Three Useful Movie Quotes

From three of my favorite movies come principles that have occurred to my memory at useful moments. 

1) Batman Begins

Rachel sees Bruce acting like a spoiled wastrel while she's trying to clean up corruption in the city. 

In shame, Bruce tries to tell her that's not who he really is. 

She says: 
"Bruce, deep down you may still be that same great kid you used to be. But it's not who you are underneath, it's what you do that defines you."

 

Rachel asks Batman who he is, and he says, "It's what I do that defines me." 

It's true. We should go by what people have done recently, rather than sentimentality and nostalgic excuses. 

2) Flight of the Phoenix, the remake 

I love this movie, esp the characterizations. Elliott, the aircraft designer, is just about the same degree and style of autistic as I am. I very feel that particular character - capable of occasional brilliant solutions, but generally not going to do very well in life because he doesn't want to admit how much the outcome depends on the emotional reactions of other people. 

That's unrelated to the quote I want to share  :-) 

Here is a thought that sometimes helps me along when the going gets tough. It certainly sustained me through those dark twenty years when there seemed to be nothing to hope for and no dreams. 

"I think a man only needs one thing in life. He just needs someone to love. If you can't give him that, then give him something to hope for. And if you can't give him that, just give him something to do." 

3) Open Range 

One of my top favorite movies, right up there with The Mummy Returns - and I've gotten some weird looks for claiming The Mummy Returns as my favorite movie, but it is! For several reasons! Not for any great quotes, though. 

Open Range is packed full of cowboy wisdom. "You're men, aren't you?" 

Here's the quote I like so much: "Most time, a man will tell you his bad intentions if you listen, let yourself hear." 

SO VERY TRUE and as I look back over some of the psychos I've had to deal with, there was almost always a verbal warning. Usually, there's a warning, and then a laugh, as the listeners "realize" they didn't mean it and are just being shocking or making a joke. 

No, they mean it. They're telling you their bad intentions. The question is whether you will let yourself hear. 

Let people define themselves, and then have the grace to believe them.  

Without citing any notable examples, someone springs to mind who borrowed money from his own grandmother and didn't pay it back, causing her to lose her home. His profile describes him as a "lovable sonofabitch". Well, you can love him if you want to, but you've also been warned. 

Or do you think he only put that to be cute and get a chuckle? 

Bonus: 4) Unforgiven 

A movie I only watched once, and didn't like. I prefer the sentimental, black and white, Zane Grey version of the West. 

But my darling asked what this blog post was about, and is glad to offer his favorite quote from a Clint Eastwood western. 

"Well, he should have armed himself if he was going to decorate his saloon with my friend." 

Now that's a quote! -- he says. 

A few posts from Twitter/X

X isn't much of a name. I'd say the new owner should have left it alone. "Twitter" was a thing; although previously an English word, it wasn't used much and was very googleable. How do you search for "X"? It'll have to be explained for the rest of its life. 

In fact it seems to have already settled down into "Twitter / X" 

I had some hope with the new owner, and went back to give it a try. First it made me pick a new password, then asked why I'd changed the password, and none of the options were "because you made me". 

Then it wants me to select my pronouns. The problem is that I speak English, and in English the singular object doesn't get to pick his, her or its own pronoun any more than two or more persons or things have any choices besides "they". 

I went away in mild annoyance. 

But the app was there on the phone, and one night I had something to share, and thought I'd try just ooooone more time! 

It does seem like there should be a platform for sharing. My stuff goes on my space, but other stuff that I've found floating around - well, it seems presumptuous to put that on my space as if it was mine. It's not mine. 

Argh for the particular, the persnickety, the punctilious ones of the world. What can we do? Everything should be just so, but often isn't. 

So I posted a couple of links on Twitter / X, intending to go back later when I had a keyboard and add my comments. 

Found out there's a one hour window for editing your own posts. 

They can be deleted, so that's what happened. 

Here's what I posted on Twiiiii - X and then removed. 

https://www.slashfilm.com/1412312/beekeeper-trailer-is-honey-flammable/

Happened across the trailer for The Beekeeper, and my darling for some reason thought I'd be interested, because, "I thought you liked Jason Statham?" 

1) not like that! I used to need to like random movie actors, but those days are over because I like my darling! and 2) not necessarily although there were a couple of his movies, Parker, most notably. It took me a while to think of the other: Spy! That was just bloody funny. I don't necessarily approve, and yet I've watched it several X. The part where the fat lady kills a guy and then barfs on him... yeah, NO, hahaha. And Ford's over-the-top boasting was so perfect. Don't we all know a guy like that? He's been everywhere, done everything, and now lives to tell you way too much about it. 

And Wrath of Man was okay. Somewhat. 

But I watched the trailer, and of course immediately ran to do "what any sensible person would do", with honey and fire. Conveniently, there was already a fire going, so I dribbled some honey on a flat piece of kindling and put it in the flames. It wouldn't light. After some time it eventually bubbled and carmelized, but didn't burn. So I hit the internet and was amused by this article. "'Honey is natural napalm' is another of Hollywood's lies along with 'ventilation ducts are always large enough to crawl through' and 'people can walk away from explosions without flinching'" 

The article says burning is a test of real honey - real honey burns, sugar water carmelizes - and that jar said "raw, local, natural" honey! Isn't there anything you can trust? 

I also belatedly observed the distinction between flammable and combustible, which is so basic that I'll add it to my list of things I've learned after age 40 that I really should have known before. Funny how I'm still coming across those. 

https://youtu.be/ltcu5Cx8A7I

People in the south when it's freezing 

This amuses me because I'm that neighbor, or aspiring to be. Now that I've learned to get out of bed when the bedroom is twenty degrees and get the fire started, I can at least show off, which is little consolation but at least SOMETHING. Humans get used to things. If I'm used to the cold, that means I'm tough and awesome! Right? 

https://youtu.be/b9fLRr9fi4A?si=BfziSnDoLYHrmne_

A lady playing O Holy Night on handbells, and besides gorgeous, it's just mind blowing the level of calm and coordination she demonstrates. 

UPDATE April 2024 - whoaaaa seriously??? 

https://time.com/6969931/elon-musk-x-australia-albanese-stabbing-censorship/

Okay I take it all back and now I'm gonna be a Twiiii - X fangirl all the way. Wow! Big Brother of Australia orders big tech to REMOVE reports of a factual thing that actually happened and THEY ALL COMPLY??? Including the American ones! Except Twitter / X. 

Just in case you don't think 98% of "reality" (everything we think we know that didn't happen right in front of our eyes) is a fabricated lie. 

They don't say this preacher did not get knifed by a guy screaming Muslim slogans, they simply don't want anyone to see it - because it's TOO DISTRESSING. 

Too distressing to whom? In the opinion of whom? 

"We're not calling for censorship, only for common sense." 

They prefer people to have nicer, warm fuzzy feelings, by simply not knowing what's going on. Hmmm. Well, that isn't just like every sci-fi mind-control-society movie ever, or the book 1984 (which I read in 1984 when I was 14, and was very upset by it) AT ALL, is it. 

Ugh. 

Don't have time to rant much right now  :-)  okay, more later. 

See you on Twitter or whatever the new owner wants to call it! Where I'll be posting everything I can think of and clicking the ads, too! 

Twenty Below

It began to get cold while we were down in the valley, shopping. It's usually ten degrees warmer down there, but it was getting shockingly cold. 

One of my favorite things while shopping is to leave Darling to check out like an adult, while I take the dog and run on to the next destination.  

But the wind chill was terrific. I had winter gloves, scarf, hat, etc, but my cheeks felt like somebody was scouring them with sandpaper. I didn't even make it out of the parking lot. I turned around without a trace of shame and dived back into the truck. My face hurt so badly that I put hand cream on my cheeks, which helped a bit. 

"I'm not one of those wussies who wants to be dropped off at the door" ummmm, yes, I actually am. When I was done shopping, I called to be picked up, and waited inside the building.  

When we came home it was minus 4 deg F; by the time the groceries were unloaded it was -6, before bedtime it was -10.  

Jeff didn't go to bed. 

I put two down comforters on the bed and two long fleece robes on myself before I got in. No worries about waking up sweating. I was just warm enough, and slept well. 

I woke up at 4:30am, and my poor husband was on the couch wearing his big coat and wrapped in blankets, keeping the woodstove blazing, and it was 42 deg in the living room. 

He went to bed and I fed the flames. If that stove wasn't going hard, it would get very cold in here. 

Jeff had some old wire crates that he kept just because they were cool. They're now very handy for carrying firewood inside. We usually burn through two crates' worth in 24 hours. That's with letting the stove go out when we go to bed. 

The last few days we've been burning around the clock, and filling those boxes around the clock. 

Okay, I'm impressed. It's not Alaska - SING WITH ME --> "When it's springtime in Alaska, it's fortyyy beloooowwww" 

But this is the coldest I've ever felt. Nature is not joking around. Earth doesn't feel hospitable. We wouldn't last very long out there. Can't take gloves off, def can't touch anything metal with your bare skin or it will keep you.  

Last winter when we camped out here, I woke up one morning to 20 deg inside the trailer. I remember a sensation of fear. We're afraid of things that might kill us, and the air felt like it was trying to kill us. 

Jeff put up skirting which helps a bunch, and he's been adding insulation in every crack in this RV. The window blinds are a thick textile that trap air, so they're kept pulled down. 

He tried to run the generator, but it wouldn't run. Too cold. This model of generator, if it had been sold in Canada, would have had a cold weather kit installed, but it wasn't so it has bluetooth remote control instead, so we can turn it off without going outside. Thanks, that's so helpful! The only problem is that we can't turn it on because it doesn't work in the cold. 

The trailer batteries have gone dead, and we have candles. It is really pioneer days now, except for watching movies on our phones haha. 

Today I went out twice, as briefly as possible, with as much warm clothing as I could pile on. Firewood is my job, and I had to throw the stick a bit for the poor doggie so she doesn't go nuts. But she's not as eager to be outside as she usually is, and she's glad to come back in. Her black fur coat isn't enough today. 

I don't have any trouble sleeping. The cold itself is exhausting. Jeff stays up to keep the fire going until I relieve him so... nighty night! About 9pm. 

That's what I wore to bed, plus a scarf. I dashed out to pose with the thermometer because yay, and then straight back in again.  "Getting dressed" implies a moment of being dangerously UNdressed, and that's a NOPE. I'm wearing the same long robes daytime and nighttime, just like they did in the middle ages. 

Jeff says it was -22 in the middle of the night. 

Do I look happy? Well, I'll tell you what's missing. There's no self-doubt, there's no intrusive thoughts, there's no regrets, no bad memories, no toxic chatterbox in my head right now. I just don't want to freeze. I'm tryna stay warm. It makes things pretty basic and it's a relief! 

Anyway who wouldn't be as happy as a piglet when there's light white and dark white, light brown and dark brown, and dark green, and sunshine and blue sky? The snow makes it all very, very quiet. 

I gotta tell you about a great bit of clothing / equipment I made! It was an old sleeping bag of a straight square shape. I trimmed off the ends to make into sleeves. It's much too fat to fit under the sewing machine. I hand stitched some of the seams (with heavy cord) and other are still safety-pinned, but it works fine  :-) 

It is a game changer and attitude changer. It's like a suit of armor against the cold. Just step into it, wrap the front around and there's instant protection from that freezing environment. I can move around enough to do basic work, and it's large enough to get dressed inside it! 

Monkey Bars a Few Years Ago

Here’s a fun memory.

This was in the early days of freedom, when we were still kinda in shock, and very much enjoying how lovely it was to have a normal life.

We had some rules right away for saving money. One is “that engine doesn’t start for anything less than two miles”, so we walked to most errands. There were playgrounds nearby that we passed.

I watched the kids playing on the monkey bars, and remembered that I had loved to do that, long ago. Who says I can’t try? By age 45 my hands were pretty out of it.

It wasn’t even so much a grip strength thing as that the soft skin on my hands just couldn’t bear it. I gave a try, and had to stop within moments. I went home with hurting palms. A few days later they were okay again, and I tried again. 

A dozen times of that and I had callus again like I did when I was young.

Not much. How about the sheets I bought lately?

I have been making a pile of underdresses quick while I still have electricity! Oh sure, I don't need electricity and they can't make me want it, but the electric sewing machine is definitely faster 🙄

The stripey one is LINEN. It's hard to find linen for any decent price these days. I got that chunk on ebay. The advertised length would be just barely enough to make something, then it was a few inches short. The seller was a snot, offered a percentage of the total price less than two dollars by way of compensation, so I left bad feedback and used a triangle cut from a giveaway linen skirt to fill in. 

And this red and white check was my darling husband Jeff's grandma's old tablecloth! 

EMBROIDERED tablecloth I got for 50c at an estate sale because it had a stain right in the center, becomes "priceless heirloom folkish blouse" - right? 

There wasn't enough fabric so I filled in the lower part of the body with other random white cotton. 

This is my new style for a new freezing home. I actually hate wearing clothing to bed, but a little less so when the bedroom is 20 degrees. Haha it's going to get less than twenty but that's the lowest I've woken up and experienced up there so far! 
So this is a wrap nightgown. It's the same deal as the most ancient tunic garments that cross in front and tie. I put two big snaps on the two front flaps under the armholes which are really long. It's NO FUN getting naked to get dressed when it's c-c-c-cold! So I can get dressed inside that big baggy flannel garment which retains at least a little of my body heat, or just wrap some other warm outer layers around it for a while and change into real clothes later when (if) it gets warmer. And IF the bed gets nice and warm to the point that I'm back to disliking jammies, I can easily squiggle out of it or at least one half of it so I don't have to feel it any more. I've tried it and very pleased with my "invention" (what humanity's been wearing for aeons until recently). 

Remember the blue linen I posted about long ago that I bought for medieval dress-up but never cut because it was so pretty and I couldn't decide what to make it into? (This picture does NOT do that sky /robin's egg blue justice) 

Well, it's cut, because my cold new home requires clothing. Staying warm is important. I learned it in the excellent book: 

"98.6 Degrees: The Art of Keeping Your Ass Alive" but my own personal donkey also appreciates the need to be warm. So the linen was cut into any random shape that made it so I could wear it. 

Life is much better in linen!  Cool in summer, warm in winter! 

That's not linen but I couldn't resist a set of cotton bedsheets in the most glorious, vivid, rose shade of deep pink. Those will become clothing. 

And now a word about my personal style. Got to thinking about it the other day. The year of birth matters slightly less to me than to those who were raised in the stream of civilization, since I was isolated by both force and preference. But there was some current time influence and the mid 70s loved this stuff: 

That one's a bit earlier, but there I am, right up to date with the cottage look before it was invented (long after it existed hahaha) 

A Sense of Awe

I just read a good article about the "sense of awe", 

https://lifehopeandtruth.com/god/prayer-fasting-and-meditation/how-to-pray/praise-god/sense-of-awe/

If we're just going for that feeling of WHOA - funny thing is,  I easily remember the last time I had it. 

It doesn't include the feeling of standing on the edge of something which, for me, is more like NOPE  :-D  

Last time I had the distinct physical reaction of awe wasn't even the rather large waterfall I walked beneath a few days ago, or any sunsets, gorges, bridges or stars. It was the Rainier Building in Seattle, which I just found again by putting "building with narrower base". 

It was probably twenty years ago that I last wandered beneath that, looking up, and out again because I had shivers, and under again because it was just so awesome, five or six times. 

And that is awesome. (It really does BUG me when people yell "AWESOME" to show approval over the most non-awe-inspiring things, like "You remembered the ketchup! Awesome!!!") 

Would you like a bowl of mud?

Darling says at once, "Yes!" 

He's been around here a while, he knows what's up, hehe. It's going to be some form of not very thrilling chocolate dessert. 

This is GOOD FOR YOU. 

He says, "That's what you do - make dessert taste like dinner." 

But here I sit, eating a bowl of chocolate pudding and I feel happy. 

This is: 

4 c almond milk 

1/4 c coconut sugar 

1/2 c cocoa powder 

1/4 c beef gelatin  

and 1/4 c melted coconut oil 

I mix the powdered gelatin with the dry ingredients then dump into the almond milk, because that's easier than the usual methods. 

Cook it to scalding, then add some vanilla and put it in the fridge a while, and stir occasionally. 

YUM! 

It has more gelatin than strictly needed because I was reading about how good that stuff is for you. 

This is "Life by chocolate"  :-) 

Thoughts from Today's Message

The speaker shared a cool quote, which, when I looked it up, led to another just as insightful.

I made that from a phrase from the sermon, with a background from Freepik, and words added using Android app "Collage Maker: Grid Art"

Using a phrase from the sermon: 

https://www.youtube.com/live/ANRSn-mETyc

There were a couple other thoughts that helped. What about talking about "what great things God has done for you"? 

I've been suffering somewhat after the post about miracles. It was in Drafts for a year. I'm self-conscious about it. Isn't it kinda silly to say, "God spoke to me"? Won't I be scoffed at? Doesn't that imply that I think I'm somebody really special? Or maybe a little soft in the head? Maybe I should keep that to myself. 

But as I've explained to a few people, after all these years inside my own head I'm familiar with what my own thoughts sound like. Some of em are smart, others are horrible and cause pain, some are weird and make a mess it's hard to clean up. I have some really great random ideas sometimes that came from way down in my subconscious mind rather than conscious, but here's the thing-- I know what all of those sound like.  

When God put a word into my mind it was completely different. No mistaking that for anything that came from me. I didn't wake myself up at five in the morning. I didn't suddenly make myself humble and teachable. I didn't suddenly decide to study the other side's point of view. That word REST did not come from me. 

And I simply MUST talk about it. I've put off talking about it too long. It's a tiny just-for-me miracle that I get to talk about even in my normal, unworthy voice. It happened. Don't know why. I can't explain it. But it happened to me and thank God for it. 

Watch Pratt & Whitney At Its Finest

 

https://youtu.be/-oTGrPbtRa4

Love the internet, where you can even find groups of fans of particular makes of airplane engine. How about that.

Well, there is just something about a “certain kind of engine sound” but I didn’t know what was different about them. Turns out it’s the sound of Pratt and Whitney, so rumbly-majestic-orderly they give me shivers. 

The other biggies are RR and GE, and some may favor them, but there’s no accounting for taste and those sound like jet engines to me. I like P&W. 

There went an hour of my life I’ll never get back, sorting out which breed of jet engine I prefer. Yay.

Salsa for the Timid

Spotted this in the grocery store tonight and laughed so hard I barked. Darling turned around to see what was wrong. 

I remember a joke "If you know what Pace Extra Mild Picante Sauce tastes like, you might be a white chick."  Yep, I might be, and here's my salsa, labelled accurately. 

He says, "Timid! That's you! Until somebody offends you." 

:-) 

Me: Friend of Harbor Seals

One cool thing about living at a marina is one day you're walking home to your boat and there's a new baby seal that wasn't there yesterday.  

Mom quickly urges the baby to swim, and most importantly teaches him to get out again. 

That's the very first time the baby managed to get out of the water, and I was there to watch! 

They took up residency on a section of dock right behind our boat, which wasn't the greatest spot because it was a thoroughfare leading to many other boats. They might have been better off on the exact finger of dock where the birth happened which has much less traffic. But okay, we get lots of seal pictures! 

Not very many days later, Baby is filling out nicely and looks half as long as Mom already. 

They're gone most of the day fishing, but sleep up there at night. 

Jeff says harbor seals want to sleep on the dock because it's warmer. Cold water takes away their energy, so their survival is directly connected with how often they need to jump in. Whenever someone comes along, they watch, hoping the people don't get any closer because they don't want to have to go into the cold water again. 

I don't want to get any closer. I'm just trying to get home to my boat home so I walk in a nonthreatening way around their corner, making soothing baby talk. 

The night before last, we came home from shopping with a cart full of bags of groceries. Only the baby was on the dock. Mom had jumped in the water at the first sound of the cart. But since it turned out to be "you guys", she hopped back out of the water right in front of us and lay down! 

But then, unfortunately, I casually pulled a bag out of the cart too fast and without any baby talk to prepare them. They both bailed. Splish, splish. 

"That was just one grocery bag too much," Jeff said. 

Or maybe they heard about that lady in Oregon who carried a baby seal home in a shopping bag and killed it. 

Last night they had lain down for the night and I came walking around the corner in the dark. When they heard someone coming they both started hurrying towards the water, but then they realized it was me and stopped. 

I said, "Nice puppies, good puppies, stay there, it's just me" and they stayed still and watched me walk by only five feet away. 

I feel so honored! 

There's a video that goes here, I'll add it as soon as I find it :-) 

The challenge is to write some words, add some pictures and actually post. "Finding the video" is mastery level one step beyond that and one step beyond me. But I haven't given up! 

Mar 2023 ::remembers:: oh yeah, I put it on Youtube. 

The Christmas Miracles of 2013 and 14

The year 2013, our first year of freedom, was a huge relief that also came with many changes and new challenges - challenges, in the real sense of the word: natural obstacles which must be dealt with and overcome, causing growth.  

Now a free adult for the first time in my life, I had the weight of responsibility for making a home for my family. 

The kids went to school for the first time in their lives. At least the four youngest did. (Vicky had escaped as soon as she was eighteen, completed her own education, then rejoined us after the rest of us escaped.) 

We found a wonderful alternative school that was a great environment for both them and me-- a homeschool co-op that had grown up; still legally "homeschooling" but in a public school building with teachers paid by the state. Parents and younger siblings hung around the facility all day, making an environment where elders and babies outnumbered the pupils. It was more like home. More like a village. Not much nonsense can go on with a mother always watching. It might not be your mother but it's still a mother. 

Christmas rolled around.

I do know better than Christmas. Christmas was big in my family when I was a child, but when I was ten or so, the old  booklet "Is Christmas Christian?" landed on our table and my parents and I read it. I was old enough to understand. That is an unholy day based on pagan customs and must go. 

I certainly missed it when it was gone. That was when we moved to the bookdocks, and Christmas was wrapped up in my fond memories as "the golden days when we were normal". In fact I missed it so much, that I have a Christmas tree as one of my early conscious sins. I was maybe twelve. We'd moved down to that place in Cali way out in the mountains, and I was so homesick for everything and Christmas, that I went out in the woods with some sparkly bits of garland and a few homemade ornaments, and decorated a little tree. 

It didn't feel good. "You're doing wrong right now and you know it." 

Ugh. 

When I was first married, ignoring Christmas wasn't an issue. Ed didn't care. It's usually the women who pursue that (un)holyday anyway. Later on, when the kids grew old enough to ask Daddy, "Why can't we do Christmas like everybody else?" he challenged me to show him in the Bible where it says we can't do Christmas. After all, he said, "It's not like we're worshipping the tree!" 

I couldn't prove it. Nowdays I'd be able to, but I couldn't then. So I was given some money and told to make Christmas.

I grumbled to the kids, "Christmas is stupid, but Daddy's in charge, and he says we're going to," and then I decked the halls.

I also added that, "Our pagan ancestors definitely had a point with the twinkly lights. It does cheer up the bleak midwinter!"

Over the years I got so used to it that I had five boxes of decorations, a whole stack of Christmas CDs, Christmas cookie cutters, everything. The kids got used to my once-yearly conscience-soothing rant. Christmas became an ordinary part of our lives. 

When they were older I refused to be part of it. I'd tell them if they want Christmas, go to the attic and get busy. The first time I pulled that one, I was hoping they'd make a mess of it, but those big girls were artistic and turned the house into winter wonderland far more beautiful than I had ever done it. 

When we left in 2013 I had too many other things to think about.  Christmas came around and I didn't question it, only panicked. I added it to one of the many, many things I need to worry about and it felt impossible. How am I going to do this? WHERE am I going to get any gifts? 

At that point the divorce wasn't even filed. Ed was giving us some money at his discretion, never the full amount he had agreed to, but enough that I could scrape by if I was frugal.  

By the week before Christmas I had come up with a tree, and I had bought and wrapped one gift. I had looked at ideas for handmade gifts but hadn't started working on any. At least I baked some cookies. Besides that it was only despair. The kids kept on assuring me that they don't mind-- "It doesn't matter, Mom! It's okay if there aren't any gifts!" If you're a parent, you'll understand that that makes it feel worse, not better. 

And then a miracle happened.

I was brought to a back room at school and told that the local parents' group had heard about us, knew that we had come from 22 years of abuse and were now doing our best on very little funds, and had decided to adopt us for Christmas. Then they showed me a pile of presents that made my jaw drop. They filled up the back of my minivan twice. I had to make two trips. The first load was loads and loads of wrapped presents in big containers that were also gifts, such as a cool fabric-lined wicker laundry hamper. The next day was another load with some big items including a brand new Cuisinart food processor and a Crock Pot for me, and a bunch of useful housekeeping stuff from Costco.

Overwhelmed? Yes, I cried. I cried the next day.

The tree was buried behind gifts and the gifts stacked the table.

When Vicky saw the load she said, "Do they know about me?!"

No, they didn't. They only knew about the four youngers, but that didn't matter. They hadn't tagged the gifts, so on Christmas morning everybody just piled in and started opening at random, then had a great time swapping and sharing things around per taste. For instance, one gift was a cool coffee set with a mug and accessories, maybe intended for me, but Vicky was the only one of us who liked coffee. 

I have to say it was a lesson in how to gift, something I've never been much good at anyway. I seem to define gifts too narrowly and don't visualize "would make a great gift" about useful things that really make great gifts. There were colorful backpacks, pretty fleece blankets, journals with decorative covers, stationery, umbrellas. They also gave us a used Wii in great condition along with a pile of games and accessories. When the orgy of unwrapping was over, the kids played Mario together while I sorted out all that paper, feeling warm and loved by the kindness of strangers.

I've wanted to post about this ever since, but couldn't find the pictures. Now that I've found them they're quite disappointing. Only some poor phone snapshots, and not a single image of that mass of gifts. 

Here's one of the last tree I ever bought: 

And Vicky's enthusiasm helping us make a new home.

 
I love the sight of that plain little apartment in the background. What a change it was to be in a safe place where the door is under my control. Our apartment was a haven where nobody is welcome except nice people.  

 

There's just a tiny fraction of the gifts.

I found the thank you drawing that Karen made for our benefactors! It didn't scan very well. Here's a scan and one with the contrast increased a bit.

Honestly I'm glad it didn't even cross my mind to object that year. What was a wonderful day, enjoyed by all of us. Best Christmas ever! Not ruined by any awareness of conscience. Humans are frail critters.  I didn't even think about it afterwards. 

In December 2014 a better miracle happened. God sent someone to speak to me at the right moment and bring the topic to mind-- right before I bought a tree. I got no farther than to think, "Well, I don't suppose lightning's going to strike in the same place twice" (nope) when I was relieved of Christmas. 

I met someone who observed the Sabbath on the seventh day per the commandment, and the actually holy days which are what Jehovah worship indicates. I argued about that, but at least I was reminded about Christmas. 

Whoops. Adam isn't around any more to take the blame. It's up to me what we will or will not celebrate. As soon as I thought of it, the conclusion was immediate, although I flopped around with some regrets just like I had years ago as a child. Christmas is bright and twinkly and smells nice, but it must go. 

I felt some trepidation. Did I expect a crying fit when I told the kids that Christmas is cancelled? They barely shrugged. Yes, they remembered the lectures. 

Nowadays I would point to Deut 12:30, "Take heed to thyself that thou be not snared by following them, after that they be destroyed from before thee; and that thou inquire not after their gods, saying, How did these nations serve their gods? even so will I do likewise." 

December 25th isn't Jesus' birthday, but is the birthdate of some other legends and idols who don't need to be named. A well-travelled friend of mine once opined that, "Nobody can grow to adulthood in America without realizing where Christmas comes from." But honestly, I know of grown-up women who really think that that's Jesus' birthday. 

In case you're curious, I think the most fun, illustrated, bold and shocking information is in some videos shared with me very recently by my lovely new husband (as of 2019!) 

He came across them by chance on Youtube. There's a part 2 and there's one about Easter. Viewer discretion! But those nasty legends really are where this nonsense comes from. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7zSPY-wu2pw

The second miracle was me changing my opinion to something I had been set against. I needed not only to discard the unacceptable "Christmas" but to take up the real holy days instead. That was a step I had long been convinced was "Judaizing" and wouldn't examine. I had met Christians who followed Jehovah's genuine religious calendar, but I brushed them aside. The most recent conversation was no exception. I didn't investigate, only argued, briefly and proudly, and then dismissed the subject from my mind. I knew better than Christmas, but nowadays we go to church on Sunday! "The Lord's Day" and proud of it! 

One fine Saturday morning, shortly after cancelling Christmas, I woke up with the strangest feeling. It was earlier than five am, I felt suddenly alert, peaceful (miracle) and wide awake, and it seemed as if before my face there was a word, in four large letters. "REST" 

I had intended to get up (much later) and then vacuum and clean the house in preparation for resting on Sunday. But instead, I jumped out of bed, feeling energy (miracle), interest, curiosity, humility (miracle)-- something amazing was happening! And suddenly everything was okay! 

I hit the internet to do research. One of the old teachers I'd listened to long ago had published a booklet series on the ten commandments, and I looked up the 4th commandment one. It begins by saying that he's not going to get involved in the controversy of which day and time is the correct sabbath, only going to instruct us in how to observe the day that we choose for ourselves. Suddenly that sounded like the most cowardly thing I'd ever heard of. "Remember the sabbath day to keep it holy" is one of the big ten. It gets no more foundational than that. How can we remember it, if we don't know which one it is? 

It's pretty obvious which day is the seventh day of the week, come to think about it. A quick study points out how many different languages call the seventh days of the week some variant of "Sabado". Jesus was the son of God, he certainly knew which day was the right one, and he had never argued with the Pharisees about which day it was, only, like my former teacher's booklet, taught what things should be done on that day. The Romans' days of the week are recent history and traceable. Wikipedia explains that the calendar's been adjusted a few times, but only the numerical dates. The seven days of the week have never been messed with. 

Okay. That same booklet said that one of the things you must do on the sabbath is assemble. So I googled, "sabbath church" thinking I would have to fall back on the SDA, like my sabbath-keeping mother, but lo and behold, there was the real Church of God. Their meeting place was four miles away from me and services started in one hour. Just enough time to get dressed. "Okay, God, I guess I'm going to church." 

How funny it was to wander in there! Terra incognita, as foreign as going to another country, and then how strange to discover that that other country was my real home. Afterwards I called up my mother and admitted what I'd just done, and that she had been right all along (gigantic miracle, haha). 

When I was a teenager, one of the home churches we had attended met on Saturday. I only noticed that as an anomaly and it made no impression. I was out in the shop with the men, eschewing female company as usual, and they talked politics, but my mother had been in the kitchen and had absorbed the sabbath. 

Ed had decided that Sunday was the correct day and I had resisted much less than Christmas. I had barely noticed, and later, forgot about it entirely. I had had to go do archaeology to even remember for sure that that group met on Saturdays. 

The calendar of days by which people schedule their lives shows which system they are loyal to. It's kinda like we can tell which side you're on by whether you observe the 4th of July or Cinco de Mayo. Do you keep the day that God said is holy from the time of creation and commanded us to "remember"? Or allow human leaders to appoint a different one? 

"Constantine I decreed that Sunday will be observed as the Roman day of rest: 'On the venerable day of the Sun let the magistrates and people residing in cities rest, and let all workshops be closed.'"  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lord's_Day

So vacuuming was cancelled and I followed God in a new direction because he told me to. Does that sound strange? "God told me to." Who talks like that? If I'd heard people say that, I'd usually scoff. I'd call it their strong imagination, at best, or exaggerating for effect, or at worst, faking it for purposes of their own. God doesn't talk to people any more. 

Did I really not think that God talks to people? And if I didn't, then, did I even believe in such a thing as God? 

Boat Cookies

How do we make cookies without sugar? or an oven... 

This is almond flour, mashed banana, coconut oil and lemon juice, rolled into blobs and cooked in a frying pan with the lid on. I put another grate on top of the burner for more space and left it on low for a while. 

They came out just fine. The test of a cookie is whether you're trying to resist eating more of them. My cookie itch was scratched. 

I wouldn't normally bake on aluminum foil, but there wasn't any parchment on the boat. Just this once won't kill us.  

The boat is good practice for where I'm going next. There's no fridge, oven, or running water on the boat - although Darling says he'll get the water back on very soon - but there's a source of potable water fifty feet away. Carrying it back in gallon jugs is practice, and washing two hands with a gallon jug in one of them is an art.  

Update as of now: he just said the boat's going to have running water today! 

That's cool, but not necessary. I'll try not to let myself get spoiled. 

The boat has power and cell phone service.  

Where we're going there's no power but solar, no phone but landline, no water but what we haul in, but there'll be an oven! Our trailer will have propane to cook with. Choose your indulgences, hehe. 

It's not exactly the wild woods, although it'll be woodsier and wilder than I've been for a few decades now. 

Another test, oatmeal and raisins without bananas, and I bought some parchment squares:

A few days after giving up sugar the darling stood up after dinner and wanted to know, "What's for dessert? Where's the M&Ms? Where's the Reese's? Where's the Oreos??" 

I said, "Look in the frying pan, there's cookies"  

😇

Chocolate cravings?

I've had quite a journey AFTER losing the 50 lb. I really, really, really didn't want to find that 50 lb again that I had lost (and I knew it was probably only mislaid and wasn't very far away) and yet I definitely needed to eat more after the diet to regain my strength. 

After the strenuous dieting I found my body and spirit surprisingly resistant to any further limitations. It's like I wanted to be free to eat "whatever I want" henceforth. 

I've bounced around from one thing to another since then.  By now I've regained about 6 lb which isn't bad, considering it's been almost a year, and yet that's dire and drastic because it's progress in the wrong direction! 

The latest turning point was just recently when the darling pulled up to the window to order a fancy coffee and asked if I wanted anything. Now, I tell you, my world CHANGED a couple years ago when he ordered me my first fancy anything-- it was a spiced chai with almond milk (I don't get what people see in coffee)-- I took a sip and bells and fireworks went off, it was something like-- "Whoa, this is great! This is delicious! What is this? Oh my goodness, it's amazing" sip "Wow, how did you know about this? This is fantastic, thank you" sip "Oh, Lord have mercy this is wonderful, yummmm" sip, for the next however long it took me to put that away (and that's part of how I ended up 200 lb in the first place haha). 

So. Do I want a spiced chai? Well, do I want a drink that costs six bucks? That would be a nope. Now that the dating's over I don't want a cup of empty calories worse than I need us to save six bucks. 

So I looked up the sugar content, hoping that would help me feel better about missing out. 42 grams of sugar... is that a lot? The Heart Association says to stay under 24 g of sugar a day if you don't want to end up diabetic. 

Or you could have a pumpkin spiced chai for 58 grams! 

Along with my search, Google suggested a video called, "What happens if you stop eating sugar for 30 days?" and we listened to it. 

It was this one, 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XS_kjTAnpP0

That presenter says what I already knew but don't like to hear, that sugar is sugar is sugar. You and your self-righteous, soothing organic maple syrup, coconut sugar, honey, whatever it is, it's all glucose. And white bread and potatoes by the way. It's all the same. 

Darling said, Let's do it! Let's give it up! 

He wasn't really addicted to sugar. That's not his weakness. He can take sugar or leave it. But I am a sugar addict! The first step to getting help is admitting there's a problem, and I lerve sweets. All of my teeth are sweet teeth. 

I am the all or nothing type. Some of the advice pages suggest using moderation rather than going to extremes, but I'm with the personal trainer I found who says that moderation is just not effective with sugar addicts. It's like telling an alcoholic to have only one beer a day. 

The first day without sugar wasn't really without, since Darling had also ordered chocolate chip cookies with his coffee and I had had one. I felt it by evening. The second day I nearly lost my marbles. Turns out (one doesn't notice these things until they go away) I was basically having two servings of chocolate every single day. So I walked in circles and chewed the scenery. 

I said, "I'm gonna kill someone!" and darling says, "Hopefully not me?" 

Nope, because he still looks like meat, and protein isn't what I'm after right now. 

The next day was just as crazy, so was the next and yet I began to feel enthusiasm about breaking the back of this monster. Who wants to be addicted to anything? Who wants a substance to rule one's life? Who wants to be a helpless slave unable to refuse to do what's necessary to obtain said substance? 

I remember as a teenager hearing something about heroin addicts and not having any sympathy. But then I thought that maybe I couldn't be superior about it until I had become addicted to heroin and tried to stop; maybe it wouldn't be as easy as it looks from here. And then I contemplated how my mother railed against sugar and yet we ate it every day. Why don't I try going without that? Then I ate sugar for the next 35 years until now. Well for one thing, if you want to get off heroin stop hanging around the culture. And most people have family who wants the white stuff. It's not so bad if you remove it from the premises completely. And it's lovely if you have a healthy darling who is on the boat with you! 

My emotions are still going up and down on the sugar coaster but it's starting to even out. The ups are natural and are actually HIGHER. It's almost as if by giving up sugar, you become sugar. You get your energy back again.  

Darling says, "What are you eating there? Mud?" 

"Exactly." 

He said, "Well, that's a lot of chocolate, so if that doesn't take care of your chocolate craving then we will know that what you were craving wasn't chocolate." 

HA! 

Thanks for that news flash, Captain Obvious. 

That's a lot of chocolate mixed with some peanut butter. Peanut butter doesn't have sugar. Ground cocoa nibs don't have sugar, neither do rice cakes. The whole thing really gums up the chewing works, and it took a lot of unsweetened peppermint tea to choke that all down. Afterwards I felt full, satisfied, and energetic. 

Breakfast has been oatmeal with chocolate on it, a zero-sugar bowl of nice warm mud. It tastes pretty decent, actually, and is incredibly filling. How about some carrots for lunch? 

I think I can do this! 

Gently down the stream

Dave: row, row, row

Me: merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily!

My experience with water and boats is still limited that a rowboat is a thrill. 

I got to go again with the darling a couple days after. We were bringing the boat over to an end of the beach where we could pluck it from the water and carry it to our truck. 

You would think I could row. I'm strong enough, and I'm reputed to have a knack for mechanics and the spatial relationships thing that does me so well on IQ tests. But the one or two times I've been in a rowboat I look like a confused toddler, going in circles, splashing around to no purpose, unable to get the boat to make any efficient progress or even in the right direction. I've conceded that the darling gets to row. 

But he got an important phone call and abandoned rowing. I could have sat nicely and waited, but I grabbed oars and started hauling as randomly as usual, and eventually got us over to the target beach and THEN I got to do a totally excellent thing I've always wanted to do-- didn't realize it was at the top of the list of things to do before I die, until the opportunity for it was at hand! That thing I've seen a dozen times on pirate movies, where you jump out of the boat into the water and pull the boat up the beach. My shoes were off so quick you'd think somebody was about to tell me not to do that. 

That thing. 

The darling usually says, "That's not a job for a princess!" 

But he was on the phone and didn't notice I was pulling him in. When he hung up, there was the boat up on the beach and me looking like I'd just saved the world. 

One of those high points of life!