a knife blade. Has a screwdriver blade. Bonsai!

Screw turns, fixture gets rinsed out, CFU placed, and fixture actually fits over the CFU.

Resourceful girl wins! Learning? How to spell jackknife.

Epilogue: Recently I decided my Special Power is screaming. I haven't yet decided what it accomplishes.

The Voice of God

2011-06-24T09:11:00.000-07:00

The Kitab-i-Iqan, Baha'u'llah's Book of Certitude, illuminates beautifully in many passages the dual station of the Manifestations of God, the Founders of the world's major religions.

To every discerning and illumined heart it is evident that God, the unknowable Essence, the divine Being, is immensely exalted beyond every human attribute, such as corporeal existence, ascent and descent, egress and regress. Far be it from His glory that human tongue should adequately recount His praise, or that human heart comprehend His fathomless mystery. He is and hath ever been veiled in the ancient eternity of His Essence, and will remain in His Reality everlastingly hidden from the sight of men.

The door of the knowledge of the Ancient of Days being thus closed in the face of all beings, the Source of infinite grace . . . hath caused those luminous Gems of Holiness to appear out of the realm of the spirit, in the noble form of the human temple, and be made manifest unto all men, that they may impart unto the world the mysteries of the unchangeable Being, and tell of the subtleties of His imperishable Essence. These sanctified Mirrors, these Day-springs of ancient glory are one and all Exponents on earth of Him Who is the central Orb of the universe, its Essence and ultimate Purpose. From Him proceed their knowledge and power; from Him is derived their sovereignty.

Baha'u'llah

The following sayings and writings are from some of these Gems of Holiness, speaking with the voice of God:

Say: I, verily, am the Path of God unto all who are in the heavens and all who are on the Earth; well is it with them that hasten thereunto!

I am, I am, I am the Promised One! I am the One Whose name you have for a thousand years invoked, at whose mention you have risen, whose advent you have longed to witness, and the hour of Whose Revelation you have prayed God to hasten. Verily, I say, it is incumbent upon the peoples of both the East and the West to obey My word and to pledge allegiance to My person.

I am the light of the world: he that followeth Me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.

I am the Source of all spiritual and material worlds. Everything emanates from Me. The wise who perfectly know this engage in My devotional service and worship Me with all their hearts.

Howbeit when He, the Spirit of Truth, is come, He shall guide you into all truth: for He shall not speak of Himself; but whatsoever He hear, shall He speak: and He will shew you things to come.

There is one God, and there is none other but He.

He who knows Me as the Unborn, as the Beginningless, as the Supreme Lord of all the Worlds--he only, undeluded among men, is freed from all sins.

I am the Way, the Truth and the Life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by Me.

Say: He is Allah, who is One, Allah, the eternal refuge. He neither begets nor is born, nor is there to Him any equivalent.

I am the generating seed of all existences. There is no being--moving or nonmoving-- that can exist without Me.

Naught is seen in My temple but the Temple of God, and in My beauty but His Beauty, and in My being but His Being, and in My self but His Self, and in My movement but His Movement, and in My acquiescence but His Acquiescence, and in My pen but His Pen, the Mighty, the All-Praised. There hath not been in My soul but the Truth, and in Myself naught could be seen but God.

The Iqan: Key to Understanding All Scripture

2011-06-07T11:15:00.000-07:00

The Kitab-i-Iqan, The Book of Certitude, revealed by Baha'u'llah over about 48 hours in the middle of the 19th Century, holds the very simple key to understanding scriptures of this and all past Revelations from God.

From the Iqan I have learned that everything has an inner meaning and an outer meaning. People who have difficulty recognizing Baha'u'llah and the truth of this Revelation have mental, emotional, spiritual veils in between them and their own hearts, which block their receptivity and perception of the truth. For Christians and Muslims, especially, the Iqan examines some of those veils and reveals the hidden inner meanings of prophecies regarding the return of the Messiah and the End Times.

I was able to apply some of my learning from this yesterday when my husband and I were strolling along the walk above the beach at Titlow Park. We encountered a very focused and energetic man I'll call Mark [because that was his name] who was looking for converts to the Jehovah's Witnesses. I allowed my husband to take the lead in listening to Mark, not because my husband is a man and therefore a superior being, but because he is miles ahead of me in the qualities of sociability and patience. So I stood and listened and prayed.

Eventually I was able to interrupt and put in two points: Christ said, "I have many things to tell you, but ye cannot bear them yet. Howbeit when He who is the Spirit of Truth is come, He will guide you to all truth." [Roughly paraphrased.] I pointed out that Christ didn't say "I" will come, but "He" will come, indicating a different individual. Also, it is mentioned that Christ will come "with a new name." This also indicates a different actual individual from Jesus [the Personality] Christ [the Station.]

I'd love to say that Mark immediately stated he would study this with an open mind and an open heart. Actually he said he would look at the Baha'i Faith with a microscope, root, tree, and branch, to point out all the errors, as he has done with all other Faiths in the past.

The Iqan has helped me by seeing that all Religions really are part of the same Book of God, which makes it much easier to go to the heart of Scripture which illuminates the oneness of God and His Messengers. It has also helped me to realize the dual Station of God's Messengers: the human personality, and the selfless Station of the Manifestation of God, which is universal.

Say: naught is seen in My temple but the temple of God, and in My beauty but His Beauty, and in My being but His Being, and in My self but His Self, and in My movement but His Movement, and in My acquiescence but His Acquiescence, and in My pen but His Pen, the Mighty, the All-Praised. There hath not been in My soul but the truth, and in Myself, naught could be seen but God.

~Baha'u'llah

Vegetables!

2011-06-05T23:55:00.001-07:00

Really craving vegetables today. Time is short, on my work schedule, for cooking.

This evening we were both craving vegetables so stopped at Cappy's Produce on the way home and bought lots of things, to the tune of some wonderful jazz.

Stir-Fried Vegetables

Slice &/or Dice:
1/2 eggplant
green pepper
red pepper
several mushrooms
onion
garlic cloves to taste
some ginger root
something else was in there but I can't remember what it was
fresh tomatoes sliced up
a little cilantro
squeeze in juice from half a lemon
stir-fry in grapeseed oil

Corn Tortilla Quesadillas

grate quite a bit of cheese [of choice]
open a can of pinto beans and drain
chop onions
slice tomatoes into wedges
peel and chop up an avocado
chop up some cilantro [yes, some of these ingredients overlap!]
for convenience, place all these ingredients into a bowl and use a soup spoon to ladle them out.

Heat up the skillet until the smoke detector goes off, then open some windows and cool down the skillet a little. Place corn tortilla on skillet for about 20 seconds, then flip. [Now it is finally flexible.] Add about 2 tablespoons grated cheese, a tablespoon of beans, some diced onions and avocado and a wedge of tomato, and a pinch of cilantro. Using flipper, fold tortilla over [if you tried to do this cold, it would just break.] Flip after 10 to 20 seconds. Rescue quesadilla and as many innards as you can scrape up from the skillet, before it blackens. Repeat as many times as you want &/or until ingredients are used up.

A terrible tragedy: too full for strawberries.

Kindness to Animals

2011-05-25T12:05:00.000-07:00

Visiting a friend in Summit, who had young chickens running around her yard, I learned for the first time as I watched a flock of them flowing gracefully out of the hedge, that chickens are beautiful birds. They have individual personalities. They love to peck things from the grass and roll in the dust.

When I was in first grade we took a field trip to the chicken farm owned by the parents of one of my classmates. I was impressed by the mechanization, seeing thousands of chickens in individual cages, with little chutes to collect the eggs. I didn't notice at the time how clean and orderly it was. The chickens I saw looked healthy; they looked like chickens. These were the 1960's, in the early days of what has come to be known as factory farming. I should have been impressed with the openness of the farmer, inviting children to see his operation.

Factory farming has now "progressed" to meet the demands of the marketplace and create as much product with as little care and work as possible [the way of all factory-based industries.] Last night I forced myself to watch a horror movie, "Meet Your Meat", a much copied, and therefore in places inoperable, disc purveyed by PETA which I picked up at the Araya vegetarian Thai restaurant in Seattle. Among the horrors shown by hidden camera, such as workers brutalizing pigs, they show stealth films taken inside chicken sheds which hold up to 100,000 chickens. [Also, refer to the book, "Eating Animals" by Jonathan Safran Foer.]

There are many birds inside each cage, the manure following the law of gravity creates mountains of filth below the lowest levels of cages, into which some chickens fall. Animals are debeaked [sans anesthesia] to prevent them from pecking each other; they become trapped in the wires or under the feeding troughs, to slowly starve to death; they become disease-ridden and disfigured by disease; they lose their feathers. Dead animals are left in the cages to rot. The atmosphere is filled with drifting feathers. Patterns of light and darkness are controlled to maximize egg production. Dumpsters are filled with the dead and nearly dead. These farms are closed to the public, the sheds locked. Not to prevent people from stealing birds. To prevent the public from seeing the contents.

I say to these "farmers": unlock the sheds. Open your doors to field trips. Proudly show how well you care for your livestock to everyone. Consumers have a right to know the source of the food they select from the market.

Then, O ye friends of God! Ye must not only have kind and merciful feelings for mankind, but ye should also exercise the utmost kindness towards every living creature. The physical sensibilities and instincts are common to animal and man. Man is, however, negligent of this reality and imagines that sensibility is peculiar to mankind, therefore he practices cruelty to the animal. In reality what difference is there in physical sensations! . . . The poor animal cannot speak, it can neither show its suffering nor is it able to appeal to the government. If it is harmed a thousand times by man it is not able to defend itself in words nor can it seek justice or retaliate. . . . Educate the children in their infancy in such a way that they may become exceedingly kind and merciful to the animals. If an animal is sick they should endeavor to cure it; if it is hungry, they should feed it; if it is thirsty, they should satisfy its thirst; if it is tired, they should give it rest.

~ 'Abdu'l-Baha

Soul: An Eternal Bird

2011-05-15T19:14:00.000-07:00

O Thou kind Lord! . . . Thou hast invited the wandering birds to the rose garden of grace.

[The soul] is the first among all created things to declare the excellence of its Creator, the first to recognize His glory, to cleave to His truth, and to bow down in adoration before Him.

Know thou of a truth, that if the soul of any man hath walked in the ways of God, it will, assuredly, return and be gathered to the glory of the Beloved.

To consider that after the death of the body the spirit perishes is like imagining that a bird in a cage will be destroyed if the cage is broken, though the bird has nothing to fear from the destruction of the cage.

They that are the followers of the one true God, shall, the moment they depart out of this life, experience such joy and gladness as would be impossible to describe.

Blessed is the man that hath turned his face towards God, and walked steadfastly in His love, until his soul hath winged its flight unto God, the Sovereign Lord of all, the Most Powerful, the Ever-Forgiving, the All-Merciful.

O Thou Forgiver of Sins! Open Thou the way for this awakened soul to enter Thy Kingdom, and enable this bird, trained by Thy hand, to soar in the eternal rose garden.

Ten Things I Learned From Mom

2011-05-07T18:43:00.001-07:00

1. Go potty before any expedition.
2. Wear sensible shoes.
3. Cook whole foods from scratch.
4. Every object has some kind of use.
5. I'll get organized some day.
6. When you hit a "sprague", it's time to take a break.
7. Making things is fun, useful and satisfying.
8. If I knew what it cost beforehand, I wouldn't have taken that cat to the vet.
9. If people really want to see us, they can deal with the house the way it is.
10. I usually have time for you.

A Different Run; Or How Not to Do A Medication Pass

2011-04-30T08:44:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I came to work with the goal of becoming more organized on my run, and was beginning to settle in for the day when one of the nursing assistants looked at the schedule and said, "you're on South today, Arlene." I looked at the schedule, which had many entries crossed out, in disbelief. That horrible sinking feeling when you know that you are going to be far out of your comfortable and familiar routine. New "on the floor", I can barely do my own med run in an organized manner. Because of a severe staffing shortage of nurses, I and another nurse from the long-term care side had been moved to the more active Medicare side of the building, where neither of us had ever practiced. Although we recognized that our assignments were the best solutions to a difficult problem, we felt as if we had been hijacked. I was assigned to a very active and challenging run, and the other nurse not only had an unfamiliar run, but had to split a run with another nurse, taking 30 instead of 20 patients, mostly "tube feeders" and very time-consuming.

We met with the Director of Nursing to clarify our assignments, and I helped the other nurse accept our difficult situation. Later it turned out that, like staff who work double shifts, a meal tray was provided for us, in recognition for accepting a difficult assignment. This was welcome, as I knew there was no way we would have time for a lunch break.

As it turned out, I had three tube feedings to start at a specific time, one person with one IV antibiotic to run and another person who had two IV's during the shift, as well as seven people who needed their blood sugars checked before dinner and at bedtime.

Despite an excellent report from the outgoing nurse, the day immediately went to chaos trying to relieve "Lucinda" of her horrible pain from back abcesses. One of her as-needed medications, oxycodone, had been allowed to run out, and she was screaming that she needed relief NOW. I phoned the pharmacy and learned that, since this was not a new prescription, they would not allow taking it from the emergency "E-Kit." Fortunately there is a team of two doctors who take turns every week visiting the facility every day, so the doctor wrote a prescription for Dilaudid. More time on the phone with the pharmacy, obtaining permission to pull the Dilaudid. Unfortunately, only one med cart set of keys had the key to the narcotics E-Kit, and none of the nurses assigned to those carts knew which set of keys had the narcotics key, or what it looked like. I went from one to another nurse, borrowing their keys and trying them in the locked cupboard. Finally I phoned the Director of Nursing, who was still in the building, who found the appropriate key and obtained the Dilaudid for me. It was well after 4 PM and I hadn't done any of the seven before-dinner blood sugar tests on that hall, or delivered more than a few medications.

For the next seven hours I had three interruptions for every patient I visited. I discovered that multiple family members come in the back door every evening at different times, setting off the alarm. Lucinda's bariatric bed broke and the maintenance man came in, who ended up waiting for someone else to come in who could help him repair the bed; the repairman had to come down from Lynnwood to Puyallup on a Friday evening, completing his regular route as he came. Lucinda was transferred from her bed to a "shower bed" constructed of giant-bore PVC pipe, to a regular bed; then ultimately back to her own bed after it was repaired. None of this could have been comfortable.

Later in the evening, personnel from a mortuary came in the back door, with business on another hall, setting off the alarm every time they entered or left. I kept receiving phone calls about residents I knew nothing about. The entire shift was total chaos. When the night nurse came in, I enlisted her help to finish up the medication pass [fortunately I only had about two people left to see.] As a crowning touch to the evening, the night nurse placed the cart keys in the top drawer, and one of us locked the keys inside the cart. Fortunately, on another set of keys there was a key to the business office suite. By some miracle, the DNS' office was unlocked, which had a spare key to the cart.

It was a horrible feeling to scrape by, just barely getting the medications delivered and blood sugars and insulins done, feeling so frustrated and incompetent. I have to say that everyone was alive at the end of the shift, and I did not make medication errors, and the evening came to an end eventually. I would not want to repeat it.

There is a reason they call it a medication "run."

Epilogue: When I turned on my phone after I came home, I learned that while I was at work, my mother had died.

The Divine Physician

2011-04-03T12:02:00.000-07:00

The All-Knowing Physician hath His finger on the pulse of mankind. He perceiveth the disease, and prescribeth, in His unerring wisdom, the remedy . . . The remedy the world needeth in its present-day afflictions can never be the same as that which a subsequent age may require.

~Baha'u'llah

The Prophets of God should be regarded as physicians whose task it is to foster the well-being of the world and its peoples, that, through the spirit of oneness, they may heal the sickness of a divided humanity. To none is given the right to question their words or disparage their conduct, for they are the only ones who can claim to have understood the patient and to have correctly diagnosed its ailments. Little wonder, then, if the treatment prescribed by the physician in this day should not be found identical with that which he hath prescribed before.

~Baha'u'llah

Man can never hope to attain unto the knowledge of the All-Glorious unless and until he ceases to regard the words and deeds of mortal men as a standard for the true understanding and recognition of God and His Prophets.

~Baha'u'llah

Behold how contrary are the ways of the Manifestations of God, as ordained by the King of Creation, to the ways and desires of men!

~Baha'u'llah

Free?

2011-03-27T11:05:00.001-07:00

Was offered a free newspaper at the grocery store the other day. "Why not? It's free!" he said. "No, it's not," I said. "Yes, it is," he said. By that time I was out the door to load up my groceries, so I didn't stay around to play yes-it-is/no-it's-not. When you give your information to them, which is required to receive a free paper, you are selling your information. For seventy-five cents.

Last time I did this, probably some time in the 80's, I didn't realize I would be looking forward to ten years of solicitor's calls from the News Tribune every six months, usually from someone in Dallas. At this time they had passed the legislation requiring solicitors, if you told them to stop, to stop calling you. Which the News Tribune steadfastly ignored. I would say, "Last time you called, I asked you to stop phoning you. But now you are phoning me again. Which is against the law." "Oh, I'm sorry ma'am."

I also have a card with Safeway. These grocery store cards [all except for Fred Meyer, which works differently] are always promoted as a way to save money at the store. To pay regular grocery prices, it's required to get a card. It's not a save-money card, it's a fail-to-let-them-gouge-you-card.

I always hated the intrusiveness. In the beginning, at Safeway, they would always address me by name at the checkout counter. I go to the store expecting to be anonymous, and in fifteen years I have never gotten used to being addressed by name by a grocery clerk. Except for Mrs. Jackman in the neighborhood store in 1960. Addressing me by name does not make you Mrs. Jackman. It makes you intrusive.

"Don't call me Mrs. Fritz," I would snarl. "We're just being friendly. We're required to do that."

I still have the same card, but a different phone number [fortunately still memorized, for when I forget my card.] I also have changed names at least twice. So when they call me "Mrs. Fritz" it is no longer my name, so I just smile.

Don't even get me started on "Drive safely!" Now I have more manners [slightly] I no longer reply, "What do you think I am? A moron? I'm going to drive out there and see if I can't hit a few light poles."

Notes on Studying the Kitab-i-Iqan

2011-03-21T20:23:00.000-07:00

Studying the Kitab-i-Iqan [The Book of Certitude] by Baha'u'llah in the Wilmette Institute online course, Dr. Moojen Momen presented quite a list of suggestions for themes to study:

The Station of the Manifestations [my favorite theme in the Iqan]
The Proofs of the Manifestations
The meaning of Divine Sovereignty/Divine Kingship
How did Baha'u'llah introduce clergy, as a class, in the Iqan?
What is meant by human knowledge?
What is meant by divine knowledge?
What is the difference, and which one is more acceptable?
What are the veils standing between us and God?
The subject of tests. "Do men think when they say 'we believe' they shall be let alone and not be put to proof?" After having tests, we will become stronger and stronger in our faith.
God is unknowable, and everything you thought you knew about God is actually knowledge of the Manifestation.

Gems of Divine Mysteries

2011-03-10T18:30:00.000-08:00

I'm taking an online course on two books by Baha'u'llah: Gems of Divine Mysteries, and the Kitab-i-Iqan [Book of Certitude.] I would like to share a little bit from one of the themes of the Gems.

Baha'u'llah asks:

What hath prompted the divers peoples and kindreds of the earth to reject the Apostles whom God hath sent unto them in His might and power, whom He hath raised up to exalt His Cause and ordained to be the Lamps of eternity within the Niche of His oneness?

He answers this in five sentences which I will sum up: 1. People fail to fix their gaze upon the testimony of God; 2. They follow the footsteps of the abject and foolish among the leaders and divines; 3. They refuse to see with the eyes "wherewith God hath endowed them." 4. They desired things other than God hath desired for them; 5. They cling to the outward meaning of scripture.

Done

2011-03-10T18:26:00.000-08:00

My career as a resident care manager at "Mountain View" is kaput. I was so busy trying to keep up with things that no earthly human could really keep up with that I didn't even notice my 90 day probationary period was up, until I was called into the DNS' office and learned that I will not be kept on in that position.

She will do a couple of things for me; extend my probationary period two weeks; offer me an evening position working on the "floor", doing medications and treatments and MD calls and all that. So that keeps the wolf from the door, but there went my Mon thru Fri days, there went my free evenings and weekends.

This news came on the brink of me finally getting The Cold that many at work have been getting, keeping me home for two days. I don't dare ask for more off.

On Call

2011-03-07T09:30:00.000-08:00

I was on call at "Mountain View" from 8 PM Friday to 8 AM Monday. Friday I had gone out to dinner, then gone to bed late [for me] about 10:30.

Friday: 11:19 PM.
My first call came 11:19 from the evening and night nurses on an allegation, which I walked them through: yes, you have to send home the staff member [which would put them short an aide and be a severe inconvenience]; yes, chart on the patient and put her on alert; yes, initiate an incident report; call police? At this point I had them phone the Director of Nursing and she informed them that the whole thing stemmed from a previous allegation which has been disproved, no sending anyone home--wait, have they clocked out--and no incident report. I get to sleep somewhere around one AM.

Saturday: 10:05 AM.
Received call from the weekend nurse manager that a night shift nurse called in, and that the usual practice when that happens is to split up a run so two instead of three nurses could cover it. The only nurse to call, according to "Janet", is someone who is pregnant and probably wouldn't come in. We decide to leave it at that.

Saturday: 8:09 PM.
Received call from "Mary" about newly readmitted Mr. Burpee calling out loudly for no discernible reason for the last three hours, despite morphine and Ativan, until his wife got there. It's a male room: can the wife stay there? I said she can visit and when they do personal care, leave the room. Resident is not supposed to go back to the hospital. I ask if Haldol is available, suggest calling the MD; it turns out that they don't know who the on-call doctor is for the MD. I suggested calling the MD's cell phone and apologizing and asking who the on-call MD is. I call back to follow up in an hour and it turns out that Mr. Burpee is now quiet and they opted not to phone MD.

Saturday: 9:35 PM.
Received call from "Laura" night nurse asking who is coming in to replace the nurse who called off? I explained what Janet had told me, to split the shift, and that we had agreed not to fill the vacancy. Laura said that when she was manager on call, she always came in to fill a shift, and was I going to come in? I said I hadn't been planning to, and she became angry and said, "Thanks for all your help!" Clunk.

Saturday: 9:50 PM.
Received call from evening nurse, "Francisca", who said she had phoned Janet to ask Janet to call Laura about the staffing issue. I said that I hadn't slept well last night and I had trusted what Janet told me about splitting the run and I wasn't prepared to work.

Saturday: 10:05 PM.
Received a series of texts from "Alison" the DNS clarifying that I did not call people to try to fill the night shift because I trusted what Janet had told me. Alison said I should notify the facility that the census is low, try to get people to stay late &/or come in early, and offer to go in. I found a day shift nurse to come in at 4:00 AM, dressed for work and came in to help with the night shift from 11:30 PM to 4:00 AM. When I got there I apologized to Laura and said what Janet and I did wrong, and that if I had been in her place I would have been angry too. She was very gracious. I learned to use the facility's very weird glucometer, gave several people their meds, almost all of them through gastrostomy tubes, and unplugged a recalcitrant tube which clearly had not been flushed after the last feeding. I went home feeling somewhat heroic.

Sunday I slept till 8 AM when I thoughtlessly answered a call from a phone solicitor, dozed till 10 AM, gave up and showered, spent time on the internet, and was downstairs eating lunch when the phone rang again.

Sunday: 1 PM:
Received a call from Janet that an evening shift nurse had called in and she had not been able to replace him. My heart sank. I swore. I went through the 7 Stages of Death, "DABDA": Denial, Anger, Bargaining, D-something, Acceptance, and Death. [Wait, that's only six. Guess I need to bone up.] I packed a lunch and dressed and went to work. I worked on the cart on my wing, having gotten an excellent report and worked out a game plan with the day nurse, and had to deal with severe staffing issues for the CNA's [there had been four call-in's.] We had one able-bodied aide and one on light duty for 30 residents. It required a show of force to the other side to get them to trade an able CNA with our light-duty CNA.

I was checking blood pressures, blood sugars, and popping pills out of bubble packs until I was able to take a lunch from 7:30 to 8:00, completed an incident report on a skin tear, and very ready to go home by 9:30 PM. There was only one medication I couldn't find and I found out it was at the bedside, where the resident's family members administered it. The family was very nice about it. About 8 PM I received a call from the hospital asking if I would take a readmission and I was very firm and clear in my "NO!"

After report and counting with the night nurse, and still on call until 8 AM, I instructed her not to call me during the night unless there was a chain saw massacre.

Thou Most Shrill Pen

2011-03-05T21:01:00.000-08:00

This is how it goes. Weeks of nothing, then lots.

I'm very excited to begin my first Baha'i online course [I took one last year from eCornell on plant-based nutrition] from the Wilmette Institute on the Kitab-i-Iqan and Gems of Divine Mysteries.

Doing a collaborative art/collage project at Feast prompted me to remember one of my haikus from the past:

O Thou Most Shrill Pen!
May Thy ink flow in my veins,
Write my life for Thee.

A Voice

2011-03-05T09:25:00.000-08:00

Since I began living alone, I started talking to myself incessantly, and trying to remember not to do it at work or in public, to fill the non-meowing silence. Speaking of meowing, Gregory at last report is happy with his new adopted family, and Juliet, initially angry and withdrawn at her move, is at least resigned and starting to come out and socialize.

I started saying my obligatory prayers aloud for the first time ever. I no longer say them in a whisper, so as not to offend anyone else. [In the townhouse, I've never heard voices from the other wall, only the washer and dishwasher and showers and occasional thumps and bumps, so I think I'm safe.] For the first time, I give actual expression to something which before was more a mental series of words. I've noticed that the degree to which I am willing to pray aloud reflects my relative level of fear versus confidence at that particular time.

My other thought was that we all started with the Voice of God. In the beginning was the Word. The Creative Word.

He is the One Who sayeth, "Be thou," and it is.

~Baha'u'llah

When I get things more organized, I want to do two things: start a monthly Devotional Meeting here, and find out what other Baha'is all live in Puyallup so we can get together and see what we need to consolidate and expand the community.

Artwork to post: three painted canoe paddles our family did as a Girl Scout activity years ago; my daughter's water color painting of a horse; a painting by Walter Palmore which I received in trade for some vests I made him years ago; one large and one small photo of 'Abdu'l-Baha; a color print of a Walter Palmore painting; a framed poster of Indian etchings [can't think of the proper name right now] showing two large Figures and a smaller one in between which could be seen as prophetic; and if there's room, my Mountain of the Lord tapestry. Whoo. Also multiple photos of my daughter and a painting of me by her based on an old photo.

At Home

2011-03-05T09:11:00.000-08:00

I've been in my new home since February 12. It feels like home. I don't always feel at home in myself, but that is another story. I have a lot of organizing to do here, and a lot of moving things over from Tacoma, and cleaning in Tacoma, and more organizing here, that I really don't have time for right now.

The last two weeks at work were harrowing: the DNS was away, and the mice will play. The Corporate Nurse, who can sometimes be very helpful, and other times not, spent days at the facility and strangely at the same time we were doing investigations, and interviewing residents, which brought a lot of allegations out of the woodwork--some valid, many not. It felt like a witch hunt. I lost sleep, became extremely stressed, and my only saving grace was relying on God and reminding myself, "Don't let this be about you." Finally this week I got some sleep.

I'm on call at work this weekend, and received my first call after I'd been asleep an hour: another allegation, a badly-needed CNA to send home; finally I said to phone the DNS and when I called back to follow up, it turned out that this was an old, disproved allegation reiterated by the resident, and nobody had to go home, and the police did not have to be called, and I don't think I got back to sleep before one in the morning.

Which, before breakfast, Mr. Cable Man came over because of my intermittent slow internet speed. I had come up with a theory, which proved to be correct: that my computer continued to search for wireless connections in the neighborhood [this is a duplex] and that search plus being on other peoples' servers by accident, caused some very slow speeds. So we turned off the wireless faculty on my computer, so the modem is the only connection, and I learned how to turn on the wireless whenever I should need it, and my speed has gone way up.

I now have the weekend, and breakfast, before me to try to get this place organized, put up pictures and other artwork, and so forth. I also plan to go to work as a ghost to try to get caught up. [A ghost because I plan to do work off the clock.]

So. Here I am.

Autonomy

2011-02-16T21:07:00.003-08:00

I have to violate copyright law and post a quote from Robert B. Parker in Family Honor, c. 1999.

A female character is explaining something to a teenage female character:

"Sooner or later you're going to have to decide things because you think you should."
"How can I do that," Millicent said. She raised her head and stared straight at me. Her eyes were glistening with tears. "I don't know anything."
"You know one of the hard things about being a woman," I said, "is having some built-in compass that doesn't depend on others."
"I don't know what you mean," Millicent said.
"When you're talking to a male," I said. "And you want to urge him to the do the right thing you can say, 'Be a man.' " . . . "That implies that some rules of behavior come from inside," I said. "But if I tell you that maybe your goal is to be a woman, that implies what? Being compassionate? Being a good caregiver? Being sexually attractive? Cooking well?"
I was surprised at what I was saying, and how strongly I was saying it. I felt like Simone de Beauvoir.
"Being a woman implies being in a male context," I said. "Being a man implies being fully yourself. You understand what I'm saying?"

I was surprised by the synchronicity of this selection with what I am feeling as I move into a townhouse and live by myself for the first time since 1978. I feel guilty and anxious. I really have to trust myself. Many people have questioned if I have the right to do this, or if it is the right thing to do.

I don't know what would be the right thing for them to do. But I'm following my heart despite my fears, because this is the only situation which meets my needs. And I have decided I have the right to meet my needs no matter what other people think. Someday I hope I can do this without the guilt and anxiety.

I have been reading about existentialism lately.

Drops and Prisms

2011-02-07T17:17:00.000-08:00

I recently printed out a letter from 'Abdu'l-Baha to a believer who had falsehoods against him printed in journals; quoting an excerpt: "As to those things published in journals against thee: Thou shouldst not be grieved nor sorry therefor, because thousands of journals have been written traducing 'Abdu'l-Baha, have given false and base accusations and awful calumnies . . . these cause me to exert myself more than usual in the path of God and to drink the cup of sacrifice and to boil in the fire of His love. Man must seek to gain the acceptance of God and not that of the different classes of men. If one is praised and chosen by God, the accusation of all the creatures will cause no loss to him; and if the man is not accepted in the threshold of God, the praise and admiration of all men will be of no use to him."

This assuaged my heart somewhat for being pulled aside by someone in the upper echelons at work Friday, for being insufficiently positive and leader-like.

Sorting and packing for work is a struggle. I called some numbers for bills to change my billing address and for some reason, giving the new address made me incredibly sad, even though this is a conscious choice I am making. This morning [never check Facebook before work--it will make you late!] I watched a beautiful 20 minute film about Marguerite Sears, and it opened up a fountain of tears, as it did this afternoon when I watched it again.

Feast last night was wonderful. I became reacquainted with some of the people in my new community; as there is no Assembly yet in Puyallup, we are attending the neighboring feast.

I don't know why it saddens me to move, when this is a deliberate motion to divest myself of material attachments, downsize, and lower my payments. This is an opportunity to trust in God. I am homefront pioneering; I put myself and my affairs in the hands of God. I love the little townhouse where I am moving. It doesn't have much of a view, though. It's in town, not in the country. I will miss my 0.42 acres of back yard, the view where I can watch the sun rise over Mount Rainier at dawn, and watch the moon traverse the sky at night.

I was thus feeling tired and sad, when something prompted me to look out the window. Thinking of all the broken dreams in this house, I stepped bare-headed and barefoot out onto the deck in the rain at sunset to stand for twenty minutes and watch a full glorious double rainbow.

Tear drops, rain drops. Maybe each can be a prism.

How vast the oceans of wisdom that surge within a drop.

~Baha'u'llah

To Recognize and Obey

2011-01-30T05:43:00.000-08:00

Many times this blog wanders far afield from discussing spiritual principles in the light of everyday life, as reflected in the life and times of this writer. One becomes submerged in the trials and tests of life, and sometimes has difficulty finding spiritual inspiration or reflecting spiritual truths and virtues.

There are two duties enjoined on humanity: to recognize, and then obey, the Manifestation of God for the day in which we live. I was just reading The Covenant of Baha'u'llah by Adib Taherzadeh, which describes in detail the progress of the Baha'i Faith in the early days, and its purification by Baha'u'llah, 'Abdu'l-Baha, and Shoghi Effendi in turn as people who tried to violate the Covenant of God and obtain leadership in the Faith for their own ends, were weeded out of the Cause of God by their own actions.

Usually my posts, when the subject is spiritual, focuses on information necessary to recognizing Baha'u'llah as the Manifestation of God for this period of time, i.e. for approximately the next thousand years.

This recognition is elementary. No one should accept it simply on someone else's "say so." Baha'u'llah was imprisoned several times, tortured, sacrificed one of His sons, exiled from His native land from Iran to Baghdad to Constantinople to Adrianople and to Akka near Haifa in Palestine; was moved from mountain to mountain and from sea to sea, to reveal the message of God for the day in which we live.

This is the ancient Faith of God, eternal in the past, eternal in the future.

~ Baha'u'llah

In relationship to God, the personality of Baha'u'llah is absolutely evanescent:

Say: Naught is seen in My temple but the Temple of God, and in My beauty but His Beauty, and in My being but His Being, and in My self but His Self, and in My movement but His Movement, and in My acquiescence but His Acquiescence, and in My pen but His Pen, the Mighty, the All-Praised. There hath not been in My soul but the Truth, and in Myself naught could be seen but God.

~Baha'u'llah

Even so, Baha'u'llah does not expect instant recognition. People are endowed with independent hearts and minds so they may apply the principle of the independent investigation of truth. One does not base ones belief on such a stupendous claim without testing and investigating its truth. That is why, when I investigated the truth of Baha'u'llah's mission, I felt so respected by its adherents.

There are many paths to this recognition, which cannot be discussed in a short space. Once a person realizes the truth of this great claim, it is as if a light comes on in their heart.

For thus the Master of the house hath appeared within His home, and all the pillars of the dwelling are ashine with His light.

~Baha'u'llah

Once He is recognized, however, the next step is obedience. To many Americans, the concept of obedience to authority has been poisoned by the history of leaders, both secular and religious, who use the position of authority to obtain power for themselves, or the power to control the lives of their followers.

Leaders of religion, in every age, have hindered their people from attaining the shores of eternal salvation, inasmuch as they held the reins of authority in their mighty grasp. Some for the lust of leadership, others through want of knowledge and understanding, have been the cause of the deprivation of the people.

~Baha'u'llah

In another passage, He writes:

And the people also, utterly ignoring God and taking them for their masters, have placed themselves unreservedly under the authority of these pompous and hypocritical leaders, for they have no sight, no hearing, no heart of their own to distinguish truth from falsehood.

~Baha'u'llah

In this day and age, there is no excuse for followers of any faith to leave their minds behind. Blind obedience has no part in "carrying forward an ever-advancing civilization." At the same time, no less responsibility is asked of the adherents of the Faith of God, once they have recognized the authority of God's Manifestation, than complete and total obedience to His Cause.

We All Live With Animals

2011-01-25T20:28:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I gave away my lovely cat, Gregory, to an elderly lady who just lost her 19-year-old cat to old age and, "I can't live without a baby!" She would have been so lonely. And Gregory will have far more attention than he ever received from me, since I work full time. I let her know about his quirks, notably chewing on your hair.

Juliet, his sister, was pretty lonely last night. She wondered where her brother went. And had a lonely day while I was at work. I found her a loving home just tonight with a friend who is looking for a companion to his other cat, and extra cat "presence" to discourage the encroaching rodent population. He hopes she will learn to hunt. And she may.

My house is empty. My husband happened to be in the neighborhood and dropped by, expressing his usual opinion on keeping animals in the house. I told him it was probably a blessing he dropped in, as I was missing my cats in this newly empty house, and I enjoy having someone short, dark, hairy and noisy around as a substitute.

"Anyway," I said, "we all live with animals. Some have four legs, and some have two."

It's Not a Choice, It's a Cat

2011-01-16T19:19:00.000-08:00

According to some faiths, the source of most troubles is desire. I desired this townhouse rental, but no pets. So I steeled myself to find a place for my two cats [originally in apartment hunting I was going to keep one] and drove yesterday to PetSmart where Pierce County Animal Welfare tries to adopt out their cats.

As soon as I drove into the parking lot, something was wrong with me. Sat with it for a minute and cried my eyes out. Can't just push away emotions anymore. It isn't that easy just to part with a cat that was so easy to adopt. Also, I found out this is not like a library where you can just go and return a cat. They are full for adult cats. Everyone wants kittens. [This is true. We did.]

I put a very expensive ad in the News Tribune to adopt out Juliet; I figure even if I decide to part with Gregory, it will be two difficult to find a home for two cats at once.

Naught But the Rose of Love

2011-01-14T18:06:00.000-08:00

The other day I was driving past the apartments I was thinking of moving into if any open up, on the way home from work, and as I came up to 7th St NE where I usually turn, I spotted a For Rent sign across the way. No time, must upgrade the tires on my car before the snow storm. Next night, no time, must drive to Fife to pick up daughter's birth certificate for health insurance. Thursday night I stopped by and saw what looked like a pretty nice house and picked up a flyer. It was a set of townhouses. About five minutes from my work. I was jazzed.

Price; 1.5 as much for 1400 square feet as for about 600 square feet. House-like two story home. No landscaping worries. 3 bedroom, 2.5 bathrooms, compared to the apartments with 2 bedrooms/one bathroom. A plum. Not knocking around with several dozen other families and mediocre maintenance: priceless. Price; approximately half what I pay in mortgage for a four bedroom two bathroom home. Granted, my house has beautiful mahogany flooring and a nicely tiled tub enclosure and Penguin Windows . . . and a gorgeous Mount Rainier view.

I was jazzed. Called the number and left a voice mail, then connected to see the place after work. Absolutely pristine. Bright kitchen, gas heat, year-old carpeting [looks better than mine after cats.] No pets. Bye bye matching black and white tuxedo brother and sister. It hurts my heart, yes, but maybe they can hook up with someone who has more time for them.

After seeing the house we talked about a lot of things. I mentioned the beautiful old-fashioned roses I left behind at my last two houses, which I could not successfully restart here. Turns out the landlord and his wife have either a hobby or an obsession with growing roses and show them all over the area. So that was fun to talk about. He hooked me up with the name of an affordable local mover and a real estate agent who might be as familiar with my real-estate options regarding this place as my expensive [but very nice] lawyer would be.

Especially in light of the prospect of opening up Puyallup more to the Baha'i Faith; in light of the discussion last night at the Devotional Meeting about starting more devotionals in people's homes, I'm saying, "yes!"

In the garden of thine heart, plant naught but the rose of love.

~Baha'u'llah

Express Delivery

2011-01-12T18:04:00.000-08:00

So as a diligent parent I agreed to cover my adult daughter's health insurance under my new insurance with my job, which kicks in April First--I hope not with the usual April Fools associations. To include my daughter on my insurance, it is necessary to fax them her birth certificate, so they can prove that yes, she is really my daughter.

This is dumb already. Our names are completely different, and anyone can obtain anyone else's vital records in this state. So what does this prove?

Anyway, until this week I was working 7:30 to 4:00, basically the same hours as the Vital Records office is open. [Recently I switched to 7 AM to 3:30 PM.] Hmm. Fortunately, last week I went to the dentist and afterward, just barely had time to skip over to Vital Records to get the birth certificate. This would have probably cost me about $17.00 cash. Unfortunately, when I got there I saw a notice posted which explained that office moved into the Health Department building across the street, which, by the time I got there, had closed.

Fortunately, I went online and discovered that I could order an "expedited delivery" of the birth certificate, delivered to my door. Wonderful. Unfortunately, this cost $54.00. Fortunately, I decided to bite the bullet and pay the extra cost so I wouldn't need to miss any work. Time is of the essence. Unfortunately, I received a notice of a failed delivery affixed to my door on Friday at about 10 AM. It turns out that for some reason it is necessary to sign for the package, and they will try again Monday at 2 PM and Wednesday at 1 PM and so forth. But not when I will actually be home.

Fortunately, it's possible to go online and arrange for the package to be held for me in a UPS office in Fife, which is open from 8 AM until 6 PM. So I finally learned something which has bothered me subliminally for some time: how to get from Puyallup to Fife. Because of the river in between, and no direct freeway route, it always seemed as if they exist on separate planets. So I learned this rather exacting route down River Road, crossing the river at the bridge [by the store which sports a moose with full antlers on the roof--really!], then driving down Levee Road which has no shoulders or guard rails, but deep ditches on either side, and so forth by side roads to the UPS office.

So I signed for my package and then had a great meal at the Poodle Dog restaurant. Which has upgraded its menu quite a bit and doesn't serve canned peas on the side any more. In a way I miss the canned peas.

That's what I had to do to receive this express delivery. Except the part about the Poodle Dog. That was optional.

I feel as if I was in a Chekov story.

The Odd Hen

2011-01-08T16:48:00.000-08:00

INFP's. Three or four percent of the world's population are estimated to be wired and think the way I think, according to Myers-Briggs. It's no surprise that it is challenging to fit into a place where my way of thinking is not understood. I can't really explain myself. When met with a critical attitude, all I can do is gut it out, pray for unity, and hope that eventually my positive attributes will become apparent.

In a tight or fast-moving situation, especially at work, the response I often get from people is that I am dumb, slow, lazy and I just don't care. I think it's largely because I think deeply and don't feel I truly understand what is going on, understand the issues, or understand how to accomplish something until I have thought it through and thoroughly analyzed it. That's why I don't try to work in acute care settings such as the emergency room. I have the knowledge base, but don't have that snap, snap, snap quick decision-making skill.

Once I am "up to speed" on something, my decisions will be very well-grounded.

I recently did "rounds" with a nurse wound consultant and the two other RCM's at five AM at work, visiting and assessing wounds on certain residents on my wing. I was barely awake, the treatment cart was ill-organized [not usually my domain, so I hadn't gone through it thoroughly]; I stumbled and mumbled when asked to quickly give reviews of the person's history and treatment, had difficulty retrieving supplies from the treatment cart in a hurry . . . you get the picture. The three other individuals clearly were impatient, and their responses ranged from rude to contemptuous to downright hostile.

It was the same feeling I had in one job years ago in a kitchen, trying to quickly put away plates extremely hot from the dishwasher without knowing where the plates were supposed to go. I think I put up with the burned fingers and the hostility for about two weeks, and when I quit, faced the hostility, contempt and disdain of the person who referred me to the job.

Remember My days during thy days, and My distress and banishment in this remote prison. And be thou so steadfast in My love that thy heart shall not waver, even if the swords of the enemies rain blows upon thee and all the heavens and the earth arise against thee . . . be not of those who doubt.

~Baha'u'llah

Recently someone at a Feast commented that it is comforting to know that people such as Baha'u'llah, 'Abdu'l-Baha, and Shoghi Effendi suffered through everything we suffer through, and worse. I can think of one thing I don't believe they suffered through: self doubt.

Scientific studies show that when one hen is marked in some way which sets her apart, other hens peck at her; peck her to death.

Sometimes I wish the death would come sooner.

Roasted Vegetables

2010-12-26T18:54:00.000-08:00

I had some beets, parsnips, carrots and potatoes. This is what I came up with. It takes two pans: one for the slow vegetables [the roots] and one for the quick vegetables [the fruits and fungi.] Some great alternatives would be tomatoes, eggplant or zucchini, etc.

These would go well with beans and with whole grains such as brown rice or quinoa, or with corn muffins.

Roasted Vegetables

The Sauce/Marinade:

juice from one lemon; lemon zest
one tablespoon pomegranate juice [if you have it; see the pomegranate post]
some extra virgin olive oil
a teaspoon of ground rosemary

Pan One: The Roots:

cut up two potatoes, 3 carrots, 5 parsnips, and 3 or more beets
place in baking pan lined with foil or parchment paper
throw in several whole peeled garlic cloves [very healthy: you don't really have to eat them but they smell great]
sprinkle with sea salt and non-ground rosemary [needles or whatever they are]
bake at 400 degrees and set timer for forty minutes [total will be one to two hours.]

Pan Two: The Fruits Etc:

slice one yellow onion and separate the rings
quarter one yellow and one red seeded bell peppers
clean and cut off the end of the stem of 1 pound or so brown mushrooms
place in pan with some more peeled garlic cloves
sprinkle with rest of sauce [or, if you ran out of sauce like I did, with balsamic vinegar and olive oil]
sea salt and rosemary
Pan Two goes into the 400 degree oven 40 minutes after Pan One.
Pan One can stay in there and keep baking; continue baking all of it 30 to 50 more minutes until root vegetables are done.

007 Calories

2010-12-26T18:39:00.000-08:00

We watched Die Another Day yesterday. I'm sure I'm not the first person to notice this, but neither James Bond, the beautiful spy girls, nor the bad guys [unless somewhere there's a Bad Fat Guy snacking on cats] ever actually eat anything.

I watched Pierce Brosnan spend two years in prison being waterboarded every day, then clean up and travel to three continents in two days, have sex, mix it up with the bad guys, have a tremendous and exhausting swordfight, have sex, drive an invisible car and then a really fast ice car, save the world, and have sex, and nothing passes his lips except one or two shaken-not-stirred. And there was a rumor of lobster at one time, but I'm not sure he got to it. He was busy having sex.

Okay, my mistake; I believe Halle briefly nibbles on a strawberry.

No wonder these people are so cute and height/weight proportional.

He Maketh Victorious Whomsoever He Pleaseth

2010-12-23T22:30:00.001-08:00

I've been immersing myself in the CD "Temple of Light." There's a verse I'm entranced with today-- please don't ask me the artist, the CD is still in the car--which seems so much more powerful put to music. The tune is simple and penetrating.

He maketh victorious whomsoever He pleaseth, through the potency of His behest.

~The Bab

Do you know where that is from? I had to look this up online on the Baha'i Reference Library. For Baha'is, how many times have you read this verse? It's in the context of the very powerful Prayer For Protection by the Bab. Listening to the CD, I didn't recognize it. That one sentence struck a chord with the artist and they put it to music.

Today I'm just glad: glad to know Baha'u'llah, glad to have my new job, and glad to prove myself wrong.

Arlene Reeducates that Three-Year-Old Once Again:

Everything I've learned in the last two months completely contraindicates what I learned in about 1960, when I was about three. I thought that stuff was buried, but it still comes up. First of all, I thought I would never amount to anything. I'm something, at least.

Also, my theme song in 1960 was "guess I'll go eat worms." My favorite music was Grieg's mournful "Morning Song" from Pier Gynt. It seems funny now, but I really believed that while it's nice to have people around who are going to take care of you [after all, I was three] otherwise, you can't trust them, and you certainly can't tell them what's on your mind. Life seemed safer and less painful to me if I just left the people out. But I still spent a lot of energy striving to feel included. Logic, schmogic.

There was a time when I would have read that verse and thought God would probably make anyone else victorious, but not bother with me. [Ooh, the self-pity. Milk it, milk it!] Now, I think, "Why not?"

Now I'm absolutely bowled over by how much love and support I'm receiving from my friends and family. I realize how simple this sounds. I just never let it into my heart before.

The Atom and the Drop

2010-12-16T21:57:00.000-08:00

I spent a delightful evening at the Thursday Devotional Meeting with our friends George and Bonita, sampling treats. Not the tea, which was wonderful, but observing the gentle dance of spirit between these two steadfast, and very different, yet absolutely united friends. Their varying approach to the wonders of life is fascinating. My heart is still singing with their love and friendship, and my body vibrating with the prayers and music.

Both George and Bonita greatly enjoy listening to all sorts of music. Her hearing is sensitive, and in music, I feel Bonita likes to stand at the edge of the music free to dive or to dabble, but not to have her senses overwhelmed with the volume. At one point she said, so sweetly and gently, "I can feel the music vibrate in my heart muscle, and I don't think it's good for my heart," when the volume reached a certain level [she was seated near the speaker.] George tends to edge up the volume, and my intuitive feeling is that he enjoys being completely immersed in the music, up to his ears.

It reminds me of the differences in Christians in regards to the practice of baptism; some feel it is sufficient to sprinkle, and some like to submerge their entire body in water, in their symbolic reunion with God and commitment to His Faith. I would say, in music, Bonita is a sprinkler, and George is a dunker.

With food, Bonita has achieved a high level of mastery in her fascination with cooking, creating complex flavors, colors, scents, and combinations of nutritious foods in her dishes. In cooking, Bonita is a dunker. George benefits from her cooking, taking delicious entrees and tempting tidbits to work for his lunches, as well as their camping and picnics for which she prepares food.

I had this flash of thought which in a tiny way may answer a question I had about what God loves about us. I was thinking about all the various and joyous spirits, all the beautiful souls I know, and how in a way I wish I could just jump in and spiritually immerse myself in enjoying their soul. Love is not a spectator sport.

When God is in our hearts, does he not love us so much that he might delight in being with us? We are not perfect, but we were created noble. Although God, being the Unknowable Essence, does not reside in any physical place, still could He be, on the spiritual plane, attracted to us and immersing Himself in the miniscule flashes of wonderfulness reflected in the human heart, however humble? Maybe God is a dunker of sorts.

How resplendent the luminaries of knowledge that shine in an atom, and how vast the oceans of wisdom that surge within a drop.

Baha'u'llah

Connections

2010-12-11T15:36:00.000-08:00

I decided to give Facebook another whirl and discovered I was already on it but didn't realize it. I was deep with my nose in connecting with friends when someone came to the door I haven't seen since Pearl got married in 2005.

My former husband came to pick up Pearl and take her to a Moto Guzzi Christmas party and to see her grandfather later on. He is so energized, we were talking a mile a minute trying to catch up. I think he is flourishing in his new circumstances. He took a photo of one of my cats which I am hoping to adopt out, to see what his wife thinks about it. I showed him the improvements I made on my house, and we reminisced about our old cat, who unfortunately was taken apart by pit bulls during the Worst Year of my Life.

I was able to talk with him . . . I'm trying to think of the right words. With a fresh slate. As a person I no longer have any issues with. More assertively. As a grown up.

And it was fun.

Service

2010-12-10T23:18:00.000-08:00

I have decided for the hundredth time to reinvent my life. There are a whole slew of behaviors that were spawned by the belief I would never amount to anything, which I have decided to ditch, as they weren't doing me or anyone else any good.

The great good news is that, in this starry-eyed stage of orientation to Mountain View, it seems that this corporation values positive, happy people working in a positive, happy manner. Little I have seen on my first day orienting "on the floor" contradicts that. I have rarely felt so welcomed. So I am determined to turn over a new leaf, that determination starting before I ever started working here.

I like to carry a clipboard at work to keep my papers and thoughts organized. I created a cover sheet for the front [we do, after all, make notes about private information] from an 8 by 11 section of a calendar with a photo of a field of poppies, with a quotation on the front, inserted into a plastic sleeve.

My quote, which involves service:

O Lord my God! Give me Thy grace to serve Thy loved ones, strengthen me in my servitude to Thee, illumine my brow with the light of adoration in Thy court of holiness, and of prayer to Thy kingdom of grandeur. Help me to be selfless at the heavenly entrance to Thy gate, and aid me to be detached from all things within Thy holy precincts. Lord! Give me to drink from the chalice of selflessness; with its robe clothe me and in its ocean immerse me. Make me a as dust in the pathway of Thy loved ones, and grant that I may offer up my soul for the earth ennobled by the footsteps of Thy chosen ones in Thy path, O Lord of Glory in the highest.

~'Abdu'l-Baha

Good News

2010-12-03T18:41:00.000-08:00

Just a short note: For all my hundreds of well-wishers, good news. I was offered a job by "Mountain View"-not the cemetery, not its real name- for a nursing position somewhat similar to what I was doing at Homeland. It's been a real roller coaster. Hope I remember my learnings. Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has been so supportive to me during this time.

How To Feel Like a Toad

2010-12-03T13:23:00.000-08:00

"I thought you was a toad"--O Brother Where Art Thou.

How to feel like a toad:

1] List all your weaknesses and failures.

2] Listen to someone else list all their strengths and successes.

3] Compare yourself to them.

4] Accept it: you are a toad.

The Wrong Planet

2010-12-03T12:44:00.001-08:00

I distinctly remember bawling in the shower about five years ago upon termination from a job. When that sort of thing occurs I focus on all my failures and on the ways I fail to fit into the conventional world of work. I remember asking God why I was even created, since I don't see how my efforts add much to the world. So when I read the following from Jules Verne, it sounded a chord of recognition.

The book is Paris in the Twentieth Century, The Lost Novel, an early satire which was never published until the manuscript was found in the effects of the author more than a century later. The author at this point had published one work, but he was far from the enormous success he eventually attained, and I can't help wondering how much of Jules Verne is in his main character, however silly he may have written him. From the vantage point of 1863, the very year Baha'u'llah in another country was declaring His Mission, Jules Verne was envisioning life in Paris in 1960, a materialistic society dedicated to industry and money making, and shunning or bastardizing the arts.

In the Paris of 1960 there are fax machines, internal combustion automobiles, giant computers, and an elevated train run on compressed air. And quill pens, as well as the cessation of warfare.

Into this brave world he plants a young poet, Michel Dufrenoy, who, by his artistic nature and lack of pragmatism, fails in the banking industry and even in modifying plays to suit the pedantic tastes of the times.

"My dear Jacques," Quinsonnas observed, "by introducing you to Michel Dufrenoy I allowed you to make the acquaintance of a young friend who is one of us--one of those poor devils Society refuses to employ according to their talents, one of those drones whose useless mouths Society padlocks in order not to have to feed."
"Ah! Monsieur Dufrenoy is a dreamer," Jacques replied.
"A poet, my friend! and I wonder what in the world he can be doing here in Paris, where a man's first duty is to make money!"
"Obviously enough," Jacques replied, "he's landed on the wrong planet."

[Copyright 1994, Random House, New York.]

Deer Like Birdseed--Who Knew?

2010-11-28T12:31:00.000-08:00

Our highlight during the Thanksgiving meal was the arrival of a deer leaping over the fence into the neighbor's yard. It was brown with black tips on the fur and a black tail, a different variety than those I have seen here, which have white tails and brown fur with no tips. There were two pencil-thin antlers. It entertained us by emptying a two liter bottle of birdseed in the course of twenty minutes, greedily sucking or licking the seeds from the feeder.

Bellingham Adventures

2010-11-28T11:53:00.000-08:00

Monday, November 22, Tacoma WA was hit with a blizzard that made the local roads treacherous. I could hear sirens most of the morning; my foray out to return library materials was aborted due to ice. [Usually snow in the morning melts by the afternoon.] I had decided to travel to Bellingham for Thanksgiving week with my daughter, going early in the week to be able to visit with my niece and her nearly three-year-old boy while they were in town. As my finances are gravely restricted, my sister bought us train tickets. It was dicey catching a cab to the train station, due to high demand, but we made it early and had a pleasant evening ride to Bellingham. The train halted many times on leaving stations, to send the conductors out to clear the switches.

My first view of Bellingham was of sheets of ice on the roads, which my sister and family navigated with ease, whether walking or driving. I was terrified of falling, and reminded why I moved away from Eastern Washington. Our visit was wonderful, and our longest visit since my sister married and moved away in 1968. We revisited our childhood, trying to solve mysteries explaining my peculiar emotional roadblocks: since Jean is about 7 years older, she was in a position to observe what went on in the family while I was an infant. We compared notes. This was illuminating and healing.

Tuesday my daughter and I, along with Jean and my niece and great-nephew, visited my nephew Robin and his twins who are just about 2 1/2. He has a daughter and a son, as well as a thirteen year-old stepson. Three toddlers playing with trains on wooden tracks in the living room. This is the first age where they were able to interact, not just parallel playing. I had brought a small frog puppet from Teaching Toys in my pocket, not sure when the time would come for him to make an appearance.

The two boys, Paul and Hewson, made an instant male bond on our arrival, and disappeared into the bedroom, leaving Hazel alone and bereft. Suddenly a frog tapped Hazel on the shoulder and they were instant, delighted friends.

This house was delightful, purple on the exterior, purple, lavender, lime green on the inside, with wooden dulcimer, mandolin and so forth on the walls and a concertina on the very piano that was in my house while I was growing up. It has found a noble home. In the kitchen was a gas stove [how I miss cooking with gas!] and a butternut and delicata squash on the counters. I felt quite at home.

At the Thanksgiving table with ten family and friends, all adults, I realized there was one person with Cerebral Palsy, a very bright and intelligent young man; someone with Parkinson's, someone with a past brain injury, and someone with Autism who communicated with a lettered board. With her mother assisting her by stabilizing her hand while she spelled out words, I thought there was a slight Ouija Board aspect to the process, but it worked. She mainly wanted to return to the motel for peace and quiet, which I could relate to. But quite a bit of medical diversity.

Friday we returned by train, this time by daylight. I tend to assume that Amtrak tracks will meander by themselves off into the wilderness so there will be a lot of scenery to look at. While the train does follow the coastline and we could look out across the ocean at groups of plovers [?], white-headed ducklike birds resting in flocks on the waves, and cormorants perching on poles in the water, we also saw a lot of backyards sporting household detritus, antique autos in various states of repair, and so forth.

At Tacoma again, we called another cab and I returned just in time to turn around and head out to a Holy Day observance called the Day of the Covenant, which is celebrated because the Center of the Covenant, 'Abdu'l-Baha, did not wish His birthday celebrated, and appointed this day in lieu of that. We read some tablets concerning the Covenant in the Baha'i Faith, unique for the first world religion to have a written covenant securing the succession of the heads of the Faith and preventing the Faith from splitting into countless warring sects.

It has been a wonderful journey and a break from the stress and strain of continual job-hunting.

The Root, Part 4--Martha Root

2010-11-21T22:22:00.000-08:00

O that I could travel, even though on foot and in the utmost poverty, to these regions, and, raising the call of "Ya Baha'u'l-'Abha" in cities, villages, mountains, deserts and oceans, promote the divine teaching! This, alas, I cannot do. How intensely I deplore it! Please God, ye may achieve it. ~'Abdu'l-Baha.

When I reflect on the Baha'i law of the Right of God, which entails returning to God a fraction of my excess income, which rightfully belongs to God, with increasing clarity I remember what I think of as the "Martha Root Standard." Martha Root was a Baha'i who traveled the world, beginning in 1915 and throughout the 1920's and 30's. She sacrificed everything to teach the Baha'i Faith, traveling around the world in the utmost poverty and illness, but teaching a multitude of people the Baha'i Faith.

All I can really remember from reading about Martha Root, however, is that she lived very simply for the sake of economy. I remember reading that a typical dinner for her was a boiled egg. She was completely consecrated to Baha'u'llah. Clearly, Martha Root lived only on what she actually needed. So when I think of Martha Root, I think of boiled eggs. And vice versa.

What am I doing here? All the time I made so much income, the bulk of which was virtually wasted on this house, I was in a way miserable. Partly because of the misery and stress of the job, and partly because I had lost track of why I am here. To travel this journey in the path of God and rely on God for every step. To derive my joy, not from what I can buy here on this material plane, but from doing whatever I can in the path of God.

The Root, Part 3

2010-11-21T22:11:00.000-08:00

This is the way I became blind when I was earning so much income. I have little to show for it now. I became attached to my income, attached to my house, and eventually confused and unable to discern what is necessary to live on, as opposed to what is merely delightful, pleasant, or even comfortable. Aware that middle-class Americans live like royalty in comparison with many inside and outside the USA, I felt guilty.

I was striving to express emotional independence by my financial independence, and ended up with an attitude somewhat lacking in humility. Money was not an object. If I wanted something, I bought it. Yet I was confused how to apply that Baha'i law, the Right of God.

This is the beauty of living in a world replete with adversity. I became so stressed in my work that I lost my job, lost my income. I was seized with mortal terror. [I have to confess I still have that, when I pay attention.] I have responsibilities. It was necessary to contact the companies I pay for services and humbly inform them why I could not meet my obligations.

Baha'u'llah informs us that while we see calamity as fire and vengeance, inwardly it is light and mercy. This is the beauty of adversity. Although it can be painful and terrifying [and often unjust] it presents a golden opportunity for growth and learning.

Although I am a long way from a complete understanding of the law of the Right of God, in this situation where it has become monumentally significant how I use every cent, the difference between what I want and what I actually need has gained enormous clarity.

The Root, Part 2

2010-11-21T21:57:00.000-08:00

Our purpose in being created as spiritual beings is not just to survive, have fun, or dominate the world. We are here to unfold and develop our true nature as spiritual beings, connect with each other in positive ways, and connect with our Creator, that Unknowable Essence. This is our opportunity while we are here. We may use it or not.

We cannot grow and flourish without adversity. That is the great advantage of the material plane. It forces us to overcome tribulation. In this era of the maturation of humanity, we have been given laws which we adhere to by choice. Although the material substance, wine, is not allowed by Baha'u'llah, He uses wine repeatedly in His Writings as a potent metaphor. Think not that We have revealed unto you a mere code of laws. Nay, rather, We have unsealed the choice Wine with the fingers of might and power. ~ Baha'u'llah.

One of the Baha'i laws I have struggled to understand is called "The Right of God." The idea is that whatever income or assets we have, since they come from God, by right belong to God. So there is a tax, a small percentage of whatever assets we have over and above what we need in order to live, payable to the Universal House of Justice.

Well, what do we need in order to live? That is the big question. There is no Baha'i I.R.S. There is no governing body telling us, dictating to us, what we truly need, nor standing by to wrest it from us. This Right of God is not acceptable unless given freely, with joy. We pick and choose, according to our conscience, what is necessary to support us.

My theory is that the more attached we are to the material world, and the more money we have, the harder this discernment can become.

The Root, Part 1

2010-11-21T21:43:00.000-08:00

During my last two jobs I earned almost more money than I could spend, at least at first. I became blind. If I wanted a book or CD or a doodad, I bought it. By the end I was eating meals out daily, sometimes more. And I was completely attached to a house that I did not own and may never own.

When I started my last job I felt I was making an agreement to work there by choice. I wasn't forced to do anything. This was necessary, due to a habitual emotional stance as a victim of life.
By the end I was so stressed out I had forgotten about choice, the economy had changed, and I felt trapped.

Earning so much, I did not focus enough on using it wisely. I was totally engrossed in making it through each day, due to the demands of the career. I lost sight of one important spiritual fact: although on this plane we are producing income by our own efforts, on the spiritual plane our income comes from God and belongs to God, that Unknowable Essence.

Think about this: although many people believe we got here by emerging spontaneously from nonbeing into being, like a mushroom, Baha'u'llah teaches that we were created. Spiritual beings housed for now in physical bodies on a material plane. Our purpose in being here is not merely to survive--we fail in that, ultimately. Nor is it to entertain ourselves.

Our purpose has something to do with growing and unfolding and opening up our true nature and developing the capacities latent within us, according to our capacity.

"Disappointed!"--Kevin Klein in a Fish Called Wanda

2010-11-20T15:22:00.000-08:00

R.e. the phone call Thursday: I spent all day Friday trying to connect with this employer but she apparently was in meetings all day. I was disappointed.

Back to the coal mines Sunday [for internet-based job searches] and Monday.

Reading a very good book on emotions in all aspects: biology, energy, spirituality, etc. I think I'll become a Fear Warrior.

Gratitude

2010-11-18T18:13:00.000-08:00

Update: [I hate to keep using "update" as a blog title, so I thought I'd put in something more uplifting.]

The top thing I've been learning since losing my job is how caring and supportive everyone in my family and circle of acquaintances is. I really should join the Human Race one of these days. ; >

Today I had to think about what you put for "Accomplishments" on a resume if you're a nurse. I clock in, get to work, work really hard, hurry to do my charting, and clock out. Resume: "Accomplishments: Most of my patients were still alive by the end of the day." Well, it made me laugh.

I've been spending a lot of time at WorkSource, which used to be named the Employment Security Office and nicknamed by some the "Unemployment Office." I've learned that there are a number of agencies all associated with the name "WorkSource"; that so far every staff member there has been friendly, caring, knowledgeable and just stellar. I've learned some rudiments of Word and PC's, and today learned more about cover letters and resumes and spent time beginning a revamped resume using a program on their PC's.

I realized it's a good idea to use a professional email for this type of thing such as a job search. Especially because much of my job search has been online and posting my resume has resulted in a virtual spam of things such as cosmetics at Macy's [I don't even use make up], mystery shopper, nursing jobs in Tennessee [no offense, but I don't live there.]

I made a friend named Timothy at WorkSource, just by being compassionate and friendly. Not that we exchanged info or anything, but it felt nice to be helpful.

I came home already in a good mood from learning and useful activity, turned on my cell phone to find a message from actually the first job I applied to, which was listed in the newspaper. So I'm elated just to hear from someone and will phone them in the morning. We'll see what happens.

Pilgrimage to the Mountain

2010-11-12T11:38:00.000-08:00

Yesterday the National Parks entrance fees were waived for the Veterans Day holiday, so I decided it would be a great time to drive up to Mount Rainier. For years I used to have mountain dreams: each one was different, but the theme was climbing or ascending a mountain. Usually in the "graphics" part of the dream, there wasn't much to the mountain; I wasn't ascending the peak. More recently the dreams were more specifically of Mount Rainier, although still not realistic. I was never quite sure what the symbolism was--achievement or accomplishment, or some more mystical goal.

I decided to make a "pilgrimage" to Paradise, the highest spot on the Western aspect of the mountain that can be reached by driving. I wanted to say prayers, maybe take a hike or walk. I had a time deadline to be home so I could attend the Holy Day observance of the Birth of Baha'u'llah held on campus at the University of Puget Sound. From the south end of Tacoma it took from 1145 to 1400 or so to drive up there. The distance is not so far, but with the winding roads it takes longer. The weather was dry and mostly sunny, which made a terrific drive.

I took some photos after I passed the park entrance, of the mountain with the top shrouded in fog, and of some nice little waterfalls in the sunshine. The road became covered in spots with frozen slush and I dithered about continuing, but I had come so far, so I continued. Just short of Paradise I encountered a Cascade Fox in the road, looking at me with a "where's my treat?" expression. I discovered later it is a member of a family which hangs out and begs for handouts. It's unfortunate that this behavior is reinforced, but otherwise I probably wouldn't have seen it.

Paradise was spectacular in the snow. I stood and turned 360 degrees taking photos. Every needle on every branch on every conifer was coated in snow. Fog lent a mystical atmosphere to the area. Families and children were sledding, building snowmen and trading snowballs. Indoors I watched the educational movie, then in my car I read the Tablet of Ahmad before heading back as it started to snow, small round rapid flakes. I emerged refreshed. I think I drove about 154 miles round trip.

I still don't know the "meaning" of my mountain dreams, but I have a feeling they relate to the unfoldment of whatever I was meant to become. And it's nice to look at the Mountain, when it's visible, and remember when I had a clearer, closer view.

No Camel

2010-11-08T22:47:00.001-08:00

I was just on Baha'i Views, which had a link to the promotion of a book called The People With No Camel, by Roya Movafegh. It is the true story of a young girl escaping from Iran with her family after the Revolution.

The title comes from the Muslim law of shariah that if a Muslim man is murdered, the family is to be compensated with the price of a hundred camels. If a Muslim woman is murdered, the price is fifty camels. If a Baha'i is murdered, "no camels apply."

When I have an income again, I am buying this book. http://thepeoplewithnocamel.wordpress.com.

Karmic Relief

2010-11-07T21:45:00.000-08:00

Every day I'm feeling better, probably from the release of stress from my previous job. Today, among other things I accomplished, I prayed fervently and put my issues in the hands of God [about which I always have to laugh at myself, because my life is in God's hands anyway] and I bought a Sunday paper. This is the third week I have bought a Sunday paper, and nursing jobs in the last two editions have been minimal to nonexistent, but I enjoy the comics, so what the heck. I had the idea this morning of putting a sign in the back of my car, "RN For Hire", but I'm not sure about the unintended consequences.

I think the lack of newspaper listings is partially due to a lack of jobs and partly due to a change in technology. Everything is done online that used to be done in the newspaper. Maybe that explains why the Sunday edition is now up to $2.00. Well, I did find a possibly appropriate job, which I hope would not be a frying-pan-into-the-fire situation. The main thing is that it helped me become motivated to update my resume, which I am mailing tomorrow to this outfit. So that feels productive.

Suddenly I'm reading all these articles in the papers about my "social networking" presence online, and its relevance to a job search. The writers encourage people to have a positive "presence" online, and not look too bad. They mean Facebook, Twitter, MySpace, etc etc etc. Last time I tried to get onto Facebook it had me create a password, and then rejected it--over and over again. Just my karmic way of feeling rejected one more time, I guess. I keep meaning to try again. Anyway, for better or worse, potential employers will just have to get to know me without Chatter or Spacebook. Karmic relief.

I went to Farsi class this morning, which is really a children's class for Farsi-speaking children who are learning to read and write in Farsi script. I've been going since last spring. The class is held in Farsi, so following instructions is a challenge. I'm actually learning to read in Farsi. Whoa. Today I learned to spell the words "Allah" and "Hovallah", which are actually Arabic but used in Baha'i Writings and shared by Farsi, as well as being spelled in the Farsi alphabet.

Although I have been studying the alphabet for some time, I think what helped me start making the connections [pun intended: Farsi script is connected as in cursive writing] was the assignment of looking into a dictionary to find words beginning with each letter. At first I was rather resistive and sullen about it, but with practice it got easier. The last homework I did was to list numerals from one to one hundred, which have different symbols than Arabic numerals, together with the Englishified transliteration and the Farsi word for each number. I didn't actually learn each number, but I did write them. Twice. It just got to be so much fun after I got the hang of it.

It's because I don't watch TV. You have to get your fun where you can.

R.e. Wimmin Presidents

2010-11-06T22:05:00.000-07:00

I hasten to clarify that the foregoing was merely satire. I have no opinion on female presidents as long as they know their place . . . doggone it! I just can't help it.

Reset:

Okay: men = women. Okay?

"Woman" Is Not An Adjective

2010-11-05T13:36:00.000-07:00

The other day I got off work where I was working with a man nurse. He used to be a man sergeant in the Army. Then I went to see my man dentist, but driving home I got a ticket from a man police officer, and when I got home it turned out my house was on fire, but it was saved due to the courage and persistence of the man firefighters. I was upset due to the fire, so I had chest pains, and I went to see my man doctor. He made a mistake and I had to sue him with the help of my man lawyer. I took a trip recently and arrived safely due to the skills of the man pilot. Tomorrow I'm taking my cat to a man veterinarian. We just had an election and across the country many people voted for man senators; every day I thank God we have a man president.

I sure would worry if we had a female president.

The Work Begins

2010-10-25T13:07:00.000-07:00

Still emotionally devastated by the circumstances surrounding my transition away from Homeland, it's time to do whatever needs to be done to heal myself and find a new income source. It's a position that's terrifying, and I'm grieving too, although over what I'm not exactly sure. I'm feeling that there's a well of grief, anger, and fear in my mind on the child level. I'm looking into the phenomenon of post-traumatic stress disorder as a possible explanation. Also I've had a sudden insight.

I attended the teaching campaign during the last two weekends, and whenever I was thinking or sharing about my relationship to children, however tangentially, I kept thinking/saying, "I don't do children." I have a spotty history of feeling traumatized and unsuccessful anytime I had the misfortune to be involved in children's classes. There is a lot of fear there. So I was also asking myself why. It popped into my head--"because I am one." For whatever reason, I realized that I have been emotionally operating on the level of a child. Hard to make good judgments, hard to make wise decisions, under that condition.

I can't fix this right away. But I have received a wonderful amount of support so far.

Also I have been able to reflect back to Miss Lisa her wonderful level of success, and many ways to be supportive of the children's classes occurred to me, which I shared with her yesterday. I have some ideas and resources which may prove helpful.

Although I look at it as the coward's role, I spent both weekends in prayer in support of the teaching. It has helped anesthetize my pain, stopped the whirling thoughts, and made me feel better. People also reported they could feel our prayers. So that has been a comfort.

As William Sears said, sometimes the best prayer is "HELP!"

All The Pillars of the Dwelling

2010-10-20T10:58:00.000-07:00

We went to the celebration of the birth of the Bab, the forerunner to Baha'u'llah, yesterday evening. It was held in the community center at Salishan, the recently rebuilt, tremendously successful, and wonderfully diverse public housing development in Tacoma. For Baha'is who have been roaming the streets interested in conversing with people about spiritual community-building, it has been a mine rich in gems of inestimable value.

To gather jewels have I come to this world. If one speck of a jewel lie hid in a stone, and that stone be beyond the seven seas, until I have found and secured that jewel, my hand shall not stay from its rest.

~Baha'u'llah

As I drove up to the center and could see the action through the window, I was appalled. We were in trouble. Children were sprawled across the floor with crayons; some hugging books obtained from the library in the lobby. There were children climbing the curtains, dangling from the ceiling, hovering in the air, popping out from doorways. Dozens of them.

I could also see that they all, without exception, passionately adore and instantly obey Miss Lisa. She works at their school and lives in the neighborhood; now with the support of the Baha'i community she host children's classes and other core activities nearly every day in her home. These children were now here, attending the Baha'i holy day.

At the opening of the celebration, Lisa's son Liam enthusiastically recited a memorized prayer; he knows several. The children sang songs from their classes. We read Baha'i writings about the Bab, and Tim exquisitely told the tale of the Bab's first attendance at school at the age of five. [Tim has developed his storytelling skills to a wonderful degree.] Then children and youth vied with each other in lining up to sing more songs that they had learned.

Also, my favorite new star appeared, a youth I'll just call "Badi." I first saw Badi Saturday at the home which hosted the base for the neighborhood teaching activities. I came to hide there and say prayers while the brave miners went off, whistling, to dig up more gems. They returned with this youth they had scrounged up. He appeared positively glowing, dutifully phoned his mother, and wasted no time informing the participants [estimated lowest age about forty--sorry!] that it would be advantageous to have more youth out in the neighborhoods engaging people in conversations.

I believe Badi's primary interest is becoming involved as a "youth animator." [Most of the young participants of last night's holy day already seem pretty animated.] Anyway, Badi's glowing visage seemed like an outstanding expression of this verse:

For thus the Master of the house hath appeared within His home, and all the pillars of the dwelling are ashine with His light.

~Baha'u'llah

Alive!

2010-10-20T10:35:00.000-07:00

Transitioning out of my job at Homeland, I feel like the man, spat out from the maw of a monster as indigestible, who, though escaping with his life, experiences a sense of rejection.

As children when pretending, we used the expression, "Let's say." "Let's say we're starving in the wilderness, and . . ." Homeland would cast me as the monster. "Let's say Arlene is a monster."

My place at Homeland, my belonging there, is something I can no longer emotionally support. The income was terribly addictive, and there were aspects of the position that were tremendously enjoyable and fulfilling. I also learned a lot. There are staff members there of such a high caliber both personally and professionally that I will miss them terribly. Yesterday, after saying goodbye, I could not restrain my tears. I was embarrassed in front of all the staff taking their breaks, as I emptied my locker and removed my name from the door.

There is no individual at Homeland who worked harder than I did. I saw nurses blow off charting and a multitude of other tasks, just to clock out on time. I stayed until the work was done, no matter how late.

I have long felt, however, that my job would be perfect if the people would just go away. While I relished the challenge of meeting whatever comes up at any moment, there can be no break from it. Between my difficulty in focusing and my introversion, and the pressure of completing work and dealing with emergencies while frequently changing gears to meet people's needs, I rarely crossed the threshold at night except in a cloud of sadness, frustration, anger, and a profound need to be alone.

What I would have needed to continue, was support and validation from the Director of Nursing.

I think I reached a point where my chief fun at work, besides doing admissions, and the childlike entertainment I derive from peel-and-stick labels, was honing my deadpan humor. Nothing is more fun than cracking people up. I've had many shining moments there, but others not so shining. Eventually I became aware, from the hostility drifting down the hallway, that the DNS and I have irreconcilable differences.

Lately in my deep sense of isolation, as I strive to overcome my material roots, I have been yearning for some sign that I could feel for myself that I am loved by God. I think this is it. I have been pulled out of this field by God, uprooted like a beet, with my health and best interest at stake. I do not wish to drop in my tracks like L. [See previous post.]

For those who wish to know my next step, I will let you know when I know. I trust I will find a more suitable field. Inshallah.

Purple Potato Salad

2010-10-17T22:10:00.000-07:00

I took my daughter to the pumpkin farm Saturday, where we picked up the obligatory pumpkin, but also some giant apples, several jars of honey, and pickled green beans which we remember fondly as my sister in law makes them. Irresistible and addictive. When they sell blueberry, raspberry, and even pumpkin honey, I can't help wondering how they know which blossoms the bees frequented to collect their nectar. Do the farmers hold a little huddle with the bees and only send them to specific plants?

My focus on nutrition is usually on plants, and when I put them together, although I think plants are a wonderful example of organic unity in diversity, as almost any vegetable can get along with any other vegetable in harmony and unity--still, my dishes often have a face that only a mother could love. I had some beets and decided they would be lovely in a salad, and so would potatoes, and it all ended up as a delicious, funny-looking mess.

Purple Potato Salad

3-4 beets, cooked
4-5 red potatoes, cooked
half a yellow onion
three large garlic cloves, or to taste*
one large apple
5 or 6 pickled green beans
one can or [one pound cooked] black or kidney beans
fresh basil
3-4 tablespoons dried dill
a splash of seasoned rice vinegar
vegenaise to taste [vegenaise is the non-egg version of mayonnaise.]

*I tend to treat garlic as a vegetable, slicing it up and throwing the chunks into a soup or salad. Not every tongue is ready for this, however.

Cut up beets, potatoes, onions, apple, stir it all together and refrigerate.

Allegaters VERSUS Justice

2010-10-10T17:13:00.000-07:00

There's allegaters at Homeland. Recently the faceless entity designed to torture skilled nursing facilities, called "The State," cracked down on phoning in to The State every thing that ever happened to anybody at the facility. Bruises, falls and complaints, mostly. Anyway, that's Homeland's interpretation of the rules.

Suddenly, karmaically, this situation has mysteriously attracted a multitude of complaints and accusations, which were rarely mentioned before. I think it's the scent of blood.

Homeland is turning into a police state. Anytime one of our residents, who all have at least some amount of short term memory loss, God bless 'em, opens their mouths and mentions that they thought it took too long for staff to answer their call lights, or they thought the staff performed a transfer wrong, or forgot a medication, bam, there went four hours of somebody's time filling out investigational paperwork and calling The State. And worst of all, an accusation is treated as fact.

Mrs. O'Hunnie couldn't remember two hours later getting her inhaler, but twelve hours later she can still remember that the nurse supposedly forgot it. Mr. Dunnfore claims that someone assisted him to stand by the bedside commode using the walker, but the nurse just walked off and left him there instead of completing the transfer to the commode.

I've noticed that the personnel hearing these allegations are usually the contracted therapy staff, and I've come to the conclusion that the next time one of them comes trotting up to the nurses station to mention one of these allegations I'm going to point to the paperwork and say, "Go ahead, there's the investigation form."

The Forms: the first page of which I am quoting an excerpt is cribbed from the incident report form, so most of it doesn't apply. It is an "Occurrence Report Checklist:
X Check off all items completed.
X All questions on the occurrence report must be answered.
X Review the resident's care plan--was care provided according to plan of care?
X Caregiver/Witness Report MUST be completed at the time of occurrence by the person reporting the occurrence AND the person assigned to care for the resident . . . etc etc etc. REMINDER: Washington State requires (RCW 74.34.035(3) you to notify the DSHS Hotline 91-800-562-6078), if the occurrence involves Abuse/Neglect, Abandonment, Mistreatment, or Misappropriation. Facility Protocol requires you to notify the DNS and/or Administrator of any occurrences of Abuse/Neglect, Abandonment, Mistreatment or Misappropriation.
State Hotline Notified? _____No ______Yes, Date/Time:_________.

LN is responsible to complete the following for all ALLEGATIONS OF Abuse/Neglect, Abandonment or Mistreatment:
X Intervene, immediately, and provide safety for the resident(s)
X Remove perpetrator immediately (employee, visitor, family, another resident, etc.)
X Initiate the Occurrence Report, obtain witness statements from all staff on duty
X Notify the DNS &/or Administrator: Date/Time:_________
X Notify Tacoma Police: Date/Time:_______________ (non-emergent Phone Number 253-798-4721)
X Notify Physician:________ Date/Time:___________
X Notify POA/Responsible Party: Who:__________ Date/Time:__________
X If appropriate, arrange for immediate transport to hospital/ER for evaluation
X Complete occurrence report, initiate alert monitoring/charting."

I will stipulate that we care about our residents, they are in our care and vulnerable, and that all the staff must do the utmost to keep them safe and secure and healthy. That is our goal. However, the process involved in dealing with these issues leaves something to be desired.

I'll spare the reader the rest of the extensive paperwork, except for the "CONCLUSION" section. I ask you to remember that nothing that someone claims to have occurred is actually proven to have occurred. Here is the dictionary definition of the word "allegation":
"The act of alleging; also, something alleged; an assertion made by a party in a legal proceeding, which he undertakes to prove; an averment; sometimes, a mere assertion without proof."

Listen to the language of this portion of the form:

Who was involved in the allegation?
What was the allegation?
When did the allegation occur?
[When was the complaint voiced, or when did the supposed event happen?]
Where did the allegation take place?
[Where was the complaint voiced, or where did the supposed event happen?]
Why did the allegation happen?
[Why was the complaint voiced, or why did the supposed event happen? Which, as you can see, the form assumes actually happened.]
How did the allegation occur?
CAUSE/REASONABLE CAUSE of the allegation was:___________.

Okay, the dictionary does say that an allegation could be "something alleged." I have issues with language that uses the fact of someone saying something interchangeably with the idea an event actually occurred. As soon as the questionaire is asking the staff to say when the "allegation" occurred, where it took place, why it happened, and how the allegation occurred, and what was the cause of the allegation, a line has been crossed. The language of the form is now assuming that an actual event took place. Guilty until proven innocent.

I have major issues with that.

"The best beloved of all things in My sight is justice."

~Baha'u'llah

A Messenger of Joy

2010-10-03T17:30:00.000-07:00

It is an honor to be of service to patients and their families, especially in supporting them while the person passes on to the next world.

To an experienced and organized nurse, having a death on ones shift is an event one can be well prepared for. Experience tells us, for example, that it is an advantage to have a mortuary previously selected, because a newly-bereaved family member can find choosing one at the last minute too overwhelming. So as nurses we have learned things which make everything go more smoothly.

So, even though I sometimes say [to myself or staff], "Don't die on my shift," it's not too difficult an event to deal with. At the previous nursing facility where I worked, a woman was on hospice, had some falls during her stay, and as she was currently dying [hospice folks sometimes use the word "transitioning"-- I don't know why], had sublingual atropine drops to help control oral secretions. The family in California phoned that evening to see how she was, and instructed me to tell her to "hold on until the weekend," as that was when they planned to visit. She did not hold on, but had a couple of atropine drops, a harmless dosage, and quietly passed on.

The family freaked out, questioned the atropine drops [as a different dose and route can be used as a potent medication for cardiac events]; brought up her history of falls; demanded a head-to-toe x-ray and a full autopsy. Guilt. The assigned physician phoned the family and sorted them out. Things can be a little rough.

So. At Homeland yesterday, "Mr. Scot" transitioned away from us into another realm. I had a particular affinity to Mr. Scot, as he was two years older than me but wasting away from cancer mets to the brain when he was admitted to Homeland from Harborview on Hospice care. Over the last two months or so, he lost a significant amount of weight, lost the ability to swallow, developed an open area on his behind which was unavoidable due to his lack of ability to take in nutrition and his cachexic [skeletal] condition. We managed his pain with morphine, which was appropriate.

At last he was failing, and died just before I came on shift yesterday. He had a non-related friend assigned durable power of attorney for medical and financial affairs, and a selected mortuary. The day shift nurse was from agency but had seemingly done everything she should: notified Hospice and the MD, and placed a "STOP" sign on the door to warn people not to enter. She had been unable to contact the POA, who came into the facility to see him just after change of shift and was informed of his passing. She asked us to delay phoning the mortuary until 5 PM due to expecting a friend of his from out of town who might wish to pay her last respects.

About an hour later, this friend arrived harried and breathless after battling traffic for two hours on the way down and getting lost trying to find the facility. She asked for Mr. Scot at the front desk [the agency nurse had forgotten to notify the receptionist] and breezed past the nurses station and the STOP sign, into his room, and right back out again, crying that he wasn't breathing. She was horribly shook up. We took her into the nurses station and sat her down, gave her tissues and water, and did what they teach in school as "therapeutic communication", i.e. listening to the person until they feel better. When she was ready to go I gave her a hug and directed her to the nearest Starbucks and some restaurants near I-5.

At five PM I phoned the mortuary, who let me know that a power of attorney appointment ends with the death of the patient, and asked if we had listed any next of kin. I gave the number for the POA, the number for the ex-spouse, and was asked if there were adult children. I said, names were listed but not numbers, and I had no idea of their ages. [This is often why people assign POA's: there are no viable next of kin.] The director said he would look into it and call me back. I pointed out that a significant period of time had passed and asked how soon they could pick up the remains. He stated that there was a law that he had up to twenty-four hours to collect the remains. I said that I could guarantee this gentleman was not going to remain in my facility for any twenty-four hours. We were at an impasse.

I was whining about this to another nurse and she explained that a durable power of attorney means that the relationship continues after the patient is deceased. So I called the mortuary with this information. Over the next two hours I phoned the mortuary three times, speaking to the receptionist, to find out whether or not they would accept this patient. Finally I phoned the Hospice to explain the problem. I was talking with the social worker when the mortuary called and said they had spoken with the POA and would be on their way ASAP.

Meanwhile the CNA's discovered that the day nurse had forgotten to remove his Foley catheter. I had just finished with this task and was emerging from the room when the two morticians arrived, status-post teenagers in suits. They were courteous to me, I think because they saw me with a garbage bag in my hands and thought I was a flunky. They were quite rude to the other nurse, eye-rolling, probably thinking that she was the head honcho. Mr. Scot exited the facility 8 1/2 hours after his passing.

Anyway, I imagine Mr. Scot got a kick out of the whole thing.

"Death is a messenger of joy."

~Baha'u'llah

A Moat of Tears

2010-09-29T17:40:00.001-07:00

Two days before I returned from vacation, a nurse at work, L., collapsed and was taken to the hospital. Without going into medical details, it looks like she had an internal brain injury. She has been in the ICU and minimally responsive ever since.

Various nurses from Homeland have been visiting her and returning with reports, "she seems better," "she squeezed my hand," and so forth. I have to say that she and I have opposite personalities, so in the past, occasional sparks have flown. I looked at her as a golden-retriever-type; she thought I was a cold and snappy bitch. Eventually we have come to understand each other much more.

The issue came up yesterday that she might be admitted to Homeland to recover; the social worker asked the aides who were on duty at the time how they would feel about personal care for a staff member they have worked with. Later, the information faxed to the facility regarding any prospective admission arrived at the nurses' station, with three nurses in a small circle quietly reading pages of the information, and then being reprimanded for it by the social worker, which hurt some feelings.

Yesterday was a watershed day for discussing L. all day, and how would we feel if we were incapacitated and had to stay in a skilled nursing facility. The response was universally 1] I would be deeply embarrassed to receive personal care from people I knew, but 2]we all feel Homeland would be the best place to receive care, and 3]we would be receiving care from people who knew us and cared about us. We all ended up in tears.

I mentioned something about L. resuming her position in the facility. Another nurse, who has been to see her, said she doesn't see that happening. I find that difficult to accept, and decided to pray very hard for her recovery. When I got to the point I could no longer concentrate on my work I went out for a hamburger. But the good thing was feeling part of the rest of the group. A fellow earthling.

Today on my day off, at last I took time to go to the ICU and visit. L. She was recognizable, although her hair, usually kept rather wild, was pulled into improbable ponytails at the top of her head. She lay on her side with one arm above the covers. When I walked in, wearing the silly anti-droplet mask I was given, and said, "Hi, L.!" her eyes opened, I swear I saw a flash of recognition and irritation. I took her hand, which she released after a few minutes. She didn't do any squeezing. She kept her eyes closed most of the time.

This was an awkward place for conversation. I said the stupid things I always say when speaking to someone who isn't likely to answer me back or give clues what to say next. In my imagination many times I had carried on with sparkling wit, told scintillating stories about Homeland, or prayed aloud. I did none of that. Finally I told her that I would stop hovering over her and looking at her, go sit in the corner and say prayers in my head, so I wouldn't bother her.

Twice when her eyes flashed open and she looked right at me I thought I saw a smile. Her mouth twitched. I wasn't sure if it was irritation or an attempt to smile. Finally I said goodbye and left the hospital. I had difficulty with the automatically locked exit doors from the ICU and a moment of claustrophobia. And then I was out. Driving away, I thought, Why do I have to cry? Can't I just stipulate that I'm sad and move on?

For the first time I'm seeing that the castle that I'm in doesn't have to have such extensive walls or such high ramparts. I might be able to lower a drawbridge once in awhile and feel one with the rest of the human race. And if people see me cry it's not the end of the world.

I'm just afraid I won't stop.

Bogoli Pelloh a la Amrika [Dilled Rice American Style]

2010-09-26T21:55:00.000-07:00

At the conference, at the buffet, there was one vegetarian dish [other than salad, rice and dessert] that Enayat could eat: dilled rice with lima beans [ he called it "bogoli pelloh".] He couldn't eat enough of it. Today at Eatonville I made stir-fry, so I was going to make brown rice with it. Then I saw a bag of dried dill and remembered the baby lima beans in the freezer.

Enayat really liked my bogoli pelloh and said it was far more satisfying than the typical dish made with white rice. It reminds me of when I was routinely making things such as boxed macaroni and cheese and could eat a whole pan of it. Although white rice tends to be good at soaking up dishes such as chili, refined grains are never really satisfying.

Enayat has the quality of applauding and cherishing my cooking efforts, even at times when they are rather feeble.

Dilled Rice With Lima Beans

in a large pot, pour about:
1 to 2 tablespoons olive oil,
2 cups water
salt to taste
at least 2 tablespoons dried dill
a 1 pound package of frozen lima beans
and bring to a boil, then add:
1 cup brown rice.

Bring back to a boil, simmer about 45 minutes or until rice is done. Size up the concentration of dill in the pot and maybe stir in another 1 or 2 tablespoons dill, then crack lid to let steam escape and turn off heat. Let it sit 5 or 10 minutes.
This is really good with plain yogurt, too.

One Day

2010-09-25T21:22:00.001-07:00

One day gone from two days off. Two days off are not enough.

I had at least 17 things on my list this morning.

I dreamed about tiny deer the size of mice. Boy, were they fun.

Invited my hermit daughter to lunch and errands. [We leave each other books on the kitchen table. I left her the Funny Times when I finished it. She left me Oishinbo: Rice. That was in response to my introducing her to Oishinbo: Vegetables. I write grocery list items on the dry erase board: she illustrates them. She illustrated gloves and potatoes, so I wrote "Eiffel Tower."] At Chili Thai, we ate veggie fresh rolls with basil and ? leaves, cellophane noodles, rice and tofu in rice paper; ginger chicken; brown rice; Tom Kha, my new favorite soup, with tofu; Thai Iced Tea; and she had coconut ice cream and I had mango ice cream, and we both had leftovers.

To the library where we discovered not one Isaac Asimov book on the shelf. Not one. In the seventies there would have been three shelves worth. Also, it looks as if it's possible to put movies on hold now. She checked out some Bill Nye the Science Guy DVD's for nostalgia sake; I can't remember what I checked out, plus paid 15 cents-worth of fines. Did you know old typewriters used to have cents signs on the keyboard? I learned to type on an antique [even then] typewriter which had all its innards exposed, very long stems attached to the cutest round letter keys [somebody local makes them into jewelery.] And with every character typed, you got to watch the whole key and stem assembly rise up in front of you and crash into the paper with a terrific whack. Typing as an aerobic activity.

Drove by an apartment complex recommended by someone at work. Too busy for me to really check it out. I'm trying to figure out how to move out of my house, rent it out, and move into an apartment all at the same time so as not to pay double rent/mortgage.

Went shopping. They stopped carrying cases of Silk soy milk, so I have to buy it 2-3 boxes at a time. Tried a variety of other brands, some mistakenly vanilla [retch.] Many are much thinner than I am used to. Found large brown mushrooms for a change.

Washed clothes. Made cabbage soup with dried green peas, tomatoes, fresh [yum] basil. Went on the internet while waiting for soup to cool. Looked up all the suggested ways to get Sharpie marker stains off my pants.

I love carrying retractable Sharpies at work, but twice they've stained the pockets of my white pants. Now I keep them in my pocket in a ziploc snack bag.

Last week there was a doohickey in the exhaust system of my CRV that was shot and the whole repair plus scheduled maintenance was almost $700.00.

Also on the internet I started buying Farsi language books and stuff; also bought a copy of the VHS The White Balloon that I and my original husband really liked when we watched it 15 to 20 years ago at the Grand Cinema. At least it has subtitles.

I still mean to drive to Eatonville.

Journey to Chicago, Part 7

2010-09-10T13:51:00.000-07:00

Sunday we listened to more lovely music and the talk by Roxana Saberi, which I already discussed. In the evening after the program, we had one more laborious walk through the convention area and the hotel, searching for friends and acquaintances Enayat might have missed before. I was okay with this up to a point, but then I finally lost it.

Two years ago I suggested to Enayat that, rather than continuing to cut his chin shaving, he just grow a beard. I was thinking, a genteel, pleasant little beard. It was motivated by mercy. Now he has a scraggly beard down to his abdomen, hair down to his shoulder blades, and a lot of miscellaneous growths of hair all over his cheeks. The beard that ate New York. In vain I have asked him to have it trimmed.

Therefore, every individual we met criticized his beard. And every woman we met somehow held me personally responsible for this beard and long hair. I finally just lost it.

Monday we drove to the House Of Worship where we at last had a lengthy, uninterrupted visit, and I had plenty of time for that peace to soak in. Then we went home.

Journey to Chicago, Part 6

2010-09-10T13:36:00.000-07:00

On Saturday I decided to sign up for the bus running from the Renaissance to the House of Worship in Wilmette. It cost $20, and Enayat could not understand why I wished to pay that much for a bus when I could just drive. The truth is, I quickly became sick of driving. I don't have the endurance of a robot.

The bus was simply a blast. For once I was alone with the driver and 40 Persians. I'm sure this was a trip the driver will never forget. As soon as we were underway, people were asking for the microphone. Since it was attached with a cord, several individuals took turns making their way to the jump seat at the front of the bus, laboriously strapping themselves in, and sharing the most beautiful, gloriously chanted prayers and songs. I was glad I had my one memorized Persian prayer when they passed the mike to me [a good-looking gentleman in his seventies had invited me to sit next to him in the front seat.] My one trick pony of a prayer. They seemed to like it.

Cost for a bus trip to Wilmette: $20.00. Cost for the Prayermobile: priceless.

For lunch outside the grounds of the Temple I ate two slices of whole-wheat bread, some cashews, and some water. My sojourn inside the Temple was this time somewhat interrupted by my new friend wishing to take photos with me. I forgave him easily.

That evening we visited Enayat's aunt, his father's younger sister, her daughters, and multiple other cousins, feasting on dilled rice with lima beans [bogoli poullou], sabsi-whatever [stew with greens], salad, yogurt with cucumbers, and that wonderful stew made with pomegranate paste. I promised one of the American inlaws to send my recipe for Stealth Soup, made with butternut squash and red lentils.

Journey to Chicago, Part 5

2010-09-10T13:24:00.000-07:00

Weather in Chicago was hot, muggy and wet. Fortunately I had made a pancho from outdoor material which worked well in sudden showers without making me too hot. I just don't associate rain with heat. Also, it was odd that when the air conditioner was on, condensation formed on the outside of the windows.

Music at the conference was outstanding. At one point I approached a flute player to find out about his flute, a "ney." It was wooden, vertical, with holes of course for the notes. In all flutes, a way must be found to separate the flow of air. In European flutes, the flute is held horizontally and the player blows across the hole. With recorders and penny whistles, etc., "fipple flutes," the mouthpiece is designed to separate the air flow, and the player simply blows into the mouthpiece. I found out that with the ney, the air flow was separated with his tongue.

While in home health nursing I became very good at finding my way around, so I was surprised that every time I drove from the Renaissance back to the Days Inn, I became confused and lost. It became a complex for me, raising my level of anxiety whenever I faced the drive. Complicating this was my partner's tendency to play off my anxiety and add to it by making unhelpful comments such as "this looks familiar," or "this doesn't look familiar."

While I realize most women would be impressed with a man who wishes to stop and ask directions, I really don't want to ask a lot of total strangers for directions, as they usually aren't very helpful. Especially since I think his real motive is that he just loves to talk to people. I became very irritable with this whole process, and had to tell myself to stop trying to control his behavior, and make agreements with him instead.

Journey to Chicago, Part 4

2010-09-09T09:03:00.000-07:00

I visited the Baha'i Temple for the first time in 2001 when we went to the Kingdom Conference at Milwaukee. Ever since then, I was in the habit of asking people who had visited but were not Baha'is, whether they "felt" any peculiar sensations within the auditorium. Usually they said no. On my first visit, I felt my whole being suffused with a profound sense of peace and love while I was inside the Temple.

When we got out of our car at Linden Avenue someone informed us that "it is about to close at 5 PM." Thinking they meant the actual auditorium of the Temple, I was suddenly in a great hurry. The gentleman who greeted us on the steps clarified that it was only the Visitors Center below which was about to close.

When we went into the Visitors Center and met the attractive Persian woman who greeted us, Enayat exploded into raptures of delight, "Bah, bah! How are you doing!" I thought, sheesh, you've seen pretty women before. It turns out this was another of his thirty or forty cousins from around the world, doing service at the House of Worship. The gentleman upstairs at the temple was her husband, who Enayat had not met before.

She kindly took charge of us, showed us around, showed us the Cornerstone and some other things. Quickly I bought some literature at the bookstore: mostly things with both Farsi and English, and a Farsi Kitab-i-Iqan, so I can identify [with help] specific authentic passages to memorize.

Upstairs in the Temple, I didn't really feel this awesome peace. Mostly I just had angina from climbing the stairs. I said as many prayers as I could, then we left in time to attend the opening session of the Friends of Persian Culture Conference back at the Renaissance Hotel.

Journey to Chicago, Part 3

2010-09-09T08:46:00.000-07:00

All my mapquest trips I had printed up: from Days Inn to the Renaissance Hotel in Schaumburg; from Days Inn to the House of Worship/Baha'i Temple in Wilmette; and from either location to O'Hare Airport, included too many turns and expressway voyages, which I had no intention of taking. I considered this a vacation.

September 2nd we moved to the newer, much better Days Inn on W. Devon, having gotten excellent directions from them, and checked in. I got a map at the local gas station, but no hand lotion [mistaken assumption the motel would have lotion.] We discovered there was a mall off of Meacham on route to the Schaumburg hotel with a Ruby Tuesday, which we eventually found. At Ruby Tuesday we got very good directions to the Baha'i Temple in Wilmette: follow Euclid, which becomes East Lake, which fetches up on Sheridan, the street which cruises along the lake shore where the Temple resides in all its glory.

Towards the end of my stay I realized why distances were so long on this map. The scale is one inch to two miles. On my Tacoma map the scale is probably one inch to a half a mile. Anyway, with distances so out of proportion, it led many times to a lot of confusion in my mind, thinking we must have passed a particular turn. Driving from Schaumburg to Wilmette along this surface street late in the afternoon took about a rather tedious hour.

At last we reached Sheridan, turned right, passed some smaller streets, crossed a small bridge and then, whoa! There it was, this breathtaking, beautiful, enormous white lacy dome. One is never prepared to see it. Here we are driving through a beautiful residential neighborhood, and then here is the Mother Temple of the West. My real reason for coming to the Chicago area.

Just as at the World Center, where we saw the Shrine of the Bab and the terraces, a jewel-like and holy setting, set in the midst of an urban center in Haifa, I wondered about the people living there mundane lives with this gem in their midst, so replete with meaning for the Baha'is. Do they notice?

Journey to Chicago, Part 2

2010-09-09T08:21:00.000-07:00

At O'Hare airport we had no difficulty finding our way to baggage claim and finding the bag he checked. Then we followed the signs for car rentals, expecting a department within the actual terminal. This is how it works at SeaTac and at the Milwaukee airport when I went to the Kingdom Conference. But we found ourselves out on the curb, with a few signs but no rental offices. There were a few shuttles but none for Advantage. I tried asking the uniformed attendants at the curb and received a variety of conflicting information.

We were hauling a backpack, a small tote bag [me], a small suitcase, a large tote bag, and a santur [him.] We ended up hiking down to the end of the terminal and crossing the street, where I phoned the national office for Advantage [I had failed to secure the address and local phone number for the office at O'Hare.] Perpendicular to the terminal was a very long building and curbside which was the Hilton Courtyard, with shuttles coming and going. With husband and baggage I hiked the length of the building, hoping to speak to an actual human at a counter. This was a lady at a counter for buses. She directed us back to where we started at Door Number One.

Back and forth we hiked, between Door Number One and the curbside sign for Car Rentals 60 feet away, asking shuttle drivers and being directed to either location. At last we found a shuttle for Advantage, which we boarded, and discovered that the actual rental office was four miles off site.

I had Mapquested directions from O'Hare to the Days Inn in Elk Grove, but those directions, not only were confusing, but were going to be invalid from this other location. I got some wonderfully direct instructions from the shuttle driver: turn right out of the rental office, turn right on Touhy, which becomes Higgins, and follow about five miles, and Days Inn will be on the right.

Meanwhile we waited over an hour at the car rental office behind three other parties, one of which was very angry because he apparently had discovered that it would cost him significantly more to have more than one driver on the rental agreement. He kept saying, "I'm screwed!" There was only one clerk at the desk. At last I had the keys to the Nissan Sentra, and learned to use the automatic door lock; later I realized that the electric control for moving the side mirrors was discombobulated and we had to lower the windows to set them manually [they were probably broken by someone doing this initially.]

Down Higgins I drove until I came to a Days Inn and attempted to check in at the desk. Despite making a registration weeks before, they never heard of me. It was now nine thirty at night. We checked in anyway. At this point I realized it might have been better to just arrange for a shuttle from the motel and have a rental car delivered to the motel later.

It was a king, not a queen bed, and though my reservation was for a nonsmoking room, reeked of smoke. I was puzzled. I called the desk: "What is our address here?" "1920 Higgins." I compared this to my address on Mapquest: 1000 West Devon. Wrong Days Inn. I called the W. Devon Days Inn and explained where I was and arranged to check in there in the morning. We ordered a vegetarian pizza and watched actual tapes of the Frost-Nixon interviews on PBS.

Journey to Chicago, Part 1

2010-09-09T08:13:00.000-07:00

Sept 1st we boarded the Shuttle Express to SeaTac and had a good conversation with the driver who was a Christian. He ended up asking us whether Jesus Christ is worthy of worship. I thought that was rather a poser, and I was allowing Enayat to lead the Baha'i end of the conversation. I really wanted to get into the Kitab-i-Iqan [Book of Certitude] material which better illuminates the dual station of the Manifestation, but didn't have much of a chance.

I instructed Enayat later that when people have these deep convictions, it is counterproductive to say things which invalidate their point of view, such as saying the Bible has been translated wrong somewhere. It's much better to meet them where they are and lead them out of the jungle, shedding light on issues and assisting them to focus on the inner and spiritual meanings of scripture, rather than on the outer and physical meanings which people tend to be trapped in.

Our flight was excellent and we sat next to a woman about my age whose parents were born in Latvia, so we learned some things about that country, and the music.

Lost in Evin Prison

2010-09-08T14:24:00.000-07:00

The final day of the Friends of Persian Culture Conference, Sunday, there was a talk [fortunately translated] by Roxana Saberi, author of Between Two Worlds, My Life and Captivity in Iran. Later I bought a book and she signed it. I told her, "I'm glad you got out!"

This is the journalist who was arrested on suspicion of spying and spent 100 days in Evin Prison, who met the two Baha'i ladies, members of the Yaran, who were incarcerated there. That section of the prison was for "political prisoners."

Still extraordinarily emotionally and physically fatigued by my journey, I'm wrapped up in this book, which I started reading this morning. It seems to complement and exacerbate my depressed feelings.

Running For the Bus

2010-09-01T06:24:00.000-07:00

I was feeling my usual level of anxiety about catching my flight, and decided to do a little time traveling to explore it. It's always about catching the school bus.

Here we are, the four Elwood girls in a line, braiding each others' hair, gulping down overboiled oatmeal on a frosty morning. There's a brother too, but not braiding hair until much later. For some reason there's always a terrific hurry. In twelve years of riding the school bus, I don't remember ever missing it on the way to school. But if we had, it felt as if the consequences would be dire.

So here I am galloping across the little park called the Schoolyard, for an old school which used to be there, my red fourth-hand tights down to my knees by the time I'm halfway to the bus stop, and I haven't even passed the Black Dog yet. The line at the Bus Stop has a Lord of the Flies aura of disorder and confusion without adult supervision. People with clout can take cuts. I usually go for the back of the line.

Right up the hill from the stop is a stair-step family of Mormons with a collie dog they are forever trying to send home. "Go home, Goldie, Goldie, Goldie." They show up last because they are right there by the stop. And here is the bus.

I step on. Suddenly, forty years later, I can smell it. It doesn't smell horrible, but it is a distinctive odor. I've caught the bus. Where to sit? The first day of school I actually engaged in conversation. I hated sardines. I had never even seen a sardine. I became Arlene Sardine.

I used to have Borrowers-sized people rafting down the water in the ditches. Welcome to my world.

A Real "Bahai Blog," Or Not?

2010-08-31T23:25:00.000-07:00

I noticed the other day that not everyone counts Weaner Pigs as a real "Baha'i Blog." This could be a valid point of view. There's just too much real life in it.

My intention is usually to use this at least partially as a forum for discussing the principles of the Baha'i Faith. However, doing this requires a fresh mind and a positive outlook, both of which I find in short supply due to the long hours I work and the overwhelming challenges I face there. So, even when I have time to make an entry, usually what ends up there is whatever is on my mind; typically, real life.

Just a parting shot before I fly to Schaumburg, Illinois for the Friends of Persian Culture Conference and meet some new friends there.

Traveling

2010-08-30T23:24:00.000-07:00

We're just on the cusp of leaving for Chicago area for the Friends of Persian Culture Conference. I'm going to try to pack just one bag [my leather backpack] for carry on luggage.* Enayat is planning to take his santur, which is still out of tune. He has a hard time cutting himself loose from his obligations at home and leaving on time, especially at the first of the month. I've been occupying myself with sewing, thinking that if I wear gauze fabrics they will take up less room. We'll see. I also made a pancho with heavy duty outdoor [rain] fabric, which isn't very long, but folds up very small. They are anticipating hot but rainy weather.

*I really feel the phrase, "Carry on luggage" deserves a cartoon with a vulture boarding a plane with some sort of roadkill.

I'm trying to learn to say "I don't speak one word of Farsi" in Farsi.

It's a joke.

Salad In a Bag

2010-08-28T15:10:00.000-07:00

I've discovered another route to portable, durable nutrition besides soup. It's a challenge when I don't cook with meat, and try to avoid dairy products, to come up with filling sandwiches.

The whole idea is this: prepare the salad ahead of time with firmer, less wet ingredients. Add the wetter and softer ingredients the day you take the salad to work or wherever. So I've been making a lot of salads with chopped cabbage as the base. Other firmer vegetables which can be added include carrots, peppers, usually raw sunflower seeds, sliced almonds, corn cut from the raw cob, onions [always] and cooked [canned] beans for protein. I chop up these and place in a gallon-sized freezer bag. Then before I go, I take a sandwich bag and mostly fill with the prepared ingredients, then cut up the other ingredients and add, with dressing of choice, just to the sandwich bag. The freezer bag stays very fresh for several days. The perishable ingredients can include tomatoes, cucumbers, avocados, and even fruit such as grapes or diced melons.

The other option I discovered was to add leftover rice and lentils to the short-term salad for a change and extra protein.

Bag Salad

Durable Ingredients: [place into a one gallon ziploc bag.]
one fourth green or red cabbage, chopped or grated
two carrots, chopped or grated
one bell pepper, chopped
kernals from one ear of corn
1/2 cup raw sunflower seeds
1/2 cup sliced raw almonds
one can beans such as kidney or black beans, rinsed
one yellow onion, diced

Perishable Ingredients: [Add to one cup of above, in a sandwich bag.]
one tomato, cut into wedges
one fourth cucumber, diced
&/or one avocado, cut up
&/or cut up melon, apple, or grapes
olives
&/or pickled beets or jalapenos

Scoop about a cup of durable ingredients into a sandwich bag. Add perishable ingredients and some dressing of choice. Off you go to work, not even late. Eat the salad with a spoon or fork right out of the bag. If you feel ecological, rinse out and reuse the bag.

Dissolving Into Work

2010-08-18T16:52:00.000-07:00

I'm dissolving into my work. I just try to do whatever I do with joy. I lost so much sleep in the last week, when I had a day off today it's taken all day to swim up from the depths. I have a lot of regrets about some of my nursing work; honest errors, or times when just one of me and a few hours were not enough. I'm not buying into the self-loathing quite so much about it. Although I have not had time to formally recite prayers from the prayer book, I'm entirely relying on God. I'm trusting that I'm being put wherever I'm wanted, and that when it's time to move on I'll be put somewhere else. That helps relieve some of my fears.

I'm looking into the astonishing concept that I'm the sole authentic judge of my own behavior. It hasn't sunk in yet.

We accomplished a lot. Monday we had four admissions between 2:30 and 6:30, and the amazing teamwork we developed between the other charge nurse and myself made it doable and bearable. In the morning yesterday I had to face the music and be accountable to one of the nurse practitioners for not phoning their group to confirm orders [I faxed, instead, which for another doctor is completely satisfactory. He trusts us.] It's tempting to say, Ok, next time I'll phone really late . . . which would be childish but satisfying.

I'm reading [very slowly] a book about joy. One of the main threads is to approach and embrace uncomfortable feelings and encounters, rather than avoiding them. I find myself sort of "witnessing" my feelings. "Oh, anxiety. Hello. Where am I feeling that? What does it feel like?" Which provides relief and gets me through it, rather than shoving it into the feeling closet to emerge later on, or never.

I have to say, even that encounter with the ARNP did not take away from my heroic feeling from accomplishing what I did the night before. And last night I was able to meaningfully connect with the POA for a 54 year old man with mets to the brain, looking for some actual care and compassion after his hospital stay. She was, of course, completely fried from their journey from the hospital out of town, and the whole transition, but when she heard I was working twelve hour days she burst into laughter. I guess she realized she wasn't the only one feeling fried.

Two days off are not enough.

Up From the Bog

2010-08-11T11:43:00.000-07:00

Laugh out loud: www.Engrish.com. Posted recently: "No swimming if you can't swim." Sign on a cash register in China: "I really don't know how to apologize to you. Please move on to another cash register." On a menu: "Sizzling noodles of you," and other even better entrees which escape me now.

My first day off after three grueling days of work, I swim up from the bog of extreme fatigue, headache, and general nothingness of ambition [Engrish is getting to me] always wondering what I need to do to recover and spend the most refreshing and useful [to me] two days off that I can. I've been catching up with Baha'i Views to realize the Yaran have been sentenced to twenty years in some other prison . . . I half expected them to be executed. Perhaps world opinion is making some dim impression on the administration in Iran. It's horrible. I hope they have beds.

I spent quite a few minutes reading the message posts on the CNN blog about religious rights. What hatred, what close-mindedness, what innocence about what's really happening in the world. People fascinate me, even the passionately ignorant. I'm interested in how people's minds work. How did they get to where they are?

Trip planning. Trying to decide whether to drive to the airport and pay enormous parking fees on our upcoming trip, or to use one of the shuttles which are never quite as convenient as one thinks. Looking forward to the Friends of Persian Culture Conference in Schaumburg [Chicago] Illinois over Labor Day Weekend. AKA All Farsi All the Time. As Mahnaz put it the other day, "Oh, you poor baby!"

I don't mind standing around in a forest of Farsi speakers. What I mind is making small talk and having to smile too much. Please, just let me disappear.

What I'm looking forward to is music!

Ammonites, Part 2

2010-08-08T13:15:00.001-07:00

I became obsessed with making a messenger [flat profile] purse with the outline of a spiral, i.e. ammonites shape. I argued with myself over the next couple of weeks about what material to use, whether to try to reproduce the interior sections of the fossil ammonites on the outer surface of the purse as a decoration, and how to do that, and how that would or wouldn't fit with pockets, and so forth. I haven't come to any conclusions yet. It sounds like a lot of work. But so is hauling around my purse.

Meanwhile I became obsessed with this fossil. I wasn't sure I remembered the name. I was thinking, "ammonite," but then that sounded a lot like a religious group. No, that is Mennonite. I started thinking of all the things that could be called "ammonites" and thus the source of the recent, rather silly, series. Also, I found that it says something about the principle of independent investigation of truth. People will believe anything, although nothing of what I said in my posts was meant to be believable.

The reason I love ammonites was that a good friend of my husband, a Seventh Day Adventist, [the friend, not my husband], told a bald-faced lie last year. With a straight face he mentioned that the earth is only six thousand years old. The next time I was at the Gem Faire, I bought up a bunch of beautiful ammonite and other fossils, which were reputed to be three million years old. Take that, Mr. Bible Believer. Plus, they occur in that magical spiral shape.

According to Wikipedia, not Pikiwedia, ammonites are an extinct group of marine cephalopods, related to octopi, squids and cuttlefish. Their name came from their spiral shape, as the fossilized shells were thought to resemble the horns of a ram [not a goat. Oops.] There is an Egyptian god named Ammon who was depicted wearing ram's horns, for which Pliny the Elder named this fossil. The soft body of the creature occupied the largest segments of the shell at the end of the coil. The smaller, earlier segments were walled off and the animal could fill these with gas [from what source is not mentioned] and thus maintain its buoyancy.

The above paragraph is a blatant ripoff from an article in Wikipedia, with some words rearranged to suit me. Thank God for fourth grade.