Prayer and the charging rhino

I've made notes for half a dozen posts -- probably more.  I might even write a couple of them one day.  But this will be quick.

I saw this article the other day:  http://www.independent.com/news/2014/sep/24/pray-tell-hocus-pocus-happy-thoughts/

And so I wrote the author a fan e-mail:
__________

Dear Ms. Roshell,

First, I'm sorry that someone you loved had to go through a Year of Intolerable Shit.  I'm sorry that in the end nothing worked.  You don't need some idiot stranger to tell you how bad it is for all that to happen, but I recognize that it's really, really bad.

All that, though, is a prologue to saying, Thank you for your article "The Hocus Pocus of Happy Thoughts."  In the midst of Intolerable Shit you say something important about prayer, and you say it well.

Or rather, you say two different things – and that is part of what makes your article so good.  On the one hand, yes, there is the side of the discussion that involves a certain kind of … let's call it metaphysical reasoning, which gets murkier the closer you look at it for exactly the reasons you identify.  What good does prayer do?  Isn't it even a little insulting?  Or is there an angle you can choose from which it doesn't look so bad after all?  And so on …. 

It is true that a lot of ink has been spilled by a lot of people trying to answer these questions, and it's no surprise that some of those writers say interesting things of their own.  Fine, whatever – you're not trying to write a treatise or cover the literature.  That's not the point right now.  And the theoretical objections you make are sound ones that have to be answered by anybody who encourages others to pray.

What is particularly good about your article is that you also recognize the emotional side of the question which is more or less impervious to metaphysical quibbling – the side that recognizes "This may make no sense, but I'm hurting too much to care."  The side that says, finally, "I could do nothing more, and it felt like a betrayal to do anything less."  That's exactly right and perfectly said.  I can't read it without tearing up … just a bit.

There's a puzzle here.  It's important but I don't pretend to understand it.  Thank you for an article that is open to the puzzle, accepts it for what it is, and doesn't try to force it into some tidy, Procrustean solution.

I'm still really sorry that nothing worked.

 

Best regards,

Hosea Tanatu

Volunteer

That was fun!

 

It's Sunday night and I just got home from a two-hour stint at a local charity.  I had called up and offered to volunteer one evening a week, and tonight was my first night.

 

More precisely, it is a home-style setting where the homeless and terminally ill can come to die.  It was originally set up back in the 1980's to serve those dying from HIV; but as that diagnosis became more manageable and less often lethal, they expanded their charter to other conditions that kill people.  I'm not quite sure the exact parameters, but I think they may include old age on that list, if there's reason to believe you have only a few more weeks.

 

How could this be fun?  Well, they create a home-like environment because it is more comfortable for the guests.  That means, among other things, serving dinner around a common table every night at 6:00.  And they ask for volunteers to help with dinner: preparing it, serving it, eating it (because that means joining the guests communally in a cheerful way), and then cleaning up afterwards.

 

I read about them a few weeks ago in the local paper; then I looked them up online; and when I got to the part where they ask for volunteers to help with dinner, I thought, "Hell, I can do that!"

 

Because of course, in many ways this call is perfect for me.  If I were going to volunteer to do anything, what could be better?  You already know how strongly I believe in what you could call "the spirituality of the dinner table" – heaven knows I wrote enough about it when Wife and I and the boys all lived together.  The kitchen and the dining room are as close as anything to my natural habitat.  And these days, with the boys both back in school, I have no-one else to cook or clean up for.  So it seems like an obvious match.

 

Or at any rate, it's an obvious match given the premise that I'm going to volunteer to do something charitable.  Why am I doing that?

 

It's hard for me to be sure.  But for a while now I've been trying to map out a new life for myself.  A year ago I spent a lot of time going to artistic events – theater, music, receptions, lectures – and it was fun but I found myself getting tired and wanting to sit home quietly more and more.  So yes, I wanted more art to be part of my life but it couldn't make up the whole of it.  Then there was meditation, which yes I am still doing most every day; but some people make the dharma their whole lives, and I don't really feel myself wanting to do that either.  There was the relationship with Debbie; but that's over and I don't want another romantic relationship right now.  What then?  Well actually I have been thinking about volunteering at something in the background all this while.  I don't suppose I can give a strong reason Why except … hell, why not?  If I can do some good without doing harm, and maybe get off my ass and out into the world once in a while, isn't that a win all around?  Also, I kept seeing that people I love and admire – Debbie and my relatives out of state, to name a few – have a lot more social involvement than I do and it seems to be a good thing.  But it was hard for me to put any kind of shape on this inchoate imagining.  There are a lot of charities out there, and I didn't have a strong prior commitment to one over another.  Some people might use this as a trigger to launch themselves into the world of non-profits, talking to everyone they know in order to learn a lot more … but those would be people who are nowhere near as shy as I am, not to mention a good bit less lazy.

 

And so it sat with my imagining that maybe volunteering would be A Good Thing To Do, but having no idea nor motivation for how to do it … until I saw a website asking for people to help with dinner.  And I figured, If ever there were going to be a volunteer opportunity specifically written for me – this is it.  Time to pick up the phone.

 

So I called them on Friday.  They called me back today (Sunday) saying that they have volunteers during the week but they have nobody on Saturdays and they have someone who shows up only intermittently on Sundays.  They also try to schedule volunteers for only one day a week.  So I asked them to put me down for Saturdays, but how about if I came over this evening to get a look round and maybe pitch in?  Sounds great.  See you then.

 

So I did.  They started me with simple stuff: set the table, take out the trash.  Then they had me de-bone a turkey (left over from some previous dinner) … which was great until I was nearly done and cut my finger.  It wouldn't stop bleeding, so finally the cook put an antibiotic cream on it and wrapped it in a couple of hefty bandages.  Then he put me to sorting pinto beans, where I couldn't hurt myself.

 

There were only two guests at dinner (plus one who ate in her room), along with the two residential assistants and me.  The conversation turned to cooking, so I told a couple of funny stories at my own expense about failed experiments I had tried in the kitchen.  It was pleasant all around.  After we ate, the residential assistants wouldn't let me wash dishes because the water would make my bandages come off; so I cleared the table and put things away; then before I could leave one of them filled a bag with organic produce that had been donated to the house, sending me home with a week's worth of vegetables.  As I left, they thanked me for helping out … which I still can't understand because I don't think I did all that much, and I got out of it far more than I contributed: a lovely kitchen to work in, a better dinner than I would have made for myself, pleasant people to talk with, and a bunch of free produce.  Shouldn't I be the one thanking them?  Yes, I think so.  And I did.  I'm also looking forward to next Saturday.

 

 

Hosea and D's soundtrack: a meme

Almost five years ago -- dear God, was it really five years ago? -- I posted a "soundtrack" of my life with Wife, as part of a meme started by Kyra Edwards.  And even at the time, I kind of wondered, "What about after Wife?"  But I didn't really have the perspective to answer that question.

Then a couple weeks ago, just before the boys went off to their various schools, I was watching a movie with them and suddenly it became crystal-clear to me what has to have been my soundtrack with D.  I don't know about Debbie yet, ... but for D it is totally obvious.

First, as before, let me start off quoting a paragraph of rules:

The Rules:
Write a post about the soundtrack of your life. Please include somewhere in the body of the meme "This was started by Kyra (last refuge of the lonely housewife)"... I want to google to see how far and wide this meme travels.

And the song?  Well maybe there could have been several, but one overshadowed the whole relationship ... had to, in many ways.  I just had to back up before I had the perspective to see it.

It's "Mrs. Robinson".

Not that I was a virgin when we got together, of course.  But in many ways I felt naive, and like the junior partner.  Many times she was clearly frustrated with my not understanding the basic logistical necessities of our affair.  (Much like Mrs. Robinson asking Benjamin, "Did you get us a room?")  And when I had trouble making up a lie to cover this or that she had no patience with me whatsoever; she assumed that my saying I "couldn't" tell this or that lie meant I didn't want to.  She demanded a lot of my attention and was brusque or dismissive if she didn't get it.  I don't know ... somehow it just seemed right.

__________

Mrs. Robinson

And here’s to you, Mrs. Robinson
Jesus loves you more than you will know, wo wo wo
God bless you please, Mrs. Robinson
Heaven holds a place for those who pray, hey hey hey
Hey hey hey

We’d like to know a little bit about you for our files
We’d like to help you learn to help yourself
Look around you, all you see are sympathetic eyes
Stroll around the grounds until you feel at home

And here’s to you, Mrs. Robinson
Jesus loves you more than you will know, wo wo wo
God bless you please, Mrs. Robinson
Heaven holds a place for those who pray, hey hey hey
Hey hey hey

Hide it in a hiding place where no one ever goes
Put it in your pantry with your cupcakes
It’s a little secret, just the Robinsons’ affair
Most of all, you’ve got to hide it from the kids

Coo coo ca-choo, Mrs. Robinson
Jesus loves you more than you will know, wo wo wo
God bless you please, Mrs. Robinson
Heaven holds a place for those who pray, hey hey hey
Hey hey hey

Sitting on a sofa on a Sunday afternoon
Going to the candidates’ depate
Laugh about it, shout about it
When you’ve got to choose
Every way you look at it you lose

Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio?
A nation turns its lonely eyes to you, wo wo wo
What’s that you say, Mrs. Robinson
‘Joltin Joe’ has left and gone away, hey hey hey
Hey hey hey

Making friends with difficult emotions?

Last night was my first night back at the UU Sangha after five weeks away.  It was pleasant to see everyone again, and to feel myself getting back into a routine.  My mind was kind of chattery when I got there, but the very familiarity of the place and ritual was settling.

In our Dharma study, we are still reading Pema Chödrön's book, How to Meditate; and she has a remark at the end of chapter 13 that I really don't understand.  She writes:

If you don't reject [your] emotions, they actually become your friends.  They become your support.  Your rage becomes your support for stabilizing, for returning the mind to its natural, open state.  Emotions become your support for being fully awake and present, for being conscious rather than unconscious, for being present rather than distracted.  That which has been an ogre in your life has the ability to just sweep you away – or it can become your actual friend, your support.  It's a whole different way of living, a whole different way of looking at the same old stuff.

Say what?

I commented during our discussion that I flat-out did not understand this.  Afterwards, the Sangha leader said she wasn't completely sure she did either, but she had just an inkling of what it might be about.  When her daughter was little she was very sick for a long time with something … I'm not clear what.  Anyway it put her in terrible pain for a long time, so that she refused all food.  Only this went on long enough that her mother – now our Sangha leader – had to feed her something to keep her alive.  Well, she said, she went through all sorts of terrible emotions up and down while her daughter suffered through these fits.  And of course the emotional turmoil accomplished nothing.  But very gradually she found that there would be a certain point where there was a break in her daughter's suffering, and that she (the mother) could use this break to feed her.  How could she identify this break?  By using her own emotions as a barometer, so she could feel when her daughter had hit such-and-such a point.

And suddenly I thought of the times that Wife would rage for hours on end, when her mental illnesses would pull her clear away from any kind of common reality.  (I don't mean that she was ever psychotic … just that her neuroses got so bad that she might as well have been, for all the connection that her speech had with the world the rest of us live in.)  The thing is that sometimes I could talk her through this state to a more stable place, usually to a level of calm that would allow her to take her medications and go to bed.  (And after a long sleep she'd be better in the morning.)  I couldn't always do it.  I never got cocky about it – never thought it was mechanical, or a sure thing.  I always felt it was a little bit of a miracle when it worked.  But I got to where it did work, more often than not.  And I couldn't begin to say how I did it, except that I just paid total attention to her – her words, her gestures, her feelings – and looked for every little angle that I could use to edge her toward more solid ground.  I entered into the world of her emotions almost completely, forgetting whatever else was going on and letting the pain and fear wash over me … just so long as I could look around and get my bearings, to see where we were.

I'm describing this all in metaphor, and I don't know how else to describe it.  I don't know how to tell someone else to do what I did.  If I had tried to talk to myself two decades earlier, through some kind of time machine, I couldn't have said what to do.  But I think that somehow, maybe just a little bit, it's the kind of thing our Sangha leader was telling me about.  I only wonder if either of us has a real clue what  Pema Chödrön meant.  Oh well, maybe ….

Baking

I'm baking a pie for dinner.  The recipe was for a double-crusted pizza (making the dough from scratch) but I couldn't be bothered with all that so I got two frozen pie shells from the store and put the filling between those.  At that it took a long time to get the filling prepared, and it's been a hot day.  So here I sit in my apartment with the windows open and the door open, sweat dripping off my forehead and chest, waiting for the pie to be done and hoping I didn't get the filling too liquid. 

 

I spent most of the day at work adding to the online community I offered to build there.  Right now I have added only two community members – myself and one woman who works for me.  We were talking about content today (I think I've got her signed up for at least three wiki entries to start) and she said, "It looks pretty lonely and depressing that we are the only two members of the community."  But I explained, "No, not at all. I haven't publicized it yet, and when it's ready there are some people I am going to add without even asking their consent. But I want to have some content here before doing so."  Still, I'm guessing we'll go live some time this week.

 

You know, in the end even Ella Price doesn't keep writing in her journal every single day.  Just regularly.

 

Or, as one character says in "The Big Chill", "Did you know that rationalizations are more important than sex? It's true! Have you ever tried to get through a week without a rationalization?"

 

Just checked the pie.  I was going to let it bake another fifteen minutes, but that crust looks about as brown as it ought to get, so I've pulled it out and am letting it cool.  I guess in a few minutes I'll know if it was too soon.

 

Later.

 

 

 

 

Retaking the LIFE survey

I posted yesterday about taking this online survey which is supposed to tell you something about your personality.  Well this morning I had the idea ... It's all very well (and kind of interesting) to see what it tells me about what my personality is right now, but suppose I had answered not with what is true today (how long ago did you last do this or that?) but with what I want the answers to be.  If I were to live the way I imagine I'd like to, what would I say?

I tried that, and the results were astonishingly close.  I won't copy all the text over again, but just give you the scores on each of four axes.  I have no idea what these results mean.  Probably nothing, of course ....

Axis	am now	want to be	maximum
suburbanite	4	5	13
cultured	8	7	13
slacker	3	2	13
preppie	5	3	12

"Reality" on the Patio ....

I just posted a new article over on the Patio with the pretentious title of: What is "reality"?

I hope it doesn't come off sounding quite as self-important as the title does.

The LIFE survey

Another online quiz: you can find this one at http://www.secretlifeofpronouns.com/exercise/LIFE

My results were kind of amusing.  Specifically, I wonder at the fact that on three of the four dimensions I score below the half-way mark.  Does this mean that really I don't have much of any personality at all, that my overall personality-size is somewhere near zero?  I wouldn't think so, but I have to wonder ....

Anyway, here's what it says about me:
__________

Your responses suggest several things about you. Overall, there are four major dimensions to people's daily behaviors:

Dimension 1: Suburbanite

People high on the suburbanite dimension tend to live a more conventional lifestyle. Their home is their castle. They like to cook, do yardwork, and keep things clean and organized. Suburbanites like their cars, SUVs, and pickups. Young suburbanites watch MTV and listen to the occasional heavy metal. Those who are a little older tend to watch ESPN and listen to country music. The suburbanites also are somewhat more family oriented, conservative, and healthy in their daily behaviors.

Your score on the Suburbanite dimension (which ranges from 0 to 13) is: 4. By most estimates, you would be considered LOW on this dimension. You live an unconventional life that might be best suited for the middle of a big city or perhaps in the middle of a deserted prairie, on a mountaintop, or floating peacefully on your boat in the middle of the ocean.

Dimension 2: Cultured

People high on the cultured dimension tend to get involved with all parts of life in order to better themselves and those around them. They often go to museums, do volunteer work, organize study groups and do a lot of writing-- whether it's letters to friends, personal journals, or short stories. Although they love to read, most would not be considered shy. Their musical tastes can be quite broad -- ranging from jazz and classical to hiphop. People high in Culture also like time to themselves. They also have an unhealthy appreciation of Macintosh computers.

Your score on the Cultured dimension (which ranges from 0 to 13) is: 8. Overall, you are fairly MODERATE on this dimension. You aren't taking your yoga classes too seriously -- that's probably good.

Dimension 3: Slacker

People high on the slacker dimension tend to spend a lot of their time on their computer. They download music, chat, and play computer games at high rates. They like to play other games as well -- pool, poker, and occasional board games. Parts of their lifestyle are unhealthy -- lots of TV, fast food, smoking, drinking, and just staring into space. They also have a slight hostile streak -- with a higher than usual rate of arguments with friends.

Your score on the Slacker dimension (which ranges from 0 to 13) is: 3. The Surgeon General would be proud of you because you are LOW on this dimension. You appear to relate to human beings more than to computers. You may even have a strong spiritual side to you. In your heart, you know that drinking or smoking to excess is a bad idea.

Dimension 4: Preppie

People high on the preppie dimension are concerned with how they are seen by others. It is important that they look good to others. They spendPreppies also seek structure in their lives. They make to-do lists, like their home and workspace clean and organized. They watch Oprah, Desperate Housewives, and reality dating shows on TV. Their music preferences are for pop and soundtracks. Women tend to score higher on this dimension than men. Not surprisingly, they rate themselves as agreeable, reliable workers, and not lazy.

Your score on the Preppie dimension (which ranges from 0 to 12) is: 5. You scored in the MODERATE range on this dimension. You aren't obsessed with your appearance but aren't a complete slob either. Keep up the good work. This computer program thinks you have a generally healthy approach to much of your life.

The dimensions from the LIFE questionnaire were derived from the factor analysis of over a thousand individuals -- mostly college students living in the United States. The dimensions are reliable over time and are weakly linked to other personality markers. This work suggests that we can think of personality as behavioral habits that are not closely tied to the ways people view themselves. Much of the work on the LIFE questionnaire was first studied by Kate Niederhoffer as part of her dissertation at the University of Texas at Austin. If you would like to know more, contact James W. Pennebaker.

Tuesday's idiotic post: Knowledge as capital

And now, in the spirit (as noted before) of "See, I did so write something on Tuesday!" ... here is what I wrote then.  (sigh)
__________

Knowledge as capital, and why it matters

X's website lists several key requirements for turning rigid organizations into Dual Organizations, but he misses one.  As you set up agile teams, you have to ensure that each team has the right number of deep subject matter experts.  I'll explain why, but it'll take me a minute.  Please bear with me.

Years ago I worked in exactly the kind of organization X describes – not because we made it on purpose, but because we were a small, growing company at that point in our life-cycle.  We never hit the big time; but we were all engaged, we made innovative products, and it was a lot of fun.  X is right about all that.

We also made some big mistakes.  Being a Dual Organization avant la lettre didn't make us smarter than everybody else.  So some projects were successes while others were train wrecks.

We learned from our mistakes.  That's what you hope for.  We all want to work for a "learning organization".  Only ... when an organization "learns", it looks a lot like adding process and overhead.  Some checklists here, some prestudies there – all for good reasons, all to avoid last year's cosmic screw-ups – and soon you're buried under a mountain of process.

Can you avoid being buried?  Sure, if your people are experts.  An expert won't need most of those checklists, because he knows at a glance to do this and not that.  When he does fill out a checklist, it goes faster because he knows instantly that this section has to be green and that section is non-applicable; so he can focus on what matters and skip the rest.

But where does he get his expertise?  From experience ... which often means years of trial and error.  Do it wrong, it blows up; do it right, it works.  Repeat this a thousand times and you're an expert.

In other words, doing things right always requires time.  You can push that time onto the whole organization, by making your process idiot-proof: it takes longer to get through a project, but anybody can do it.  Or you can throw away the detailed process and trust your experts: but then you have to cultivate them over years till they have the judgement you need. 

Either way, working successfully relies on an irreducible quantity of knowledge as a kind of capital that underwrites the venture.  And the only coin to buy this capital is time.

This doesn't mean Dual Organizations are impossible.  X says they can be built by design, and I believe him.  If you graph the trade-off of process-vs-expertise against total time, there has to be a local minimum that involves some of each.  My only point is to recognize this.  Every agile team has to have the right number of deep experts whose judgement they can trust implicitly.  Not too many – too many cooks can spoil any broth.  But not too few, or you risk driving into a lamppost. 

Candles and mattresses

I wonder if I can write a blog post by candlelight?  That's what I'm doing right now.  It's Wednesday night and I'm in my apartment and I just finished dinner … and candlelight is so much more pleasant that the overhead electric light that I'd rather not blow them out and reach for the switch.  There is still a little light in the sky outside the window from a dim twilight, but not enough to do anything by unless you can do it in the dark.  It would be fine for sitting outside with a glass of wine, for instance.  My dining table is up against a big window, and that's where I'm sitting right now as I write: somehow my desk is covered with papers and I put my desk chair into storage to make room for the boys to sleep in my living room over the summer.  It's a small apartment.  They are back at school but I haven't put everything to rights yet.  I have great hopes for this weekend.

What's interesting is that I haven't even moved their mattresses back into my bedroom yet.  I own two mattresses in all the world – I took these off the boys's bunk beds when I moved out of the house, way back a year ago.  During the year that followed, I stacked the two of them together and slept on both when it was just me alone; I dragged one into the living room when one boy or the other was with me; and I put the two side-by-side when it was me and Debbie.  But all summer long, now, I let the boys have the two mattresses in the living room, while I slept on the floor in the bedroom.  Fair enough, you do what you have to do … only, I realize I've gotten into the habit of sleeping on the floor at this point, and I'm not sure I want to go back to sleeping on a mattress or two.  I've even been thinking of ways I could rearrange the furniture if I didn't have to leave floor-space for a bed: maybe move the desk and filing cabinet back into the bedroom and buy some honest-to-God living room furniture. 

So then could I out-and-out get rid of the mattresses altogether?  (Or offer them to Wife, which would be a dirty trick because I know she never gets rid of anything?)  Of course, it's just wild-eyed dope-smoking at the moment; I've got lots of other things to do that are a higher priority than to rearrange my apartment.  And I'd better not get carried away.  One way or another, I still have to be able to provide the boys a place to sleep while they are here.  What's more, before I consign myself to sleeping on the floor permanently, I should consider the possibility that somewhere down the line I might want to share my bed with somebody else.  “Hey there, beautiful – why don't you throw off your things off and curl up with me on the floor?” doesn't sound too sexy to me.  What do you think?

Partly it's a question of what I want my life to look like in the long term, and I don't have a good picture in my mind yet.  Some things I know.  I want to be in a small space – even when I walk down the street admiring other people's houses, I pause longer at the cute little houses than at the extravagant big ones.  I don't want to own very much stuff, as a purely practical matter: I'm not very good at taking care of stuff, so it's not fair for me to own a lot of it and either have to take care of it or let it decay into rubble.  I want to be able to use my space – and the things in it – well.  And I want to be surrounded by art – art and other beautiful things.  But this business of sleeping on the floor kind of took me by surprise, so I don't know what I think of it yet.  Also I haven't really settled in my mind the sex question: I certainly believe (and I've told you often enough) that I don't want a “romantic relationship” “right now”.  But I haven't given up any hope of sex, at any rate not if my fantasy life is to be believed.  I don't masturbate nearly as often as I used to, but I find myself wishing that I wanted to masturbate.  And I still fantasize about the sheer companionship side of a relationship, even if I don't want all the baggage that goes with it (like having to compromise for another real, live human being).  So it's a puzzle.

On the other hand, I don't have to solve all that tonight.  By now the sun has gone all the way down, but the candlelight is still beautiful.  And I've finished off the bottle of shiraz.  Hmmm, I wonder if a little sherry would be nice before bed?  Or maybe I should just drift off to sleep as-is ….

P.S.:  As I mentioned, I am writing this Wednesday night though I assume I will post it on Thursday.  What happened to Tuesday?  Well, I spent Tuesday night writing a blog post for this social-media network they've installed at the office.  Actually I wrote it straight through dinner, eating with one hand while I typed with the other.  If anybody else had been at the table with me it would have been inexcusably rude; but as someone once wisely observed, “When you live alone all your faults disappear.”  The punchline is that I realized in the morning it was a completely stupid post.  The other commentator I thought I was correcting hadn't really said the inane things I attributed to him, and all my brilliant insights were (by the light of day) only so many dull and obvious platitudes.  So I didn't post it.  Maybe I should post it here, both to prove I was writing something last night and so you can laugh at me for how pretentious I get with the wind in my sails.  (As if you didn't already know!)  Or maybe I won't.  How about I decide that tomorrow, when I'm sober (for a change) and while I'm posting this one?

The sherry is very tasty, by the way.  Sweet dreams, all ….

Comfort

Some time last week, before he went back to Wife's, Son 2 and I had a conversation about "comfort".  Specifically, he expressed some puzzlement that it is so terribly important to Wife to be comfortable.  She spends a large part of many days trying to get warm or to get cool, trying to palliate a headache or soothe a sore throat, ... trying to do anything to make herself more comfortable.  Son 2 says that he has asked her why, because he figures on his side that comfort is no big deal.  Sure, it's nice and all ... but it's way down there on his list of priorities.  I don't know how directly he challenges her on this point, but my own recollection is that trying to explain any other point of view to her is like speaking Chinese: it is so impossible for her to understand it that either she doesn't hear the question at all or she assumes you mean something else.

But yesterday while I was lolling around poking through books and wasting time, I ran across the following quote:  "Physical discomfort is important only when the mood is wrong. Then you fasten onto whatever thing is uncomfortable and call that the cause. But if the mood is right, then physical discomfort doesn't mean much."  (Robert Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, p. 27)

So is that the point?  That Wife's quest for comfort is really just a symptom of her chronic unhappiness?  It seems very likely ....

A new month

It's a new month.  Time to get back to writing regularly.  I even have a couple ideas in mind for things I might write.  But since I just spent two hours composing a letter to Elly, let me post that now as today's contribution.  Then if I write more later, so much the better.

__________

Hey, Elly dear,

So you went to see "Guardians of the Galaxy" and "Expendables 3"?  Gosh, … somehow in all the years we worked together I never got any idea of your taste in movies.  I suppose it goes to show how narrow a slice of life the office really represents.  On the other hand, if some day in an alternate universe you ever have to make conversation with Son 1 and Son 2, you can clearly talk movies with them for hours, as their taste is much the same.  (I'm grinning broadly as I write this, never fear.)

Oh, speaking of movies – have you seen "A Most Wanted Man"?  I wanted to see it while Son 1 was still in town, because he loves spy movies.  (He was a big fan of the Bourne movies, even though he was a good bit younger when he saw them.)  Somehow we didn't get around to it, but Son 2 and I went last week.  I liked it, although in some respects the story was depressing and frustrating.  But it was also a complex story, where the good guys and bad guys were, yes, distinguishable, but not heavy-handedly so.  The Americans don't come off looking so good, I'm sorry to say.

Congratulations on your son's exams!  That sounds wonderful!  You'll have to explain to me what exactly the GCSE exams are :-) and where they fit in the grand scheme of things.  But the results sound great. 

By the same token, I'm sorry to hear that your raise was so disappointing.  The way I look at it, this is really a reflection on your employers because it shows that they aren't deploying you to best advantage.  If they don't value what they've got in you as an employee, it's only because they haven't allowed you the scope that would make your value most visible.  So it's on them, not you.  It's only unfortunate that it hits your pocketbook.

I drove Son 2 to Wife's place on Saturday.  Then yesterday and today I have spent doing remarkably little: laundry, some groceries, not much more.  That seems to be the pattern when I come off of a week with the boys – two weeks, really, since they and I drove out to [the next state over] the week before last to take Son 1 to university and then Son 2 stayed with me until Saturday.  He's got one more week with Wife before school starts up for him again, and then we will be back to a more normal time and I can revisit a lot of the projects I put on hold all summer (like finishing up the separation paperwork, for one!).

Actually my first project will be to get my car looked at.  The alternator light started coming on just before my flight to Sticksville, and during the week I was gone (while my car sat in long-term parking) the battery died.  When I came back I called AAA, who got me started (and sold me a new battery) but then I left the car for another week with Wife because I had to borrow the van from her to carry all Son 1's stuff.  So it sat, and again the battery died.  When I finally retrieved it (two days ago, along with dropping off Son 2) a jump-start got me going so I could drive home, and I made a point to drive it a good bit yesterday.  Today I didn't try to start it until about 1:30 this afternoon, and nothing doing.  It's dead again.  Clearly something is wronger than just a dud battery, although when AAA checked the alternator they pronounced it OK.  So I'm going to have to get someone really to look at the thing.  This will doubtless mean getting jump-started one more time, but I may as well wait until I have an appointment at a shop.  I can walk to work if I give myself an hour to get there.  I'll call around tomorrow.

Right now I'm downtown.  Once I found that my car wouldn't start I had thought to walk to the Library to use their Internet connection, but the Library is closed for Labor Day.  [This means you won't actually get this e-mail until I connect to the network at work tomorrow.]  So I meandered on up to the big park downtown, bought a mango-on-a-stick from a snack vendor next to the playground, and then strolled across the street to the formal gardens.  That's where I am right now, sitting in the shade watching the ducks.  A little while ago a family came by with a lot of little kids who were all pretty excited by the turtles.  And until a few minutes ago there was a young lady in the next patch of shade to my right, scantily dressed and with prominent tattoos, writing intently into some kind of journal.  Oh look … here's a seagull wandering over in my direction looking for food – handouts, maybe.  (Sorry dude, I finished my mango a while ago and I don't have anything to toss you.)

Your long walk sounds inspiring – the kind of thing that I would *want* to enjoy, and that I might indeed manage to enjoy if I were in better shape.  (sigh)  Last year I started joining hikes in the hills above town: a local group hosted them every Friday after work.  They were a lot of fun, and as long as I went regularly I could watch my stamina increasing.  But then something came up and I stopped going, and so I'm sure I've slid back to wherever I was before.  Hmmm … maybe next week ….  (sigh)

You said your kids go back to school Wednesday.  Do they live with you while at school, or continue to rotate between you and your ex-husband … or do they live at school?  Whichever way it works, I hope your week is going well.  Me, I think I'm going to fold up my computer and watch the ducks a little while longer. 

Best as ever,

Hosea

xx