Time Blindness by Bonnie Le Hamilton

 

Right now, I am recovering from my last trip out of my house. You might think I went on some massive road trip or something, but I didn’t. No, what I did was go to a doctor’s appointment, then run a few errands.

I might also point out that the first three stops I made after the doctor’s appointment were to three different drive-throughs. As in, I didn’t even get out of my car.

At the fourth stop, I was getting my walker out of my car when the salesclerk came out and told me I needed to hurry because the place was closing in five minutes.

I hurried. I did get what I needed, then I sat in my car for several minutes just catching my breath.

I might add, I told the clerk I hadn’t realized it was that late, and I was sorry for coming so late.

I am not now, nor have I ever been, one of those who think they keep the store open as long as there are still customers in the place. That is, by the way, quite rude.

There is only one other time when I entered a store close to closing time, and neither I nor the friend I was with realized the store was about to close. When we learned it was about to close, we rushed to check out, apologizing as we did for coming in so late.

Monday, I did the same thing. I apologized for coming so late, and I thanked her for letting me get the bread I needed.

I might add that I knew that the store closed at 5, so did the third drive-through I’d been to. I just hadn’t looked at the clock to ascertain how late it was, which is a problem I do have. Most days, time is irrelevant to me.

I read somewhere recently that a lot of autistic people see time in terms of now and not now. Yeah, I get that. I don’t pay close enough attention to the clock and have been known to set an alarm to alert me when I need to leave the house for appointments.

Having errands I need to accomplish by a certain date without an exact appointment is difficult, if not downright impossible. Let’s face it, I have missed appointments because I forgot them.

Actually, I’ve had my doctor’s office call me, waking me up, saying, “You’re late for your appointment.”

The number of times this past year I’ve had to reschedule because I slept in or my car wouldn’t start is frightening.

And it is something Konnie doesn’t have to deal with.

Yeah, she sets alarms for certain things, but those things are constants, like when she takes her medications. My alarms, except for the morning one, are all set to remind me I need to get up and out the door for an appointment.

I honestly once thought I had set an alarm I needed, but I forgot to click on the save icon. Ergo, it never went off. I missed that appointment and had to reschedule.

 I think the only time Konnie has mentioned needing to reschedule an appointment at the last minute was once when her husband took off with their only car and wasn’t back in time for her to make her appointment.

But that’s just it. In Konnie’s house, they have to coordinate when appointments are because they have only one car. They have a big calendar they use to keep track of who has appointments when, and if everyone is paying attention, the car is available when needed.

I live alone. My car is always available when needed. My brain is the issue here. I just have trouble thinking that far ahead.

 I suppose, if I lived with Konnie – well, to be honest, her daughter, who still lives at home, would be the one keeping me on schedule, because that’s something she’s capable of.

I can practically hear her right now saying, “Don’t you have someplace you need to get to?"

I have certainly, when I was visiting Konnie’s house, heard my niece say more than once, “Have you looked at the time?” to somebody or other who really needed to get a move on.

Maybe that’s the kind of assistance I need, an actual human being to point out the time to me regularly.

By the way, I had this issue even when my husband was still alive. I remember once when we had a meeting to go to, I was trying to write a scene. I told him more than once to just let me finish what I was writing.

He eventually went to the meeting without me.

Anyway, happy writing, everyone!

Of Bread and Unicorns by Konnie Enos

I think we’ve found a unicorn. That is if my understanding of what is a unicorn is correct. It means something rare or unique, and that’s what we found.

To understand why what we found is so unique, you have to understand something about my family.

As currently composed, there are four of us. Me, my husband and our youngest (son) and our middle child (daughter). My husband is the sort of person who will eat whatever is placed before him. My son is the sort of person who is extremely picky about what he will and will not eat. Taste and texture are important to him, so what we can get him to eat is limited. Bread is a staple of his diet because he eats a lot of sandwiches.

Then there is me and my daughter. We both have medically restricted diets. Her because of her severe allergies and me, well, I’m supposed to be on a low-carbs, low-sugar, low-salt diet for type 2 diabetes, and high blood pressure.

It was recommended that I eat a multi-grain, whole wheat bread, which we did find but my son refuses to eat. My daughter won’t eat it either because of allergens, which is completely understandable. We did find an inexpensive bread that my son liked.

As for my daughter, due to one of her allergies being soy, and soy is in EVERYTHING, she couldn’t eat commercially made bread. She’d make her own.

But because she has several chronic conditions, such as fibromyalgia, she often finds she does not have the stamina to make bread every time she runs out.

Her brother and I cannot knead anything with activated yeast in it, our hands get very red and sore if we do. But we do have a bread machine, and my son has mastered how to get a decent loaf out of it, so he will sometimes help her out a make a loaf. She has also purchased food grade gloves so if necessary, I can knead some bread, which is something I have not done in decades, but I obviously still know how to do it.

I learned the same time Bonnie did when our dad forced us all to learn how to make bread because of how expensive it was to feed a family of 7 (at the time), especially when one was a teenage boy with a hollow leg. (And yes, even telling dad that it made my hands red, sore, and itchy, did not get me out of it, which is why I’ve avoided it as an adult.)

Now, since we could make a wheat bread, homemade bread could satisfy every family member. The problem with that is my son goes through a lot of bread, and we’d constantly be out, generally when my daughter or I, who don’t eat it that often, wanted some. And, having chronic conditions, making it every week was out of the question.

So instead, we banned all but my daughter from eating the homemade bread and bought me the whole wheat I needed while supplying my son with the type he would eat, which he shared with my husband. Yes, at any given time we’d have three types of bread loafs in our house.

Recently however, we’ve been unable to find the type of bread my son likes so we’ve been experimenting with new types. He is not loving this at all and has actually stopped eating sandwiches almost completely.

Then, needing to find yet another type of bread to see if my son would like it, we picked up a relatively small loaf of organic wheat bread, not whole-grain, but still wheat. I did not have high hopes for it, because he’s never liked wheat bread.

But then my daughter got a good look of the ingredients.

Unlike every other loaf of bread on the market, it does NOT have soy in it. Not only that, but it is low-carbs and absolutely no sugar (some honey, but no sugar). Which means I could eat it.

My son tried it and could tolerate it with bacon (his version of a BLT without the vegetables he won’t eat), but the texture and taste were not up to snuff otherwise.

Since this bread is slightly more expensive than the other stuff we buy, we’ve decided that we’d reserve it for my daughter for when she’s not up to making some of her own.

It’s still a unique find, a unicorn.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

 

Our Official Language by Bonnie Le Hamilton

 

Not too long ago, I saw a post online asking whether people thought it should be made the law that everyone needed to be able to speak English before becoming a citizen of America.

I pointed out that we have no official language, so that wouldn’t work.

Though it seems now that I was quite a bit behind the times. It seems President Trump made a proclamation last year stating that English should be our official language to promote unity in this country.

The big problem with this is that it isn’t the law. A presidential statement lacks the backing of the Constitution and is therefore unenforceable.

Yes, he said English is now our official language, but there is no amendment or even legal language giving that statement any legal weight.

Government agencies still print all their forms in a long list of languages to accommodate everyone, and/or supply an interpreter, because there is no law requiring a person to know English to get those services, as in countries that have their laws backing up their official language.

And I might point out that even if English were legally our language, that wouldn’t mean no one could speak any other language. That would be a violation of their rights.

Even in countries where they do have a legal official language, people still speak their native tongue.

President Trump says having an official language will bring us together, but other countries have more than one official language without the divisive problems we have. I don’t think language is really the issue, but aside from that, some people seem to think that means no one can ever speak a different language than the official one.

How wrong can you get?

Even if we have a legal official language, people can still speak their native tongue, still hold conversations some people won’t be able to eavesdrop on, and Karens are still going to scream at them to speak English.

Which brings me to the point of my post.

I see no problem with people speaking something other than English when they are only speaking to someone who speaks the same tongue.

Around here, I have identified three non-English languages being used when I was out and about.

Some Arabic language (based on the attire of the speakers), Spanish (based on the fact they were working in the kitchen of a locally owned Mexican restaurant), and Sho-Ban (also based on the attire of the speakers and the major tribe at the nearest reservation).

In none of the cases where I overheard these languages were they being rude.

The Arabic couple was a clear married couple speaking to each other; ergo, none of my business. The Spanish speakers could be seen and heard from the tables in the restaurant, but they were talking to each other, not the patrons. The several times I’ve heard Sho-Ban, it was clearly either a family or a group of friends from the nearby reservation. They were not talking to me or with me.

It all reminds me of Konnie’s epic sci-fi where they have an official language, but other languages do exist; they just have rules for when each language can and shouldn’t be used.

When speaking in a group, they use the language known by everyone present, so no one is left out. When speaking privately, they either use a casual language they both know or an intimate language, which is generally the ancestral language if both of them know it. Again, there are rules for when each can be used.

The official language is always used at work or when giving orders.

The casual language is used when it isn’t official, and if everyone knows the one you are using.

The intimate language falls into the category of PDAs.

This is a basic breakdown, and it is more complex than that because of the sheer volume of languages available, but that’s the gist of it.

Though I might point out there is no rule against using casual language in public spaces, only against using it when not everyone included in the conversation knows the language used.

In other words, if you are not part of the conversation, mind your own business! If you are, they’re being rude or deceptive.

Like a story of a guy whose wife and sister-in-law used sign language to scheme about divorcing him while he was out of town on a long-planned business trip. He had taken sign language in college and was able to learn her plans in advance rather than being blindsided by her.

And having an official language is not going to outlaw that sort of thing from happening. Nor should it. Everyone has the right to use whatever language they are comfortable with.

Anyway, happy writing, everyone!

Filling In by Bonnie Le Hamilton

 

 

Last night, Konnie called me saying she had a problem. Now, let me point out that Konnie rarely ever calls me when she has a problem because, honestly, I live too far away to be of much help, and she knows my income is far less than hers, so I can’t possibly help with money. That is the first point you must understand.

The second is obvious; it was Tuesday night, meaning the problem has to do with the fact that it is her turn to post this morning.

Now we have switched turns several times and for various reasons, but I might point out that my reasons have more often been my health, while hers have more often been either computer issues or a time conflict.

I have myself had computer issues, and I was without a working computer for around three weeks at one point. (She wasn’t happy with me during that period.) I have never had a time conflict with posting. However, I am forced to note that her time conflicts always centered around the needs or activities of her other family members.

Even when my husband was alive, he was generally at work on Wednesday mornings, and the very few times he wasn’t, he was in bed sick. Ergo, even when I did live with another human being, I never had time conflicts. Since I am the one making Patches only appointments, there is never a conflict.

Of course, her calling when she did meant she couldn’t post this morning. The unusual part was that it wasn’t computer issues or a time conflict (which she generally knows days in advance anyway). No, this time it was her health.

Now, let me remind you that more often than not, my health has been the issue with my posting. A lot more.

One such time was when I slipped on the ice and fell hard on my tailbone. That particular part of my anatomy was so bruised I couldn’t sit up for weeks. In fact, I eventually got upright by acquiring a donut pillow, which took time.

There was at least once where I was in the hospital, though I was able to get a friend to bring me my laptop.

At any rate, I have physically been unable to post more often than Konnie has, though she’s had more outside forces getting in her way than I have.

That’s more the nature of our living situations than anything, but anyway, Konnie became upset that she was calling me with such short notice. Believe me, normally she gives me a couple of days, if not more. Right around fourteen hours was short notice for her, and she began to cry.

I’m going to blame that on how bad she felt physically, because honestly, she’s covered for me more often than I’ve covered for her. There was no need for her to feel bad. Anyway, I told her to get some rest and not worry about it.

At the time, I was thinking about opening my computer and doing some writing anyway.

It’s not like she called me at eight o’clock in the morning to tell me. (By the way, I have done that to her, but it was computer issues.)

Fourteen hours to write and edit a post seems like a luxury of time.

Now if only I can get my knee to cooperate with those plans.

 I might mention that I have had technical issues more often than her, but that could be because she has a tech genius under her roof. I just have a cat.

Konnie’s youngest is autistic and really into technology. If Konnie has tech issues, she calls for her son, who is in the next room. If I have tech issues, well, honestly, I call for her youngest too, but for me, he’s two states away!

More than once, he said he couldn’t help me, simply because he was too far away.

I mean, he tries to walk me step by step through what needs to be done, but it just doesn’t always work.

Let me remind you that Konnie and I are Baby Boomers, from the tail end of that era, but part of it. We predate all the technology that her youngest son loves so much. The technology he grew up with, having been born in this century.

Konnie and I grew up with dial phones until push-button phones were invented. I can remember those being so cool to have.

Oh, let's be real here, I can remember when color TV was a luxury. Phones that didn’t have to be mounted on the wall, and didn’t need to be dialed, those were nice, and car phones were luxuries only for the rich.

Oh, how things have changed!

Anyway, happy writing, everyone!

Logic and Writing by Bonnie Le Hamilton

 

 Has logic died? Or do today’s authors think that logic doesn’t apply to fiction?

I’m asking a serious question here because I’ve come across a couple of Facebook stories that defy logic, making the story unbelievable.

Story number one is about a grandmother who works to alienate her grandson from his mother. Now I must point out that the story makes it clear that this is his bio mom, but the grandmother repeatedly tells the boy that his mother isn’t blood.

Yet nowhere in the story did either of the grandson’s parents point out the flaw in this statement, and most glaringly, the thirteen-year-old grandson never figured it out. That part of biology I knew full well long before I entered junior high health science class in 7^th grade! At thirteen, the kid should be in 8^th grade. Or do they not teach that part of biology anymore?

The grandmother’s insistence that her daughter-in-law isn’t a blood relative of her grandson is ludicrous, and the fact that no one points out the flaw in her logic is illogical.

But that isn’t the dumbest logic mistake I’ve come across in these stories.

This second one is even worse if you can believe it.

In it, a newborn died while still in the hospital, and it took the hospital staff five years to discover that it wasn’t a genetic issue that killed him, but rather poison. I mean, there was a cover-up, but during the trail while figuring out how the murderer got to the child, they found a pharmacy tech at the hospital whose access code was used.

During the cross-examination of said tech, he admitted to letting his then-girlfriend use his ID badge and access, but also admitted to telling said girlfriend where sodium chloride (the poison) was stored in the hospital pharmacy.

Now, let’s discuss this. First, why would his girlfriend need his ID badge and access code to the pharmacy to visit the maternity ward at any time of the day? And why the heck would she need to know where to find and have access to a deadly poison to visit her sister-in-law and newborn nephew in the maternity ward?

And why didn’t the blanketty-blank stupid tech mention any of this when her nephew was dead by morning?

Yes, there was an effort to suppress and hide the true nature of his death by the in-laws, but there is no mention of having bribed the tech, let alone why the tech never figured out that she was up to no good before his scheming girlfriend actually entered the hospital.

I’m not going to point out that said newborn nephew was the first grandchild, but five years later, when it all came out finally, said girlfriend was married to someone else and had school-aged offspring, as in more than one. That timeline information never made sense to me, but oh well, it doesn’t change that any intelligent person (and one assumes that a pharmacy tech is intelligent) would have stopped and questioned, “Hey, hold on a minute. Why would you need access to a pharmacy to visit a maternity ward? And why the heck would you need the exact location of a poison to visit a newborn infant?”

Most importantly, an intelligent person should have reconsidered giving her his ID and access codes and should possibly have reported this to the police. And he most certainly should have reported this to the authorities when the nephew didn’t survive until morning!

And the author is stupid to think that an intelligent person wouldn’t at least think, “Hey, wait, this is messed up.”

Because I’m telling you this is messed up!

In the first story, it would make more sense if the child were considerably younger than thirteen for him not to understand biology enough to figure out that his grandmother is an idiot, but his parents didn’t even correct that lie when they learned it! That’s plain messed up.

For the second story, I can honestly say that I don’t write mysteries, but only because I’m too much of a pantser to manage the intrigue of a mystery properly. That isn’t to say that I don’t know mysteries because I do. Two of my favorite authors are Dick Francis and his son Felix. I read mysteries all the time.

Maybe the problem is that the new generation of authors doesn’t think that any of their readers will notice the flaw.

Newsflash, I wasn’t the only reader to notice that flaw in the first story.

On the second story, I wasn’t able to get back to the comment section after I came upon that momentous flaw with pharmacy tech.

So, again, is logic dead? Or do authors today not know how to fix plot holes?

Happy writing, everyone.

Of A/C’s, Expenses, and Homes by Konnie Enos

Yesterday, Bonnie called me to remind me that today was my turn to post.

It was a nice gesture, but I already knew that. I also knew I yet again did not have any idea what to write about. My brain was actually too focused on what happened last Friday.

So, what did happen Friday?

My husband had an early appointment and left the house before the rest of us even woke up. Then, as I was just getting up, my son told me that we’d gotten an alert about an issue with our A/C system.

My husband had been notified and, as usual for him, his solution was to turn it off for now. That had been his solution with the central heater when it started malfunctioning. The only problem was, we couldn’t possibly fix it, so our heater had stayed off for several years. Fortunately, it doesn’t get that cold here and we managed with a few space heaters.

But air conditioning is a different matter. Not only does it get hot here, but I don’t handle being over-heated at all.

I made up my mind I would call our heating and air conditioning service at a more reasonable hour in the day and see when someone could check it out. Then, just as my husband came into our bedroom (returning home) my phone rang. It’s our service. They got the same alert we did and asked when a technician could come out to check on it.

I knew them checking on our system was a free service so having them come out wasn’t a problem. Needing to pay for whatever needed repaired was an issue. I made the appointment for later that day and then prayed it wasn’t an expensive issue. Something minor or easily fixed was the best outcome for us.

My experience with things breaking down is that the simplest, least expensive, solution is often the case. Except when it comes to anything in our house.

Part of this might be because the house is over 20 years old now though we’ve already replaced all major appliances including the water heater and both toilets. And while we’ve done major repairs to our central heating and air conditioning system, we had not replaced them. That alone explains the heating unit dying and the A/C having an issue.

So, the technician checked out our system. The issue wasn’t something minor. It was the system was over 20 years old and needed replaced.

I knew the cost of just repairing something that major was more than we had in our saving account. Actually, probably more than all the money we had combined.

But not repairing it meant spending the summer months dying in the heat with nothing but fans to keep us cool. Maybe in a different climate that would work, but the temps here easily reach over one hundred degrees (Fahrenheit) and usually starts doing that by April, or May at the latest. And clearly it was almost May. Not only that, but I had already asked to have a fan turned on and aimed at me. A fan that I had repositioned twice to ensure it was doing it utmost to keep me from over-heating.

Yes. I was not going to survive without A/C.

The technician told us we couldn’t just repair the A/C unit. The part was too old to repair. It needed replaced. But then so did our heating unit, but we’d known that for a few years.

The only option was to try and see if we (or rather me) could get approved for a home improvement loan at least large enough to cover replacing the A/C.

For some reason I was approved for a loan large enough to cover replacing everything. Still a sizeable monthly payment, but I’ve already figured out what we can handle without tightening our belts too much. Mostly just putting less into savings for the time being. So, hopefully we have no other major issues for the next several years. After all our issues over the last couple of years we simply could not handle them.

Yes, we got everything replaced. Rather quickly in fact. They had our new unit in and functioning by the end of the weekend.

After that was all said and done, I realized that we’ve actually lived in this house for 21 years as of last Thursday. Twenty-one years, and yet my lifetime average in one place is still about 2 years. And most were in the city I grew up in.

Finally, my baby, my biggest kid, will be a quarter of a century old this weekend.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.