A RENAISSANCE MAN

         Yesterday, I posted about my editorial career and working for Dr. Ruch. Doing that made me think about him and the part he played in my life way back when. He was the first highly educated person for whom I ever worked and quite possibly the main one. And, I was the first well-trained secretary they’d ever had in that position at the Primate Center. Previous secretaries had always been college graduates or doctoral students who knew how to type, but didn’t have a clue about being a secretary.

          The first time Dr. Ruch and/or his assistant director returned a letter all marked up and wanted me to mail it, I was horrified. My work was not only a reflection on me, but it was a reflection on them as well. I refused to mail it without retyping it so it was perfect (no computers back then, only Selectric typewriters and not correcting Selectrics either). The filing system was also a mess and by the time I left to give birth to AJ, I had totally reorganized the system which they continued to use for years and years.

          Anyway, enough patting myself on the back, let’s return to Dr. Ruch. I never did call him by his given name. I sometimes called him Professor or Boss, but never Ted or Theodore. Dr. Ruch was the first real gentleman I ever met, and was actually the last because society changed so much beginning in 1970. He was kind, charming, sincere, amusing and never ever got my last name correct. He also encouraged me to take advantage of the one free course per quarter to which my position entitled me…and I did.

Don't remember why this

was painted, but doesn't

he look regal

          I went back to work for Dr. Ruch in 1971 when John and I separated. He had been forced to retire from his position as director of the Primate Center when he turned 65. He was given an office upstairs and continued to work on his textbook there. Every morning, both when he was director and after he retired, my first task was to organize his desk. How he managed to find where he’d left off, I have no idea, but he wanted his desk neat and tidy. I did try to put it in some sort of order, but he was so messy it wasn’t easy. Not only that, but his handwriting was atrocious and he would continue sentences up the side of the page, across the top and around the entire thing. He also left out the middle of words. The medical dictionary and I became fast friends.

Every morning when he came in, a good hour after I arrived, he would always go into his office, remove his coat and put down his briefcase before coming back into my office to have a little chat. During those chats, I heard about how he grew up in Oregon. He was born in 1906. His father passed away and left his mother to raise him and his four siblings. She turned their home into a boarding house for students at the University of Oregon. In any case, the fact he had to have a good education was understood and as I wrote yesterday, he graduated from the University of Oregon in 1927, and received his masters from Stanford a year later. If my memory serves, all his education was funded by scholarships.

          Until his chats, I’d never heard much about Rhodes Scholars. It’s a great honor to be chosen as one. I don’t know about then, but I believe only 16 US citizens are chosen each year. To be chosen, you have to meet some rigid criteria and Dr. Ruch definitely did. Anyway, a Rhodes Scholar is an international postgraduate award for students to study at the University of Oxford. It was established in 1902, two years before Dr. Ruch was born, by Cecil John Rhodes, an English businessman and politician. He created the award to promote unity between English-speaking nations and instill a sense of civic-minded leadership and moral fortitude in future leaders in their respective and varied fields.

He told me about his time in England, his time at Yale and shared many amusing stories about his family, friends and fellow scientists. To this day, I cannot order in a restaurant without remembering the study he told me about that was done by someone in Boston. She, I think it was a she, took scrapings from beneath the fingernails of restaurant workers. In almost every case, she found fecal bacteria. It’s a wonder I ever eat something that I haven’t prepared myself; but based on her study, I probably have some under my nails as well. Whether it was his mother’s teachings, his time in England and/or in academia, he was above all a gentleman in his later years with me.

          When I knew him, he lacked the passion he most evidently had during his career, as evidenced by all his degrees and publications This was due to the heart attack that almost claimed his life in the early 1960’s. Until that attack, he smoked like a chimney and drank like a fish to use those old metaphors, or at least that’s what I was told by other academicians. His health, once he recovered, had to be his first priority. He no longer smoked and was allowed a single beer each evening…no more martinis, which I believe were his original favorites.

          I don’t remember the name of the beer company that used to put sayings or something inside their bottlecaps. Dr. Ruch would bring me ones he thought I’d find interesting. He also confused my name with a beer I never heard of, Kronenbourg. I don’t think he ever got my last name correct. If I wasn’t introduced as a beer, I was introduced as Carlsbad, Karlbergen, or something that began with a C or a K and sounded kind of like my name. I never knew if he got it wrong on purpose as kind of a joke or if he never could keep it straight.

          Dr. Ruch lived in a grand old house in Madison Park with a lovely garden that was his delight. He talked about his garden and gardening quite a lot. He planted snow peas every Washington’s birthday (2/22) without fail. And, it was quite a process. He dug a trench, put in mulch and manure, and mixed it all together before ever planting a single seed. Those peas though were quite good. And the flowers he grew were gorgeous. There was one lilium he grew and I wish I could remember the name, (Star of Persia maybe) but he brought me a couple of the flowers once they dried. The dried flower was huge, about the size of a cantaloupe and graced my bulletin board for a long time.

          I was fortunate to actually see his garden and only then because I was invited to a wedding. Dr. Ruch had an assistant who was like no one I ever met before or since. She wore designer clothes, was raised by her aunt in Boston and supposedly grew up with the Kennedys. (After her aunt came out for the wedding the Professor told me he thought her aunt was a servant in the Kennedy household, not the “friend” his assistant portrayed.) She thought I was beneath her deign because I didn’t have a college degree. For some reason, after Dr. Ruch’s second heart attack (more on that later), she became my best friend (in her mind maybe). Dr. Ruch and his wife hosted her wedding in his garden and I, with two other people at the Primate Center were the only guests from work.

Since she was much older, this woman became pregnant fairly quickly. Her closet was full of famous names but she asked if she could borrow my maternity clothes, all of which I had made my very own self, because she couldn’t find anything she liked. That was the last time I ever heard from her. She never returned the “borrowed” maternity clothes and I’m glad I cut off all the sterling silver buttons I’d sewn on a blouse…those buttons were a gift from a friend who had purchased them in Germany.   

          Now, to Dr. Ruch thanking me for saving his life. I’ve never had anyone do that either before or since. I came back from lunch one afternoon. He called me on the intercom and asked me to come into his office. His door was always locked, so I let myself in. He was sitting behind his desk with his hands flat on top of it. He said,

          “I believe I’m having a heart attack. I need you to call my cardiologist. Tell them not to send a gurney.”

          I went to my desk and placed the call, providing his instruction, which, of course they ignored. I returned to his office and asked if there was anything I could do. He gold me no, he’d just sit there and wait.

          His assistant director was upstairs so I went to tell him what was happening. He was a rather excitable fellow and didn't disguise his annoyance at being interruped, but I insisted. Once I told him, he made to dash down the steps to go to his boss’ aid. This was the last thing Dr. Ruch needed, so I stopped him from doing just that and cautioned him to be calm. By the time we returned to the office, the gurney and medical staff were there and Dr. Ruch was soon wheeled away.

          Dr. Ruch was in University Hospital for some time. I cannot now remember how long, but it was while he was there that he asked me to come see him and thanked me for saving his life. I hadn’t realized it was as serious as it apparently was. Good thing too or they might have needed two gurneys…an additional one for me and the baby I was carrying. He did return to his post as Director shortly before I left to give birth to AJ.

          As I said yesterday, it was 1973 or 1974 when I left Dr. Ruch. He went on to retire completely from the University of Washington in 1976. He and his wife moved to Santa Barbara which is where I think their daughter lived. He returned once after that and we met for lunch at the Northlake Tavern. He ordered an onion pizza which I found amazing…and quite good actually. He sent his leftover portion home with me.

          My last correspondence with Dr. Ruch was in 1980 when he sent me a copy of Volume I. He passed away in 1983 at the age of 77…the same age as John was. Amazingly, when I tried to find information about him on the internet to reinforce these memories, there was none to be found that didn’t deal with his work in physiology, in particular the textbook. There were other citations about his work on the brain and neural function which was his field, as well as publications having to do with the health of laboratory primates.

I found it rather surprising I could find so little about this remarkable man that wasn’t associated with the textbook. To me Dr. Ruch was extraordinary, the only what I would call a renaissance man I ever knew. He graced my life with his gentle humor, kindness, knowledge and affection. I’m forever grateful for the years I spent as his “secretary-editor-friend.”

MY EDITORIAL CAREER

         Tuesday morning, I woke up and didn’t feel so good. I probably overdid working in the garden on Monday. Every single joint hurt and I’m positive there wasn’t a single square inch of skin of which I wasn’t aware. I postponed my walk, took an Aleve and went back to bed for a while.

          While I lay there waiting for the Aleve to kick in, I started thinking about how wondrous the body is. I could picture the medication dissolving in my tummy and being transported through my blood vessels to the rest of my body. I have just enough medical knowledge to be dangerous because way back in the early 1970s, I was the editor for the Ruch-Patton Textbook of Physiology and Biophysics.

          This textbook was first published in 1896 by William H. Howell. As time went by, he took on a partner and published revised editions. Eventually, my professor, Dr. T. C. Ruch became the lead editor with Dr. H. D. Patton as his partner. The 20^th edition on which I worked came out in three volumes and in reverse order. Volume III, Digestion, Metabolism, Endocrine Function and Reproduction was published by W. B. Saunders in 1973. I didn’t have a lot to do with that volume, but Dr. Ruch’s inscription reads, “To Paula, without whose abilities and patience this book would never have been edited (so well).” I was responsible for finalizing the page proofs and checking every single reference cited.

          Dr. Patton was responsible for Volume II, Circulation, Respiration and Fluid Balance. He was also the Director of the Department of Physiology and Biophysics at the University of Washington. I went to him to inquire as to how he wanted to proceed with his volume. He told me he didn’t care, that I could do whatever I liked about it.

          I guess I should provide a bit of an explanation here. Initially, I worked for Dr. Ruch when he was Director of the Regional Primate Research Facility at the UW. He was responsible for getting it built; however, in the process he had a very serious heart attack which affected something like 75% of his heart. It also affected his mental capacity. Dr. Ruch had been a wizard in his field, graduating with a B.A. in psychology from the University of Oregon, 1927; a master’s from Stanford, 1928; a B.A. (1930) and a B.Sc. (1932) in physiology from Oxford University as a Rhodes Scholar. His Ph.D. in physiology was obtained at Yale in 1933. That’s also where he worked with Dr. J. F. Fulton who brought him on as a co-editor of the textbook’s 18^th edition.

          Even in the early 70s, doctoral students who came to the UW and found out Dr. Ruch was around had stars in their eyes. Unfortunately, he was no longer the wizard and most were very disappointed with their interactions because Dr. Ruch didn’t live up to their expectations based on his reputation. It was his reputation that also got the 20^th edition published. It was the last edition, and really only saw publication because of Dr. Ruch. Scientific research was moving so rapidly, it was easier for researchers to publish monographs and get their results out to other scientists more quickly than a book every five years.

          Now, it was 1971 or 1972, science had changed and it was no wonder Dr. Patton didn’t much care. The 20^th edition would be out-of-date before it hit the printing presses.

          I persevered, however, because it was my job. I wrote a letter to all the authors of chapters in Volume II. In the letter, I gave them a due date and said I would have Saunders publish their old chapter if they didn’t provide a new one. Boy, I had some power and used it didn’t I?

There was one professor in the Department of Physiology and Biophysics of whom I was seriously afraid…he’d once been a marine. His secretary (as we were called then) also terrified me and I often wondered if she’d been a marine too. I sent the letter anyway; and, sure enough, this professor came calling. I braced myself when I looked up and saw him in my office door. Rather than yelling at me for sending that letter, he said I was to let him know if the folks in his department didn’t follow through in a timely manner. He and his secretary became a lot more friendly and I was no longer scared.

I don’t know how many of my readers know what goes into getting a textbook published. Here’s a little synopsis. This textbook (and maybe all textbooks) consists of chapters written by the expert in the field. The chapter author submits a revised chapter. The editor (moi) reads through and makes corrections and sends it on to the publisher. The publisher sends back galley proofs which are long sheets of paper with the chapter printed on them. The editor (moi) checks and corrects any mistakes, including the location and citation of the tables and figures, and spends days in the Health Sciences Library checking the references to make sure they are cited correctly by the chapter author. The galleys go back to the publisher and once corrections are made, page proofs are submitted back to the editor and author. The author doublechecks his work, returns it to the editor (moi) who finalizes the page proofs and returns them to the publisher. The next time I saw any of those chapters, they were in book form.

Volume II was published in 1974, and Dr. Ruch (should have been Dr. Patton) graciously wrote, “To Paula, secretary-editorialist without whose help this book wouldn’t have even got started.”

A little aside here because I always found it amusing. W.B. Saunders sent one of their agents to meet with Drs. Ruch and Patton. He also wanted to meet with me and proposed I have dinner with him at the Four Seasons (his hotel). I was happy to do so, but almost immediately realized he had two agendas. One was to make sure the textbook was proceeding on schedule. The second was to have a “good time.”

When we were seated, rather than sitting by myself on the comfortable bench behind the table, he joined me there so we were both facing out into the restaurant. I don’t know if you remember just how short dresses and skirts were in the early ‘70s, but I was wearing a suit that was a knit dress with a matching long jacket. Both were short. My thighs were pretty exposed. This nasty old (and he was old) agent thought he could just put his hand on my thigh. I kept removing it over and over again and scrunching as far away as I could get. 

Dinner, however, was delicious and so was the wine he ordered. I had never tasted wine that was so delightful and could have easily drunk the entire bottle on my own. I knew, however, that would be a horrendous mistake, taking into consideration that agent’s busy hand, so limited myself to one glass. There was also caviar on my salad…this wonderful gentleman ordered for us both. Dinner over, reassurances given about how the textbook was proceeding, I prepared to take my leave.

Wouldn’t I love to go to his room for a nightcap? I knew it was coming and I was ready. Oh, thank you so much, but my husband is taking care of my son. I really need to get home. I shook that restless hand and headed for the garage and my car. Dinner and wine so good, though, that it was actually worth my removing his hand from my thigh numerous times.

 The final Volume I, The Brain and Neural Function was totally Dr. Ruch’s responsibility, plus he had the majority of chapters. It was finally published in 1979 and Dr. Ruch sent me a copy with a notation thanking me for my help and patience. I had left my position some time in 1973, maybe 1974 because that’s when John and I were going to start a commune. So, I didn’t get to the page proofs, but I did do a lot of work on the galley proofs. In fact, the professor in Physiology and Biophysics of whom I had been so afraid, begged me to stay because he believed Volume I would never be finished if I left. Well, it took years, but it was finished and published.

Which brings me back to visualizing that Aleve coursing through my body. Those three volumes totaled 1,692 pages of physiological and biophysical information. Much of it I read numerous times. Amazingly, almost 50 years later, that wonderous brain of mine still retains some of that information. I do have to admit that the retention of that data has been most helpful all my life. It’s helped me converse with various doctors about various family health issues, to know when to push, and to know when to follow up. Sometimes, I’m sure those medical practioners would have preferred I know a lot less. As I said in the beginning…I know just enough to make me dangerous.

AFTER ONLY 34 YEARS

          It was a rather great weekend don’t you think. The rain came Friday night and left the air smelling wonderful. I didn’t do anything outside on Saturday, but Sunday, I got myself together and finished weeding the south side of the house. I still need to do the flowerbed on that side, transplant a rhubarb plant and dig up and divide the dahlias already sprouting on that side. So, I definitely have a to do list.

          Today (Monday), I also accomplished something that’s been in the works for 34 years. John bought a 1957 Chevy pickup not too long after we married. He drove it for years, and then it had the place of honor in the driveway. For AJ’s 16^th birthday, John gave him that Chevy pickup. For AJ’s birthday, he received a bunch of parts, i.e., spark plugs, hoses, etc., so the pickup would run again. 

          

          AJ’s birthday is mid-September and the truck and its new parts all sat around. The end of October, I told John AJ was very disappointed in him. He wanted to know why. I told him it was because AJ had been 16 with a driver’s license for going on two months and the truck wasn’t running.

          John worked for himself and hadn’t taken any days off since AJ’s birthday. So, the upcoming weekend, John took off and together they worked on the pickup.

All the new parts got installed and things looked great until they put gas in the gas tank. John had put water in the gas tank and it hadn’t leaked, so he figured it was okay. Well, gas has different properties and the tank leaked. It wasn’t drivable until that was fixed.

          So, John had me sell my little orange bug to AJ so he’d have something to drive. AJ ordered a license plate for it that said, SWTORNG which stood for Sweet Orange…his dad always referred to it as Sweaty Orange. That meant I had to go find myself another car. I went looking. At the time, Volvos were the in car and everyone who had one thought they were the absolute best. I found a great Toyota downtown. I also found a Volvo in Edmonds. Well, John was far too busy to go hither, thither and yon, so he bought the Volvo. That car was the absolute worst car I’ve ever had in my life. I should have insisted on returning it the morning after it came home. One of the neighbors called and said lights were on. I don’t remember now what the problem was, but it was only the beginning.

          That lauded by friends Volvo ended up costing me a ton of money having this fixed and that fixed. I don’t know about now, but then, the only parts that fit a Volvo were Volvo parts, so you had to purchase and pay whatever they wanted. I know I ended up putting in a new transmission, a new drive cable (that’s probably not the right terminology) and my mind refuses to recall any of the other problems.

          John’s dad had a drinking problem and had purchased a 1989 Ford Mustang Hatchback. I think it had been one of the demonstration vehicles at the Ford dealership. In any case, being an ex-policeman, he was cut some slack when he was stopped for driving erratically. Eventually, it came to the point where he could no longer drive. He gave that mustang to John, who gave it to me to drive.

          That meant I could finally eliminate the Volvo. It was in the process of developing a new problem…the starter was dying. I found a buyer who was willing to give me the $5,000 I was asking for it. He wanted me to drop the price, but I was honest and told him I’d ask even more if I had the starter problem fixed before I sold it. I’m selling it as is. He bought it anyway.

          The afternoon the purchaser brought me a cashier’s check, I stood in the dining room with my fingers crossed, chanting, “Please start, please start, please start.” It did and drove away, never to be seen by me again. As it disappeared over the hill, I danced around the house and waving that check. I drove the mustang until the end of 2003 when I bought my first Toyota Rav4. That purchase really annoyed John because when they brought the paperwork to us, it was in my name only. About damn time…I was only 58 then.

          Anyway, to return to the 1957 Chevy pickup. John drove it to AJ's house around 2004, so it ran, but barely. The '57 lived in his garage until he was ready to spend some time and a bit of money. Initially, it looked as though AJ might give it to Haley for her 16^th birthday.  Instead he found a great Toyota pickup with BIG tires which was just what she wanted. Actually, she wants some fancy Dodge pickup that is even bigger. With the Toyota, Nana almost needs a stepstool to get inside.

AJ and Haley worked on the ‘57 together doing all kinds of stuff, i.e., a tune up, new brake system including wheel cylinders and master cylinder, new gas tank, and exhaust system. It took them three tries to get the right carburetor installed. My granddaughter climbed under that truck with her dad and knows the difference in various wrenches and tools…something I never knew or will know. Amazingly, they got it running and actually drove it around the block. John got to see a video of it being driven, but never again got the chance to ride in it.

          It’s been a few years now since John gave AJ the title to the truck. John did not, however, sign the title. Oh yeah, at some point, they’d go transfer the title. It never happened and AJ asked me last fall if I’d be willing to transfer the title to him. My response was affirmative. And, that’s what we did this morning. We met at the licensing place in Mountlake Terrace and got all the paperwork completed. For a mere $197.00, AJ got the title transferred and ordered collector plates for that 1957 Chevy pickup. He’s finally the proud and legal owner. Congratulations son!!! 

1957 TODAY

JUST A NEW SET OF SHEETS???

         Does anyone remember the bed sheets of their childhood? I do and I have tried repeatedly to find sheets like that. They didn’t have elastic corners or ends and the top and bottom were both flat sheets. Of course, I’d still want the bottom sheet to have elastic…I’m not a total dummy. Does anyone remember the mangle which one used to iron those sheets? My mother never had one, only people with more money than us had those kinds of appliances. Besides it was big and took up a lot of space. It also wasn’t much good for ironing anything that wasn’t flat. 

          Anyway, back to the sheets. I would like to find sheets that are crisp, but not scratchy. I bought a new set in January and it was like sleeping between two pieces of sandpaper. I sent them back. I don’t want 10,000 thread count sheets that are as soft as a baby’s bum. I would like sheets that have some heft to them, that almost but not quite, could benefit from the use of a mangle.

          I also need sheets that are twin extra-long, because that’s the kind of mattress I have. My mattress is also thick. I bought a second set of sheets the end of February and returned it as well because my mattress was too thick. I gathered from the individual at the Bed, Bath and Beyond store that extra long twin sheets are easy to purchase in August and September because of all the kids going off to college. Perhaps I’ll need to wait until then in order to find a set of sheets that’s not too soft and not too scratchy.

          This just occurred to me this very second. What I really ought to do is clean out John’s bedroom and move myself in there. That’s going to be a lot of work, however because of all the stuff in there. I’d also need to paint the walls, purchase new blinds; and, of course new bedding. His (our) bed is a California King. I wonder if I’d have any better luck at finding crisp sheets for that bed. Maybe I need to eliminate that bed and get a double bed instead. Unless I had the doggies come sleep with me, the current bed would be much too big. On the plus side, I’d only ever have to make one side because I’d never move around enough to disturb three-quarters of the rest of the bed.

          Then, there’s the fact I really like my own room. I’ve decorated it with the various pictures, glass and a wide variety of jewelry mounted on black velvet in shadow box frames. Of course, I could take those down and mount them on the walls across the hall. It could actually be fun to eliminate all the stuff in there, although I’m not sure where I could move it to. And then to paint the entire room, including the closet (John never painted the closets). And, new frilly female-type bedding with lots of color. I think John’s favorite colors were brown and beige.

          I’m going to have to seriously think about changing rooms. I’m going to have to research and find out how much a new double bed would cost. If I buy one, will they take the old bed away? And then bedding. I’d need to decide on bedding before I decided on paint. Can I actually go to Home Depot or Lowes and look at paint chips at this point in time? I’m sure I could find a bed and bedding on line, but could I really pick out a wall paint color on line?

          I’m wondering if I’ve gone a little nuts to even consider doing this. What would be the point if I turn around and sell the house a few months or even a year after doing all that work. I’m sure whoever were to purchase the house would want to paint things in their own colors. And, moving a double bed would be more difficult than a twin. But, for the first time in a while, I feel a bit excited about having a project. I’m going to have to give it some more thought. Maybe all I really need is a new set of extra-long twin sheets in a color I like. That would certainly take a lot less effort, time and money…but, it certainly doesn’t sound as exciting as redoing an entire room.

SATURDAY MUSINGS

          It’s Saturday morning and I’ve spent the last three hours on the couch with the doggies. Since Good Morning America was ending without announcing an unbelievable cure for Coronavirus, I switched channels to old reruns of House. The doggies and I laid there and after the first hour, I more or less dozed for the second couple of hours. That’s probably because I had pie for breakfast and didn’t finish my second latte.

          I have a very exciting day planned. First, I’m going to clean up the kitchen and run the dishwasher. Then I’m going to transfer the washer contents to the dryer and send my sheets and pillowcases through the washer. That will require me to make my bed once the bedding is dry. Somewhere in there, I plan to take a shower, shave my legs and lotion every bit of skin I can reach. Then I’ll dry my hair so it doesn’t look too bad. Doesn’t this sound so very exciting you can hardly stand it?

          Also, during the day, I need to have a go at the game I’m playing on my new I-pad, plus I have a book of essays I should continue reading. And, if that isn’t entertaining enough, I can continue watching Ozark on Netflix or find something else that’s either an old rerun like House or a completely new program on Amazon Prime, Hulu, Netflix or a regular station. It’s also highly likely my cell phone won’t ring even once today. I can barely sit still for all the excitement.

         Does it sound as though I’m feeling a bit pissy, a bit lonely, a bit sorry for myself, and a lot really tired of this shelter-in-place business. Actually, even without the coronavirus, what I’ve written above is pretty much what my Saturdays were like before, but at least I could choose to do something. I never really went anywhere because everyone else was out shopping and doing their weekend stuff while I had all the weekdays in which to do mine. My cell phone rarely rang. The home phone rang on occasion, but it was usually a garbage call…99.9% of the time. Now, even the land line seldom rings.

          I have friends, but not a huge circle of them. I have family, but they have their own lives that keep them busy. I can’t remember if I’ve ever blogged about my desire to move to Costa Rica beginning the first of November and not returning to Seattle until the end of March. One thing that’s sort of made me cautious about doing that is I’d miss my friends and family members. But, based on the last six months or so, a phone call once a week would suffice. I seriously doubt my presence in this house in this place would be seriously missed by anyone.

          This Costa Rica plan is probably just pie in the sky thinking. The stock market hasn’t been kind, but if I can live on my social security here, I could surely live on it there. I think it would also be predicated on my ability to clean out this house and sell it. Then, if I’m going to be in Costa Rica for four or five months of the year, living in SHAG housing or some other condo-type living arrangement would be just fine.

          Just out of curiosity, I looked up the coronavirus statistics for Costa Rica. They’ve had 642 confirmed cases and four deaths. That’s not very bad at all. I might have been safer if I’d been there than I’ve been living here. I’m certain I would have stayed in touch with family and friends from there just as well as I have from here.

          Today, I’d even like to have John back, sitting where I’m sitting, talking to the doggies more than he would talk to me and napping most of the afternoon. The house feels so EMPTY with just me and the dogs. When I think about making dinner, nothing really sounds good. If John were here, I’d be forced to come up with something; or at the very least, he’d have to make toasted cheese sandwiches and soup, maybe cook whatever I’d taken out of the freezer.

          Then, I think about how it would be if John were here. At some point in time, he’d have to go to the hospital ER via 911 because his chronic UTI would have flared up to the point he couldn’t make sense or even get around very well. That scenario would undoubtedly have led to him dying of COVID-19, alone in the hospital. Neither I nor his sons could have gone there to say farewell. At least we got the chance to do that last August, and he was able to die knowing we all loved and would miss him.

          Don’t ask me how or why, but that last paragraph made me feel the best I’ve felt all morning (it’s almost noon). I’m glad John’s not here, although I do miss his presence terribly some days, because he hasn’t had to live in fear of getting the virus. I haven’t had to live in fear that I’d bring it home from a grocery shopping foray. I haven’t had to watch him like a hawk, hoping one little UTI symptom wasn’t really a symptom.

          Yes, my life could be a lot worse. Yes, my life could be a lot better. But, it’s my very own life. I’m not answerable to anyone but myself (and the doggies, chicken and cat). So, I’d best reread the first few paragraphs and get my day going. Many options await my energy and knowledge.

Finally, when I went to let the chicken out, the air smelled absolutely wonderful because we had a good cleansing rain. The pollen count should be much lower. I think my reward for completing my chores might be taking Karma for a walk or just sitting on the deck and breathing deeply.

HIGH FINANCE???

          Did you know there’s such a thing as US Debt Clock.Org? I certainly didn’t and only found out because I wanted to know just how far in debt my country is. When I typed in my request, the first choice was what I typed in the first line. It’s a rather scary website, although maybe if I understood it, it wouldn't be so scary.

          There are a whole bunch of different boxes with different titles and in some of the boxes, i.e., US National Debt, the numbers are clicking away so rapidly, my brain cannot register the number before it clicks and changes. At this very moment, $24,243,242,000,000 is the number listed for the debt. The zeros are the numbers that are changing so rapidly, I couldn’t keep up. What this boils down to is $73,554 is the debt per citizen and $195,420 is the debt per taxpayer right as I’m typing this. Of course, these numbers keep increasing as well, just not as quickly as the big number first listed.

          I’ve never said or even thought I was a math genius. Some time back in the 1960s or 1970s, Mattell made a Barbie doll that said, “Math is hard.” It wasn’t on the shelves long because women became rather irate. Me, I’m with Barbie, math is hard. I’ve always figured I was lucky to be able to balance my checkbook and keep track of my own finances. I also was taught and do believe that the less debt you owe, the better off you are. John and I always tried to keep our expenses to a minimum and our credit card debt low or nonexistent.

          So, what I’m having a hard time understanding is where all the money that has been appropriated (don’t know if that’s even the right word) for the stimulus and small business loans and big business loans, i.e., airline loans, is coming from. How can the stock market tank and leave people with losses of thousands, tens of thousands or even hundreds of thousands while the government is providing money to its citizens, corporations and small business?

          Is the government just going to print more money? Is that where it’s coming from? Does the government have a slush fund from which it’s taking the money? For instance, the place I used to work is, or may be, eligible to apply for a $5 million dollar grant because it is closed and has no income. Where will that $5 million come from?

          There are other boxes on this web site. One of them is income tax revenue which stands at $3,492,749,000,000 or $10,601 per citizen. Again, the last six zeros are changing rapidly. So, how can I, as a citizen, owe $73,554 and yet only be paying $10,601. This doesn’t make any sense to me at all. Per my rudimentary math skills, I’m in the red by about $63,000 and it’s only going to continue to go up.

          Both Social Security and Medicare are listed in these charts and their numbers are changing rapidly as well. Again, they do not come close to the original numbers cited in the second paragraph, they are much much less. Maybe if I’d gone to college and taken courses having to do with high finance, I’d be able to understand how all this works. But, I didn’t and I don’t. My mother always referred to something called, “robbing Peter to pay Paul.” Well doesn’t Peter eventually run out of money and have to turn to robbing Paul?

          Sorry, I just don’t get it. But, as long as my Social Security direct deposit continues to be deposited…and it was today…then I guess I’m okay and shouldn’t try to wrap my head around the government’s financial issues. I’ll try not to wonder about the possibility of the Social Security or Medicare Funds becoming  Peter in order to pay Paul.

RATS, JUST RATS!!!!!

         Well, my rat population has increased in the last couple of weeks. I guess catching the one in the have-a-hart trap was a fluke because all I’ve caught in the last week is two squirrels which I released. Now, it appears I have two large black rats and two smaller gray ones…don’t know if they are males or not. So far, they remain back by the chicken yard, but I don’t want them coming any closer to the house.

          So, I checked out which pest control companies had been recommended on Next Door and called a three before I ended up calling the company John contracted with when he was alive. It’s amazing the response you get from the various companies.

The first which had the most positive comments on Next Door told me they actually prefer looking at your house and taking care of any problems that might allow rats inside. But, they could provide pest control away from my house. I was aghast at the price for just that and wonder how much the cost would be if they were in my house.

          The next company I called was answered by an individual whose English was difficult to understand. Unless my understanding was incorrect, this company really wasn’t interested in providing the service.

The third one asked a number of questions then told me he couldn’t give me a price until his exterminator came out and looked around. He talked about putting a hose down the tunnels to flush them out which, in turn, would flush out the rats and provide some idea of the extent of the problem. Just what I don’t need are a whole bunch of rats running all over the yard instead of staying back by the fence.

          So, finally, I called the company John used and they’ll send someone out on today to replenish the bait boxes they left here last fall. Now, I know this isn’t a good idea, that the bait they eat kills them someplace else and there’s a potential for another animal to eat the poisoned rat. I’m really sorry for that, but I. DO. NOT. WANT. RATS. I know the best method would be to set traps, but my hands aren’t all that strong and I just know I’d end up snapping my finger(s), or somehow the dogs or cat would end up in the trap. And, speaking of the cat, why isn’t she taking care of this. Maybe I should stop feeding her???

          If only Mabel would join her sisters in the big Chickenyard in the Sky, there wouldn’t be any food out there to attract the rats. Mabel originally belonged to the woman who does my hair…wonder if she’d be willing to take Mabel back now that she’s all alone. Of course, Mabel is the hen that crowed which is why she had to give them up, but Mabel doesn’t crow anymore. Maybe I should call her???