My sister Joyce called as per usual to find out if I’m still alive and take a barometer reading. I’m good, I told her. It’s true; I’m good. Only a few annoyances must be handled, and mostly ones of which I’m already aware and OTJ. Solutions continue to elude me but I have not lost hope. i’ll find someone to install the new drain pump in the lovely little LG washer-dryer combo on which I depend for laundry. Joe the handyman will seal the bathroom. I’ll figure out how to change the filler in the composting toilet. Employment will present itself.
In the meantime, Joyce asked how I spent NYE. I read; I blogged; I contemplated life. I got online and donated to worthwhile causes: Heart to Heart International in Lenexa and the Midwest Innocence Project in Kansas City; the Equal Justice Initiative; the ACLU Foundation (tax deductible) and the ACLU itself (not); Rotary Foundation; Shelterbox; In These Times; Direct Relief. I used Charity Navigator to check ratings. I’m a Rotarian, so the RF and Shelterbox were no-brainers. The late Jeanne Jasperse introduced me to Heart to Heart because of her mother. I know about the Midwest Innocence Project through Elizabeth Unger Carlyle and other capital defense attorneys who do similar work. I joined the ACLU after last year’s election, because I knew we would need good lawyers to defend our waning democracy. EIJ supports concepts in which I believe and has high ratings. Direct Relief does what this federal administration shuns, and also gets a 100% mark from CN. My son serves as an editorial intern for In These Times and introduced me to its spectacular journalism.
You get my drift. I’m not rich, so each donation was small. Just tokens, really; to let these agencies know that I recognize their worth. I also joined the DSA and bought a subscription to In These Times. In this wicked era when civil rights face devastating government curtailment, I need to be informed and active. I considered making a donation to Planned Parenthood, but I did so in the name of the VP last year, so I let that lay. Coming out as the socialist which I’ve been accused of being made enough of a statement.
I stayed awake until midnight. I posted greetings as the newest year began in each time zone where people I love reside. I dozed between 11:00 p.m. and midnight PST, but woke in time to hear fireworks on the river. Then I slept until five a.m. when my friend Jeanne Foster let me know that baby, it’s cold in Kansas City. I felt a tad bit remorseful but not much.
So now it’s 2018. I have no idea what the next 365 days holds for me. I want to “work my values” as my son would say. I strive to live life as defensibly as possible. I’ve already been told that I have a cruel sense of humor for mentioning that it’s 55 in Isleton while it’s below zero in Kansas City, but hopefully the person didn’t really think I’m cruel. I want no part of negativity.
Outside my tiny house, Joe has moved a tractor in place to position my new deck. Tomorrow I’ll go into Lodi and find an antique store or a thrift shop. I couldn’t fit either of my porch rockers in the car. I gave one of them to the lady who bought my house. One is on Rick’s patio; hopefully, I’ll enjoy spring from that perch. So I need one for Angel’s Haven. The sun shines; the sky spans in radiant blue outside my window. I have no complaints. I could find a few, I’m sure; but why? Being positive holds so much more promise. I choose joy.
It’s the first day of the forty-ninth month of My Year Without Complaining. Life continues.