Tag Archives: relationships

A Corner of My Mind

I haven’t written in my blog for a while. I had a writing project to finish and then other projects to work on. My mind was taken up by working out how we can help the 600 furloughed people on the resort property we live on in Hawaii. When the hotel and the rest of the facilities closed, people became unemployed. Most still are. I’m on a board that normally works to help the employees with medical needs and by giving scholarships. Since March, we’ve twice given out gift cards to Target, Costco and grocery stores to our employees.

We came to Hawaii on December 8, planning on returning to California on April 20. Because of Covid-19, we are still here.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining. It is a beautiful place to ride out the pandemic. We are fairly safe here although today 55 new cases were reported–the most ever. I know that might not seem like many compared to the surges in other places. But, we are a small place with minimum medical facilities. People are not good about social distancing–maybe people are complacent because they think they are safe in the islands. Some believe it’s nothing more than the flu. Some believe it could never happen to them so they have family gatherings and parties.

If I ever get down about not seeing my kids and grandkids and our dog, I tell myself to get over it. We are so fortunate that I can only be grateful. (I tell myself five things I am grateful for every night. It helps me fall asleep–sometimes.)

My husband and I are staying close to home. I don’t cook every night–maybe four times a week. He’s a grazer and doesn’t want to have to sit down to a meal–and I don’t want to set the table every night either! When our grandkids were here for seven weeks, we did sit down together for dinner every night–it was a ritual we needed.

My relationship with my husband is different now. We spend much of the day in the same space, which can lead to getting on each other’s nerves. The television is a bone of contention–he plays his war movies way too loud. I’m jumpy enough without hearing shooting and shouting all day long. He gets annoyed when I ask him to turn it down or play the sound through his hearing aids. Isn’t that what they are for? On the other hand, we watch more television together than we ever have. We enjoy that time very much–enjoy each other during that time.

When I look at pictures of the Corona Virus from under a microscope, I’m struck by how pretty it looks. How can something so virulent look so nice?

Writing Do, Living Don’t

I always tell my writing classes that their stories need to be full of conflict and drama. “You want your life to run smoothly, but your story has to be full of hurdles and problems,” I say. Now I know first hand how true that is.

Right before surgery Selfie.

Right before surgery Selfie.


After my recent knee surgery, I felt great—even the crutches weren’t that difficult to use. It was a boring story—the kind you want to live. But then conflict and drama came in the door with the houseguests my husband had invited to stay.

The houseguests are wonderful people—it’s just that it’s difficult to be a hostess on crutches. My husband was a great host, though. He showed them around—took them to Malibu, took them boating, took them to breakfast, lunch and dinner. They’d leave at 9:00 and be gone for most of the day. My husband told them that I wanted to be alone. (Really? Someone on crutches really wanted to be left alone on the second floor of a house?)

Then I got a charley horse in my calf. When I called the doctor, the PA insisted I go to the hospital for an ultrasound. She thought I was probably overdoing, which would cause the leg to cramp up, but she wanted to make sure there wasn’t a blood clot. Blood clot? Blood clot! Blood clots travel to the lungs. They travel to the brain. Oh my God! I could die! But I was fine there, by myself, on crutches on the second floor. Sure I was.

I was to be at the hospital at 2:00. I called my husband. No answer. I called our houseguests. No answer. I guess they were out of cell range as they made their way to Malibu. My husband called at 12:30 to ask what kind of fish I wanted with my fish and chips. Really? Was I hungry at all? But especially for fried foods?

I have to admit I was angry. But then I told myself that the anger would not help my blood flow, which could affect my clot, existent or not. I did a 15-minute meditation, which was very helpful. My husband got back at 1:30. By then, I was reaching for the phone to call my son or daughter-in-law or a cab.

We got to the hospital on time. I did a silent meditation in the car, ignoring the Formula One race my husband was driving on the freeway. Once there, he left me off to go park the car. It was a long haul on my crutches from the sidewalk to the Information desk. Four people offered me encouragement as I gimped along.


“Slow and steady wins the race,” one man said as he sprinted around me.

I vowed, then and there, to be kinder to people on crutches or using a cane.

I’d almost made it to the desk when my husband approached me from behind with a wheel chair.

“Get in,” he ordered.

I maneuvered into a sitting position, but didn’t know what to do with the crutches. I finally put them in my lap and my husband took off at what seemed like warp speed. He did a 360 around the Information desk and then zeroed in on the Admissions office. We took off towards it, me wondering if I were going to get motion sickness. The doorway was narrow and at the rate of speed we were doing, it would have been a miracle if we didn’t crash. I wanted to get down on my good knee to say a prayer when he slowed down enough to navigate through the door.


The ultrasound went fine and when we left the hospital, my husband wheeled me this time to the curb. It was terrifying to be totally under his power. “Stay there,” he said and took off at a run.  I realized he’d left me on a decline as the chair began to roll toward the street. I called out to him, but he was gone. I started to put my foot out to stop the chair, but then realized this could compromise my knee. I fiddled desperately with levers until I found the brake. My husband didn’t know why I had sweat on my brow when he returned.

The houseguests left the next day. By then I had a terrible headache and was kind of achy all over. No wonder, you might think. But it turned out to be the beginnings of the stomach flu. It was a terrible stomach flu–TMI to tell you the details, but I was sicker than a dog. The only silver lining is that I am closer to my goal weight than I have been for 10 years. Today I graduated to scrambled eggs and toast. So far, all seems well in that department.

Only one other mishap to report: The earthquake Monday set off our alarm. I jumped out of bed, forgetting about my knee. The alarm would not shut off so I hobbled quickly down the stairs to the main box. The dog was doing wheelies by then, so I opened the front door to let him out. A man was there in a tree, trimming it. Really? Branches littered our lawn where Bogey makes his daily offerings. He wasn’t going near it so, of course, I had to take him for a walk. Just a short one. Nurse Ratched wasn’t there—he was playing golf.

An hour later, my knee blew up to the size of a grapefruit. No exaggeration. I go to worse case scenario in these situations. Really? You say? You hadn’t noticed. But with ice and elevation it calmed down.

Now my stitches are out and I’m on the road to recovery! Yay! The dramatic arc is complete.


In Yoga Class

I arrived at yoga class feeling edgy. I’d walked there along the path, which bordered the ocean. The waters were usually calm, but yesterday the waves churned blackened seawater. I’d passed a bulldozer moving sand as it built up a berm on the beach. Clearly there were preparations underway to protect the shoreline.


But the approaching storm was only a parallel to my internal turmoil. I’d been talking on my phone as I walked. I should have been a better listener, but instead my own feelings about the situation we were discussing had leaked out. Instead of being a help, I’d piled onto the agitation.

I couldn’t settle to the class. Usually I can attune myself rapidly but not yesterday. I went through the motions but I wasn’t really there. When one of the women pointed out a rainbow on the horizon, I couldn’t even see it. As the minutes passed, I played the conversation over and over in my head, wishing I’d not spoken off the top of my head.

Finally, I began to calm and my senses took over. At about the same time, the rainbow became more visible, and began to spread across the ocean. Usually I get a sensory Ping with these marvels of nature. I searched my mind for a meaning behind the vibrant arc of colors, but I felt nothing. Then I saw a whale breach, its body totally out of the water.


The awesome sight of the huge mammal doing what it’s natural for it to do gave me insight into my own heart. I didn’t have to delve too far into the metaphor file to gain some understanding that I’m but a grain of sand on this planet. My perspective returned as I witnessed the on-going and powerful forces of Nature. And I saw being played out in front of me, the reminder that no matter how much we humans think we control what is around us, we’re mistaken. We can prepare ourselves, yet the best laid plans often go awry.

As I walked back home, the skies opened and I was drenched before I reached my walkway. With my perspective still in tact, I didn’t fret. I knew that this is what can happen even in a well ordered life. And I knew shelter was close— I’d be dry and warm before too long.

Today dawned sunny and calm, but the aftermath of the storm lingers. Huge waves are pounding the shore. More preparations have been made to limit the possible destructive force. Sandbags are stored on the walkway, ready to use if necessary. That is what we human beings do. We get ready and we do our best.

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