Wisdom of Moon

 Wouldn't it be a wonder to wonder, if we had the wisdom of the moon? The  moon, earth's constant companion and earth's alone, could relate the whole history of this planet for us to contemplate. If we had brains over what we depend on from earth's elements in imagining we are superior with our ever developing pieces of plastic and metal and electricity, things that stand or fly or run along or seemingly entertain us and educate us and protect us? Do these pieces we create really make our lives better or do they as ever, make it increasingly complicated?  Luna, the moon, has been here since our beginning. What is it that the moon could tell of all that it has seen until now, and even now. Will it, if we could understand it, make us wise, perhaps wiser? Could we  knit together all of the past and its lessons to teach us what we have never seemed to learn? What it sees over the millions of years, is fact, not fancy or faith, but hard fact with no judgement attached. It saw truths and only truths. There were no conclusions. What were the most important truths would we learn that could fix this crowded place with its happenings and ills and mistakes and tragedies and wonders and joys and great beauties? Would we need to know, if we saw at last what  shape the earth's plan ought to be? Would all humans on earth finally come to some kind of agreement in appreciating life in the only place we know that gives us everything we need and to realize finally, that without it we perish forever? Would we then gain and follow what we gather, as being more important than gold and the power that some sad self destructive humans attain with it? Would we see our own follies and forgive them? Would we know what we are in being human and that all else is secondary? Oh Moon, Silent Moon, when we look in your face, will you tell us? Will we learn to be one as you see us, or will we go on as blindly as we have?

Brain OK Car Old

 Being as old as I am, it's hard to explain to others not as ancient, why you are having pain. I tell them it's like riding around in a body that is a very old car. It has its moods and breakdowns here and there where you can't see them under the hood. Even though you are the best driver in the world, you try to tolerate your old "car" and deal with its various little mean surprises. Your knee or ankle aches. Your back let's you know of its  presence. Most of these situations do not require a doctor, therefore, you try to avoid pills and perhaps dig out your favorite herbal patches to stick on or go find the heating pad. If all that fails, you take the over the counter meds which always work but engender guilt. Society at large frowns on the use of pills. There could be around, unfortunately for you, other folk a few years younger than you, whose body cars aren't as old as yours, and they tell you the myth about using it or losing it. When this occurs and you are in your nineties you are tempted to remind them of what's ahead for them also, and that using it too much is what got you here in the first place. But you don't. No one likes an honest, cranky old person and you might need their help soon, so you button your lip as the saying goes. It's safer to smile sweetly and grit your teeth, if you have any. Pain is part of aging and if you are lucky, your complaint, which everyone of "an age" has in some form or another. Pain is an annoyance that you keep to yourself, but if you have a quiver or a tic or a limb that doesn't work and it shows, you are apt to hear lots of advice on what to do about it. Advanced age, therefore, requires patience. I prefer that before giving advice or grabbing my arm they ask first if it's okay. While the body car I ride around in is rather out of date, my brain is just as good as theirs today fortunately. I am not an invalid. But silence in an oldie, is required and the old lady smile must be planted on in order to keep the peace. But someone ought to write a manual for old age, one written by someone in it, not someone who studies it. They're not living in my old car. 

A Idiocy

Artificial Intelligence is truly artificial. It is not the real thing because it can't think. All AI can do is read something without mentally decoding it as humans do. It merely sees or "takes a picture of words" and repeats it in print or a fake voice. It does not think or analyse: it parrots. I once had a mini parrot that could "speak" what I taught it, but often to our amusement, garbled up the phrases and words that meant nothing. When I have to "speak" to an AI that I am told will help me down in the little box in the right hand corner of a site page. I learn very quickly how unhelpful it is and that I will be putting a check in the box that says "poor" at the end of the session. Most of the online businesses that I deal with, have this kind of  "help". Please excuse the vast number of quotation marks here, but AI is so fake and artificial, that it is unavoidable. So many times I have asked the AI a question and it repeats over and over again that the label does not give that information. Hey, I can read the label myself. What good is an AI? I wanted to know something that is not on the label. Also, you may have noticed that AIs are so stupid that they don't understand English. You express in every way you can think of, what you are inquiring about, and it doesn't get it. Recently, my grocery delivery store decided to put not only AI on their page but also to deny me buying my groceries online until I call my bank and get them to send me a code before it will release the payment from my account. Their reason is, that it is for security reasons. That may be, but my bank doesn't answer phones and I don't receive bank calls on my cell phone. I called them to send the code to my email. The answer I got is that they are too busy in the bank and they'll call me back before the end of their day. What? That means I have to hang around all day to get the code to buy the groceries I want that day. And worse, still, I have to do this every time I need to buy groceries. I don't go out to shop which is becoming the goto for most people now. AI can't help because it is part of this robotic society that has  cell phones attached to its ears or its back pockets or its car holders. AI is not the pancea someone hoped for. Aye yi yi!

   

Double Your Money

 The title isn't how to double your money, but how you must double your money if you want to stay afloat in the shopping world. When I ordered my groceries online from my fave store that talks about "saving on foods", I noticed that in the last week or so, since the tariffs imposed upon the world came to dunk us, almost every item on the shelf and bin, has doubled. I once bought a nice big round sausage form of hamburger for meat loaves and meat pies, at twelve dollars and now it is twenty-four dollars. For a family of four, that size would make two small meatloaves even with the addition of crumbs. Not luxury but often beloved. The jar of honey that used to be six to eight dollars is now sixteen dollars. Often I would have the family over and pop into the oven, one or two nice little chicken fryers to roast. One fed three or four us. Now, the same two  that were eight dollars are now twenty. My grocery list has changed from scallops and prawns to, those itty bitty shrimp that come in a circle with a tiny bit of sauce in the middle. Big scallops are so expensive they are the new lobsters. How long ago have you done surf and turf that was once steak and lobster tails. Had to turf that idea! A tin of tuna just is not the same. It's for the cat. Canned salmon, however is quite lovely, especially in a sandwich. A salmon loaf is nice but, to me,  there's nothing like a big thick salmon sangie with mayo and butter lettuce. Lettuce? Most of us have switched to Romaine. It's far more nutritious and if it goes limp, you can pop it into soup. It works like spinach and tastes very gamy steamed up with butter. I won't even begin on butter and its cost. Spinach leaves and their versatility are my go-to green. Like everyone, even though an ancient single, I love cooking and good, fresh food. It's not more costly, but it takes work and change. No more sinking to that glass front store section with the precooked junk food. If  you really want to save your money for those Bingo nights, get fresh produce, and do it yourself. If you can boil or steam or mic a package of that stuff, you can steam the same things in the about same amount of time and do your body a double favour. Double the value of your groceries by reading the nutritional values, the ones that count more than money. 

Pill Popping

People take a pill or many at some time,or maybe all the time, in their lives. I do not like taking pills, never have, and as a child fought having to. A little later, I saw pills being taken and learned that they are simply part of being human, and that they appear to do good.  I found out that they were, in adults, the solution to fixing illnesses and pain. Nowadays, I have a couple of pills I must take to replace what my body forgot, but others I refuse to take, even on medical advice until I think well about it first. I always like to listen to my own body and then to those who give advice concerning it. Including doctors, who do know a great deal about human bodies, but not fully about mine in particular. Medical specialists, especially pharmacists, give useful advice on pills and their composition, effects and use. Pills have a long history dating back to the Egyptians who made them out of natural products. They weren't always for illness, but as balls of grease or spices. Someone came up with adding beneficial additions to help the sick.  The Greeks came up with katapotia which means something to pop into your mouth and the Romans called it, pilula. Pills? High society in the fashionable 1500's liked to coat pills in silver and gold which they thought would send them down more quickly. The other day, I thought I ought to take a pill that a lot of elders do for bone health. The pill was huge and dry and in a strange elongated shape of pressed powder that made it almost impossible to swallow. I spent a lot of time chopping the things in half, but it didn't help them go down much. And gold or silver were out of the question. I decided finally that rather than be ejected into the next world via choking on a pill, I'd rather take a chance and just drink milk, better still, eat ice cream or yogurt. Pain pills are likely the most widely taken ones in the world. Pain is a natural body warning that something isn't working. Some people pop the pain pill immediately, without question. Sometimes there is another solution and it seems to me, it's better than putting something into the body it must then adjust to and perhaps cause further trouble. Thought or advice is needed. Family, friends, foods, sleep, communication, suitable exercise and a good environment are far better than pills. And they're a lot easiser to swallow.

Ramping It Up

The ramp began even before the Greeks claimed its invention. How do you think the Egyptians hauled up those huge blocks of stone you see the tourist attraction chap climbing  at THE pyramids? The most identifiable ones. Not that there aren't pyramids all over the world of one size or another. The ramp makes it a lot easier to push or pull a heavy weight up or down. We use them on freeways, in warehouses, at sidewalk corners and just about anywhere they do a  job to make life a little easier. Wheel chair folks need ramps because their "feet" may be their wheels. It's no light matter when you are wheel chair-bound and must have, not just want, the convenience of ramps. If you are in a wheel chair or assisting with one, you know what I mean. In this day of every assistance imaginable to make life simpler, sometimes it is forgotten that even a one inch barrier can keep some people imprisoned in a world that prevents them from freely moving about. Not just for the aged, but at any age, a ramp helps when you need it. I love my walker. I feel absolutely no shame for it. I'm not a person influenced by those ignorants  who think they are never going to grow old, and joke about elders. As an elder, I do what I need and what I love are canes, walkers and any other items that make my life easier. I do it without a whit of shame or embarrassment. I love live theatre and one of my faves is the White Rock Players Playhouse. Previously, I didn't know there was a ramp to my favorite season ticket seat. I struggled with a cane to mount the steps to the seating floor. The people in the theatre are surprisingly patient with my slowness,  but I don't miss the occasional frustrated sigh and little groans of those behind me. And I am not about to apologise for aging. It's natural. When I learned that there was a hidden ramp at the playhouse, I was thrilled because when I get out of my taxi going to the theatre as a single old lady, I may now take along my dear buddy, a folding walker. Next play night, I am free to zip along and ramp off to the bar for a small red wine before the second act. Ramping it up!

Bad Books?

 Are there "bad books". Yes, of course. But determining the word "bad" is key. I think that a bad book, is one that is poorly written by a writing person who has misguided intent. What is your "bad book"? I am, as a former librarian who studied much on the matter of libraries and their purposes in schools, opposed to censorship in general.  "Censorship" is another word that needs a good deal of examination. It means different things in different situations. And this in certain parts of the planet varies according to its cultural mores. This morning I heard a broadcast, however, that made me realize how misdirected some individuals are about books and what they can "do" to readers, particularly children. Children are  those between the ages of one and nineteen legally, give or take. The man who spoke on behalf of a group of parents are part of a pressure faction that want certain books out of school libraries. He named a few, and they are widely read by children and adults and are considered classics in the English language. The interviewer wisely stated that the man's viewpoint as a parent was completely valid since he has the right as a parent, but that his opinions are not ones that can be imposed upon all parents. Unfortunately, the talk went on, and on. what the government of that province from whence the conversation originated, did not specify which books on what exactly topics should be removed from school libraries. What it did state, broadly, was that educators and parents should be "mindful" about books on their school shelves. For this fellow, anything remotely having sexaul connotation should go. He felt it encouraged and caused sexual abuse problems. Once again the word "sexual" is a term that needs consideration. Having experienced situations in school libraries as I have, I recall a certain pupil's mother who demanded that I get rid of a library book with Foxy Loxy in it because he threatened to eat Henny Penny. The story time book, had terrified her little daughter who suffered a nightmare after having it read to her along with twenty-five other children who didn't have nightmares about Foxy Loxy and Henny Penny. I will leave this topic now, for you to ponder on and perhaps discuss with your friends, family and maybe even librarians who are always mindful about books.

Casting Colour

 Colour when you think of it, is seen by each and every one of us, differently. Human eyes are different in each human body and whether we think of it or not, we do not, nor are able to, see colour the same way as everyone else. I love that thought. Colour is therefore something unique to each person. It has much more meaning to us than we might realize. It gives comfort: moods of happiness and sadness, fears or fantasy. We surround ourselves with a colour that we favour  most. For many years, I have avoided brown and green and dark shades other than my choice: black and white. I had an old boyfriend once, who came for a visit to my husband's and my house decades ago and asked me what colour I liked most. At the time, we lived on ocean front property and I answered, grey. Living seaside, it is the ocean hue one sees most. Not blue, as one would imagine. The visitor had taken a psychology course on the effects of colours chosen by humans, and I could see, he wasn't pleased with my response. I guess grey is perhaps regarded as boring to analysts, and it made it hard for him to analyse me in the way, he had hoped to.  My old friend said, come now, you can't mean that. I do, I replied and did, and it went on from there. Today, I online shopped for a couple of items from my usual franchise store, and  both pieces were brown, nice warm browns. Like chocolate. I wondered why suddenly this year, brown has become my go-to color. I ended up thinking, that for some reason, I have developed a "sweet tooth" and the highlight of my day is savouring a chocolate Wagon Wheel. These large, individually wrapped chocolate cookies, are superb! The chocolate on the double cooky is smooth and melts nicely, the springy marshmallow centre beats an Oreo any day, and the cookie part, while ignored due to the rest, is very pleasant indeed. I don't have a sugar problem as many do, and I worry not about fat because when you are as old as I  am, you worry more about being too thin. Brown, therefore, has become my closet cookie.