trick or treat

This was the little guys first Halloween to dress up. Appropriately he was a prince. More appropriately he has been a pirate every year since (editor's correction: he was actually a knight the year after this photo to be historically accurate). He and the bro' are admiring themselves in Grandma's mirror (next to Grandma's t.v.). I can not recall if she was actually in residence that particular night. The t.v. was there so I know she was here quite often but it was another 2 years before I would telll people (or certainly her) she truly lived with us.

Now she is at my sister's for a few months (one month more) and the bro' has his own house but no heat and not always water so he finds himself here often enough. That would be often enough to never be exactly unexpected and I'm pretty sure not to need his own soap. Of course the eldest has no plans to be buying his own soap anytime either and the college girl likes to come home whenever possible. Then again she spent the summer with Grandma at Grandma's real home so when she is home she sleeps on the sofa since her room is a bit unsorted if you know what I mean.

I went to a lovely community event last night and ran into a number of people I only see now and then and they ask about the family and who is still at home. Can you see the difficulties? I've never been known for my brevity but if any one can come up with a short answer for this let me know. If I go for something to quick I get the sympathy clucking over either the empty nest or the not empty nest and the thing is I don't mind providing soap for my "guests" because they more than pay me back for it (naturally not in cash). Of course I don't actually mind the occasional empty house that allows full rein for my inner rock star.

Miracle (at the DMV) and other portents

This is a true story. Yesterday I finally took my eldest to the DMV. He will never have a driver's license but thanks to the TSA he now must* have a state issued photo i.d. to board even a domestic flight. We'd considered getting this i.d. previously but I kept putting it off. When did I have time to spend the day at the DMV? And in all likelihood two days since the first time around we were sure not to have the right documents.

So I spent several hours frantically searching for all the right stuff. His expired passport (so no good for the TSA) was issued before he was 16 so that was iffy. His SS card has gone missing. His SS statements don't have the full number on them anymore (the DMV site says these statements are aceptable but also that they must have the full number so...). Then I saw that the social security number was the one thing not required for the i.d. Then I planned to get there as early as possible.

We got there at lunch time. The worst DMV time. And there was no one in line for a number but the place was packed with people with numbers already. Then they called our number. Really. All documentation was in order and accepted and they took his picture and I paid $10 and left. In and out of the DMV in 15 minutes. There were about 10 people waiting just to get their numbers when we walked out. I tried not to look too happy because I was afraid of these people. I started the dancing on the way to the car. The cashier at BJs (which we now had time to go to) couldn't believe my story. She said if it was her she'd be telling everybody -which clearly I was already doing but oh well. It is an amzing story. And absolutely true.

When we got home the yard filled with birds. They were small and black and very loud and easily numbering in the thousands. After about 15 minutes they were gone.

Now even an earthquake in Virginia wouldn't surprise me.

*alright not technically "must" but without one he will be subject to "extra" screening, the airline could refuse him passage, and they are not obligated to accept even a birth certificate as proof of anything and seeing as how with the crutches they already not only pat him down but check al his carry ons for bomb residue since naturally people with CP are more likely to be terrorists I figured we'd miss any flight anywhere by the time we got out of security.

the digital age

Credit to my other half for this photo -and to the incredible advances in digital photography (and naturally also to the maker of the sunset). But my point is I have way too many photos. This is mostly the fault of my baby. He is so... cute and he makes the other kids look... kinda cute again and then I feel kinda guilty about all the pictures of him so I take pictures of them even without him in the actual picture. The end result being a need for more and more memory and since there is nothing I can do about mine I buy computers and flashdrives and portable hard drives and discs and ink and photo paper and late at night I wonder what the point is exactly and what did people do when they couldn't record every memory and every beatiful sunset and what if my computer crashes before it's all backed up?

I learned about taking pictures from my mom -she had a great eye and she took slides -Agfa only please as the Kodak colors were too bright. She included us if needed only for perspective. They were beautiful pictures and as a kid boring as heck to watch all evening until we'd finally get to one of me (vanity, vanity). Now they are discoloring under her bed in box after box and I dread the day my sister and I will have to decide what to do with them. Even in good condition (mine or the slides really) what will I do with pictures of the mountains in Northern Spain? Or another cathedral somewhere I can't quite identify in Europe?

So what I learned is to take pictures with famous places in them only to give perspective to my kids because there is a chance they may want the pictures of themselves. And to take pictures of whatever I please only for myself and some transient amusement. The rest of my memories will have to go with me when I go. The sunsets were never mine to keep.

Confidence crisis: My evaluations

I'm up the mast and not sure I can reach the spar -metaphorically speaking. Of course I'm not the one actually letting my other half haul them up on a bosun's chair. I don't have the confidence for that. I'm skittish and a fretter. And I just looked over the most recent anonymous student evaluations for the not so popular statistical-ish class I taught this summer.
Dreams and goals are important. I provide here the comments (slightly modified from the originals) I dream of :
"The professor was very knowledgable but frankly I'm just not bright enough to catch on."
"Grading was fair. I totally deserved a D."
"Grading was unfair. I totally deserved a D."
" I thought the slides had too much information, but the other student's didn't seem to have a problem so I guess it's just me."
"Considering how difficult the material and how little time I put into it I'm surprised I didn't find it more confusing."
"I only wish there had more theory and less examples so I'd really understand what I was doing and be able to apply the material to something (or anything) that differs from the examples."
"The professor obviously cares about the students as demonstrated by the fact that she didn't slap that guy who kept asking the same question over and over and over again. Way to go!"

or, just once, "Due to my elementary knowledge of this complex material I do not feel qualified to evaluate this professor on anything other than my perceptions and feelings about the class, and these obviously have little bearing on its educational value."

What if there really was a Fantasy Island? Could we sail there?

Blue Van: RIP

This old blue van has been across country 2 times, ridden the train to Florida and brought us back, moved any thing and everything we needed it to. What other "minivan" could fit a full sofa in the back? (Safety monitor alert: We did not drive with passengers on the sofa.) True to fit in that stuff one had to remove seats that wieghed ALOT . I did it myself at least once but that was before baby # four and I don't think I could've done it since. And true it had some minor electrical issues requiring that the battery be disconnected via the convenient toggle switch my husband installed in under the hood (picture a short woman, in the rain, holding up the hood and trying not to touch anything else reconnecting the battery), and netiher of the front doors opened from the exterior any longer, and the sliding door stuck regularly, and the side mirror had come off (but was just replaced!) and for months a cosmetic mirror from a Dollar General was duct taped on to the other side mirror to replace the one clipped by an RV on a mountain road, and the windshield had not been well seated and the door gasket was deteriorated so between the 2 the passenger had to hold towels up to catch the water flowing in, and you had to shout above the road noise and there was a tape permanently stuck in the tape player (cassette not 8-track, it's not like it was totally pitiful) and ... am I forgetting something? Well it's dead now and I am unaccountably grieved.
You see the eldest's crutches fit under the backseat and you really could fit anything in it. And (in it's own way) it was reliable and I hate change.

So we are looking at newer true minivans. No more GMs. No SUVs -we tried but the young man with the critches can't climb in them easily and into the Honda Pilot not at all -well maybe evetually but not in the time attepted and it was clearly not going to be pretty however he'd finally mange it. There was no step to use to haul yoursel the rest of the way and not enough spac behind the front seats to swing in his stiff legs -so yes maybe the front would work but that meanshe'd always get the front seat and I am just not that nice. Also you can't fit a wheelchair in the back of the any of the small SUVs. etc etc etc

Unprepossessing -I checked the spelling

Look closely and you will see there were a lot of boats out - more than we have ever seen at this particualr spot (in front of Grandma's, you see how sacrificing we are to take her back to her house whenever possible). Well we were out too and all the boats that went by us waved. OK. And they pointed, and took pictures, and hollered out questions.
You see I -no, we have always regretted our cheap honeymoon and the reception was pretty cheap too. But I had never thought to complain that the proposal had fallen short until this summer when friends told us various tales from their children of romantic (and highly planned) proposals. Silly younger generation says I. But no, the parents had their own story and I realize, after overlooking this for 28 years, I'd been gypped. So, while our jib was in their possesion to be mended my husband suggests they put in very large letters, "Will you marry me?" on it with bright blue painters tape. Which was very funny and sweet and adorable -when we were the only ones out on the river. On the other hand sailing with my grown children and having people shout, "What was the answer?" was a bit awkward. Although not, my husband tells me, as awkward as when he sailed with a friend the next day and all the boats were out again - a bald male friend. So I have to say -he doesn't owe me for the unprepossessing nature of the original proposal anymore.

Grandma is taking a long time to live

That's what the youngest said a few weeks ago. He meant well. In fact he meant just what he said - it takes a long time to live to be this old. And today my mom was weeping on the phone and said, "no one tells you what it will be like to be 93." No, they don't.

Now, I just read that Steve Jobs has died. For my age bracket that is ... I don't know. A bit of an earthquake. The ground shifts abit at least momentarily. I am just enough younger to have seen him as "older" but close enough in age to find it jarring. All my adult life he has been the "great innovator".

But he won't know what it is to be 93 and could offer no guidance there. I have no stock in Apple so it is really just interesting news (it took about 20 minutes for Google News to catch up with Yahoo News and move it to the lead story- that was interesting).

So life continues to be odd and not always (read: never) what I pictured when I was young. Also strollers have changed alot since Grandma was a baby.

pink ribbons etc

I saw my obgyn today (and if you are one of my male offspring that -if not the picture-should be your first clue to STOP reading NOW). It was for my "annual". Only they insisted I was last there in '08. Obviously they are sloppy record keepers since I was thinking I might have rushed this appointment and not be due back yet. Naturally they ordered a mammogram. Now on this one I had to concede it had been awhile. By which I mean, OK maybe a decade. But alot had happened in the last decade so it's understandable. Still I decided to not even wait to get home to call and make a date. This became involved. The imaging "center" wanted my old images and they weren't in their computer. I was not enjoying having to emphasize it was well maybe 10 years ago -could even be a little more.

You want I should cut to the punchline? The archivist found them in the soon to be purged shelf dated 1995. No computer record existed since they didn't even have computers back then (I am being funnny -of course they had computers -but they were hand crank models). Archival.

And why was I in a hurry to see the obgyn anyway? Because 1) I wanted replacement therapy -whatever it is I'm missing please replace. I'd looked over the newest flip flop and figured I had 10 more years to get benefits from estrogen and it's little helpers. There's a certain piquancy to age being the big new modifying factor since that was part of my dissetation theme. I could have told them. In fact pretty much any female could have told them that age changes everything. And 2) a public service annoucement about breast exams reminded me it probably was time. First I'd giggled when the very sincere sounding female voice said it was important to "feel your breasts often" -I'm very mature about these things. But they got me because she went on to say you should look for other signs like puckers, oragen peel rashes, etc and (I quote) slash your breast. I was so busy trying to protectively throw my arm across my chest (while driving so it wasn't easy) that it took a few moments for the next words, cancer risks, to sink in. Still it did remind me that it's slashing I want to avoid.

cloudy perspectives

Someone asked at a bible study the other day something about at what times "do you sense the presence of God?". That's easy. When the sun comes out. When the estrogen levels are good. "When do you not sense the presence of God?" Also easy. Invert previous answers. This is why I am wary of my senses. Gray rainy weather that lasts more than a day begins to make me question things and dwell on the worst possible answers to those questions.

Perhaps that's why I said something yesterday to my other and-always-sunny-on-the-inside half about the fact that knowing a person has a handicapped child changes how that person looks to others. In a word they look less sexy.

He took a moment to think about it. He said he doesn't think of himself as "the father of..." but I was probably right. Others do. I know I have watched those little clouds cross a face when someone (not every but some ones) learns I have a disabled son. If it is someone who has known me a while already it is just a momentary readjustment -but it is a readjustment all the same. It is, I think (caveat), why famous people suddenly become all "protecting-their-privacy" when a child has disabilities. The phot-ops are just so much less attractive. And suddenly they aren't someone you'd want to be because no one wants to join this club. As special as it is.