Praying mantis

I came back from an errand yesterday and saw this baby praying mantis by my back door. It let me get very close to it and take a picture before climbing up the siding and out of sight. I couldn't sleep last night and started thinking about the mantis, wishing I could migrate into its body. Then I started researching them and this is what I found.

The praying mantis is named for its prominent front legs, which are bent and held together at an angle that suggests the position of prayer. ...They have triangular heads poised on a long "neck," or elongated thorax. Mantids can turn their heads 180 degrees to scan their surroundings with two large compound eyes and three other simple eyes located between them.

Female praying mantises apparently bite the head off the male after copulation. Although I have been accused of feminism, this strikes me as a bit too radical, even for a flaming bra burner. So maybe I will pick another animal to carry my soul.

Sunday's Coming

I have Chelsea to thank/blame for this hilarious movie trailer. As she said, it's pretty true to life (unfortunately).

For the birds

As I was resting on the sofa in the family room this afternoon, I heard a crunching noise and realized that both of our birds were eating, even though they are in separate cages. I don't know whether it was because it was time for them to eat or whether they liked to eat together. We have two birds: Wally, a cockatiel, and Paco, a golden-collared mini macaw.

We got Wally for Chelsea and originally thought the bird was a boy (thus the name). We realized that it was a girl when one day I looked in her cage and saw an egg on the floor. I was amazed because I thought that you had to have a male and female for this to happen, which obviously was not the case. Eventually the poor bird had 12 eggs, which she attempted to sit on and cover with the wings. We felt sorry for her since the eggs would never turn into baby cockatiels and started sneaking them out of her cage. Wally quit laying eggs, but she still is very affectionate and watches me carefully, climbing up her cage when I come near. I open up the top and stick my hand in and she nuzzles up against it, closes her eyes and gives me little bird kisses.



Paco, the mini macaw, has been with us about seven years. He has a beautiful green coat and a blue undercoat and he can say a couple of dozen words pretty clearly. However, he only talks when Chelsea is around, then he lets loose with a string of words: hello, goodbye, peekaboo, woo, etc. He will even put his head into his food bowl and talk sometimes, making a weird echoing noise. Paco is very smart, but also cantankerous. When we first got him he seemed friendly, but now if I get near his cage, he comes toward me with an open beak like he is going to bite me. Usually when Ron gets him out, he flies over to the dining room table and then runs around it on the floor followed by Ron until he is caught. He will ride docilely on Ron's shoulder, but he doesn't look like he enjoys it.

Family

Lately I have been impressed by the importance of family in my life and since I stopped working, family has become more important.

My youngest daughter, Chelsea, left yesterday for a week and a half visiting friends and going to camp with her boyfriend's family. She will have a wonderful time (and she is 21 and very able to take care of herself) but I will miss her. She has been a great help to me, both physically and emotionally. It's her last year at college and probably the last summer she will be living at home.

Family has been a part of my life in other ways too. Tuesday night Ron, Chelsea and I met my older daughter Emily and her fiancé Jake for dinner at a nice restaurant here in town. Emily is 25 and a successful accountant and Jake is an up-and-coming realtor. They're planning a wedding next fall that I am helping with and it's keeping me busy. Part of me wishes the wedding weren't so far in the future, because I'm not sure about the progression of this disease, but another part is relishing the renewed closeness with Emily.

As I develop a new identity separate from work, my family has become increasingly important, and that's as it should be.

"A happy family is but an earlier heaven."
George Bernard Shaw

Sorting books at the library

Each Monday I spend two and half hours at the Rochester library. I've only done it for a couple of weeks, so I'm not sure what I'll end up doing, but right now I help out with donations.

On a busy week, the library receives hundreds of donated books, DVDs, and VHS tapes from readers, people who are moving, children who are getting rid of a deceased parent's possessions. I really had no idea that many donations came in, and I'm ashamed to say that I have donated books myself. I thought that they were needed (and perhaps some of them will be put into the collection), but processing the donations takes time and effort from the library staff that should be spent on library work.

I volunteered to come in one day a week as a member of the Friends of the Rochester Public Library to help process the donations. As a former "would be" librarian who has always loved books, I like the work. Plus, I thought it would be a good thing to be in the company of others.

I do whatever they need, and so far that has meant I either sort through the donations and box them up in specific categories or try to find the donations on the library catalog database. If the library already has the book in its collection, the staff checks to see if their copy is in better shape than the one that was donated. If they don't have a copy, as is often the case, then they decide whether or not to add it to the collection.

It's interesting work and I can see by the donations the type of books people like. I came across a whole set of Baby Einstein DVDs and a stack of novels that tried to imitate the inimitable Jane Austen. I took a look inside one of them and found that the style of writing was Austenesque while the plot was more on the level of a bodice-ripper. Kind of disgusting. Oh well, it's probably someone's cup of tea.

Jazz in Bloom and book group

The Dana-Thomas House Foundation event Jazz in Bloom was held on Saturday night, and I was a stationary guide in the living room. This meant that I got to be seated while people wandered through, answering any questions they might have. There weren't many people that came through (most were in the courtyard, listening to jazz and drinking wine), but the ones that did were interested and it was fun to talk to them about the house. Since I haven't given tours at for a couple of years now because of all the stairs, it was great to be back inside again. The volunteer coordinator is very thoughtful and makes sure that I participate in events like this.

Sitting in the living room among the Wright-designed tables and chairs (I wasn't sitting in one though), I watched the sun go down and the room change its aspect. It seemed more intimate lit by the wall sconces and art-glass lamps. I could almost imagine living here or coming as a guest to one of Mrs. Dana's parties.

I had time to think about the play at the house based on my novel Water and Fire, and I talked to the volunteer coordinator about how it might be staged. I'm getting very excited about the whole production and I think she shares this feeling. It will be fun to write!

On Sunday, my book group met to discuss Anna Karenina. The woman who hosted has a pool and she invited those of us who wanted to swim to come early. Even though I can't swim anymore, I came early with a couple of friends and thanks to their help, I was able to get into the water and enjoy the pool. The women in the group are the nicest I have ever met and would do just about anything to help me. I would have had to drop out of the group before now but for their cheerful assistance.

The discussion, led by a new member of the group, was excellent. Some of us thought Anna was foolish; others that she was a victim of society. A wonderful evening!

St. Louis and an MRI

We went to St. Louis yesterday for my semiannual appointment with my neurologist. She is great and I trust her implicitly, but I think she feels bad because there is really nothing she can do to help me. She was very happy that I had not progressed (deteriorated) since my last visit. After the appointment, I was taken for a clinical trial that involved an MRI and cognitive testing.

Magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) is nothing new to me. I have had so many that I have lost count. During an MRI you are laid down on a table, your head is fastened in place by a kind of helmet, and you are pushed into a long tube. The machine emits loud noises which are sometimes drowned out by whatever music you are listening to on the headphones (yesterday my choice was classic rock eg oldies). After anywhere from 20 minutes to three hours, you are pulled out and sent on your way. The images are magnetic in nature and can spot problems in your brain and spine, kind of like x-rays.

You would think that after so many MRIs I would be an expert; however, I guess I'm not medical enough, because this is about the extent of my knowledge. Some people are freaked out by MRIs because they're claustrophobic and have to be given sedatives. This is not my case and I see them as an opportunity to relax and even sleep. The high point of getting an MRI has to be when, just before you are pushed unto the tube, you are offered a warm blanket by the friendly technician. Boy, does that feel good!

The MRI wan't bad (see above) but the cognitive testing sucked. Somehow I have managed to escape this very annoying procedure thus far, but yesterday I was subjected to the tests, the worst of which involved remembering and adding numbers that a recorded male voice rattled off at an alarming speed (doubtless HE was reading a script).

After that ordeal we treated ourselves to lunch and shopping at that mecca called the Galleria. A decadent chocolate and banana drink from Godiva topped off a long day.

Ruins of the Sangamon Ordnance Plant

Today I drove up old route 36 to Illiopolis, the site of the Sangamon Ordnance Plant. I got off the interstate at Buffalo and took the two-lane highway flanked by cornfields through Lanesville to Illiopolis. As I neared Illiopolis I began to see chimneys dotting the fields on both sides of the road. Some were quite close and some were far away, a mile or more. The chimneys were part of the ruins of the munitions plants that operated here during World War II.

When I reached Illiopolis, I turned around in the parking lot of a bar/diner. The sign on the building said "Now Open -The Bunkers."

I had been to Illiopolis before, last summer with my mom. At that time we discovered some overground underground bunkers in a cornfield north of the road and it was my thought that I would try to find them again. So I turned the car north, but I did not see them, so I followed the narrow paved road between cornfields, gazing at the chimneys that rose from the fields to the right and left. Eventually I reached a "t" in the road, and I took it, figuring it would meet up with a south-leading road. It was high noon and hideously hot - probably close to 100 degrees. The landscape was deserted.

As I proceeded slowly along the road, I was amazed to see what looked like ruins of a munitions plant in the middle of a field off to the right. I hadn't realized the plants covered so much area - they must have been enormous. I slowed the the car to take a picture of the ruins then noticed that to the south of the road, a gravel road lead toward some cavernous cement buildings that looked like bunkers. They looked creepy enough for me to pull the car into the enclosure, which had a silo at its entrance.

I pulled in as close to the bunkers as possible. They were overgrown with weeds, but I could still easily look through the gaping window and door holes into the dark interiors. The farmer was using the buildings for storage, and sacks of grain and cleaning supplies were stacked inside. A combine was stored off to the right next to the second bunker. As I drove south, I saw underground bunkers in a field off to the right, used to store bales of hay.

I wondered why so many abandoned structures from the plants dotted throughout the area 50 years after the plants had employed thousands of area women to support the war. Maybe because they were so well constructed -- after all they have been used to store munitions.

As I headed back to Springfield I followed the route of the train that had taken women to work at the plant. One woman, my friend Twila, might be able to remember those days. I hope so.

Aquacise!

Today I felt better in the morning, maybe because of starting this new habit last night or maybe because I had some goals in mind for the day. I got ready and went to the health club to the aquacize class that I had gone to for the first time last week. I do enjoy being a part of group exercise sessions and this came back to me as I was thrashing about in the water. I don't have very good balance or coordination, but the group and teacher were very understanding.

Afterwards, I met Marie who had also been working out, and we had coffee. She is a very deliberate speaker, but very intelligent and thoughtful, and it's good for me to slow down and listen to her. I was able to be honest with her and felt like she enjoyed being with me. I left feeling very encouraged.

I did some errands and laundry after that and made dinner. My energy gradually decreases throughout the day, so I need to make sure I get important things done early. I think I am going through a real redefining of myself and it is not without pain, but hopefully I will emerge a more useful person and more content.

I'm alone again tonight, and maybe that's okay. I don't think I'm probably too good at this point in the day anyway. I feel kind of lonely though so I hope this isn't an every night kind of thing. I do think that I tend to regain some of my energy if I rest.

Day 1 -- An online journal

I suppose that this is just talking to myself, but since I can't write by hand anymore, this may be the next best thing to a journal entry. It's actually kind of amazing how good this voice recognition software is. I don't know what I would have done had I been this disabled even 10 years ago. It is a great blessing to someone who enjoys writing, like me.

Anyway, I've decided that each evening I should at least chronicle what I have accomplished each day. Since I don't work anymore, it has become important to see what I have done -- may be to give some sense of value to my life. Maybe to justify my continued existence.

Today, I initially felt like not getting up, which is how I feel most days. I used to be a morning person, but now it is hard to see why I should get it out of bed. Fortunately, my husband and daughter are busy with their lives. If I were by myself, it might be different.

Anyway, I began to work on the assignment for a playwrighting class that I'm taking online. The Dana-Thomas House has requested that I adapt my novel, Water and Fire, into a short play that they could put on in the house next spring and I'm taking the class to help me accomplish this.

This morning I completed the first week's assignment, which consisted of a short summary of the play and a short bio of the main characters. I know that the plan will need to be much shorter than the novel and the action will need to be isolated at the house.

Working on this play is a wonderful gift and I hope that I am proceeding correctly. I need to talk with woman at the Dana-Thomas house to make sure.

It was great because after I submitted this, my mother called. Good timing. The small sense of accomplishing something helps enormously. God is providing for me and I am very thankful. I just need to make sure that I pass on these blessings. There is always a chance to help someone.