All of the Compromises

I have come to see what a luxury it is to be conscientious about all things environmental. I've already written about how asking for help and that interdependence I'm developing is difficult and rewarding. Some people, especially my neighbor Christina, have made many subtle changes that are working for me even while causing some guilt.

For instance, the clumping kitty litter in the big plastic jug has to be my disposal method of choice right now. I can barely lean down far enough to ladle out the clumps and I would never be able to handle the big old bag. I used to just let the stuff get so bad my cat would get the hint to go outside in one of my many brush piles, but now he's constantly annoyed that I won't jump up and let him out on a moment's notice. Jake has now moved himself up into the attic where he is on the prowl for some pesky rodents and he may be using the insulation for more than a bed, but whatever. I won't even know about it for months, when it will be dessicated like the corpses of the rodents and so what? I sleep better without him on my bed and I can't say I miss him as he still comes down to eat and strew his litter all over the rug as he angrily scuffs it out to get his messages across. My cat tells me what he wants by climbing and making messes if I don't respond the way he wants me to. He will carefully paw little items off the high shelves just to make me let him out at night, no matter how many times I refuse. And the upside of having the attic open a bit is that all this moisture that is accumulating from hanging the laundry on the upper cabinet doors instead of outside can get out along with the bit of heat that is also escaping. More ventilation is probably a win.

I can, however, clean it up his petulant kicking better from my one remaining throw rug under the box. I can sweep and even vacuum from the scooter. I've learned that even one step prevents accessibility. I can't get out to the back deck without the crutches, which is just as well as that Trex is slippery. I absolutely require railings on steps, kind of a no-brainer. And assistance: well, if the extremely fit Rich Glauber had not stationed himself in my path at the conclusion of my coronation, I would have pitched onto my face and completely ruined the moment. Indi told me (by mistake) that a whole rehearsal had been consumed by discussing the logistics of how to accommodate my disability, which should have tipped me off to the surprise but thankfully didn't. If I haven't said it enough times, I love the Radar Angels so much, including all of the new and retired and anyone who remotely connects with that loose membership ( no reflection on their morality, I just mean the requirements for induction are rather unwritten.)

And Christina is adept at the use of plastic bags, so I can't quite eliminate them from my waste stream yet. This insidious consumer product now may have to be collected or even purchased as I use them in the garbage cans, because they have handles. She put one in the yogurt container I use for compost, which I used to blithely toss off the back deck to the compost pile, something I always enjoyed for its efficiency. Accordingly I discovered I can still toss it, just in the bag...so at some point I will have to go out and collect all of the half-decomposed plastic out of the pile. Those little sleeves the paper comes in are perfect for this. I hope to be gardening again in June, though I guess I won't be moving trays of starts from one sunny spot to another. I'll just trade some farmer for his labor. And ask for a delivery. Or maybe this would be the year to split a CSA.

I have plenty of time to think; too much perhaps. The reserve system at the library is made
for the disabled. You can even send someone in with your card to pick up your held materials. The library is marvelously accessible and I will be testing that again this afternoon as I take a cautious outing on the scooter, just getting dropped off at the library and making my slow way to the Market office two blocks away. I wish they would not have eliminated that Olive street sidewalk, since the other side has that hilly place that you are forced to navigate. How many people see that as an obstacle? Why do the dis-abled have to do so much education of the temporarily-abled?

I will do my best to gently lead the public and its officials in a more educated direction if I can. Like many Queens before me I have realized the responsibilities of royalty, and I plan to promote compassion and evolution wherever I can. I just missed a chance as the Witnesses knocked on my door. I heard them and wasn't expecting anyone, so instead of my usual "Come In" I shouted "Do I know you?" They of course answered no and explained their mission, to invite me to whatever on Easter. I felt safe enough and admitted that I was confined to a chair, but when they asked if they could leave their literature, I kindly agreed when I should just have said NO! Maybe I sensed that if I said yes they would leave quickly instead of trying to proselytize (huh, I always thought that was prosetlyize) through the door.

I now wish I would have been more receptive to my sister Karen, the Duchess of Lean (manufacturing) when she attempted to do an analysis of my workspace. Naturally our sibling stuff came into play immediately with defensiveness on my part but I did recognize the value of more efficiency and organization. I made a few changes and good friends also helped me decrease the hazards when I went to crutches. There are still obstacles but I'm getting good at setting up places to rest, sit and perch so I can use both hands or at least one. Walkers are good too. With the scooter, once I master the proper inflation of the boot, I will be able to do pretty well with printing for a few hours at a stretch. Padding the boot correctly is important, as it is so generic. I have used maxi-pads, especially the nice cloth covered hippie ones, to pad certain areas of discomfort. My boot is inflatable and I inflate the back for resting and the front for scooting. Where there is a will there is usually a way.

That is enough for now. I have a lot of plans in the works, secret and not, and I will most definitely be gradually getting back up to full speed. My doldrums are long past as the lilacs swell outside my window and the weather improves. I have to now join the chorus of people who cautiously admit that a particular adversity (thankfully minor in my case) has resulted in an opening, and tangible, visible improvement in their lives. Irony abounds as I leap forward on one foot and am able to accomplish things I never even thought to dream.

And let me say now that one of the things that occurred to me on April Fools Day as I sat in the afterglow, is that now no one will ever press me to run for Slug Queen, a task I never wanted but of course have as a natural possibility due to my ebullience and joy-tap. I am not running and will not run even if drafted! Not that I don't love every single candidate both successful and un-.

I have my Crown. My Royalty is assured. As your Queen, I vow to explore all of the behaviors, both clandestine and public, that are associated with the Crown, and this could be a profound change in my ability to manifest my desires and those of others. Let's just see. Unlike a Slug Queen, I reign forever, and can never be Old. Old Jell-O has a terrible smell, and I will remain fragrant, transparent, and delightful, or you will let me know the error of my ways with your protests and demonstrations. Occupy my front porch anytime, and when I say "Do I know you?" answer carefully.