Trying Times: Cost of Fuel, Food, COVID Still, A Degrading Environment and a Woman who Writes about Grief

I’m retired , and got rather used to no-inflation all through the Obama years into Trump. I would not go out of my way these days to go to local food pantries, but that’s partly because we have a d good network of volunteer do-gooders who do their best to see that everyone has access to what’s around.

Often all they have is USDA surplus canned or dried goods, but they also get fresh vegetables & day-old designer bread in addition to the odd bakery or candy items. It’s great getting eggplant, squash, and kale, and our diets have improved. But a few weeks ago we got these packets of a high-protein ‘mac & Cheese’ with soy that, well, I can imagine everyone would find it filling. I added a chopped zucchini & a can of tuna, but that hardly improved it. I don’t know if I’d prefer it out of a box of mac & cheese. But it was free, and it’s fine.

But also, via a Facebook ‘Buy Nothing’ a neighbor gave me a box of spices and several high-end baking items, as well as Japanese condiments that I knew my roommate would appreciate.

One of the items was a bag of candy. The candy is a jelly sweet in a large thimble size cup, and apparently it is a leading cause of death by asphyxiation of old people choking on this thing. Do they laugh and accidentally swallow it? In any case, my roommate was advising me of this (since I am an older person), and showed me the warning on the bag. No ‘skull & crossbones’ or !–(exclamation point in a triangle: If you choose not to take heed—you’ve been warned)& KN also remarked how the choking person had those regrets in the last few seconds of life.

In any case, the woman, Shelby Forsythia, is a neighbor, and I asked her what she did. She told me she was a writer, 1 thing led to another, and I visited her website to learn more about her: https://www.shelbyforsythia.com/permission-to-grieve

My gut reaction was a tough subject. I hadn’t grieved since my mother died, and that was due to a complicated family dynamic. I am still grieving my friend Janie Wondergem, who died suddenly and quickly of aggressive lung cancer. We shared so many interests. Even with my dogs, I am more accepting of loss. I can understand how people would be torn apart. I think it’s because I’m ‘on the spectrum’ that I’m not too close to too many people. My roommate, KN, is probably the person I actually trust the most. I digress (as I am wont to do). Shelby did 2 amazing things: 1. she researched a subject that she was passionate about to find a way to help others. We Sikhs appreciate altruism and giving back to the community), but she also managed to turn this into a business that supports her and helps so many others.

My grief is more general. I know we humans aren’t doing enough to stop climate change and how it’s manifested: environmental degradation. I don’t have children, but so many people do, and want grandchildren…for a planet that will be hard to have a good quality of life on. COVID will keep evolving—or a slightly different virus will come along until enough of us are killed off. It’s called population crash. It happens to many species that overpopulate an area. Google “The Wolves of Isle Royale”. Fresh water is starting now to be a crisis. Things ain’t good.

& clearly, the male segment—-particularly the teenage boy cohort, but may be also the small dick cohort who crack under the weight of their testosterone-fueled rage & NEED TO OWN ASSAULT RIFLES…& THE ELECTED OFFICIALS DEFENDING THIS MADNESS….how can nobody see this? Or do we not believe in science? that testosterone surges are linked to rage?

YEAH, I’M YELLING. THE VERY IDEA THAT YOU GET COMFORT OWNING OR TOUCHING A WEAPON OF SUCH EVIL AUTOMATICALLY INDICATES YOU ARE MENTALLY ABERRANT.

How I Retired Debt-free (Even tho I am Mentally Ill…)

https://clep.collegeboard.org/ Check it out!

I didn’t go to college until I was 30, and even then, I paid cash. I learned to groom dogs when I was a teenager. But it wasn’t just being able to earn money that got me this far. It was knowing math, taking calculated risks, and trusting my own decisions.

I ‘suffered’ from depression from a very early age. I was probably in fourth grade studying health when I learned about depression and realized that was me. The book said sometimes a Vitamin C deficiency was the cause, so, one day, I got a can of orange juice (my mother kept small cans of orange and apple juice because she wanted us kids having juice as well as milk for breakfast) and drank it. My mother asked me why I was drinking it at night, and I told her, crying, that it was supposed to be good for depression. She knew it was not my favorite, and she laughed, and told a friend she was talking to on the phone. This was in the 1960s, when everyone thought mental illness was a matter of bad attitude, not a problem with Seratonin.

I seemed to handle stress badly. For the most part, my grades in primary and high school were just average, and everyone was telling me I was not working up to my potential. I was also bullied in primary school because I had big frizzy hair during a time when straight hair was the fashion. In any case, I saw several psychiatrists, and my father wanted to know when I would be cured. I never was. Actually, it wasn’t until I went through menopause that the symptoms disappeared.  Prozac really helped, but I was never a party girl.  It was me and dogs.

That said, I was actually in my 30s when I discovered Oliver Sacks’ book, “An Anthropologist on Mars.” He named it for what animal physiologist Temple Grandin told him about how she felt. Suddenly, I had the terminology to express what I was really feeling. More on that later.

I got a boyfriend when I was just turning 15, and we were ultimately together about 10 years, even though he moved away after just three months of us dating. He was my first love, and we both learned a lot. I continued to trudge through high school. I discovered there was a school for training dog groomers in Chicago. At the time, grooming shop and kennel owners trained their kids to groom, and really, ultimately, I was shop trained and mentored by some amazing groomers, but during my last year of high school, I had enough credits to go to school just half a day so I went to the grooming school. Back then (this was 1971), every dog that came into a shop for grooming was a Poodle, Sometimes there’d be a Min Schnauzer or a Cocker. Owners of other breeds took them back to their breeders for grooming. MY early jobs after leaving home were with fanciers and hobby breeders who helped me hone my skills.  I think my parents might have been horrified I did this—but I never had to ask for money after I learned to groom dogs.  So—tell your kids to LEARN A SKILL. then, if they want to study art history, they can make a living. That said, borrowing more money for college than you know you can repay in a year is folly.

I think my parents were relieved, after the initial shock of my moving out a month after I turned 18, that I left and thought I could support myself. They might have been relieved, though, that I had not been admitted to any college I applied to because my grades were meh, and I knew I didn’t want to major in education. I was interested in Black Studies and Forestry, which they found laughable.

I moved in with my boyfriend and several other friends of his, The total rent for the apartment —2 bedrooms and a huge living room we turned into a bedroom, was $150 a month. This was on the East Side of Milwaukee. Craig was in college at UWM, majoring in philosophy. He didn’t tell his parents I had moved in with him, My parents called his parents (who lived in Kentucky) & that’s how they found out. I got a job right away. It wasn’t a great job, the ‘Mom & Pop’ I worked for barely could groom. But then, our roommate saw an ad in the paper for a dog groomer. I had to take 2 buses to get across town, to Capital Dr. & Appleton Ave, Jo-Kor’s Klippette. That whole situation was also an experience, but I learned so much from Joan Fredericksen, about grooming, managing time, and running a business. I will forever be in her debt.

We continued to live with roommates, and I wasn’t saving much, but I was able to budget. This was during first, Nixon, then Carter presidencies. Inflation was the worst that I ever remember. In any case, Craig was offered a job in Chicago. It took a long time for me to find a grooming job, but I actually typed letters and sent over 20 to grooming shops listed in the Chicago Yellow pages. By a stroke of luck, Jan Condurso’s boyfriend, who opened her shop in the morning for her (this was 810 N. Wabash, a few doors north of Chicago Av—which is now a huge DePaul U. building) called me and asked me to come in. I mostly bathed and patterned dogs, and Jan groomed an average of 20 dogs a day, which mostly booked the day before—Poodles mostly, but some Bedlington Terriers and a few Min. Schnauzers, and now her dogs were started when she got to the shop by noon. I was able to not just save money, but take my Afghan Hound, Aswan, to dog training classes.

Then, there was OPEC, Reagan was president with trickle-down economics, and I was piecing jobs together again By calling around to my old employers, I was able to get a job with Jocelyn Slatin, who bred Airedales and Soft-coated Wheaton Terriers. I  worked for her for about 2 years, and 95% of the dogs’ I groomed were terriers. Most of my clients had either bought a dog from her or had either shown their dogs or bought a dog from another hobby breeder.I would have stayed, but she planned to move to Arizona, and my father encouraged me to open my own business.

During this time, Craig & I decided to marry, He had decided to go back to school and become a labor lawyer (not sure how that worked out), and I showed him the real estate ads in the paper. I showed him that if we didn’t by a house soon, we’d be priced out of the neighborhood. He didn’t want to be a landlord. I told him we’d either pay a landlord or a bank, but we’d have to pay someone. MY parents really tried to dissuade me, My mother told me no insurance agent would insure in the neighborhood we chose: Lakeview. It wasn’t even a mixed-race neighborhood, just poor. Also, banks would not lend to single women. Now, well, let’s just say real estate appreciated over 1000% in value. This was a stressful time, because, at my father’s urging, I bought a business from an acquaintance (Reigning Cats & Dogs in Schaumburg, Illinois) that they had let deteriorate. I hoped, ultimately, we could buy a boarding kennel. My parents gave me the $5000 to buy it, and I paid them off monthly. It was 30 miles from where we lived.

Lots happened all at once, I discovered Craig was cheating, and I was under a lot of stress. I had a mental breakdown, and my friend, Romaine, worked in the shop until I got myself together. My mother died, and then Craig got an attitude because now he was going to be a lawyer. I didn’t want a divorce, but we were separated for about a year, and then, I got a statement for his student loans. I realized if we stayed married, I’d be responsible for those loans, so that was really all it took. I had saved money, but Craigs demanded a settlement because he felt he had worked on the house. My father was furious, but it was, again, pay a lawyer or pay him. Someone was going to get paid.

I was pretty devastated. The house was a small balloon frame house. I called it the ‘little pigs house’ because it was merely tarpaper over a frame, and just a space heater—a small stove, to heat it. It had a barely 400-foot building footprint. However, I was building equity.  I tell everyone to get $2000 together, buy anything, and start building equity. At this time, I didn’t even own a credit card.

In any case, I ended up selling the business (mostly because of the commute) and trying other things. I was a VISTA volunteer for Literacy Volunteers of Chicago, and I set up their ESL program. I groomed part-time because the stipend wasn’t really enough to live on. I had opened an IRA, but barely put $200 a year into it because I didn’t have the money. I really trusted my father’s advice and went with his agent, who turned out to be a shnook, but whatever. I also started working as a figure model for artists and photographers. I knew I’d have to hustle to get assignments, but I was doing ok. I had a boyfriend, Tony, who worked at the Field Museum. In fact, by this time it was the early 1980s, and I had taken his seminar series about ‘Animals in Human Perspective,” where I met many in the fledgling animal rights movement. I still believe most animal testing is wrong, and I certainly don’t trust PETA, but I became aware of the issues and met many friends. Then, Tony moved away.

I had been waiting until I found a guy to go with me to Africa, and realized if I kept waiting, I might never go. so I went. It changed my life. I took the CLEP exams and enrolled in college. I was interested in information technology, but there was a waitlist, so I decided on anthropology.

In 1987, I volunteered for the 8-week Crossroads Africa program and was able to spend that time in Kenya, improving my KiSwahili. When I returned, there were over 50 messages from real estate agents who wanted to sell my house. Long story short, I picked 1, she said “$125,000” on a house I had paid $24,000 for, and it sold in a week. I found a much better house with more room in Rogers Park and paid off the house a few months ago.  I could have paid it off  20 years ago, but I took a calculated risk on buying a dog grooming business that had a lot of potential, but never dreamed Bush II would allow the economy to be destroyed.

During this time, Gloria and a few of us others started our socially responsible investment club: Progressive Investment Group.’ Yes, we were PIG, and no broker would handle us because we didn’t have $100,000. This was before the internet,  around 1988, so we had to rely on what we read in the papers and magazines. I even went downtown a few times to check out ValuLine. We ended up doing ok, We would have been more ok if people hadn’t kept joining and cashing out, Our minimum investment per year was $200. We owned shares of the club. Yet, we kept getting people who felt they didn’t have $200 a year to spare.

I was really thinking of getting my Ph.D. in Anthropology, but 1 of my instructors suggested that I think carefully about this. At this time, I was going out with Jon, who was getting his Ph.D.  in mass communications. Many of my friends remember Jon. A very nice guy who couldn’t put a sentence together. He was shy. We had very little in common. He did tell me, though, that I should try to get an assistantship to grad school, because if they didn’t offer that, it meant they didn’t have faith in me. I was looking into Public Health(no money offered to domestic students) & Public Policy (at the U. of Chicago, they were really snotty). I had modeled for Ashish Sen,. His hobby was photography. He was a professor at the U. of Illinois, and he got me an interview at the Center for Urban Economic Development. My masters is in planning, My concentrations are community development and land use. They paid me at bout $500 a month, which, with a roommate, was enough to get by.

There is no money in community organizing, although I was very active in instituting community policing and school reform. It’s almost impossible to get a job in doing land use planning unless you have a background in architecture, finance, geography, or civil engineering. After I graduated, in June 1991, I took a job grooming, applied to Peace Corps, and they took me quickly. I was a town planner in Blantyre, Malawi.

During the time I was in the Peace Corps, Malawi was going through a lot of political change, as well as a drought. Peace Corps Volunteers are not supposed to be in politically sensitive positions, but the staff has no idea what that means. I stumbled over a bit of corruption, which resulted in several civil engineers not just losing their secure jobs, but their ‘side gigs’. One of them called Peace Corps and threatened me, and they sent me home. In retrospect, I was lucky: some Peace Corps Volunteers get murdered.

So, I was back in the USA. My mentor from grad school told me there were no jobs (end of Bush 1 years). Democrats straighten things out, and Republicans trash the economy again. They talk a good game of fiscal conservatism, and single-payer health care is too expensive….but they manage to overfund the military so that the military can afford to waste billions…and I saw how foreign aid is spent in Africa. I took a job with Women’s Self-Employment Project. I blogged about that. Then I went back to grooming dogs and was offered a job managing a resale store for a nonprofit. Another Peace Corps Volunteer had recently been hired and he wondered why the store wasn’t making money. I was there for almost a year, and discovered why. No need to go into it, The nonprofit no longer exists, but I’ve learned a lot about how nonprofits are ‘managed’. I was then hired by ‘The Ark’, another nonprofit with resale stores, and saw the same thing all over again. These places exist on their reputations for doing good work and ‘helping the poor’, but they could do so much more.

During all these years, I always had a roommate. I never liked living alone. Some were very good. Gloria went on to buy her own building. Some never got their acts together. Having a roommate helped pay utilities. Also, my tenants, for the most part, have been good. I’ve had my share of nightmares, but that’s life. The first home I bought, the property taxes weren’t even $500 a year. Now, I’ve lived in my home a little over 30 years, and the taxes hove around $7000—and are only this low because I challenge them every cycle. In theory, I can lock them in, but the court buildings are closed right now. COVID.

Kunihiro came to live with me 20 years ago. He was sent to me by a private language school that advertised in THE READER looking for homestays. I had been doing this for several summers.  He could understand English but barely speak it.  I had him watch Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune, and he continued to go to school.  When he spoke enough English, he told me he planned to get a job.  I learned (from mail addressed to Dr. N—) that he had a Ph.D.  He got the 1st job he applied for, and they paid his legal expenses for a green card.  They also helped him get a credit card.  He had told me he had planned to invest up to $100,000  in himself to get a job here.  He loved my dogs. He was the most reliable guy I ever met. I had been seeing a guy on and off for about 13 years.  It was never even ‘friends with benefits’ because the sex was meh and he was so unreliable. He told me he didn’t see a future with me, so I just stopped seeing him.

There is a saying in the US: every woman is one man away from a life of poverty. It’s true unless you inherited money or are part of the 1%. Too many people are influenced by marketing and culture. #retirement#singlewoman#RobynMichaels

Choices

Some people who disregard what I’ve written because it’s…smut. But is it?  When Ann Patchett wrote Truth and Beauty, about her relationship with the writer Lucy Grealy (who wrote ‘Autobiography of a Face’), she didn’t consider it controversial, but the truth.  Yet,  a bunch of protesters, who hadn’t actually read either book, demonstrated against Patchett being allowed to speak at Clemson University because she wrote about ‘the love between two women’. Yes, Patchett did write about the love she had for Lucy, and how Lucy had coped with so much physical pain and romantic rejection. Patchett even wrote about Lucy’s bad choices, including drugs and sexual promiscuity, but there is nothing salacious about Patchett’s book. That’s the problem when Christian men get hold of something & turn it into something else to discredit or debase women. The men remain credible, and the women have to defend themselves.  In any case, what I write is being judged by the larger Christian community.

I am going to defend my choices.  I became acquainted with an attractive man through a dating site.  He seems honest. We haven’t actually met. There are some things that aren’t quite right.  He’s Catholic, and as I’ve said many times, you can’t have it both ways.  Over the past week, he’s tried to find out more about me, and he has asked some interesting questions.  However, in a recent text chat, he mentioned me to his daughter and had her text me.   I just can’t imagine why a man would do that.  If I had kids, I wouldn’t have them meet anyone I didn’t know until I really knew them.

Our actual conversations haven’t been totally clear because of the audio quality of both our phones.   He now has Covid19, is very discouraged and not feeling well (but not bad enough off to be hospitalized).  I asked him what it was he actually did for a living. He lives in a very upscale community, so he must be paid well (he had also asked me if I invested).  He told me he sold mining and drilling equipment. When I asked him, he affirmed that yes, he sold fracking equipment. He was reluctant to explain how he justified helping greedy people ruin the global fresh water supplies just to make money. He said to me, “Don’t judge.”

  I am not rich, but I’ve been able to carve out economic security for myself while not having to compromise my values, for the most part. It’s been tough. A few times I took work for pay doing things I was not comfortable with, but I didn’t make a career out of compromising my values.  I worked for less than a week for a man who resold dogs from puppy mills. He lied to buyers that they were raised by families. Sure, the Amish are families—but make no mistake: puppies are a cash crop to them, like any other livestock. I just couldn’t do it. I am a purebred dog fancier. Ethical hobby breeders who love their dogs don’t sell puppies to be resold. They want to meet the people who say they want puppies.

I’ve worked for veterinarians who lied about how much playtime day boarding dogs got, and how much time dogs spent in cages, especially overnight in their own filth because they didn’t want to pay an overnight person to let the dogs out. I’ve even worked for one who told people he would euthanize a dog, and kept it as a blood donor! I’ve worked for dog daycare owners who didn’t train their staff and allowed dogs to be bullied and harassed, or isolated with no playtime. People whose friends found dogs that were lost, and, instead of searching for the owner, or seeing if the dog was chipped, kept the dog for themselves or resold it.

I’ve groomed dogs for ‘no-kill’ dog rescues that lied about dogs being good with kids, or housebroken.

Briefly, I sold timeshares for a company until I learned that, because they were resellers, most of the buyers had a terrible time booking the weeks they had paid for.

I have many Catholic friends. Most have lapsed.  They lapse for the same reasons I   address in my writing:  a religion that has managed to sustain itself by protecting leaders—and that’s what the church hierarchy is—who have acted for their own best interests, while not just misleading followers, but protecting stronger people who have exploited their flocks.  It’s 1 thing to be culturally Catholic, and another to continue to support these hypocritical people because it’s comfortable and you think it benefits yourself.

I wondered for a long time if I was really out of the mainstream. Having these questions led me to study cultural anthropology. I had a unique instructor who assigned books written by Africans, and that’s where I discovered Chinua Achebe’s books, particularly Things Fall Apart.

So now, I am being confronted, and that is the term, by potential lovers who haven’t ever addressed that they’re characterizing themselves as Catholic. I’ve had the conversation with a few Christians who have denied that this is how it is—but this is how it appears; once you have admitted that you are not perfect, you can make the wrong choice. Then, you ask Jesus for forgiveness, and you can get into Heaven. You can attain salvation even though you knew what the right choice was but chose to do the wrong thing anyway.

Having been an environmentalist…evolving from being a teenaged tree hugger into someone who understood the scientific ramifications of protecting or stewarding the natural environment (or not), I try to act on what I believe.  I helped found one of the first community-based recycling centers in the country. I have lived in places where getting fresh water was a daily struggle. I don’t think I could make the wrong choice and then ask a deity to forgive me. I have no savior. Nobody would get me into their heaven. I could not live with a wrong choice to just make money. This is what Trump and the GOP are doing now.

Yet, that is what I am being confronted with. I am being asked to overlook or discard the fact that a potential lover helps people poison the environment. Does he think there is an ‘away’? That what he does two miles down the road, or on another continent, won’t affect him and his children? I’m waiting for an answer. but, for now, I have to step back. I can’t be giving (or receiving) sexual pleasure from a man who does this, and that was the whole point of trying to get to know him. I am very disappointed. Such is life.

Day 20 + Covid19

Dali’s muse: Gala

Day 20Today is Easter. I’m, hoping all the people who think social isolation is a waste of time & that if God wants them, it is their time—-go to church. Socialize with each other, and your families. Word is that there is a 14 day incubation period. So….. by the end of the month, whoever doubts the level of contagion will be infected, and either be very sick, die, or a carrier.

We have to start testing very soon. We can’t continue this way. Sure, we will probably all still have to be wearing masks for the foreseeable future, but we have to get back to work.

Everyone is feeling stressed and anxious. I decided I was willing to play the odds and go meet my Muse in his house out in corn country. We’ve both been asymptomatic, both been taking precautions, but when it came to actually meeting, me saying, “Ok, I will come to you and get this party started,” he got a pang of conscience and said he didn’t want to risk getting me sick.  I didn’t think he had it in him.  As things look, it will be the end of May before we can actually meet.  I would place a money bet.

This whole situation is a test of integrity, but also ingenuity. Ramadan starts in about 10 days. I have no idea how he addresses reflection to himself, but I am getting a better idea of how he really is. Just from what I can tell, he has Asperger’s. I guess it takes one to know one. He is very rigid in how he conducts his life. I am a creature of habit myself. It’s just that over the years, I’ve learned to pick my battles. so…

Today has never been a holiday for me. My most memorable Easter was almost 30 years ago, camping near Palombe (Malawi) with the VSO, and how they brought 2 cases of beer, meat, white bread, and white potatoes for a camping dinner and none of them had ever cooked over a fire. Then, it started raining at around 5:a.m.

Yesterday, Day 19, I ‘baked’ a little. Since I had mashed potato flakes and the other ingredients, I made mashed potato cookies. Ingredients include shredded coconut, so it’s like a rich macaroon.  Those came out well, but the ‘cheese straws” using filo dough did not come out.  The recipe steps were too many, the ingredients were way too few—  definitely needed more whipped eggs.  So I made dinner tonight and Kunihiro said it was better than last night, “those bread things with too much salt.”

I had no idea what he was talking about because I had made bulgar the day before that (Thursday?  Friday?), but I opened the cookie box forgetting I had put some of these things in the box, which came out more like fried papadum.  Then, I knew what he was talking about.   Are you, too, trying out all those recipes you never got around to?  Interesting how you can then discard them so quickly.

And then there’s my Muse, who is clearly overwhelmed and stressed because of course, his business has been busy as ever, and he’s gotten more customers but doesn’t have the assistance, and I know that neither of us wants a long-distance relationship. Whatever would be the point of that?  This isn’t ‘love’, this is an assignation.  Look it up—you can Google word definitions,.  But that’s what it is.  I am under no illusions, so here’s a story I heard long ago which always reminds me to bargain for what I want:  This woman is at a bar,  and a man comes in. He sees her and is interested.  He goes to her and introduces himself and after a few banal pleasantries, he asks her, “Would you sleep with me for a million dollars?”  She laughs and responds, “Sure!  Let’s go!”  But the guy then responds, “Well, would you sleep with me for $10?”  The woman becomes irate and she responds, “No!  What do you think I am?”  He says to her, “We know what you are, we’re just haggling over the price.”

Yes, I know what I am, I’m just haggling over the price. Tell me, many of you actually know me:  where am I going to find a hot young man at my age?  Someone who doesn’t have a zillion pounds of baggage. A healthy guy who is honest about what he wants.  A guy who understands responsibility.  A guy who can support himself.  A hot guy.

Day 21.  I’ve totally wasted today.  I didn’t get out of bed until almost  8,  and then I made a pot of steel-cut oatmeal that should last at least a few days. I  read the paper, took the dogs out for a decent walk, watched a couple of videos on Rudolph Nureyev, the ballet dancer, and now I really have to get back to marketing my book.  Wasted way too much time on Muhammad’s website looking at some of the videos of him.  Last night we spent an hour talking.  He said he wished we lived closer. That was something I addressed first when he contacted me.  I can tell by talking to him we are living in very separate realities. He said he can’t believe I want to give him a blow job. I won’t disabuse him of that until I actually see him. I just told him I would definitely teach him what I want, and my God I sure will.  He’s told me some of his fantasies, and he’s really not too far out there.  I won’t reveal them here (What I will do is ultimately write about them for pay). But he thinks like a guy, and  I’ll just have to work through that.  This is a guy who doesn’t eat fruits or vegetables.  That’s immature.  If I do only 1 thing for him besides giving him a blow job—-apparently the only thing missing from his life, I hope I can introduce healthy food into his diet. Not planning on changing him, but I hope to scare the living daylights out of him. The reason men over 45 need Viagra is their veins are clogged by a life of red meat-eating.

Day 22  half the day is gone. I am going to do marketing this afternoon.  I  wasted time listening to a free webinar on how to find the man of your dreams via dating, put on by a ‘Life coach”.    Finding love is the luck of the draw.  She made some good points, but anyone with half a brain could figure this out.  The last date I went on, about 2 months ago,  I went on because the guy lived nearby, his politics were progressive, he didn’t drink or smoke…and that was all we had in common.  He was my age and had NOTHING. He didn’t have credit cards because he had apparently abused his credit.  He did auto bodywork, and he lived from hand to mouth.  The reason I continue to pursue the Muse is that he owns a business (not one I would have ever even considered going into—selling tobacco produces), he owns his own house, doesn’t smoke or drink, and he knows what he wants.  Of course, actually meeting is probably weeks off. I know we won’t get together before Ramadan.

Anyways, I  went & did major shopping at Aldi’s this morning, because we were out of a lot of stuff:  olive oil, some frozen food, hummus,  guacamole, raisin bran.

I had a great discussion with my fellow groomer, Lee Chen last night.  Of course, her shop is closed, and she isn’t sure  she will reopen.  But someone saw her shop door open and called to see if she was really open. No, she was just cleaning everything with bleach & wanted t to dissipate it & not breathe it. Ok, to actual work now!

Days 23 & 24….Yesterday I spent several hours contacting dog clubs about my book—- Polyandress, and about their broken links to their parent clubs.  So many dog clubs have websites with no way to click a link to contact them. What’s the point of that?  It was tedious.  I also started editing some short stories that I hope to submit to publications, but they need so much work crafting.  My Muse suggested that we get together tomorrow.  He wants to find out if we really have actual physical chemistry. So do I.  I still can’t believe he wants a woman my age but I have nothing to lose.  Late yesterday my roommate told me he was going in to work. Since  My Muse had agreed to Friday, I  texted,  and in passing said Kunihiro was going to work.  So My Muse texted back that he could come and see me.  Why we can’t have a vocal conversation is beyond me at this point, but  I texted back that I have to be out of the house by 1, and will be busy until at least 8 I(a doctor’s appointment and  2 webinars), but if he arrived by 10 we’d have several hours.  He texted back that he was not driving in the morning. I assumed that was partly because of morning inbound traffic, but no, he was taking the day off & wanted to sleep in.  But since I assumed it was morning traffic, I responded, ‘But you want me to deal afternoon traffic.” So he texted back that he didn’t know I had planned for today, and let’s do Saturday instead, and that it was his mission to fulfill my fantasy Saturday.  I, again, asked him to please not shave anything, and he texted back about my ‘demands’. Joking, but still.  I woke up around 1, feeling so intently physical as though we had made love.  I was trembling.  I rarely have sex dreams. It’s the anticipation.  This is why we  have agreed to play the odds, but that’s what he said about Easter, and then he said he’d feel bad if I got sick.  All bets are off.  We haven’t gotten sick yet, it’s just him and me.

That addressed, my stepmother called and said my father was in the hospital. His breathing was labored.  This is old age and complications. Since the quarantine started, he’s been confined to his room at the nursing home, as have been all residents.  Like prison, to avoid transmission.  He is confined also to a wheelchair.  His circulation is bad due to inactivity as well as diabetes. We all die of something.  Nobody just dies.  But he’s not dead yet.  Also talked to my sister. Amazingly, they sold their house the first day it was on the market and have put a deposit on a home in Tennessee.  I’m sure life will be better—and cheaper, for her down there. The house showed amazingly well considering the rooms are generally small and the house is a bit dark, the layout is sort of not useful.  No matter.  My father knows he will probably never see my sister ever again.

 

Mental Illness is not a Moral Failing

Recently, I’ve been pursued by an anonymous bully.  I have an inkling of who he is, but not where.  Hell, in the modern world, does it matter where he is?  He’s crafty.  He doesn’t have the balls to  call me directly…he calls my  employer and harasses office staff.  He’s done this to me several times, and I’ve been fired for it.  Don’t tell me what is legal or illegal. Women are fearful of men, and will acquiesce.

This guy has posted that I am crazy and mentally ill. His point?  That he is better than me?  Stronger?  More intelligence?  Not sure what his point is.  I think he is probably more mentally ill than I am, but nothing we can do about it.

Being mentally ill doesn’t mean you can’t think. Not all mental illness is schizophrenia or dementia.  I  was taking medication for depression at one time, and a friend said to me, “You know, you might have to take that for the rest of your life.” And I responded, “If I were diabetic, would you say the same thing to me?”

People clearly don’t understand mental illness. Wouldn’t YOU be mentally ill if someone you didn’t know was attacking you, calling your boss telling them to fire you, and  you didn’t know why?  Wouldn’t that cause you stress? Well, stress is also mental illness.

But..it is not a moral failing.   A moral failing is taking an action that you know affects your community in a negative way—and doing it on purpose.  Finding a dog, knowing that someone lost it, and not attempting to find the owner, but deciding you will be a better judge of what a good home is.

Rescuing a dog from an animal shelter and finding out it is a biter, and knowing what it will take to make that dog a pet and not doing what needs to be done, because you are either too lazy or want to spend the money on other things…is a moral failing.   Keeping that dog confined for months—or years, because you aren’t killing it…but not making sure that dog isn’t stressed out every day he lives…is a moral failing.

Breeding a dog that you know had  genetic ‘defects’ that not only affect its quality of life, but will cost a lot of money, when you  don’t have to breed that dog…is a moral failing.

Denying that any of this is important, and running a business that you promote as humane…is a moral failing.

I had written all this months ago, and because I work  in the pet industry, I encounter a lot  of this.  Just recently, many women have come forward and spoken out about being harassed by men.  it’s not all sexual harassment, you see, but it is still all about bullying women.

Are all experiences better shared?

I am not the most sociable person, but for a long time, If I wanted to do something, I  often asked a friend to join me.  More and more, I  feel it is better to  just do what I want to do—alone.

My friend Mimi has a personality ‘thing’ where she is annoyed by people making superfluous noise.  Noises like  slurping the end of a drink through a straw, or crinkling a candy wrapper.  Especially in a movie theatre.  She makes more  noise complaining about these people than the people actually make.  It’s irritating. It’s also irritating trying to go anywhere with her because she is compelled to  schmooze with  absolutely any stranger. She thinks  that by ‘networking’ this way  that she will ultimately get more business.  She doesn’t, but this is how she is. so, we can’t get anywhere in a timely fashion, because she is always stopping to talk and joke.

My friend Patty is very interesting, and has a lot of interests, and she can be very funny, but she also has  two annoying habits;  she will  agonize over buying something, buy it, and immediately regret the purchase.  Also, she can’t have a good time without alcohol.  I didn’t realize this until I traveled with her. I bought a bottle of local liqueur as a souvenir, and she drank it without asking.  Oh sure, she promised to replace it, and didn’t. When she drinks, she can be nasty and confrontational.

Then there is Lena.   She is always complaining about my car.  It is a mess. I often have my dogs in the car.   Also, Lena likes to have a window open.  My last car was in an accident, and the windows would not always close, so I didn’t open them. The sun roof was not good enough for her.  She’s like a dog—who wants to stick her face out the window.  Always complaining, but  she doesn’t drive and was getting a free ride. We both like art, but we can’t go to an art fair together, because Lena has to stop and peruse everything—even though she is not going to buy.  This is how her Asperger’s is manifested.

Kate is always late, but insists on  picking me up and driving…then really not knowing how to get where we are going.  Also, even if we discuss the plan before hand, if we go to a movie, she always wants to spend more money…by either going out to eat or shopping  for stuff she really doesn’t need.  I had to stop doing anything with her that wasn’t at my house or her house.

the interesting thing is…..these women, while pet lovers, don’t share my interests in dogs, or in Africana.  Those people who do shave my interests, don’t live close enough by for me to develop a  ‘social intimacy’ with. so, will all our friends in the future be on Facebook or other social media?  I wonder.

 

Focus: Getting the Dog’s Attention

Bebop on Santa’s lap, with Dash

I see dogs with behavior problems most days of the week.  Pet dogs. Dogs that people have gotten as pets with  no plan  or strategy  to get the dog  ‘trained’.  I know the reason this happens is that  dog owners  not only get   wrong or incomplete  information from watching TV, but from the ‘experts’ who have never trained a dog, but who speak with authority, and tell these dog owners what to do.

This is more baffling and irritating (to me) because now, with the internet, you can find all sorts of good information. So, I guess people are lazy and stupid.  I can’t think of any other   explanation for dog owners allowing their dogs to be out of control.

One of my fellow dog groomers told me about a client of hers who just got a puppy.  It’s an Australian Cattle Dog puppy, and  it’s ‘already biting’ so they just keep it in the crate.  She tells me the  owners got the pup from a  Cattle Dog rescue. Really?  A puppy…and it’s already in rescue? Doesn’t that tell you that  too many people are breeding Cattle Dogs, and there are  not enough good homes?

OK, whatever.  I think this  family was expecting a Shih Tzu or Maltese pup, not a working dog, bred for generations to  chase and bite the heels of  sheep and cows.  In my last post about dog training,  I addressed spending a few minutes at a time  shaping the behavior of the dog to get the results you want.

I  offered to help the  family teach the dog to focus, and teach them how to get the dog’s attention, so they can start undoing  what  they’ve already ‘taught’ the pup, and start over….  since my co-worker is the actual contact, we’ll see how this goes…but this is what I am going to tell you all who  got pups under  six months old who are biters:

Most puppies that bite are reacting to something they fear, and are using their instincts to stop what (or who) is causing them to fear;

Or, they were bred to  bite first (react) and if you are planning on keeping this dog as a pet, you have to get his attention;

It’s up to you to make sure the  pup is getting enough exercise, enough rest, and a nutritious diet.  There ar no excuses.  if you are making excuses.  Admit you made a mistake and return the pup.  I shouldn’t have to say this, but don’t go looking for another home for the dog—return it to the people who sold or gave you the pup. It is THEIR RESPONSIBILITY.

After exercizing the pup, have the dog sit, touch his temple with your finger then immediately touch your temple, causing the pup to make eye contact. Say, ‘watch me.’ IMMEDIATELY GIVE THE PUP A TREAT (the size of a cheerio.  Click with your tongue as you do this (unless you  have become very adept with a clicker). Do this several times a day.]

Start walking the dog on a leash—-with a martingale collar. NO HARNESSES. harnesses were designed so a dog can pull you, and you don’t want that.  A Martingale collar won’t choke your pup, but will restrain it.  Call  grooming shops, veterinarians, even your park district, to find out who runs dog training classes, and what they teach. You might not be the best dog trainer in the world, but the whole point of doing dog training is  bonding with your dog, and starting to communicate with and understand each other.There are also many  excellent dog training books available.  I like, “Good Owners, Great Dogs,” by Kilcommon & Wilson.

In any case, we’ve learned a lot about dog training and how dogs learn in the last several decades.  It’s all kind, and all positive.  If you don’t want to communicate with a dog, why did you get a dog?

 

Movie Review:Love And Mercy—Foxes Minding the Henhouse

I’m not much of an audiophile.  there is so much noise in my life, I generally listen to NPR on the radio, and go for jazz.  However, I still enjoy the rock of my youth.  On my desert island playlist is Good Vibrations….  I’ll say that straight off.  Next thing I’ll say  is that I have been mentally  ill on and off. Mostly depression, but the fact is that I have Asperger’s Syndrome, and I  just  don’t fit anywhere.  I’m on the Wrong Planet.

Because I love Beach Boys music, and so many people told me they enjoyed this movie, I had to see it.  It’s a visually beautiful movie, taking place in southern California, and a story well scripted and edited.  The music is great, of course.   Paul Dano and John Cusack both  do  an excellent job of playing Brian Wilson young and old, in all his turmoil.

I don’t  think that most of us who enjoy Beach Boys music realized  Brian Wilson arranged so many of the hits we love.  He really is a genius.  However,  it’s hard to be an artist. It appears that his fellow band members had a different idea of what they wanted to do.  Coupled  with an abusive  father, and whatever stresses cause mental illness, he was really tortured for a very long time…  Psychotherapist Eugene Landy, who  somehow got  guardianship of  Wilson, also abused him more.

We in America are so trusting of care providers. We just assume they are altruistic and have your interests at heart.    I saw several psychiatrists and psychologists  as an adolescent.  They made a lot of money off my parents and really did no more than assure me I was not crazy.  When I was starting my college career, I was thinking of majoring in psychology (because I wanted some insight into how  people make decisions).  I had the  amazing luck to  get a ‘self-taught’ intro to psychology course  with a textbook written by James V. McConnell :  “Understanding Human Behavior” (http://www.nytimes.com/1990/04/12/obituaries/james-mcconnell-psychology-teacher-and-researcher-64.html), the genius (no joke—he got a MacArthur grant) worm biologist, who addressed the practice of psychology on humans.  He said, in a nutshell, that 1/3 of people who go to  psychologists/psychiatrists for  talk therapy get better, 1/3 stay the same, and 1/3 get worse.  It’s  essentially the dynamic between the patient and the  doctor.

Brian Wilson had the extreme misfortune to come under the control of Landy, who alienated him from his family even  further, and it was just by a stroke of luck that he met Melinda Ledbetter.  She had the integrity to  try to disentangle him.  Of course, this could have gone either way.

Mental illness is  sort of like diabetes in that  if you take care of yourself. are a bit introspective,  and avoid stress, you can  function in the  world…but it never really goes away.  And what is it? A chemical imbalance?  Thanks to Temple Grandin,  there is a lot less  ambiguity to  human psychology than there used to be.  However, the foxes are still in charge and , coupled with lawyers, they tend to keep us oddballs suppressed.
This is a sad story with a happy ending, and it  does a lot to show that not everyone who is mentally ill is schizophrenic.

Book Review: Look Me in te Eye, by John Elder Robison

There was an old joke that  people used to tell, about a couple who had a child, and the child never learned to talk. The  parents asked the doctor, and the doctor said he’ll talk when he was ready.  One day, during dinner, the child said “The soup is too salty.”  The parents were overjoyed that the child talked, and asked him why he didn’t talk, and the child said, “Things were fine until now.”  Funny?

Not if you are the parent of a child with autism or Aspergers.  Thanks to Temple Grandin, there is more publicity about  the autism spectrum.  Aspergians (like me, & the author of this book) are high functioning, and this is not a disease.  It is a personality type.

I learned about  this about  9 years ago, when I read Temple Grandin’s Thinking in Pictures.  I  then asked several clients who were psychologists, and they laughed and said, “Yep, this is you.”

A ‘fellow Aspergian’ gave me this book. The author happens to be the brother of Augusten Burroughs, who wrote the classic, Running With Scissors.   Their parents had serious mental problems, adding to their  complications.   Robison is a lucid writer, and he goes into  the cogent details of why he & Augusten have different surnames, and  how he coped with being different.  He was not ‘diagnosed’ until he was an adult.  Then, suddenly,  all the troubles he had fitting in(to society on The Wrong Planet) fell into place, and he was able to start dealing with people.

He’s had a remarkably  interesting life, being a road engineer for KISS, inventing games for Mattel, and finding his way.

If you  know someone who seems very intelligent, but has no social skills,  get this book.  It was just published in 2007 and has been through several printings. I am sure you can get it on Amazon if your local bookstore can’t order it.