Brent told Nathan tonight that if I wasn’t ready for bed – in bed – by the time Nathan was, that Nate was to come and wake Brent up. I finished the evening typing Nate’s speech, with him telling me what to say. I did the dishes by hand since the new dishwasher isn’t here yet, and I ruined the old one by taking a pocket knife to the lower and middle spray arms and enlarging the outlets for the water spray. I did this because bits of food kept getting caught in them, closing the water exit holes, and just swashing dirty (but hot) water all over everything. After that, I wiped off the counters and I mixed my purple lid stuff with some Tang to drink as I took my night meds: Lamictal, Seroquel, Wellbutrin, etc.
I don’t remember the other meds right now (usually I don’t remember them all, ever, because there are too many for my brain to store).
Then I petted each of the bunnies good night, and put some birdseed in their dishes as a treat. I turned off the lights – locked the sliding glass doors – and waited by Nate’s door until he put away his DS PlayStation . . . or something.
Last night I read Nephi’s words:
And if all the things which I saw are not written, the things which I
have written are true.
What a way to end a chapter. I think that I see way too many things and write about all too few of them.
The elders were over for supper on Sunday – Brent had seeded a pomegranate for me, and I put the bowlfull of seeds on the table. Both Elders – Jones and Bowman – took some. When the meal was almost over, Elder Jones looked over at Elder Bowman and asked him where his seeds were – we all looked at Elder Jones and laughed.
“Where were what seeds?”
“Your pomegranate seeds!” he exclaimed, genuinely surprised that Elder Bowman didn’t seem to have any on his plate left from his first serving of pomegranate seeds.
We all looked at Elder Jones.
“I ate mine,” he answered, “What did you do with yours?” Elder Jones pointed to a tiny pile of flesh-less pomegranate seeds on the edge of his plate. “You mean you can eat these?”
Apparently, Elder Jones had consumed an entire pomegranate just a few days before – delicately, biting the red flesh off of each seed, and then, very inconspicuously, spitting each seed out into the trash.
He seemed to feel relieved that he could just crunch the whole thing down – much quicker, much more satisfying.
I wonder how many things I do that don’t need the caution I handle them with – and which others I should be more careful with.
When I was at BYU, one of my friends, who told the story of her roommate’s first experience with squash – served in the skins. My friend, after having scraped the flesh off of her portion, had – without the roommate noticing – left the table and thrown her squash rind into the garbage can. Her roommate only saw that as the meal was ending that her friend’s plate was devoid of any evidence of the stiff squash skins . . . and so she dutifully disposed of her squash remains – by eating them. As the table was cleared for dessert, my friend asked her roommate what she done with her squash remains? Her roommates responded with the quiet reply that she’d eaten them.
“Do you like squash skins? my friend asked, astounded.
“Well, no.” came to reply.
“Why did you eat them then?”
Red faced, her roommate explained that she had noticed that everyone else’s plates were completely cleaned of the skins… So she figured that everyone else had also consumed theirs.
The family laughed. My friend, was almost unable to speak by the time she had reached the end of her anecdote – laughing so hard she could hardly breathe. I smile when I think of that moment – and I am sure that my friend’s family may still recount it and laugh, whenever squash is served.
Peeling grapes – spitting out pomegranate seeds – eating squash, skins – eating bananas by splitting them lengthwise into three triangular columns: a miniature version of a long quarter cut of watermelon: round on the bottom, straight line of speckled seeds along the top line. Megan, who couldn’t do her homework during lunch time at school because she had to let it dry first.
About the last item: Megan’s juice box had squirted when she opened it, and her homework papers got soaked… so she had to let them dry first. Thus, she couldn’t do her homework during lunch as she usually did.
I have become really involved in the subjects that Nathan has been researching for his papers and speeches this semester at Palm Beach State College. In some ways, he reminds me of Megan – probably eight or nine years old. It was her turn to give the Family Home Evening lesson. I asked if I could help, but she assured me that she had everything under control. When the time arrived for her lesson, she stood before the family, and began to string together gospel “stuff”—that was not actually connected. Things like the widow, paying for her bills at the temple, and Jesus smiling at her and Heavenly Father being born at Bethlehem, and everyone had to wash their feet, because they all wore sandals. The 12 apostles walked on the water to come to Jesus –
Brent and I kept trying to steer her into a valid scripture story – but she only had bits and pieces coming to her narrative. After Home Evening, I asked her why she didn’t prepare for the lesson. She wanted to be like me she told me. When I got up to teach or give a talk, or do sharing time in Primary, I never had to prepare. I just stood up and said my stuff.
I admitted to her that there were many times when I was called on at the last minute – but I had been studying for 30 years before that point in time. Primary, Family Home Evening, Sunday School, Sacrament meetings, reading the scriptures and magazines like The Friend and the Ensign. Just standing up and being able to give a talk or a lesson didn’t work like it looked, if there wasn’t anything inside me, there wouldn’t have been anything to tell people who were waiting on the outside.
I helped Nate write up a five minute talk, and I am flooded by ideas, outline organizations, cool facts, and stories – I have a very hard time, keeping myself out of his work while giving of my body-self as a stenographer, typist, proofreader – and all the way round “Girl Friday”—except that right now it is Tuesday – early Wednesday morning.
On Tuesday 1 December 2009 at 9:30 AM
I got a back shot – two of them actually. One on each side of my spine. The doctor hit the right side exactly on target – the nerve he flooded with whatever-it-is-he-floods-it-with lit fire and swooshed all the way down from the top of the needle near my spine to the end of each of the toes on my right foot. Everything was numbed for quite a few hours. And, when arriving home, refusing to move from my bed on the couch has helped to keep the intended results of the shots active—NO MORE PAIN—it makes a good start for the longevity of the injected medication.
Monday 2 December 2009, Florida 8:50 AM
Nate made me breakfast this morning – scrambled eggs and toast. I added butter honey on the toast, my a.m. pills and a small glass of milk.
I finished the book Rose Daughter, by Robin McKinley – again – and I found that she had made the plot much more complex – except that (since I was paying attention very carefully as I read) it (the plot) – did not flow like it has in her other books. She kept having to stop and explain the history that was driving the action… When it didn’t make the action any clearer or necessary. Evil is tangled and witless—but Good is unable to comprehend what is going on.
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