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Dawn Downey's Blog: Stories About Mindfulness, Gratitude, and Transformation

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Dawn Downey's Blog: Stories About Mindfulness, Gratitude, and Transformation

Rated: 2.93 / 5 | 1,569 listing views Dawn Downey's Blog: Stories About Mindfulness, Gratitude, and Transformation Blogging Fusion Blog Directory

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  • Dawn Downey
  • December 01, 2014 11:49:52 AM
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My outlook on daily life will inspire you and make you laugh.

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Free Zoom Ain't Free

EIGHT HIDDEN COSTS OF FREE ZOOMPsychotherapy. $130.00. To treat the shock of confronting my face magnified ten times when I clicked "video preview."Lipstick. $20.00. At ten times magnification, Brazen Hussy Red blinded me. Need to buy a  tube of Shy Peach.Bifocals. $300.00. Before virtual yoga, I use readers to sign in on my tablet and then set the tablet on the book case. Once I back away onto my yoga mat, I can’t see the book case, much less the tablet.Yoga outfit. $100.00. Black...

EIGHT HIDDEN COSTS OF FREE ZOOM


  • Psychotherapy. $130.00. To treat the shock of confronting my face magnified ten times when I clicked "video preview."
  • Lipstick. $20.00. At ten times magnification, Brazen Hussy Red blinded me. Need to buy a  tube of Shy Peach.
  • Bifocals. $300.00. Before virtual yoga, I use readers to sign in on my tablet and then set the tablet on the book case. Once I back away onto my yoga mat, I can’t see the book case, much less the tablet.
  • Yoga outfit. $100.00. Black leggings lead to irrational exuberance. I thought I was the blurry figure in the left-hand square, whose head went all the way to the floor. Damn, I'm flexible! But that was the teacher. Need to order leggings in Brazen Hussy Red.
  • Light fixture. $75.00. The soft mood lighting in the living room is great for living, but fails miserably for video production.
  • Paint. $40.00. These taupe walls do not flatter my taupe skin.
  • Upgrade to Pro Zoom. $14.99. Let's see. Straighten the picture on the wall behind me, close the window shade, open the shade, find mute while I cuss, scoot three books under the tablet because all I can see is my neck, remove one book because all I can see is my scalp, flip the tablet to horizontal, flip it back to vertical, listen impatiently while the other person keeps saying they can't hear me, un-mute, go find an aspirin. By the time I'm ready to chat, I've used up the forty minutes of Free Zoom.
  • Reality check. $179.88. Pro Zoom is $14.99 a month. Face it. a) You're in this for a year. Or b) It will take a year to cancel the automatic charge to your card.


Today Brings Grief

I counted down the days until the Alvin Ailey dance performance in the spring, because for once I’d bought tickets as soon as they went on sale. Oh boy, front row of the lower balcony. Impossible for a tall person to sit in front of me. Oh boy, only fifty-seven more days, only forty-two, only forty-one. No more counting down. The theater closed indefinitely.  Used to be I’d postpone a trip to the chiropractor til next week. If my shoulder still hurts next week, then I’ll...

I counted down the days until the Alvin Ailey dance performance in the spring, because for once I’d bought tickets as soon as they went on sale. Oh boy, front row of the lower balcony. Impossible for a tall person to sit in front of me. Oh boy, only fifty-seven more days, only forty-two, only forty-one. No more counting down. The theater closed indefinitely.  

Used to be I’d postpone a trip to the chiropractor til next week. If my shoulder still hurts next week, then I’ll get an adjustment. She healed me every time. It might have been the adjustment, or it might have been the belly laughs and shopping tips. I was just about to schedule a visit for next week. Then my chiropractor self-quarantined.

Thursday evenings, I got silly before yoga class started. (I’m very loud, when silly.) I forgot Betty might be working (quietly, serenely) on a massage client upstairs from the studio, no sound barrier. She appeared at the top of the stairs to (quietly, serenely) remind me. Doggone it, I forgot again. I vowed to be more considerate of Betty—next Thursday. Then our yoga studio closed till further notice.

Wednesdays, I’d fuss at myself to practice my voice exercises, because my teacher always knew when I hadn’t. It was spooky, like realizing your mom really did have eyes in the back of her head. So every week, I warmed up, rehearsing the drills she’d assigned. My teacher canceled voice lessons. I grieve the loss of her saying, “Good job. I can tell you practiced.”

Every week, I procrastinated emailing my writing homework to my critique partner, because I was stuck and hated writing. At the coffee shop, we told each other “good job turning something in.” There was time to admire her new shoes and my new purse. When she told me I was a genius, I knew it was true, because she’s a genius. Her green ink in the margins of my story said move this plot point over here. She unstuck me, and I raced back home to write. Used to be I couldn’t wait until next week. Then we stopped meeting in person.

Next Week died, and I’m The Bereaved. I hope to be gentle with my sadness, maybe feed it chicken soup. Tomorrow might bring belly laughs. Today brings grief.


Traveled Recently?

As I sign in at the doctor's office for my annual check-up, nurses stroll past me wearing face masks and the odor of hand sanitizer hangs in the air as thick as fog. The receptionist drones on with the usual questions. “Any changes in your medication?” No. “Same insurance?” Yes. “Have an advanced directive?” Yes.Then she hits me with a new one. “Have you traveled outside the country recently?”Wait. What?“Have you traveled outside the country...

As I sign in at the doctor's office for my annual check-up, nurses stroll past me wearing face masks and the odor of hand sanitizer hangs in the air as thick as fog. The receptionist drones on with the usual questions. “Any changes in your medication?” No. “Same insurance?” Yes. “Have an advanced directive?” Yes.

Then she hits me with a new one. “Have you traveled outside the country recently?”

Wait. What?

“Have you traveled outside the country recently?”

Me? I’m such a recluse, I haven’t even traveled outside my yard recently.

Traveled outside the country? I hate forking over a couple bucks for a paperback at Half Price Books. How much would an international plane ticket set me back?

Even if a fairy godmother gave me the ticket, it would mean complications. My passport picture is awful—I’d have to get a new passport.

Would there be shots involved?

Traveled outside the country? Where? What’s the weather? It would have to be someplace above seventy-five degrees. I’d need to go shopping for summer clothes. But then there’s always air conditioning. I’d need to pack layers. I don’t have layers. I’d have to buy sweaters, when I’m out shopping for summer clothes. And walking shoes. I’d need new luggage, international luggage. I only own domestic luggage. And obviously a new purse to go with the new luggage.

I’d need a special outfit for the airport. Lots of pockets. No belt. Taking off my belt in public feels like the prelude to a pole dance. And slip-on shoes. Can’t waste twenty seconds untying my shoes while other passengers squirm behind me, waiting to toss their keys and phones into the trays. Phone? Where’s “airplane mode” on my phone?

“Outside the country” sounds like a long flight. Probably overnight. Sleep on a plane? No way. I’m very busy when I sleep. When I woke up the other day, I was diagonal across the bed, stretched out corner to corner, dividing the mattress into two perfect triangles. I think my husband slept on the couch in self defense. If I tried to sleep on a plane, I’d end up in some stranger’s lap.

If I had traveled outside the country recently, what would I have done after I got there? I don’t know anybody there. I don’t speak the language. Did I book tours? What about travel insurance? I’m sure I got ripped off, because I don’t know anything about travel insurance. Or tours.

Who would have picked me up from the airport on my return? I’d probably gotten back in the middle of the night, because that would have been the cheapest flight. Damn. Why am I so cheap?

The receptionist tapped the keyboard on her computer. “Ma’am?”

“Huh?”

“Ma’am, have you traveled outside the country recently?”

“Uh, no.” But I do feel jet lagged.


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