Rainy dark Sunday with the Aligator Gar

Ok, I am trying to perk up….and will by the time I finish this bit of free fall musing. It really is a fine Monday with wonderful soft rain….I need to listen to audio book for book club tomorrow but think I will listen to some jazzzzzzz thing. Len is at the dentist getting one of his über expensive implants replaced…a good thing since he currently has no tooth right in front…. 1153299

Speaking of Len and looks….This morning he cheerfully told me this story: This Saturday he was someplace in his Speedo and on his bike when he saw a couple…the man had on a Boston Red Socks hat, so Len, true Yankee that he is said, “Nice hat”! The man’s wife said, “Nice legs”! Oh, he is proud of that Speedo!

So yesterday started off well enough. Len wasn’t going to church because of allergies and achey back, but with cute legs…so I was adequately made up and feeling good about beauty aids when I decided to put in contacts…surely my eyes are healed enough. So opened the case and popped the right one in followed by excruciating pain. NOT exaggerating. I had stored the lenses in a solution only for storage and requiring major rinsing….so I have had a terrible, ruined sclera that looks like it has been deep fat fried. The warning on the labels said flush with sterile saline…who keeps that around? I didn’t. Now I have gallons of it, just in case I am stupid again.

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After church I visited Pam’s gravesite…I’m always verrrrry weepy on the way out there…since we did 98% of our serious talk via car phoning…so catching her up, missing her, apologizing to her, asking for advice, etc. I decided Pam would like the idea of my having a henna tattoo….in fact she would have insisted on going with me to make it a really big deal. I loved that about her. I am thinking, I will do it and hope Katie will go with me when she gets back from Spain…she is her Pam’s daughter, after all. Anyway, when I arrived at the Seaton Cemetery I dried up immediately. Pam is NOT there to me…but while there I did grave tidying. She would approve and endorse the practice.

Home after-church-grocery shopping routine. I went to the tractor shed to find a good pot for the new mega palm…I always see, and was not disappointed, the beautiful, majestic great horned owl (or one of the pair)….I am stunned by his/her grace….except the cats were with me and I feared they would becoming Owl Chow. I corralled them back to the house and safety then off on a 6 mile walk…total for yesterday 8 miles.

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Tomorrow or tonight I want to write about my thinking patterns. Ok, now. When a lot is happening in my life, I often say that I am over-stimulated. People always think that is funny. I am dead-on accurate about it, however. Physically, I think it feels like Shaken Baby Syndrome must feel. It is impossible for me to do any kind of productive introspection. So what I have to do is take it layer at a time: Cognitive (What do I KNOW is real?), social (What relationships are involved?), emotional (Are my feelings accurate or is the auto pilot stuck on ‘stinkin’ thinkin’?) and spiritual (What does my spiritual inner rudder suggest?). IF I take the time to peel off each of these layers, I can usually settle down. I just revisited the learning styles and viola, I am getting a nice review that is helping: What I typically do is what Kolb called active experimentation, that is just jumping in and doing something…yes, that is my practice. He, I guess Kolb is a he, then says that at the same time we are “doing”, we choose how to emotionally transform the experience into something meaningful by either gaining new information by thinking, analyzing, or planning (abstract conceptualization) OR by experiencing the concrete, tangible, felt qualities of the world (concrete experiences). I GET IT. Just writing this helps.

Joanne just sent this to me…now using it as my signature quotation! Sooooo accurate.

— I want to keep my soul fertile for changes, so things keep getting born in me, so things keep dying when it’s time for them to die. I want to keep walking away from the person I was a moment ago, because a mind was made to figure things out, not read the same page recurrently.   – Donald Miller, from his book, Through Painted Deserts  

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