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Rough Week for the Wilson Household
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The week began when my husband’s computer died—its screen faded to black and never came back. (From here on, I’ll refer too my husband as Machine-Man, a pseudonym I gave him years ago that now feels appropriate again.) Machine-Man ordered a new PC from Amazon, but once it was set up, it refused to connect to our Wi-Fi. He returned it, and the next computer proved defective in an even more unpleasant way. The third replacement finally seemed to be just right. Around the same time, as Amazon delivered new computers, my new electric kettle with five temperature settings also arrived. Unfortunately, only the black tea setting—212 degrees—worked; it wouldn’t heat water to the proper temperatures for green tea, oolong, or even a French press. Never mind that I prefer black tea and don’t actually need the other settings. I still want the freedom to choose these if I do. So, I sent it back. At this point, the Amazon delivery driver might as well have parked in our driveway to handle all the replacements and new deliveries.
The week continued with the city water company putting everyone within city limits on high alert. Officials said traces of E. coli had been found in the tap water and instructed residents to boil it as a precaution.
At our house we have the reverse osmosis system that runs tap water through five filtration stages. I was pretty sure we were safe. But I didn’t want to take any chances, so I boiled our filtered water.
The water company cautioned everyone to keep our mouths shut while taking a shower. I don’t know who has their mouth open while showering but I guess it was good to make that point for those who do.
It made me wonder. Was I enjoying my coffee earlier in the day, before the city alerted us, with the added taint of E.coli? People on the Nextdoor neighborhood chat app discussed a potential mutiny. They didn’t want to start buying bottled water because they already had their shelves filled with toilet paper left from the pandemic. Later that day, it was announced that the boiling water precaution was lifted. The threat of an illness that could cause excruciating stomach cramps and potential death had left the water system.
The E.coli bacteria had suddenly self-destructed?
What do you like with your fancy cup of E.coli? In addition, our solar power system died, insects attacked us, and the avocado for my salad turned black. All this to say–life is unpredictable. Keep bottled water in the pantry, know your Wi-Fi password, don’t step outside, and stick to one kind of tea at one temperature. That way, you don’t need a kettle with five settings. After all, how often do you crave French press coffee and need the water heated to 200 degrees? Well, it’s possible. In that case, the teakettle with the five settings would be handy.
2 responses to “Rough Week for the Wilson Household”
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Fortunately, I had containers of water in the fridge since I was cutting down on bottled water. But, I did have a case of bottled water as backup.
Then we developed a leak in the kitchen. Turned out it was our Osmosis system leaking. Of course, this happened on a Saturday. They were closed until Monday. In the meantime, we turned off the house water. But, it continued to leak. Don’t know where all that water was coming from! We had to stay awake all night to empty the water pan every 20/30 minutes. Finally, Monday morning came! We called and the earliest appointment was for Tuesday afternoon. We continued emptying water. Finally, the repair person came. Turns out there was a broken “something” , so the whole system had to be replaced. Well, it did last for 12 years! Now everything is fine.
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Grace, I’m happy it all worked out. Your experience illustrates how life can suddenly turn a corner while we were happily going along a straight path.
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Not Going to the Dogs
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One of my favorite things about fall is being able to go outdoors again. If not for the life-saving properties of air conditioning, I wouldn’t be writing this to you right now. The triple-digit summer heat of the Arizona desert makes life survivable only by staying indoors. Now, October has arrived. The weather feels cool, like 95 degrees or so. That means, I can finally go on a walk without being incinerated. Anyone who has ever attempted to go on a walk in the 116-degree summer heat has never returned to tell about it.
Walking benefits our health by relieving stress, improving our mood, lowering blood sugar, and reducing the risk of heart disease. Scientists have discovered that walking at a brisk pace can add years to your life. Provided you don’t walk on a path near the edge of a cliff or on one where rattlesnakes like to hide out.
If you don’t have a treadmill, then an imaginary walk is the only option throughout the summer. Although imagining will decrease your risk of rattlesnakes, it won’t add years to your life since the cardio aspect isn’t a factor. Unless you jog in place. In an imaginary walk, you can dream up purple foxglove and hot pink dahlias and ruby red roses blooming along the way. A friendly stranger offers you tea in a fine bone china teacup as you stroll the garden path. How often does that happen in a real-life walk?
Now that it’s fall, I enjoy the real-life walking experience. No one has yet stopped me and offered me a cup of tea. Actually, there’s very little social interaction for me. Many of the walkers, me included, are intent on their cardio exercise. As people power walk by, some smile and silently mouth “Hi” around their earbuds. Some hardly glance over but offer a quick wave as they sprint walk. Others avoid eye contact all together and hurry by as if announcing, “Can’t talk—serious walk underway.” Holidays are the exception. Unexpectedly, without warning, a walker passing by calls out, “Happy New Year!” or “Merry Christmas!” Such greetings are rare, but on a holiday walk, be ready for one.
Dogs always want to stop and chat. The most interesting part of walking is encountering someone with a dog on a leash. The owner may want to smile and keep moving, but the dog wants to stop, greet you, and wag its tail as if asking how you are. Owners often say with a sigh, “He’s friendly,” as though friendliness were a flaw everyone must tolerate. Once, a man walking ahead of me kept going while his dog repeatedly stopped and looked back at me. Finally, the man halted, turned around, and said with resignation, “He won’t let me continue until he says hello to you.” So, I happily petted the dog and exchanged a friendly greeting while the owner waited.
In whatever way you enjoy October, step outside and get moving. It’s good for you. And, when strangers with a dog on a leash cross your path, stop, and with the owner’s permission, pet the dogs—because dogs, as well as cats, make our world a better, happier place.
βω♥
6 responses to “Not Going to the Dogs”
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Now I want to go for a walk with my dog. Fall is beautiful.
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Okay, Bronwyn,
You’ve made walking sound so wonderful, I might just dust off my sneakers and walking sticks and try to do a little walking in my neighborhood. Thanks, girlfriend. And my heart probably thanks you too. ♥️♥️ -
Linda, I agree. Fall is beautiful, wherever we live. Thanks for joining the land of the blogitudes.
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Thanks, Sondra. I’m very happy you joined the land of the blogitudes. I’m sure Destany is happy too. Welcome!
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Love this! Last night, Frank was taking out the garbage; when neighbor’s dogs insisted on being acknowledged and given a treat. The dogs know him well!
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Grace, We have many friendly dogs here that like to socialize–except for one angry chihuahua that, for some reason, wanted to sink its teeth into my leg rather than say hello. Its owner yanked his leash back just before he could take a bite. Thanks for being in our blogitude community.
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Honest! There’s a Guppy In Here
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“I wish I had a pet!” I made the saddest face a seven-year-old can make.
At seven, I had a valid complaint. I wasn’t protesting bedtime or my dad’s refusal to let me get bangs—though also very legitimate. I was upset because I didn’t have a pet of any kind. My mom needed to understand the depth of my suffering: no parakeet, no puppy, no guinea pig. Not even a turtle in a dish with a plastic palm tree.
I explained to my mom that the after-school pet show required a pet.
I slouched in a chair at our yellow Formica kitchen table, my bottom lip probably pushed out to emphasize my protest. I imagined my classmates at home, that very minute, gathering their pets before returning to the school playground for the pet show later that day.
Mom thought about this and then said, “You have a pet!”
I watched her take an empty glass jar into the living room and dunk it in my dad’s tropical fish aquarium. She filled it halfway with water. She took the fishnet and swooped up a baby guppy and plopped it in the jar.
“Now you have a pet,” she said, handing the jar to me.
A tiny fish for a pet? That didn’t seem like a real pet—not like a cuddly cat or a cute bunny with floppy ears.
This is a “real” pet. A cat with sass and attitude. But I was desperate. With the jar in hand, I carefully marched off to the school’s pet show across the street from our house.
“Oooh. Whadda ya have there?” asked the adults working at the pet show. Kids crowded around me, wondering what I had in the jar. The sight of huge eyeballs peering into his temporary home must have seemed like a horror show for my guppy.
The crowd hovering around me attracted a news reporter who had the assignment to write about the pet show.
The reporter asked me a few questions, then asked if he could take my picture. Soon, the show’s emcee announced I had entered the smallest pet at the show. A recognition I hadn’t considered.
The next day, my picture with the guppy appeared in the Garden Grove News. My parents bought every copy at the newspaper stand. By then, I had returned the baby guppy to my dad’s tank.
I had long forgotten the pet show memory until recently when my sister found the old newspaper clipping in storage and sent me a copy.
The clipping is now framed and hanging in my hallway. It reminds me that small things can make a big difference in someone’s life as well as in our own. Small actions like kindness, generosity, and gratitude. Moreover, it reminds me that my mom wanted me to be happy and dreamed up a way to make it happen.
A baby guppy brought a smile to my face for several days. He made me a star.
Complaining (sometimes) has its rewards.
βω♥
8 responses to “Honest! There’s a Guppy In Here”
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Love this story!
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Such a cute story
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I love your blog Bronwyn and I love you !!
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Thank you so much Nancy. Thank you for being so supportive. I love you too.
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Thank you dear Linda!
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Thank you Destany!
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Love this ❤️. What a sweet story, and how special to see the article again and frame it. 🙂 What a nice memory of your Mom.
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Thank you, Julie. And, thanks for being a subscriber.
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Eight Important Things to Remember
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- Never take the shortest checkout line at any major retail store. The shortest line means people have waited in this line and left before checking out. They realized the cashier is stuck on the current transaction and has called the manager for help. The manager doesn’t respond. She’s in the break room wearing earplugs, enjoying a donut and reading People magazine.
These people have extraordinary patience as they wait for the manager to help the person at the front of the line. - The grass is not always greener on the other side. At least not in Arizona. That’s because everyone in the Phoenix area has gravel instead of lawns. For Arizonans, the gravel is pinker on the other side. Or whiter, or redder, or jewel-rainbow. Whatever color someone’s gravel might be on the other side, remember they deal with the same problems you have –only with a better view of their yard, glowing in colorful, eye-popping gravel.
- Never live with regrets. Whatever you did in the past and wish you didn’t do, or whatever didn’t do and wish you did, let it go. Didn’t Elsa sing about this? Please, don’t tell me you don’t know who Elsa is. The next thing you’ll say is you don’t know who Olaf is either. You can’t change the past and it’s wasted energy. It helps to forget your regrets if you upgrade your landscaping by adding gold-sparkly gravel to your yard.
- Beware of anything advertised as “free.” Look closely at the word: remove the “r,” and you’re left with “fee.” Once you understand that “free” often means “fee,” you’ll be wise enough to avoid emails promising, “Free Webinar. Learn how to make big bucks writing children’s books.” Don’t be fooled. The two-hour “free” webinar is a power point revealing a special writing program available for only $999 if you sign up by Tuesday. If your miss the deadline, the program will cost you $9,000, available in four easy payments.
- Never apologize for being unique or different. If a stranger stops you in a store to inform you that your hair is sticking up like a rooster tail in the back—as someone once did to me—resist the urge to flatten your hair to accommodate the hairstyle police. The stranger means well and hopes to save you from further embarrassment. Thank them for their concern, smile and say, “This is how I wear it.” For emphasis, strut like a proud rooster as you walk away.
Don’t apologize for being unique or different. Don’t try to be someone that other people think you should be. - Never wait for your toast to pop. A watched toaster never pops. Go do other things. Then, before you know it, the toast is up and you have two socks folded …time efficiency is always best.
- If you don’t ask, the answer is always no. Have you asked a friend or family member or wealthy stranger to pay for your cruise to the Caribbean? If you did, you’re possibly enjoying the tropical sea breezes of Saint Thomas right now. Otherwise, you’re not. See how this works?
- Time does not heal every wound. It may mend a broken leg or help a dog bite fade, but emotional pain is different. Time does not erase heartbreak or trauma; it only helps you learn to live with what happened. The only reason we ever believed that “time heals all wounds” is because it was stated on a fortune cookie message as if it were fact. Fortune cookie messages can’t be trusted. Remember the fortune cookie message that said, “a stranger will cross your path and become your friend”? The only stranger that crossed my path told me I had rooster-tail hair.
- Never take the shortest checkout line at any major retail store. The shortest line means people have waited in this line and left before checking out. They realized the cashier is stuck on the current transaction and has called the manager for help. The manager doesn’t respond. She’s in the break room wearing earplugs, enjoying a donut and reading People magazine.
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Judgment
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At seventeen, during my senior year of high school, I invited my two best friends to a sleepover in our camper trailer. We spent the night like most teenagers—eating snacks, swigging Cokes, and laughing about our teachers. Our English teacher, Mrs. Appy, was a frequent source of amusement because she never seemed to notice when we slipped out of class.
My friends—whom I’ll call Ruby and Colleen—grew bored around 2 a.m. Colleen suggested we visit the all-night gas station where her boyfriend worked. We agreed and climbed into my white station wagon, which I had received at sixteen.
Riding in my car with my friends gave me good vibes, until the night the red lights flashed behind us. Since I didn’t know the location, Colleen drove. As we neared the station in a nearby town, flashing red lights appeared behind us. A police officer pulled us over for a broken taillight. After checking Colleen’s license, he asked who owned the car. She pointed to me, and I explained that the car was registered in my stepmother’s name. Before I could clarify further, the officer ordered us out, placed us in his cruiser, and took us to the police station, suspecting we had stolen the car.
At the station, I was put in a holding cell while my friends were taken elsewhere. Within an hour, their mothers arrived and took them home, leaving me behind. My father didn’t come until morning.
When he finally arrived around 8 a.m., he said nothing. As we left, the officer admitted I had been telling the truth. The car had been impounded, and my father had to pay $18 to retrieve it.
During the drive home, my father remained silent. Once we arrived, he turned to me and said, “Only hookers drive around at 2 a.m.”
“If you judge people, you have no time to love them.” ~Mother Teresa He never asked what happened or why we went out. Like the officer, he judged me without understanding the situation.
That experience taught me how quickly people judge without knowing the whole story. People living with anxiety or depression often hide their pain for fear of being labeled “crazy.” Since then, I have tried to meet others with empathy and understanding, no matter their circumstances or struggles. We all deserve that kind of grace.
And, I’m in complete agreement with Mother Teresa who said, “If you judge people, you have no time to love them.”
One response to “Judgment”
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Wow!
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Paul Coelho
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“When you say yes to others, make sure you aren’t saying no to yourself.”
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Anxiety’s Grip
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If a tree could have anxiety, it would look like this one. This is what anxiety does to attack our health and well-being. I lived with an anxiety disorder for thirty years.
Anxiety is the belief that something bad will happen, even though it rarely does. It thrives on “what ifs,” leading you to avoid situations, people, or anything that might cause pain, loss, or harm. Because, what if?
My anxiety began when I chose to travel by train instead of by plane because it felt safer.
Anxiety wasn’t happy with my one phobia. It hollered to other phobias, “Come over here. She’s open.”
In addition to airplanes, I soon avoided elevators, parking garages, any road that required me to driver on a bridge. A picture of the Tacoma Narrows Bridge struck me with the kind of heart-racing terror a swimmer feels when seeing a shark’s dorsal fin closing in.
I convinced myself that my behavior of avoiding potential danger was my special way of handling situations that other people wouldn’t understand.
However, my special ways made my world feel small. It didn’t allow for a trip to Paris or even to Astoria, Oregon where a 4.1-mile-long bridge spans the Columbia River.
I developed illnesses that doctors couldn’t diagnose, so they ran test after test in search of answers. Many were for serious diseases, and I often had to wait a week or more for the results, which only deepened my anxiety. Yet the verdict was always the same: benign. Even a gastroenterologist could find no biological cause for my symptoms. “I think there’s an emotional component,” he said.
That’s when I started to understand that my special way made me sick. I needed help.
I asked my husband, Jerry, to help me overcome my fears. He said, “Let’s pray about it.”
Jerry suggested we go to the hospital—not because I needed a doctor, but to practice riding the elevators. “We’ll just push the button and watch the doors open,” he said. “You don’t have to get on.”
I didn’t see the point, but I knew I could do that much. We drove to the hospital, and I pushed the elevator button and watched the doors open. It felt empowering to know I didn’t have to get on. After doing that several times, I realized I could probably ride up one floor if Jerry came with me. He did, and before long we were riding up and down together. The fear began to fade.
That was the beginning of my healing. It’s how anyone begins to heal from a personal struggle. Whether the struggle is fear, addiction, or childhood trauma, there is no special way around it. Left unchecked, it will control you. When I turned my grip on control over to God, a door opened and freed my heart to begin living in peace. Even while driving over a high, suspension bridge.
One response to “Anxiety’s Grip”
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Great!
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Setting Boundaries
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Setting boundaries is not like learning a magician’s trick. It is a choice to protect your mental energy, guard your time, and keep yourself from burning out. “Surprise!” the cheery voice announced after I answered the phone. This was years ago and the caller was the mother of one of my son’s friends. I wondered what surprise she had in mind. I considered the possibilities. Maybe she bought too many cheesecakes at Costco and wanted to give me one. Perhaps she has a beach house and wants to let me have it for a week.
She continued, “I’ll drive the boys to school tomorrow, and then…(surprise)…I will take you out for breakfast.”
I had things to do, tasks to complete, goals to accomplish, mountains to climb. Even if the mountain happened to be laundry. I had plans for the next day. Yet, the mother seemed so excited about her decision and her hope I would be overjoyed with her plan.
I didn’t know her well. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings or disappoint her.
I said, “That’s nice of you.”
The next morning, the mother and I sat opposite each other in a booth at a local café. We talked about our mutual connection, our sons. Soon the conversation lagged. The hash browns had the taste of overcooked drywall. I wasn’t in my usual chatty get-to-know-you mood. I wanted breakfast to be over.
Sometime later, a counselor assisted me in addressing my anxiety concerns. I mentioned the unwanted breakfast and my unhappiness with accepting the surprise.
“Wouldn’t it have been kinder to have told her ‘no’ in the beginning when she first extended the surprise?” the counselor said. “Instead, she had breakfast with a grumpy person.”
Suddenly, I had insight. Could I have said no without seeming rude or selfish? Could I have given myself a no-guilt pass by saying no?
Soon after this new revelation, a friend asked me to watch her toddler daughter while she and her husband went out. I said, “No, I’m sorry. I can’t.” After a pause, she said to me, “I’m happy you can say ‘no’ to me.”
I was happy too.
I now set boundaries so that I can live a balanced life free of burnout and stress. I say ‘no’ with kindness and honesty.
This has boosted my mental health by giving me peace and strengthened relationships.
Saying yes to please others is saying no to yourself. And, in my case, it also gave me the taste of shredded drywall disguised as hash browns.
Wow!!!! This was so relatable and educational! Thank u for sharing! Im certainly a new fan! ❤️
I appreciate you, Shallum!
Thank you, Shay! Your comment here means the world to me.