How am I doing?

Robbie from Tone Deaf recently asked how I was doing amidst the current U.S. regime? I'm tired of the meanness, and anxious about the future. 

It seems like nearly every day some bizarre order comes from above and changes something that makes things worse. I believe there is a "plan" that is moving forward like a construction roller to destroy this Democratic Republic. The plan is driven by wealth and greed not just inside the U.S., but from all corners of the globe. Women, people of color, LBGTQ people, the poor, and immigrants are under siege and losing freedoms. It will continue to get worse if not stopped by the Congressional elections in November. One wonders if there will even BE elections in November.

Our educational system has failed us, and the country is filled with ignorant sheep who gleefully admire tyranny. Hatred is the Mode au jour. Criminals rule.  

Our buffoonish leader "Pure Evil" spends our tax dollars on gauche vanity projects. He destroys and cheapens the sacred spaces of our government, wants to build massive gold encrusted monstrosities. He tries to "brand" our buildings and our currency with his hateful name. It's almost funny. If it was a movie I would laugh out loud. But this, my friends, is real life. 

Still I hold out hope. Remarkably, the Pope is currently more popular in the U.S.A. than that ruler of ours I like to refer to as "Pure Evil." I call him that because I am afraid to write his name. That's how bad things are.

Thinking about mathematics

I have so much time to think in my dotage. The thoughts I have delight me because one thing leads to another. Old memories are more fresh in my mind than what I had for dinner last night. Surely remembering is the best aspect of aging?  

Here's a thought: I wish I had taken more math in school.  I spent most of my work life using math for accounting and budgeting.  Not because that work was my heart's desire, but because it came my way and I was good at it.  Plus, it was fun. Consequently, I can add, subtract, multiply, and divide.  However, I never quite learned to think mathematically.  If I could go back in time, I would have paid more attention to those math story problems that seemed so boring.  I think I was just lazy.  

Here are two pictures of a pair of painted buntings visiting our feeder.  

I was texting with an old friend the other day. She and her husband have a number of ailments worthy of complaint, but that's not her style. Oh we did complain; yes, we did. But not about physical ailments. I'm the one who goes for the gold when complaining about aches and pains, not her.

We talked about our practical fears of dying before our spouse, how would they manage? And what if they die first, how will we manage? Order the largest garbage bin to our driveway and start chucking the precious junk in? Sell the house, move to a retirement community? Preferably one without a lawn to mow and an on-site handy person to fix things. Could it be community of oldsters filled with old women who want to drink pink cocktails and laugh? That would do. Yes, probably that's what I would choose if such a life exists. 

But what would he do? I'm afraid he's not as adaptable as I am. I don't want him to be sad and alone. We didn't speak of how sad and lonely we would be if we lost them. That's intensely private and we simply couldn't go there. Not yet.

Then there is all our "stuff." For the most part, younger people don't really want old things. They may as they age, but then it will be too late. Truthfully, I care less and less about my things. My family can sell everything, make some money, live their lives.  It is the things they will do that matter, not the things they have.  

We ended our long texting with vows to throw things away.  I filled one garbage bag with superfluous junk and then had a house dust related allergy attack and stopped.  

Some photos with happier subject matter:

I'm still here

I'm still here.  I have been reluctant to write for a number of reasons: 

First, I haven't felt creative.  

Second, we suffered the loss of a family member.  Not to death, mind you.  A rejection based on complex family dynamics. Anyway, it took the wind out of my sails for a long time. It is what it is. Onward and upward, right?

Oh, and Third, I've been obsessed with raising the rating on my ancestry.com tree, the one with over 60,000 people in it.  If you remember, in April 2025 I discovered it had a 7.9 rating because of lack of documentation. It is now up to 9.4.  If I can bring it up to 9.6, it will be rated a "top tree." I'm so sick of "documenting" and researching dead people. I dream about them. When I had pneumonia last fall, I was often in a half-sleep, watching names and facts scroll by one after another in my mind. When I'm finally done with this project, I will feel reborn. 

Cheers!

Less green I see

That hard frost last month really kicked my psychological rear end.  The mango tree doesn't seem like it's going to come back.  The dwarf poinciana was just starting to leaf out, and now (almost two months later) there is no sign of life. We pulled out two huge ixora and will miss their constant flowering.  The bougainvillea are bare and bony.  We disagree on what to do about that.  I say cut it way back and either it survives or not.  Tom is less violent than me.   

I cut the crotons back, and one of the plants has new sprouts, but at the bottom.  I fear 12 years of growth is lost and we must start again. Sheesh! I'm not sure I even have 12 more years. The cabbage palms (native) survived just fine, but I notice some of the more exotic palms in other yards are still brown and limp. I'm beginning to understand these Southern plants a little after 12 years of befuddlement and wonder.  They are not meant for that kind of cold, and they like a little sand in the soil. How should I proceed to replace the dead, not knowing if the hard freeze was a fluke or a portent of things to come?  Native plants!

Gardening is different down here. I lived in the north for 62 years, and I appreciated the death and rebirth of the flora. I enjoyed and then managed the cold and snow as one must. Spring was pure magic as old friends poked up through the soil. They were hardy, magnificent, and I trusted them to come back.  Like I said, it is different here in Central Florida.  Still, the bromeliads, azaleas and cannas survived!  Actually, quite a bit might grow back, and it has been fun reimagining some of these garden beds.  I need to trust a bit more.  Everything is going to be okay.  

a bromeliad bloom

Changing people's minds

When I was an employee union organizer a million years ago, I was taught that there are two kinds of belief systems.  

One is rational/intellectual.  If you provide the proof and facts, then you can change the mind of a person like this.  

The other kind of belief system is simply belief - not based on facts, just based on what a person “believes” in their heart to be true because of how they were raised, or taught, or just want to believe.  This is the tough one - you have to grab people like this by the heart in order to change their minds.  It hard because it upends their entire belief system, and they don’t necessarily want that to change.  

Persuasion is very tricky, and requires a lot of listening and appealing to other parts of their belief system (love, faith, and other non-rational beliefs that guard their mind from change.)  

Cold

It is actually cold in Central Florida right now. It was 26 degrees F (-3 degrees C) when I woke up this morning at 8:00. I have yet to do the walk around to see what survived this bitter night, but the azalea's out the back door look pretty sad. The flowers are on the ground, or hanging limp. They are spent. We'll see if the buds are lost over the next week.  

Still, I remember the first killing frost of years gone by in Upstate New York.  Everything was beautifully alive in the evening and frozen dead the next morning.  This wasn't that.  

Cookies be damned!

We did Christmas. It went well, and hopefully we'll do it again next year.  

Seriously, it was lovely.  There were plenty of sweets, and good meals.  There are still absurd amounts of cookies left over, but there is also ham.  

I have this fantasy of throwing all the cookies away and reclaiming my life. Honestly, I've been fairly good about limiting my Christmas cookie consumption this year. I know myself, though. I could break down any minute and start eating non-stop. Thankfully I had blood drawn last month. Although I seem healthy, sugar is high and protein is low. I am trying to behave. I want to behave. Maybe this year I actually will?

I sent my Christmas present boxes to family and friends this year.  I included those little cocktail umbrellas and fake leis in the boxes.  I think the umbrellas were the biggest hit with young and old.  

Here's one of my friends without a face

Still working on my tree.

It isn't our Christmas tree I'm still working on. That can wait! It's that damn family tree of mine on ancestry.com. If you remember, I wrote a post last summer about the rating on my ridiculously large family tree. In early April it was only rated 7.9. I was mortified!  I vowed to bring it up to 9.1.  

I work on it almost every day. Sometimes for hours. There were nearly 64,000 people in it when I started "fixing things." At that time there were about 45,000 people who had issues needing to be resolved, duplicates merged, finding real proof for documentation, or fixing errors. I have to confess, I had no real concept of fixing 45,000 profiles when I started. I just know I've given it my all for 8 months and I have only touched half of those profiles.  

I have deleted 4,000 people who really have no real relationship to me, I just added them because I'm a fiend.  

As of today, my rating for that tree is 9.0. I still have 23,249 people profiles to resolve if I want a perfect rating. Yep, 23,249! Sheesh. As if! When I reach my goal of 9.1 (any freaking day now!), I will be happy.  

I say that trying to convince myself. This is the most fun I've had in many years. I'll never stop.

My mother's tree in 1970

Thanksgiving 2025

I spent 3 days preparing for this holiday. That sounds like I worked myself to death, but I didn't. I stretched out the cleaning, cooking, baking over 3 full days. It worked out well, plus I was then able to enjoy the process. Our daughter brought the dessert and her own stuffing (gluten free), so that helped. Of course, as a retiree I actually had the time to stretch it all out. That's one of the things I was thankful for this year.   

I'm thankful as well for our small family which is not perfect by any means. We are each quirky in our own ways, but we come together with love and acceptance of each other's quirkiness. Personally, I appreciate that lack of judgement, because I'm a bit much. As Carlene Carter once sang, "We are the lucky ones."