pet peeves

...no, actually I find this kinda endearing. When he did this when we were in our 20's and said, "take my picture." I just didn't get it (guyness was more of a mystery then) but when he still keeps doing it almost 30 years later how can I not at least try harder to look impressed? Clearly from his fashion sense it's not a vanity thing.

No, today's pet peeve is more of a statistics and probability thing. First there was the hurricane forecasts where they kept saying things like we were "overdue" for a big one. And now there is this plague-y movie saying basically the same thing for a really scary epidemic. Please understand that I am not saying the big plague, or the big hurricane aren't about to hit. But, unless we are talking earthquakes where no activity means a build up of pressure, in the land of probability a lack of events mean the missing events (probably) aren't that likely. As my advisor once said if the no. 22 (for example, I'm not picking on the number 22) ping pong ball isn't selected for a long run a true statistician doesn't think it has to come up next he* thinks someone swiped the no. 22.
The mechanisms for the next big plague sound plausible enough and many people much smarter and probably tenured think it's coming but what I still don't get is why they don't pay any attention to the fact it hasn't happened yet. I'm sure it's not because that doesn't sound nearly as important to fund and would make a movie even duller than today's blog.
Which reminds me seizures seem to be more like earthquakes than ping pong balls in lottery baskets and Caleb is about due. Shunt failures are somewhere in between ( a long spel of working means...it's working (see what I mean, no plot) but an even longer period could mean some wear and tear. I'm thinking we are in a sweet spot right now and it would be a good time to make travel plans.
If you read through this... thanks.

*the girl statisticians aren't playing the lottery

Earthquakes and Lightning

... and never do dream I will fall. Thank you Emmy Lou for understanding.

I really want to feel very sorry for myself. Very. First there was our romantic plans for just the two of us in CA -after that turned into nothinng but a streppy throat (medical term) I downgraded the anniversary plans. Besides this is one of those numbers that can't be true because I'm not even that old so how could my marriage be? We decided for a simple afternoon excursion on the sailboat, just us, our dear friends and Irene.

Poor me. Poor poor me. Does it really count that in between (that's when the summer comes for us) that we sailed and swam and beached and hiked and kayaked? No. And even if it did who knows if any of the necessary accouterments (spelling restrictions have been lifted due to the weather so no need to check that) will survive the weekend.

So I want to feel very sorry for myself since there really were earthquakes and lightning too. It's not at all fair that self pity is just so ruined by everybody else having pretty much the same week. Not fair at all.

hatched, 20 years apart

You'll have to trust me that they are brothers. Also trust me that they were having fun. The elder had refused to go out with us on a sail boat for some time but the kayaking (I'm guessing) has made him more open so this time when I asked him to come along he simply said yes. The idea of standing on the "V berth" in the bow was a trick the younger one had been perfecting and we'd discovered gave the fun of being on the bow without the necessity of holding on to him. And it worked for the eldest too -this was the first time he enjoyed sailing. Naturally on this outing the jib caught on a spar and tore making that giant sucking sound. Swoosh there goes the bank account into the hole in the water (i.e. the boat).

And can I complain? No. It is an embarassment of riches. I know it. Every day I know it.

bipolar life continues

Are these 50 year old toes? Now really? And do the business gray pants go with the LL Bean flip flops?

Today the case of wine we ordered when visiting a winery outside Livermore CA arrived. Naturally the 6 year old immediately found his scissors and was trying to open the box. If he could get it opened I figured the first thing he'd do was shake the champagne. We'd tasted it after a friend's daughter's wedding. Three of the bride's mother's bridesmaids were there -between us all we have something like 16 children (something like...). Now, two weeks later I could only hope the safety scissors couldn't make it through the packing because I was busy holding onto the 6 year old's brother while another grand mal seizure tortured his muscles and try to calmly distract the younger one from both the box and his brother's grimacing face. Fortunately the safety scissors really are safe (and useless, but that's the point isn't it?). So, hey, just another day in almost paradise. The wine is safe, the 6 year old is about to be tucked in, the post ictal (I checked the spelling by the way) headache chased away with a nap and pepperoni pizza, my toes are still blue ... and I'm still 50. It's only almost afterall.

Caleb Kayaks!!!!

And I'm naming names for once. Not just the"eldest".
And it took me 2 weeks to finally put this in here because I couldn't think of words for it. I still can't. I can't even think of any way to make it funny. Disasters can be funny. Tragedy, hilarious. Stupidity entertaining (guiltily) -but ... How can I even begin to convey what it feels like after 26 years and one brilliant idea after another (but the failures were comical) to finally find one that works? No one is holding that kayak, or guiding it. There are no strings attached. You can not tell from the picture what a miracle of normal this is. That amazingness of just like everyone else is only apparent to those who have seen all the not so normal. There are no crutches here. Even to me it feels vaguely insensitive to rejoice that he doesn't look handicapped here. Too bad. Of course it isn't wrong to be handicapped- but by golly it sucks. This didn't. Not at all. He stayed out for an hour. As soon as we can we'll be out there again.

Weird sky

Remember what I said about being a bad mother and a bad daughter all at once? Well this last week MY daughter was left to deal with ALL the consequences of poorly adhered pouches (not bags) -let me say, no let me not say it. There is no delicate way to put this but the blood (once she had consulted with the on call nurse) was the least of her troubles. Meanwhile I was punished by 90+ degree days in a house with no AC (in case you were wondering why the heat wave the end of May). And the sky was scary looking (or possibly risque depending on your imagination). And I probably am a BAD daughter too -but I have very GOOD daughter. She is the wind beneath my wings -ok, not really, but she is pretty cool right now. And cool is good.

cool

How lovely and cool this caterpillar looks to me. Eating fennel must make you feel cooler too. Something must. We have no AC, no central air, no air con-ditioning, no tolerance for whiny children. I can only be glad the grandmother is at her house with the granddaughter. Only window units there but they have smaller rooms and I imagine a breeze from the river. So it's not so bad right?

It doesn't actually make me any cooler imagining the breeze off the river. But then again I am not fetching coffee, or helping with pouches (not "bags" I'm told by the certified colostomy nurse and surely she knows) (also "pouches" is more friendly). Nothing but sweating. Then the guilt sets in that mother and daughter are both there (as in not here) together. In case you can't figure it out that makes me a bad, bad daughter and a bad, bad mother. And sweaty.

They say we'll have storms tonight and I keep waiting for the wind.