Durable Medical Equipment Coverage

In a prior posting I told you about being denied orthopedic shoes and it was suggested that I purchase sneakers or tennis shoes, so I wrote a letter requesting a Standard Appeal, which is 30 days. I sent the letter on 9/15/09, they wrote me a letter on 9/22/09 stating they will review my appeal and on 9/24/09 they sent me a letter stating they had reviewed my extensive and eloquent letter and that I was approved for the financial assistance to obtain therapeutic shoes. I am putting the letter in my blog in the hope that others will be able to use my format to receive Durable Medical Equipment. Please borrow ideas from this letter as needed.

"Topics in this standard appeal letter:
1) Medical history in lay language
2) Current medical history
3) Why I need to wear therapeutic shoes

Dear Durable Medical Committee Members:

My medical history in lay language: I have poor circulation in my lower limbs: my legs and feet. I have deformities of both my left and right feet and have had feet deformities since birth. I was born in 1950 with Arthrogryposis Multiplex Congenita. At birth my legs were cross legged like an Indian sits and folded over my stomach, my feet were by my ears. I entered A.I. duPont Institute, Wilmington, Delaware at age 6 weeks (10/2/50) for my first stay at "the hospital," the last date I was at A.I. was on 4/7/64, four months before my 14th birthday. (Please see enclosed list of operations from A.I. Institute dated 1/24/75.)

When I began attending John G. Leach School for Crippled Children in 1954 my parents requested special permission for me to wear long pants under my dress because my legs were always cold. I continue to have poor circulation in my legs and feet at age 59. I prefer to wear pants for warmth; at night I use an electric blanket, even in the summer, because my cold legs and feet ache at night and make it difficult to sleep. I take a three-hour nap during the afternoon to make up for not sleeping well at night.

My feet are deformed in the bones and joints and also visually deformed from both my birth defect and from the process of living. I have both arthritis and osteoporosis in my feet from the operations and from wearing out my feet over the years.

I have Arthrogryposis in every bone and joint from my hips to my toes. I was born with rocking horse clubfeet on feet that also have Arthrogryposis in every bone and joint. I have big scars on my hips, holes in my knees where I had pins inserted, and scars on the back of my ankles and on the top of my feet from operations. The last of many operations on my feet knees and hips occurred when I was 13 years old; please see operation list. From 1950 to 1964 patients did not enter this hospital during the medical procedure and then go home; sometimes we were in the hospital for one year or longer. Most of my childhood was spent dealing with operations, recovery from the operations, and re-socializing to the world outside the hospital.

I learned to walk on wooden underarm crutches at age three (Please see attached picture of me at age fur on crutches with braces on my feet.) Currently I have walked with crutches for 56 years. I purchased my current pair of crutches from Award Prosthetics in Burnaby, Canada while I was working, more than four years ago. They have anatomic hand grips, one for the right and one for the left hand, and tornado crutch tips that absorb the shock of each step. (Please see two pictures of me standing as an adult on purple crutches; in one picture I have my third service dog, Aven from Canine Companions for Independence, with me.)

For the last six years, since I fell and ripped my rotator cuff and had both wrists repaired for carpal tunnel syndrome, I have used a manual wheelchair in my house and on longer outside ventures.

Current medical history: I have never been able to tie shoes because I do not have hip sockets (instead I have a small bit of bone and some grizzle holding my leg bones to my hip, but I have no ball and socket); therefore I cannot bend very well. I also cannot sit up from lying on my back unless I hold onto something in order to roll over. Because I cannot bend over I have had three service dogs from CCI in Santa, Rosa since 1983. On thing my service dog does is pick up things I drop including my keys, a crutch, her leash, dishtowels, and other items.

Both my feet have been fused in a 90-degree position since I was 13 years old. If there is flexion in my feet it is because the operations I had when I was 13 have begun to wear out, not because I can naturally move my feet. I also cannot wiggle my toes. My body leans forward at my hips, I cannot straighten up, which means I need shoes that are flat for my safety, so I do not fall over on my face. My knees are also bent. This is part of the reason I am 4'6" tall, along with the fact that bones from from the joints, and all my hip, knee, and feet joints are deformed.

After my last feet operations, when I was 13, I was able to wear Stride Right sneakers, and some more attractive shoes, for many years. In 2000 I became aware of pain in my feet while walking and I saw Dr. Brent Wendel at the Puget Sound Foot and Ankle Center in Seattle. He prescribed AFO's and therapeutic shoes. I found that the rocker bottoms he prescribed were to dangerous with my swing through gate (I kept falling down after getting rocker shoes), but therapeutic shoes with flat bottoms worked with the AFO's. I have never needed to purchase new AFO's. (Please see the medical records sent from Dr. Wendel.)

I have been wearing the same black Crary Custom Shoes in Oregon (seen in pictures of me as an adult) for two years; they are beginning to wear out. When I purchased my current shoes I received assistance from Kaiser through Employment Medical Insurance and I paid the co-pay. The reasons why I need to wear therapeutic shoes, when there are so many attractive alternatives in tennis and sneakers are many:
-My braces are large because my feet are deformed so I need a wider size shoe; my current shoes, which I purchased from Crary two years ago are Performance Walkers with Velcro; they are size 7-2 wide.
-I need Velcro straps because I cannot bend over to tie shoes.
-More Velcro must be added to new shoes to make the straps long enough to reach over the AFO's and fasten to the shoe.
-I need the stability of the therapeutic shoe.
-I need shoes that are all ready flat footed, or I would need to go to a specialty prosthetic shoe shop that can grind down the heel. *(However, the specialty prosthetic shoe shops will not add longer straps or grind down heels unless the shoes are purchased from their shops.)
*(In the past I was pressured into and convinced to purchase shoes form Hanger Shoes in Longview, WA and from When The Shoe Fits in Vancouver, WA. I was unable to wear the shoes I purchased from these two shops because the heels were too high.)

I am requesting financial assistance from Durable Medical Equipment Benefits to purchase new therapeutic shoes because the therapeutic shoes I purchased from Crary are now two years old, and because I am now living on Social Security Disability Income (SSDI).
1) My request for therapeutic shoes is not just about my feet, it is a whole body medical issue.
2) I am unable to tie shoes, so my shoes must have Velcro straps that reach across my AFO's.
3) I have tried tennis shoes and sneakers, including New Balance Shoes, in the past with the AFO's, and they have always had a higher heel (I am severely flat-footed) that thrusts me forward, and if they they have Velcro straps they needed to be lengthened to fit over the AFO's.
4) Stride Right, flat sneakers, are too small for the AFO's.
5) I am severely flat-footed and I need flat-soled shoes.
6) The therapeutic shoes provide more structure and support than softer non-therapeutic shoes would provide.
7) Like every other American woman, I wish I could wear attractive, fancy, different colored and fun shoes but I cannot.
8) I cannot afford to pay for the same safe and supportive therapeutic shoes that were previously paid for by Kaiser Medical Insurance when I was working.
9) If I could work I would be working.

I am hoping that after reading this request you will decide that I meet the requirements for the Durable Medical Equipment of Therapeutic Shoes. Before you make a decision to deny my request for Therapeutic Shoes as Durable Medical Equipment I would

1) appreciate the opportunity to come to your meeting have you inspect my feet in person for deformity and poor circulation;
2) If you do not want to personally inspect my feet for deformity and poor circulation, I would like to be referred to a Medical Podiatrist, recommended by the Durable Medical Committee for a second opinion.

Thank you for your attention to the Durable Medical Equipment Benefit of Therapeutic Shoes for my safety and stability.

(No attachments are included in this blog.) I hope this letter is helpful to someone or many. Put in all the facts, use words like safety and stability, make note of what you would do if you were able, like buying pretty shoes, and send me an e-mail if you need more assistance. Blessings, Iris

Trying to put together my childhood...

So my third admission to the hospital was from March 9, 1953 through July 19, 1953. The paper I have reports that the treatment I underwent was casts, bracing, and physical therapy. I went home walking on wooden underarm crutches, my parents told me I learned to walk at age three. I have a very cute picture of myself at age four on crutches. (When I buy a new computer, I'll post this picture and a few others.) The physical therapy was very painful because the physical therapist for orthopedic problems studied a form of therapy "invented" by a woman named Sr. Kenny; she believed that one should really push and pull on bones and muscles in order to make them work. I remember, from a later date, how painful physical therapy was; i.e., I remember yelling in pain and being told by the therapist that the therapy was going to help me.

I went home for nine months, from July 20, 1953 through April 11, 1954. I celebrated my third birthday with my parents and my brother. My mother told me that when I came home at age 3 I was not toilet trained, and when she changed my diaper I laughed at her gagging. My parents thought that children were born with lots of wisdom and adult knowledge. I probably thought my mother was playing with me while she was making gagging faces. This was one of those childhood stories I heard about as I was growing up. Needless to say it was a story that made me feel uncomfortable.

I was also born with a lazy eye and because I was severely cross eyed in my right eye after I was able to walk, and run, I would run into the corner of doorways when I was propelling myself quickly. I remember being at our house in Roseville Park. My Gramps was in the dinning room and I thought I was running toward him, but I ran into the doorway, gave myself a terrible bloody head. I can still feel the scar at age 59. When I went back to the hospital for my fourth admission one of the things they did was operate on my right eye (an operative revision of the right eye muscles) so I wouldn't be cross eyed. I re-entered the hospital on April 12, 1954 and went home on June 26, 1954. The other operation I had at that time was a rotational osteotomy of my right tibia. I went home on June 27, 1954 and was home until my fifth admission on May 14, 1956. I turned four at home and began attending kindergarten at the John G. Leach School for Crippled Children. My parents had moved to Wilmington, Delaware so I would be closer to the school. I remember my father putting me on the bus and I think of that as my first day at school, but it may just be a loving memory of my dad putting me on the bus. I'll write more about John G. Leach School in my next episode. Blessings, Iris

Trusting our intuitions about people

After I wrote the bit about Annie Le's murderer not having object constancy I saw another new blurb where a woman student had studied with him and at some point he tried to get rough with her in a sexual manner. She "wrote it off" to his drinking too much and she said that he seemed to forget about the incident. But she did not forget about the incident, it sat inside her because she may have tried not to be aware of her true feelings: that there was something wrong and in fact scary about that man. There are a lot of sociopaths and psychopaths who are living lives as normal people and we live in a society that doesn't want to believe that there are bad people in the world. Better to be safe than sorry. If you feel uncomfortable around someone move away from them, let them go, we don't have to be friends with everyone. We are so good at stuffing how we feel because we have been taught that people are basically good. As much as possible, trust your intuition. Sometimes intuition speaks to us in anxiety about being with a person, sometimes it's a little voice in our head telling us to get away, or unsafe. Maybe you have your own way to feel intuitions, whatever it is listen to it even if you are getting peer pressure from other people or your inner judge. Trust yourself and trust your inner voices because they want to keep you safe. And it doesn't matter if the individual is a man or a woman, there are also crazy women out and about in the world, especially if you feel like you are walking on egg shells, you shouldn't have to walk on egg shells if the person is someone you trust and is really your friend. Take care of yourself, you are important. Blessings, Iris

Object Constancy and continuation of my childhood

When I first saw the picture of Annie Le's murderer being arrested I had a intuitive hit which said: "That man has no object constancy." Object constancy is something that most children learn at an early age; it is when mommy leaves she will return or when you put a toy under a blanket the toy still exist. Prior to object constancy when mommy leaves the room she no longer exists, and when you cannot see a toy it is gone forever. (This is probably simplified.) He was able to go play soft ball after he killed Annie because the object of his rage no longer existed, he couldn't see her because he had put her behind a wall and she was gone. Probably all the attachments he has are based on the attachment of other people to him, I mean if they move away or stop talking to him it won't matter to him. They will just be gone and he may never think about them again.

I don't think I had object constancy until I was 12 years old, maybe I had some because my parents regularly came to visit me once a month on visiting Sunday. But my object constancy wasn't very strong, it was a string that should have been a piece of cloth. I believe I had very poor object constancy because I lived in a society (the hospital) where people came into my life and left my life, and I never saw them again. Going home was a constant, but there were long stretches of time in between, going to the hospital was more of a constant because my body was in question there (what will happen next), but mostly there were not many things in my life that were constant. While I was in the hospital at age 12 I threw something under my bed and I thought it was gone, invisible, because I could not see it. After a while a nurse came in and asked me if I had thrown it under the bed, since I was a child I denied it and lied, but I never forgot afterward that just because I can't see someone or something doesn't make it invisible or disappeared.

Some other things about the hospital.

-Mail was censured, a nurse read the letters I sent out and blacked out things they didn't want me to say, letters coming from my parents were opened and read before I received them, if the nurse didn't like what my parents said they would black out those words before I received the letter.
-There was one television in the ward and we were allowed to watch it for 1/2 hour at night, but I do not remember watching television very often.
-There were five or six small side rooms, but most children were in the ward which held about 12 to 15 beds.
-African American (colored) children were segregated from the white children and were not allowed in the ward. (I remember telling Tiio Miller, who had the same disability I have, that she was not allowed in the ward when I was seven years old.)
-I do not remember there being school until I was 12 years old and the school was in a space in a marble hallway taught by Miss Bell.
-I don't remember there being recreational activities until I was older, and I don't really remember them. I do remember coming up from the basement with an activity person, there were five or six of us on the elevator, some in wheelchairs and some in beds, and the elevator door opened onto a brick wall. I was screaming as were the other children, I don't think we were stuck for very long.
-I don't remember there ever being a social worker.
- A Presbyterian minister came once a month and did a service in the auditorium.
-There were no telephones by our beds and we were not allowed to call our parents. I remember once asking to call my parents, I must have been 13 and the nurse dissuaded me from making the call.
-The wheelchairs were the old fashioned wooden wheelchairs, some were like wooden-carts for children in body casts.

There was a big stone wall around the grounds of the hospital, on top of the wall was "million dollar shards of glass that the duPont's had ordered from France when the facility was a duPont home." I remember talking with other children and wondering myself whether the wall was there to keep robbers out or whether it was supposed to keep us in. Along with that question was another question about what we had done "wrong" to be put into the hospital; this was also related to the question "What's wrong with you?" In childhood logic if there was something wrong with us then that was the reason we were in the hospital being operated on, but I never figured out what I had done wrong and I didn't understand why I didn't live with my family like other children did. (One of my fantasies was Tarzan on a condor coming to rescue me from the hospital.)

Well, enough for tonight. Take care, thanks for reading my blog. Blessings, Iris

My Life as a child with a birth defect in the 1950's

My brother in this last year said I should write the story about my life as a disabled child in the hospital. I suggested that he ask me questions I could respond to; he never responded to my request. Recently I asked someone if they would help me become a better writer. She said you have to have insight about what you are saying in order for it to mean something to others. I'm not sure that is true, about the insight, sometimes it is just about what is similar, or what is different, that evokes reactions, positive or negative from others. I'm not sure about my insight or whether I can remember enough to make my life story interesting to others. Maybe as I write I will remember more things and maybe my insight will grow as I write. So here goes, I'll give it a try.

I was born on 8/20/50, on a Sunday around noon. My mother said I was a 10 month baby. I was a breach birth, my mother said I messed up her bladder. She also said that because I was born around noon she missed breakfast, she missed lunch and because it was Sunday all she got for dinner was cold cuts. I weighed a little more than five pounds. My mother's cousin, who is like a sister to her, said that I had a beautiful face with a peach complexion. My mother's sister- in-law, Aunt Mildred, told me, just this past year that when my mother brought me over I was all wrapped up in blankets with just my face showing and my mother wouldn't let Aunt Mildred remove the blankets so she could see me. Aunt Mildred said when my mother left the room Aunt Mildred took a look at me and she knew something was wrong because my feet were up by my face. Aunt Mildred said my mother told her the doctor said to take me home and I would be all right. Aunt Mildred said she told my mother there was something not right, and she should take me into the Alfred I. duPont Institute for a check up. (At the same gathering where I heard this story, I learned that Aunt Mildred's son, Jimmy, had spend some time at the Alfred I. duPont Institute also.) I don't know when my parents took me for my first appointment, but at age 6 weeks I entered the hospital for the first of a series of stays. My disability is Arthrogryposis Multiplex Congenita. The joints and bones from my hips to my toes are effected by my disability.

My first admission to the hospital was on October 2, 1950 through April 21, 1951, 203 days in the hospital. I had a closed reduction of congenitally dislocated hips and was casted. Back then there was a baby ward up stairs, later babies and older children were kept in the same first floor wards, a boys ward and a girls ward. The boys ward had a few more beds because there are more disabled boys than girls. In 1950 through 1964 parents were only permitted to visit once a month, in the auditorium with all the other parents for two hours. Patients were only allowed to have two visitors at a time, children were not allowed to visit, so my brother who was 1.5 years older than me was never allowed to come into the hospital to visit me. My maternal grandfather, Gramps, would watch my brother and toward the end of the visit my mother would go out and my grandfather would come in for a while. Needless to say, I do not remember much about my initial stays at the hospital.

My second admission was on August 13, 1951. I celebrated my first birthday at the hospital, my parents have never talked about this. I went home on August 18, 1952, so I was able to celebrate my second birthday at home. I was in the hospital for 368 days. During this time I believe Miss Payne a nurse connected with me. I remember her calling me Miss Ice. I just had a fleeting feeling of deep emotion as I wrote that, and my eyes welled with tears. I had a picture of Miss Payne holding me on her hip in my wallet while I was in Seminary, but someone stole my wallet and I lost the picture. A few years ago I tried to contact Miss Payne. I called the hospital; they said if I wrote a letter they would forward it to her, I never heard back from her. During this hospital stay I had a series of operations; on October 25, 1951 the doctors manipulated both my feet under anesthesia, applied casts and manipulated both my hips. On November 29, 1951 I had a posterior capsulotomy of the right ankle. On January 3, 1952 I had an Achilles tendon lengthened and posterior capsulotomy of the left ankle. On March 6, 1952 I had a arthrography of the right hip joint. On April 17, 1952 I had insertion of heavy Kirschner wires in the supracondylar region of both femurs of the hips and application of long leg casts. On March 25, 1952 I had arthrograms of the hips. I don't know when I went home, but I was in the hospital again for a third admission on March 9, 1953.

I believe that it was during this third admission that I had my first sense of something bigger than me and outside of me. I also believe that this is when I was given the concept and also chose to believe the world is a good and safe place. The baby ward was on the second floor and
there was also an upstairs porch off the baby ward. I remember being outside with leg cast on sitting in one of those three or four legged walkers with wheels on the porch. I had on a tied under the chin baby bonnet which I was told to leave on, and which I immediately took off. I think the action of making an independent (I am looking for another, stronger word, but cannot find it) choice to take off the bonnet also made me aware of the outside environment. I just remember being in the green tree tops with the sun shining and a few white clouds in the sky, there seems to be a breeze and I felt like I was in a bubble of safety and love. Maybe this is what people mean when they say the world is the baby's oyster. In my forties I found the phrase by Einstein that says: "At some point one has to decide if the universe is a safe place or not." Perhaps this happened during my fourth admission, but early on I had a sense that there was something larger that existed and would take care of me. To be continued...

Thank you for reading my blog. Your friend, Iris

Lost children/lost lives

I was thinking about my neighbors from when I lived in Suquamish, it was 1984, right after I had a break-up and I had moved into this small apartment complex on the Puget Sound. The man's name was Tony, and the boy's name was Tony. I thought that was odd, but shrugged it off. He wasn't enrolled in school. I don't know how long he had been living with Tony, but I thought he was a passive young man. I think he sometimes washed dishes at a local restaurant. I only remember having one conversation with the youth, I remember that I asked him if her were in touch with his parents. I had heard of Tony and Tony before I moved into the apartment and I was told that Tony had been a street youth in Seattle when Tony had taken him in. I was 34 years old, I think Tony was 50-60 years old and young Tony was 15. At some point Tony told me he was moving back to Oregon (?) to care for his mother. I remember asking what would happen to Tony, I had a sense that he would be left to fend for himself. I was in touch with Tony by letter a few times, I don't know what happened to young Tony. I do not remember Tony's last name or where he moved to. Young Tony would be 40 years old now.

When I went to work as a Child Welfare Social Worker in 1990 I learned that children are considered adults at age 13 in Washington State. So if I had children on my case load who ran away from home or from their foster homes the police didn't really pursue them if they were 13 years old. Even if Tony had run away and then had ended up with Tony because he could get two or three meals and had a stable roof over his head that was a terrible life. My real question about young Tony is how did he end up living with Tony and was his name really Tony? I wonder if anyone ever reported his existence to the Suquamish Police? Maybe Tony was hiding in Suquamish because it was an Indian Reservation or maybe someone finally did report the situation to the police and that is why Tony left.

Does my immaturity and lack of knowledge matter, am I guilty of supporting a child molester in his life style? I will be more guilty if I ever allow some strange situation between a child and adult to go unquestioned again. We have this belief in our country that a "man's" home is his castle; to a point that is respectable, but if we continue to feel discomfort about a situation then we need to pursue that feeling to the end and not let it linger and disappear.

We have so much information in our heads; it is difficult to remember everything we "should" be remembering and aware of. When it comes to children and strange adults and feelings of discomfort I think we need to pursue those feelings even if we seem to be or feel like we are making pests of ourselves.

I'm sorry Tony, whether you were a street kid or whether you were a stolen child you didn't deserve to have to pay with your body for your food and shelter. I hope you had the opportunity to grow up and reach age 40 and I hope that you have found a life in your adulthood that brings you comfort and safety. Blessings, Iris

Durable Medical Equipment Benefits and the Privacy fence

I spent most of the day responding to a letter of denial for coverage of therapeutic shoes. I suppose there are people who want to wear black therapeutic shoes with Velcro straps, but if I had a choice I would love to wear some fancy, multicolored sneakers or some high heels once in a while. Though actually, I don't really care what color my shoes are as long as they help my stability in walking and as long as they are comfortable. When I receive a response to my letter I will put more about that in the blog. Actually, if the letter does receive a favorable response I will put the letter I wrote in the blog in the hopes that perhaps the format will help someone else who is being denied "durable medical equipment." If the letter receives a negative response, well then, I will probably just say that now I need to pay for the therapeutic shoes on my own.

I decided to watch the end of the movie: "9 and 1/2 weeks," so I put it back into the DVD player and fast forwarded to almost the end. I watched it in fast motion with no sound until near the end of the movie. I was then glad to see that the beautiful woman left the controlling man at the end of the movie. Sorry, if you were excited about watching this movie and I told you the ending. I couldn't stand not knowing what happened to this woman at the end; did her friends rescue her, did he leave her, did she leave him, did he kill her, did she kill him? I did not find the movie sensuous and loving; rather I found it anxiety producing and stressful. What was he going to do next. I recommend throwing this movie on a bonfire--my opinion: controlling people do not need more training in how to control others.

While I was at The Eagle, county newspaper, today. I saw a little girl walking down Main Street by herself, and I thought about Jaycee Lee Dugard and the other stolen children. It also reminded me that 20 years ago when I lived in Suquamish, WA (near Bainbridge Island) I had a neighbor in my apartment complex who was a pedophile. He had a 15 year old boy living with him. This was 20 years ago, but in retrospect I wonder what the real story was behind that teen-ager living with an old pedophile. The boy never had very much to say. The old man said the youth was a street kid he was giving a home too. I wonder now, was I witness to a triple crime and to unaware to help that youth?

This AM I called my handy guy and told him that Diane, was grabbing and hanging onto the privacy fence while growling and shaking her head as if the fence were a rat she was catching and killing. In fact she was about to kill my new bamboo privacy fence with lots of holes and tears. I was going to ask him to put up a wooden fence over the privacy fence which is over my cyclone fence with brown slates to make for more privacy. Are you getting my gist here... Before I had an opportunity to ask him to put up a wooden fence in front of the privacy fence which is in front of the cyclone fence with brown slates, he said I will put up some chicken wire today. I said that sounds good, and I never had a chance to tell him about the wooden fence that was supposed to go in from of the privacy fence that is in front of the cyclone fence with the brown slates. I went out for a bit and when I returned the handy guy was putting the chicken wire in front of the bamboo privacy fence. The dogs, especially Diane, does not seem to like the feel of the chicken wire against her lips and muzzle. I had images of her hanging from the chicken wire by her teeth but she didn't seem very excited about biting the wire, perhaps the bamboo privacy fence will last a while after all.

Bits and pieces

I went back to where I put Peewee, the pigeon, yesterday. He wasn't there; all I can do is hope that he launched himself over to the Lowe's building and found himself a family of pigeons. It is funny how quickly I found myself attached to him. He really didn't have much of a personality and he left BIG poops. Perhaps if I had the linoleum down I would have let him loose in the house, but I just couldn't conceive of how I would ever clean up after him. I don't think I will become a pet pigeon owner in the near future.

My neighbor lent me the move "9 and 1/2 weeks." I wondered about it when she gave it to me. I thought I had heard that it was about a domineering man and a beautiful woman. My neighbor said she thought it was wonderful, a movie about just the way a woman wants to be made love to by a man. I had concerns, I watched about one half hour of the movie and couldn't stand the fact that he was becoming more and more controlling. Now I'm wondering how the movie ends. I might put it back into the DVD player and do fast forward. I just don't think I can watch much more of her being controlled for love.

I found red bananas at the grocery store this week. I had never heard of red bananas. I bought a bunch, they are good. The fruit is pinkish, and the taste is sweet in a different way than regular yellow bananas. So explorer scientists/anthropologists found giant rats and parrots the size of one's thumb, and I discovered red bananas at the grocery store. Not such a bad trade off for being a stable person.

So here is my political bit for the day: I saw that pro-life folks are seeking full legal rights for fertilized human eggs. But hate crimes are still being committed against GLBT folks, and the conservative forces are asking that domestic partnership laws, in Washington state, be overturned. The domestic partnership law is also being used by single heterosexual folks and elderly who don't want to risk marriage for a number of reasons. It shocks me that a little seed is called a human being but people who are fully formed human beings with lives, and children and partners they love, are not considered human. A Gay man friend of mine told me once that his religiously conservative mother told him that she wished he were a murderer rather than a Gay person. What is the world coming too....

The pastor at the United Church of Christ preached about the difference between being a Christian and being a Disciple. His description, simply put, was that a Christian goes to church and a disciple is active in the world. It is a good thing to look at what those words mean and how we are using them. There are good Christians and there are not-so-good-Christians; it is possible that Jesus may have originally discriminated against GLBT folks like he discriminated against the Syrian woman asking for help for her daughter, but when Jesus found out how much faith and strong love many GLBT folks have he would have turned his opinion around. It is too bad that so many good people who have belief in the same God are not able to see the concept of Love in a similar way.

I've been cold all day, and have considered putting on the heater, but I keep avoiding doing that. October is coming up quickly, then the heater it will be Fall and it will be time to turn on the heater everyday. The last two summers have been odd, three or four days of very hot weather and mostly cool weather all summer. At least the crops grew this year. Next year I am planning to grow my own tomatoes and lettuce in pots. Perhaps if I grow my own I will find myself eating healthier without having to think and remember, "oh yeah I need to eat some fruit and vegetables today."

My privacy fence is a failure. My little Diane, who is part fox terrier and part Yorkie, jumps on it, grabs it with her teeth, and from up in the air she shakes it and growls at the dogs on the other side of the fence. Needless to say, she is all ready destroying the fence. I've created more of a monster by trying to decrease their barking. Now I am going to ask my Handy Guy to put up a wood fence along that strip of my fence. I think I may be starting to look a little like some kind of nut, but I really want the barking to either decrease or at least be contained my yard.

Well, this has been a bits and pieces bit of writing. Life is definitely an experiment, and may your experiments be fun and enlightening too. Your friend, Iris

Peewee the pigeon, Coneheads, and the Milky Way

Last night while I was covering Peewee's cage I noticed how much larger he had gotten and that almost all the pinfeathers around his head had turned into smooth gray feathers. I decided that I would take him back to Lowe's today and set him free. If he survives he will be one of the healthier pigeons; he was actually becoming beautiful. I felt concerned about his cage being to small; whether he was getting enough exercise; and how he was going continue learning to fly at my house. I was also concerned because he just wanted to eat bird seeds, even when I put noodles or cooked brown rice in his cage. In just two weeks he had become quite spoiled; as a wild pigeon he needed to be able to eat a variety of foods. I was also concerned because he was still afraid of me, and I really did not want him to become tame. This morning, I put Peewee and the cage in my car, took a box of corn flakes with me and headed for Lowe's. When I got to Lowe's I road around the building and never saw a pigeon. So then I road over to Fred Myers, because I had heard they had pigeons; well much to my dismay I did not see a pigeon at Freddie's either. I road back to Lowe's, pulled over to a grassy spot, got Peewee out of his cage, poured the box of corn flakes by him onto the ground, and got back into my car. As I was getting into the car Peewee was running under my car. I could hear him crying. So I slowly pulled away and he ran over to the last place his cage had been, by the corn flakes. He was quite beautiful running in the sunlight, I could see some purple developing on his chest and neck. I hope his homing instinct will cause him to fly over to the Lowe's building where all the other pigeons nest, and to where he was born. Hopefully, he'll be okay. If he survives he'll father healthy baby pigeons, all those vitamin infused seeds he ate while in my care might give him the opportunity to acclimate to the natural world of pigeons over the next couple of days. Pigeons are social birds, so I don't think they will reject him when he shows up. Funny, he wasn't in my house for very long and I missed his presence here all ready. I am going into town again tomorrow, so will check the spot where I left him today while I'm there.

On a different topic, I asked my neighbor, Jennifer, if she had any movies I could borrow. In a pile she brought over were Dr. Dolittle and Coneheads. I watched the Conehead movie tonight. I've never seen Saturday Night Live, the Conehead story was spectacular, funny and too realistic about our search for illegal aliens.

Today is 9/11 and it is good to take a good hard look at people who want to harm others in this country for political reasons, whether they people are from another country, or whether they are children of this country. I remember 9/11, it was a frightening and horrifying day. It was my first day of a Clinical Pastoral Education Program at the Veteran's Hospital in Seattle and on every television in every room the trauma of the twin towers was occurring over and over for the entire week. I am sure the 9/11 attacks affected people on the east coast more than we were affected here on the west coast but even the distance did not ameliorate all the stress and trauma of those horrific attacks. So it is good to keep up the search for illegal aliens and to be aware of who and why some people are in our country; it is also good to remember that any person who is not of Native American heritage came to this country as aliens from other countries. We need to be careful not to abuse people just because they do not look or talk like we look or or speak.

So about the stars and distant galaxies, I am not sure there are coneheads or little green men in other worlds, but I love to sit in my back yard as the dogs play and look at the stars. A month ago I was thinking about the Milky Way and I was mourning that at age 59 I had never seen it. I wouldn't know what the Milky Way was even if I were looking at it. I keep looking for the pathway of the spirits, but can never figure out if I am looking at it or not. Today I say on the Yahoo News that the Milky Way will be clearly visible on 9/18. I can hardly wait. I hope the weather stays clear so I can see this wonderfully cosmic occurrence. Then the next thing I want to see is the Aurora Borealis. I may have to go to Alaska to see it, but I will find a way. Those are two of the wonders of this world that I want to see while I can still see and while I still have the energy to be amazed by the wonders of creation. Have a blessed day, Iris

Regular life and a full stomach

Unexpectedly, Carol, the woman who cleans my house arrived at 10:00AM. I forgot she was coming. She left at 12:00 and I headed over to Martha and Shirley's. I had a b'day gift for Martha and just wanted to see them as I heard Martha had purchased a house in Nevada. They fed me lunch and Martha and I hung out when Shirley left for an appointment. Martha gave me a frame for one of my pictures and a hat that I admired. She seriously told me that she wants to help me clean my car next time I see her, not a bad idea...

I came home, Brian my handyguy, had put up my privacy bamboo fencing, to keep the my five dogs from barking as a vicious pack at one neighbor man, and at another neighbor's dogs.

I went next door to my neighbor Jennifer's and sat outside talking with her a bit about her daughter's 6th b'day and life in the neighborhood in general. She admired my new fence; this made me happy. I like it too.

I went back to my house and had a phone call from my friend, Mike, who said he wanted to bring dinner over to my house, he would cook it: hamburgers with chili, and then he also cleaned up the dishes. He helped me put my picture on this blog, we talked and then he went home. Friendship beyond the call of duty...

My brain is not too brainy tonight, just regular life, a stomach full of hamburger and fresh tomatoes, after a full day of good folks. My friendships are fulfilling, life is good and we'll see what the cosmos sends tomorrow. Bless, Iris

What is it like to be a disabled person?

Last night I was thinking about what it is like to be a physically disabled person and I was thinking about a way to describe it to people who are not disabled. When most non-disabled adults look in the mirror they can see what their lips look like, what color eyes they have, how their eye brows are shaped, and what color hair they have; they can see their ears and assess how they feel about them; and they can see the shape of their face. They might think, "I look like my mother, or my father, or great Aunt Sue. When they walk away from the mirror they forget what they look like; when they look at the clouds in the sky they are not thinking about their brown eyes; when they say hello to their neighbor they are not thinking about their small ears; when they talk on the phone they aren't thinking about their smile that tilts to one side.

When I look in a full length mirror I can see that I have short legs; that I stand with crutches; or that I sit in a wheelchair; I can see how my lips look, what color my eyes are, I can see my eye brows and the color of my hair. When I walk away from the mirror I forget what I saw in the mirror. I look at the clouds, I talk to my neighbors, and I talk on the telephone without remembering that I have a physical disability. Sometimes I am aware that I am a short adult, especially when my tall friends like Brian O'Connor comes over because he is 6'6", but most people would be aware that they are short around Brian. This is not my disability issue.

There are times when I am aware that I have a disability. Today when I was at the dentist the counter was up to my chin (I call it the John the Baptist on a platter look); that is a short issue not a disability issue. But when I needed to sign paperwork I asked for a pen (that wasn't attached to the counter) and the receptionist couldn't find one. I wanted to take my check book and go sit down to fill it out. The receptionist said: "I'll give you a clip board and you can stand here and do it." I then had to tell the receptionist that I needed to sit down because writing on the clip board without holding on to and leaning on at least one crutch would have thrown me off balance. That was a disability issue and my question was, why doesn't Kaiser lower the counter in the dental clinic to make it accessible to shorter people like they did in clinic F across the hall? Lower counters would benefit the elderly, people in wheelchairs and people, like me, who use crutches in public. Lower counters would also be friendlier to everyone (except tall people) and if the counters were lower then I would not be forced to remember that I am a short disabled woman.

Anyway, back to the original topic: the counter issue and writing out a check took two to three minutes, or less. Once the check was written I went back to forgetting that I walk with crutches and became the psychological self who looks out onto the world without a need to reflect on whether I have blue eyes or whether my crutches are purple or aluminum. And perhaps if the receptionist had not "tried to help," but had quietly let me go sit as I needed in order to write out a check, I may not have reflected as much on my shortness, my crutches, my disability as I did. Sometimes the helpfulness of others causes me to be aware that I look physically different. The mental act of being self reflective, or self conscious, takes me away from the relationship that I want to have with the other individual, instead of relating to the other person I find myself only relating to parts of myself (my crutches, my shortness, my crooked legs) but not even to my whole self.

This self consciousness is not just a disability issue, my friend Brian, who is 6'6" is an able bodied man who also finds himself being self reflective about how to deal with a world that is standardized to people who are on the average 5'10" tall. When Brian and I are sitting and talking we have great conversations; but when he is standing and I am sitting our conversations are not as intimate because that which is unusual about him is more apparent to both him and to me when he is towering over me.

There are some people who are so self assured, self confident and genuinely loving that I am never reminded I am physically disabled when I am around them; even when they are helping me somehow I still feel comfortable and focused on my relationship with them and not on the fact of my physical disability. These people are the ones who become my best friends.

Thank you for reading my blog. Blessings, your friend, Iris

Friendship and Deep Darkness

The day started out very beautiful. The weather page said it would be 65 degrees, but I think it was warmer and the sun was out most of the day. I called a friend I had not seen for a while, I asked her if she wanted to go to a store I hadn't been to and if she wanted to go out to eat. But for some reason I never really felt like I woke up today.

Before going into town I cleaned the three bird cages, Rojo-the canary, who has to live by himself because he is too aggressive; the bigger finch cage with six finches; and Peewee the Pigeon's cage. I also put all five dog bowls in the dishwasher, so they had clean bowls for their evening meal. Getting that done was gratifying in itself, it's always nice to have clean houses and clean bowls for all the creatures.

Then I went and picked up my friend, who is actually a friendly acquaintance, but I usually enjoy her company. Today she told me about a fight she had with another friendly acquaintance of mine, and then she proceeded to tell me about all the things she hates the individual and about the "group" of people we both hang out with periodically; and I mean hates. I knew about the fight before she told me her side of the story, and there was definitely an element of ugly about it, but it was actually a friendly, but not well though out, joke that got out of hand. Then she wanted me to tell her about my feelings for all those people. I didn't mind her talking about her feelings, which will probably change over time, so I didn't feel judgemental about her angry feelings. But I felt very uncomfortable that she was trying to push me into telling her things the other people had said or done or what they may have said to me. When the other people did tell me their side of this story I didn't say anything to them either, I just listened. I did share much with my friendly acquaintance anything either, but it gave me a bit of stress keeping my mouth shut. I studied Political Science at the University of Delaware, but I'm not very political in terms of fighting for one person who is running for office nor am I very political when it comes to friendships and even "gossip." Mostly I would rather just stay out of the entire confusion of interrelationship issues. Needless to say I was glad to drop my friend off at her house and come back to the animal comfort of my little hermit cave here in the country by the Columbia River. There is a group party next week, it will be interesting to see how everyone is relating to each other by then; I prefer that every one like each other and have a good time, but I'm not in charge, just an observer of this human situation.

As I think about what I've said it may appear that my relationships aren't very deep, at least in the above situation. But I think the above situation deserves the bit of wisdom that comes from "picking ones battles." I prefer to remain friendly with all the parties of this little melodrama because at some point everyone will be friendly again and when that happens I want to still be in the same, or similar, relationship square I'm in now. Sometimes it is better to just be a cosmic listener....

Many people think I am the kind of person who jumps into the quick of things; I am a risk taker, but even in taking risks I like, as much as possible, to have thought out how risky the risk is going to be. Funny, I use to be a total extrovert and now I am almost a total introvert. When I appeared to be an extrovert I told people that I actually thought like an introvert, but acted like an extrovert. People still see me as an extrovert, but I am just as happy being at home with the pooches and reading a good intelligently written book. Though I still need human contact to make sure I stay human myself.

I've been dreaming lately, seems like there was a stretch of time where I did not remember dreaming at all. One night recently I had a dream where I was telling someone what I wanted in the deepest part of who I am. I said something like: "I want to be able to listen to people in a deep and real way, so they can go into the hidden parts of themselves, and find the hidden part of who they are. I want to help them bring that deep hidden part of themselves into the light, so they can use that deep dark part of themselves to make the world a better place."

There isn't anything else I can say tonight. Thank you for reading my blog. Your friend, Iris

"I'm a Crip" and dark rainy days

Good evening. It is 7:30 and it is dark and rainy. I am planning to buy some of the light bulbs that create a sensation of the sun shining in your house, can't remember what they are called at the moment, but I hope they will "lighten" my life this winter. My mood tonight is like having the beginning of the Dark night of the Soul..., but I know it is just a reminder of what winter darkness sometimes feels like. I will try taking vitamin D, take my calcium, get my new light bulbs and hope that the winter will seem brighter. It is only September 6; are we in for a long dark winter this year? Well, enough doom and gloom, it isn't even halloween and listen to me.

Something lighter for a minute. I hope I'm not repeating myself, but like I say to my friends when they say: "Did I tell you this story before?" I say, "Tell me again. Maybe you will give me some new interesting details and even if you do not say anything new, I want to hear your story again because I am interested in who you are." I am waiting for some new linoleum, well it's actually fiberglass flooring. I wanted Armstrong safeguard-blue, but Lowe's told me I couldn't have it because it is commercial, so I went somewhere else, to Carpet One in Rainier Oregon. I order something called Tarkett and the color is Square Dancing-blue. It is actually a fun and whimsical design. It was supposed to come this Tuesday, but the company did not deliver enough to the office in Washington, so now I'm supposed to have the new floor put down on 9/18. Getting rid of this rug will be a relief and I will be able to clean up more easily after the dogs and the birds. Speaking of bird, Peewee the pigeon is still eating and pooping, this is a good sign. He is also attacking my hand when I put the food in for him. I want him to stay wild. I think, or hope, he will have developed enough by next week for me to take back to Lowe's and let him go. My finches are yelling for a new nest, so far all their babies have come to an untimely end. I will probably buy them a new nest again next week, I need to look up whether I need to feed them something special when they have babies. I think it is probably just that wild animals have a difficult time procreating in a domestic setting.

I wonder if the word nest and the word next are related to each other somehow. They seem to be very similar and even have similar ideal behind them about nextness...and new life, new situations. Someday, I will purchase one of those huge dictionaries that show the relationship between words and what their history has been.

Today I went to the Episcopal Church and came home to work on an appeal letter to Medicare regarding the purchase of therapeutic shoes for me. Medicare has denied my need for the shoes as "durable medical equipment." I will need to obtain some medical records from a poditrist I saw in 1999 and I have asked for a second opinion from a new poditrist. I may have written too long a letter, but will look at it again tomorrow to see if I can cut some things out. Just writing that letter was enough to drive me into the dark night of the soul, but I shouldn't let it or them have that kind of power over me, it is only about money... Well, maybe it is about more than money, it is also ove worth, is a short disabled woman worth the money to buy her a pair of shoes that may cost a few hundred dollars? Hmmm, good questions. All God's children got shoes.

I only have one light on. It is actually soothing to sit in the house as darkness falls over this little town. I have much to be happy about. My friend, Mike, had dinner here on Friday and he wiped out the worms in my computer. I enjoy Mike and I was so happy I don't need to buy a new computer. On Saturday Dana and Betsy, and Betsy's parents and grandmother, and I all went to the Red Lobster for a delicious meal. The food was spectacular and it was comfortable to be with a family who cares about each other. Dana and Betsy were supposed to come over to my house for dinner, but then they decided to spend two of their commitment gift cards to Red Lobster for dinner with their family and they were kind to invite me as well. By the way, Dana and Betsy are two women.

So my disability is Arthrogryposis Multiplex Congenita. I just looked it up, again, tonight. It is a rare birth defect that affects 1 in 3,000, I think that is just a number. I bet it is even rarer that the numbers state. I walk with crutches and have for 56 years, I learned to walk with crutches at age three. My crutches are purple, I purchased them from Award Prosthetics a few years ago. When I get rich I will buy more pairs in different colors. I have the disability in my hips, knees and feet. Since I live a fairly medical free life the medicare folks think I am trying to get away with something by asking for assistance to purchase the shoes. Well, life in the disability fast lane, I guess.

I was in and out of the Alfred I. duPont Institute from 1950 through 1963. I don't remember there being school at the hospital until I was 13, but I may be wrong. When I wasn't in the hospital I went to school at the John G. Leach School for Crippled Children, this school was actually a baby-sitting center for disabled children. In the summer I went to summer camp for five weeks from age 8 until I was 13 at the Children's Beach House for Cripppled Children. (should I leave all those "p's?")

Once when I was teaching AIDS Education to youth in the detention center in Seattle a large African American boy came up to me and said: "I'm a Crip." I think I was supposed to be frightened, I don't know much about gangs. He was probably six feet tall and I am 4'6" tall. I looked at him and I said, "I'm a Crip too. How long have you been a Crip, I've been one all my life?" I don't think he ever thought about his concept of the word Crip having anything to do with disabilities. He didn't say anything else to me during the session. I hope he had a sense of humor later and perhaps my little turn around helped him to escape from some life that would be difficult to live. So I guess the joyful message for today is: I'm a Crip!

Welcome rain! Welcome to the first sign of Fall. And Autumn blessings to us all, Iris

Housework sermon for August 30, 2009

I was at a Christmas party last year and we had the usual white elephant gift exchange. At the end of the party there was a box no one had wanted. In the box was this beautiful porcelain heart with these words "Housework won't kill you--But, why take a chance?

There is a story that God first said something like this when he thought about the work of creating the sun, the moon, the stars, and the earth and all the living things. God thought about not getting his hands dirty, such messy work, better leave it alone, maybe someone else will do it.

But God thought about it and decided he was the only one who could transform the void into what he wanted it to look like. God himself felt called to a dramatically new way of being, he wanted others to relate to; he wanted relationship, and so God created human beings and all the other living creatures.

My friend Betty once asked me why people in monasteries and convents pray all the time. I told her I thought some people had to stay in touch with God in order to make sure the earth keeps rolling through the sky. There are different jobs for different people, some people are prayers, some are doers, and some are both prayers and doers.

In the Epistle of James we are encouraged to be doers and not hearers only. Usually we do not push people when they don't have the capacity to do a job. For instance I would make a poor basketball player regardless of how much you pushed me. But we all have capabilities and both James and Jesus were aware that people are more capable and have more potential than they use.

There are some people who say God never gives us more to do than we can handle; as if life were a test. I have always mistrusted that phrase, because I have never believed that we need to pass a test in order to be loved by God.

God doesn't say, "Okay let's see if Iris can handle this test." There are tests in life, life itself gives challenges that need to be overcome or achieved, but I believe and I have always believed that God gives us the gift of strength, which is what we need to meet the challenges of life. God continues to support us whether we succeed in human terms or whether we fail in human terms.

One of our biggest challenges is looking in the mirror. When I look in the mirror I see a short, stocky woman who uses crutches to walk, but that isn't what God sees. As we look through our mirrors God sees the best fruit of his creation and where ever we stand at that time God blesses us with love and light. James believed that we are all ready experiencing the divine destiny God has planned for all humankind. He believed that we are born with the word of truth in our hearts; and that God delights in each one of us in the same way lovers delight in each other or, even more intimately, God delights in us like a mother delights in her new born baby.

So it is true that we are saved by the grace of God's love for us, but there is more to the story than keeping commandments, listening to scripture, and being able to quietly dwell in God's kingdom. We also need to work alongside God in this Kingdom, for we reside in the house of God. We need to let the word of God that has been planted in our hearts have a full effect in our lives. In a sense we have to practice Christianity. Because we are human we are not perfect; we get angry, we are disappointed with our lives, we have sadness and resentments, but by practicing everyday our hope is to grow into better followers of Christ. As Christians we strive to become better, more complete, more like Jesus because we are on a life long journey with and toward God. The same God James calls the Father of Lights is the one who actively and consistently gives to us the gift of strength, the courage to persevere, and the law of liberty; all of which transforms our lives with the inner light we call God's love, which never diminishes.

God knows the world is a mess and God knows that we have messy places in our own lives. Even Jesus, who was an active doer, had to take time out to pray or he would have been thrown out balance by his anger and his sadness about the world not being a perfect place.

God wants us to pray without ceasing, and God also wants us to go out into the messy world where we can be living prayers and people who touch other lives as we serve God in this messy world. Housework won't kill you--buy why take a chance? I like to think of my life as a musical; in my world the word of God calls us to a dramatically new way of living. Let us take the chance to do the housework, and to be God's work in this kingdom, which is our home.

Blessings, Iris
(see James 1:17-27)

computer worms and frustrations

Good Morning, I had five computer worms to deal with with and haven't sent an e-mail or written here in more than a week. My friend, Mike, had dinner here last night, and he also worked on and fixed my computer. It took him hours of searching to clean everything out of the computer. He said sometimes it takes a week of searching. I was scared I would have to buy a new computer; that would meant going to the library to use their machines for a while. (Actually going to the library wouldn't be such a bad idea, it would get me more into the public and less at home by myself.)

Both my little baby finches died, first Speck and then Eddie. Yesterday I was at Lowe's and one of the workers asked me to take a baby pigeon she had put in a box. He is in my living room. I called the Wild Life Center in Astoria (503-338-0331) to ask them if they would take the little guy. They gave me lots of information about feeding him, but said they do not take pigeons because they are not native to the area. When I got home with him I wondered if he was a pigeon, the woman at the center said that baby pigeons are very ugly, he is rather strange looking. He has big feet and a bump on his nose. I thought he might be a rapture, but I guess he is a baby pigeon. He is eating and looks at me when I talk to him. I hope he grows up rapidly so I can set him free. He doesn't belong in a human house, he belongs in the house of the outdoors. So far I call him PeeWee, but that won't make me keep him if he survives: six finches and one canary are enough caged animals in this house.

I was at Lowe's buying a security fence for the back of my fenced in yard. My dogs act as a pack and sound like they are going to attack the backyard neighbor or the dogs in the house next to my house. I'm hoping to decrease what looks like agressiveness; their loud barking sometimes makes me feel crazy and it worries me that the neighbors might complain even though this is country; why be impolite... The security fence is a bamboo reed fence. I don't know how long it will last, but it was reasonably priced and my neighbor, Jennifer, has one section up against her fence. She was going to put a security fence up to hide her chickens, but so far she hasn't done that. Winter is coming, the dogs will want to stay in the house and her chickens will probably just stay in the garage during the coming cold and rainy weather. Speaking of weather, we are having "severe weather warnings" for the next couple of days; I guess it is going to be in the 60's with rain. What a summer this has been-first we burn and then we freeze.

On Sunday,I preached at the Episcopal Church. I call the sermon "housework." I'll put it on the blog later, when I get the pages I used for preaching out of my car.

The frustrations: there were so many days of not checking into the blog that I forgot my password; how many passwords can a person remember?! It was very frustrating to me because I am not very computer literate and it took a while to figure out how to get to the right window in order to input a new password. The computer class I took in college in 1973 did not prepare me for a personal computer and the next time I used a computer I was 36 years old and at work. I did not have a pc in my home until 2000. I love the internet, but be careful about where your cursor lands, there may be worms lurking and waiting to mess up your life.

your friend, Iris

Evening August 28, 2009

Well, I do not know how often to write in the blog. I guess I will write when the spirit moves me.

Since yesterday I have moved Eddie, the baby finch, back into his nest four times. He thinks he is ready to be out, he was able to get to the perch where all the adult birds are, but he hasn't moved since I came home and he was gaping at Blanca who was kind enough to feed him. I may have to put him back in the nest tonight so he doesn't freeze on the perch all night by himself. He doesn't have the fear of my hand the older birds have. When I opened the cage to feed them they all yelled at Eddie to watch out, but of course he didn't. He was a little soft warm bundle to put in the nest. One of the light brown birds did escape, I think it was Remus, and I had to chase her down. I threw a clean kitchen towel over her, she got on top of the towel, so then I threw another one over her and was able to get her and put her in the cage before she broke her neck flying into the window. The other baby, Speck, has not tried to leave the cage yet and she looks younger than Eddie. Coco, may be the father, or the mother and it is possible that Summer Breeze is the other parent. Since they are all in and out of the nest and they all pile in there, together and on top of each other, at night it is difficult to ascertain who the parents are. Will the real parents please stand up?

I guess tonight will be pet night. As I said, I have five dogs. 1) I have a Service Dog from Canine Companions for Independence because I am physically disabled by Arthrogryposis Multiplex Congenita. I have walked on crutches since I was three years old. Currently, I walk with purple crutches. I purchased them from Award Prosthetics in Burnaby Canada. They are very light and are much more decorative than the usual aluminum crutches most people in America use. Neva is the third service dog I have had, all from CCI. She is a Labrador/Golden Retriever mix. 2) My second dog is a Maltese/Shih tzu/Lhasa aps (this is short for mutt) mix who weighs 6 pounds. Everyone thinks Betty is a puppy, but she is five years old. Betty and my daughter are both named after my friend Betty Aho, who died last year at age 90. 3) My third and only purbreed dog is a slate/pink Chinese Crested named Xiaoling, whom I call Xiao-Xiao. I pronounced his name Cha-Cha. The breeder had called him Shaq, but I'm not into basketball, so I changed it. 4) My fourth dog is Diane, whom I bought from either a drug addict or a person with a mental illness; or maybe he was just a dog abuser. He called Diane, Lady Sponge, because she was sponging from him. When I bought her, her nose was dry, she was skin and bones and I had to cut a rope harness away from her skin. He had also been hitting her; she weighed 6 pounds when I brought her home. Diane is a Fox Terrier/Yorkie mix. 5) My fifth dog is a Chihuahua/Rat Terrier mix. He is white with brown spots and he has a black ring around his tail. His name when I bought him was Ringo, I changed it to D'jango. I call him Jango. He has grey/green eyes, a maroon nose, a pink bottom lip, and maroon toe nails. He is a little nine pound alpha dog with short nerves. Jango is a little on the snappy side, but I guess that is just the way Chihuahuas are. All my dogs are fixed and five is the limit, (at the moment).

All the dogs are sleeping because at quarter to eight it is beginning to be dark and we are having the first of the Great Northwest rains. My house is cold but I'm not ready to put the heat on; the birds will pile on top of each other and the dogs are warm in their coats. When I go to bed I will have four dogs in the bed with me, three under the covers and one on a pillow. Neva always sleeps on the floor because she is too big, 60 pounds, and she uses her paws to express her needs; once she almost poked out my right eye pawing at my face to wake me.

First Morning August 27, 2009

I have never read a blog, so this is an unusual thing for me to do. I have wanted to write daily for the last four years but have not been able to get myself motivated on paper. Perhaps the concept that others may read my writings will increase my self motivation.

I moved from Seattle to a small town in Southwest Washington four years ago this month. My friends in the city told me that I would miss Seattle, that I would be lonely, that I should rent because I would want to move back to the city. I have not wanted to return to Seattle, I have not been lonely, and I did not rent a home. Instead I bought a house in a new development and bought the empty lot behind my house, so I would not have another house built right on top of mine. I proceeded, over the last four years to purchase three more dogs to add to my first two dogs; I also have five society finches, one silver bill finch (who needs a friend), and one red factor canary. My five society finches have two babies in a nest, one black one named Eddie and a blonde named Speck, they are not flying yet.

Most of the people in this town and small county are elderly, I am 59 and most of the people I know here are older than I am. There are eight or nine churches in this county of four to five thousand people. I belong to the United Church of Christ, but often attend the Episcopal Church because they have a Spanish class before church (for one reason). The attendance at many of the churches is 28 or less people a Sunday. I don't understand how the churches pay their clergy or keep their buildings in repair, but they do it. One thing that was a surprise to me when I first moved here was that during coffee hours in the United Church of Christ the men sat at one table with the other men and the women sat with just women. I don't know if this is a Finnish custom (or from some other Scandanavian country) or if it just grew as a tradition in this community. Another thing that is different than city folks is some people never look you at your face when talking with you, many people look away or down; it took me a while to get use to this. It seems that many people who have always lived here are shy, there is quite a large group of people who have never lived anywhere else and who have family histories going back three generations or more. Now many of the young people leave to go to college or enter the military because there are no jobs. The people use to work in dairy farming or cucumber farms for pickles, or logging or fishing. I guess there were more people here at one point but when different professions stopped providing jobs many people left the area. I call this part of my world the boondocks. We are 45 minutes from the closest Washington town, which is a bigger boondock town and seems to have more conservative people than this little town.

On Monday I interviewed to become a foster mother for the second time. My daughter who was originally a foster child is now 25 years old. I had wanted to become a foster mother again when she was 21 but it didn't happen, I guess I was too busy. I didn't want her to be jealous or feel I was trying to replace her. So I guess I will have a child in my home soon. It will be interesting to see how I deal with a child in my home and also to see how the child deals with me and with the "live stock" that live here.

I am on my way to see my spiritual director.