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 |  Where am I going, and why am I in this handbasket? |
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Fair Warning: I've upped the rating on this blog. It is now set at GC. |
| On Saturday, I was sitting out in the garden with my daughter. We heard the neighbors out in their yard yelling at their kids. They spend a lot of time yelling at their children, and my daughter rolled her eyes and said "That's something I won't miss if we move to Texas! I won't miss listening to them yelling." The highlight of the afternoon at the neighbors was a huge new inflatable. It was a giant inflatable slide that emptied into a big inflatable pool. Katie watched the two children throw themselves around on it and said jokingly "I give it five minutes before they pop that thing." Ten minutes later the yelling escalated and took on a decidedly hostile tone. The son had managed to pop the inflatable just as my daughter had predicted (although it took a good five minutes longer than she predicted), but what followed was completely beyond what either of us would have predicted. The father pushed his son down to the ground and stood over him shouting that he was "stupid," an "idiot," and several other terms that did not reflect well on his mothers character. He was intensely angry and kicked toys around the backyard like a tantruming four year old. He swore a blue streak marched to his truck and peeled out down the road. Amazingly, he returned with a NEW giant inflatable in tow and proceeded to set it up in the yard. With that accomplished he set about disposing of the old one by BURNING IT. Ah yes! Nothing like the fumes of burning plastic wafting about the neighborhood on a lovely Saturday afternoon. Now, I've stewed about this since Saturday. The boy is now 9 or 10. He is a difficult child to say the least, but what is he going to be like as an adolescent. Then I read PlannerDan  's blog today. He wrote about a scene he witnessed in which a teenage was being unimaginably disrespectful of his mother. Dan was questioning the lack of limits placed on teens, and the anything goes society we seem to be living in. Well, there is a book on my bookshelf titled How to Behave So Your Kids Will Too by Sal Severe. It is one of the few parenting books I've read, and it kind of sums up my feelings about parenting, rude kids, and what is at the root of the problems today. We spend too much time discussing discipline in terms of spanking vs. not spanking, and we lose sight of the fact that discipline is not the same as punishment. It is about shaping a child's behavior and raising them into a functional, responsible, and respectful adult. It is about behaving in a way you hope your children will mimic. |
| Well color me amused. I got my first response to my writing challenge from Anyea The challenge came out of my own strange fascination with the car contents, so of course I had to write some typically silly Friday type verse. Try to act surprised that I included the condom.  The silver impala I climbed into an agency car Thinking I’d just take a quick ride Somehow I pulled up to the bar Just as he stepped outside When he smiled his serpent’s grin And offered his red delicious I smiled then and let him in His fruit looked sooo nutritious! In firm, sweet flesh, I sank my teeth but the apple fell half eaten I saw in his hand a latex sheath And thus the pot did sweeten In this there was no compromise Or room for your small talk When the condom failed we improvised using his left sock.  I just HAD to try out the new popnotes. |
| One more day of work this week. I suppose I can get in one more day, but it's been a tough go this week. Budgets and planning and much work put into completing a spreadsheet only to learn that the macros where not written currently and the calculations are off. Scratch all the work, and wait for the problem to be investigated. Ultimately I know they'll solve the problem by sending out new spreadsheets, but they won't more the deadline. We have to account for how we plan to spend every penny of our budget allocation before the governor's budget passes the state senate. We will then have to amend said plan when the remaining shreds of the budget, minus a huge chunk of our allocation finally pass the Senate. It is an ass-backwards sort of way to do business, but that's government for ya. On top if it all there are folks who we are supposed to be serving who have arrived in heart breaking circumstances. One of them is sitting on a local mental health unit awaiting commitment to a State Hospital for months of treatment. I'm trying to come up with an alternative. The poor kid is only 20 years old. I'm hitting nothing but roadblocks. Another child had a mental health crisis. He threatened to kill his grandmother and was taken to the emergency. Unfortunately there were no hospital beds available in the area. He spent 15 hours in the Emergency room. Because he is only a child, and was not admitted, his Grandmother was required to stay with him. Eventually she gave up and decided to take him home. He will most likely be threatening to kill her again in a few hours, but I doubt she'll bother taking him back to the hospital when it accomplished so little. Helplessness is a lonely place in spite of being vastly overpopulated. Also this week, I had a meeting with my son's teachers to develop his Individualized Education Plan for the coming school year. He is moving up to the Intermediate school next year, and the meeting was scheduled so that the guidance counselor from the new school could attend. Unfortunately, she did not show. Zachary receives special education services because he is autistic. He functions pretty well academically, but he needs some accommodations and supports. He is a very concrete and literal thinker. He cannot understand or respond to inferential questions. When he gets stuck on anything, he cannot get unstuck without some nudging. I sat in the principals office with his classroom teacher, his aide, and his learning support teacher and we wrote a plan based on Zachary's needs, and the accommodations that are currently being made. The special ed. teacher then tells me "of course, we can't guarantee that they'll even read this." What!!?! Oh my God! You can't be serious. Apparently they'd already met with the guidance counselor about my son and had been told that the new school did not have the resources to continue to make these NECESSARY accommodations. I could feel the tears gathering in my eyes as they told me this. I now I have a battle ahead of me and I'm not looking forward to it, but it isn't my first time going down this road and it won't be my last. I will do what I need to do for my son. At least in this I'm not completely helpless... it just feels that way sometimes. |
| The agency I work for has a bunch of cars that employees use to go to appointments and, when needed, transport clients. Have you ever heard the expression "no one ever washes a rental car?" Well, no one ever cleans up an agency car. They get pretty nasty, and each spring the agency offers forty bucks per car for employees who are willing to take a car home and detail it. The spring cleanings are always followed with a string of emails outlining the horrors revealed and admonishing us all to show more respect for the vehicles. The manager clings desperately to the belief that public shaming will result in behavior changes. What she doesn't know is that we look forward to the emails the way small children look forward to visits from the tooth fairy. In these emails, she lists the items found in the cars that shouldn't be in the cars. For whatever reason we find this wildly amusing and waste much company speculating on the items came to be in the car. Hell, next year we are gonna make up "found in an agency car Bingo." So... the following are actual lists of items found in agency cars this year along with the usual and expected flotsam. In the red impreza... resumes (they wouldn't say who's), a pair of men's trousers, and 23 packs of Arby's sauce. In the silver impala... a half eaten apple, a sock and a condom (no word on whether it was still packaged  )In the gray forrester... an earring, two rolls of toilet paper, and a universal remote In the tan pathfinder... pistachio shells, crepe paper streams, and tucked under the front passenger seat, a "partially nude" photograph. In the white sable... a 'used' flea color, a bottle of nail polish and pack of cupcake papers. So, just for fun, I'm challenging you to take the three items found in one of our Agency cars, and write an explanation that ties the three items together and explains how they came to be in the car. A week from now, I'll pick a winner and award a merit badge of your choosing. Explanations can be brief or elaborate as long as they are funny. |
| Not long ago partyof5dj posed the question "If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be? ?" I didn't have an answer at the time, and I still don't, but I'm finding myself in the position of wondering if I could be happy in central Texas. Turns out my husband is being recruited for one of many new civilian psychologist posts that have been created at Ft. Hood, Texas. Initially it looked like they weren't really interested because he is still unlicensed. However, they've initiated follow up phone calls and they are still interested if he is. Right now it is all a lot of talk, but it is looking like they've got a very nice compensation package and the opportunities in my neck of the woods are few and far between. The job is a nice match with his interests and there is much to be said for that. So... could my heart be happy in Texas? I'm doing my homework. Initially my homework scared me, but PlannerDan put it in perspective for me.  The information I was reacting to was about more urban area than I want to live in. Once I started looking at smaller communities in outlying areas, I started to see the potential. I'm not totally comfortable with the idea, but I'm interested enough to stay on the line and see what kind of situation we might find for ourselves. These are my biggest reservations... 1. It is hot! I'm a fair skinned Yankee gal and I'm afraid I might melt in the hot Texas sun. That would be bad. 2. No snow. What's with that? I would miss snow. 3. Bugs. I think it goes along with the heat and lack of snow, but they've got Texas sized bugs. They also have fire ants and scorpions and other fauna that I don't have to fear in Pennsylvania. 4. Central Texas means I'd be surrounded by a whole lot of... Texas. Somehow that worries me. On the East Coast I can start off in the morning, drive and hit 3 or 4 states before dark. Being surrounded by a whole lot of Texas is just unsettling. 5. What would I grow? I'd have a new climate and I'd have to re-learn how to garden. Y'all don't have any of those nasty Japanese Beetles do you? It might make up for some of the other bugs if you don't have Japanese Beetles. I guess if he gets a viable job offer, I could acclimate. At least I know the folks there are a big hearted bunch. |
| While on vacation last summer, my husband and I look the kids out for ice cream and then we walked up Main Street to a plaza to watch the sunset. It started to drizzle on us and we sat under a pavilion eating our cones and watching the sun sink. The colors were brilliant oranges and pinks that set the clouds ablaze and were reflected in the quiet bay. There was a man playing bag pipes in the plaza and we watched and listened until the sun slipped below the horizon and the last of the ice cream dripped down my sons arm in a sticky trail. It was time to go, but my eyes were still glued on the glorious sky which was fading to violet. I would have liked to stay until the last of the color drained from the sky, but the kids were impatient. We started back to the car in the drizzling rain while I continued to watch over my shoulder as the fading colors washed across the sky and water. When finally I turned away, I was surprised to see an amazingly vivid double rainbow before me. It was breathtaking, and I thought to myself “I almost missed it.” I was so caught up in watching the sunset that I almost missed the rainbow. I remembered this yesterday while I was working in the garden. The sun was warm on my back, but it was starting to rain. When I stood up to stretch I saw this… ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** The picture doesn’t do it justice because I could only take a picture of part of the bow. It was lovely but fleeting, and again I thought. “I almost missed it.” It started me thinking. I thought about my children. Katie has always been precocious she grows up so fast that I’m constantly afraid I’m gonna miss it. The years will pass too quickly and she’ll be off living her own life. Her brother, on the other hand, moves at a different pace. He has always had areas where his development was delayed. Still, if I look away too long to watch the brilliant color show that is his sister, I’m afraid of what I'll miss there. Suddenly Zachary seems to be coming into his own. He is graduating from elementary school. He knows his times tables up through 5 (pretty good for 2nd grade), and he is playing Bunny #4 in the school play / musical. When I finally came in from the garden yesterday, Zachary had his script in hand and was just about to rehearse his lines and songs for Daddy. I didn't bother cleaning up, but sat down to watch him practice his part for the play… and to think, I almost missed it.  |
| I have a fence the runs the length of my side yard. The post are set 8 ft apart and there are 13 of them. When I moved into the house 8 years ago the fence was surrounded by lawn. I looked at that fence and I thought "Good Lord that fence has gotta come down. It looks like it was installed by a drunk and his blind friend." It needed to be replaced desperately. One of these days I might actually get around to that. Over the years that I've lived here, I've been building garden beds along that sad, dilapidated fence. There are 12 bea-u-ti-ful roses planted along the length of it, and a lovely border of perennials inside the fence. I'm home from work today and I've got a pick-up load of mulch, so I've spent my morning spreading it along the fence. It is a perfect day for it... cool and overcast. Mulching is not one of my favorite gardening chores, but it is repetitive and leaves my mind free to go off on flights of fancy. So... want to hear the idea I had while I was out there mulching? First I was thinking that if it weren't for my gardens, I wouldn't know any of my neighbors. It is mostly while I'm out there working that they stop to chat. Second, I was thinking that most the time I'm out there bent over pulling weeds. It is amazing that any of them recognize me by my face!  As I thought about it, I got to think about all the cars that drive by while I'm bent over like that. My butt has had way more views than my blog. Maybe I should sell advertising space. I'm not saying my ass is the size of a billboard. Don't get me wrong! It would have to be a smallish sized sign, of course. Still... it could work. How does one go about selling advertising space on your posterior? I thought I could start with a sign that said... "This space is available. Make me an offer," or "This space could be yours, inquiries welcome." Maybe it was the mind numbing dullness, maybe it was hunger... maybe it was the fatigue... but the more I thought about it, the better the idea seemed. I thought about the upcoming democratic primaries and I thought I could maybe break into political ads. Maybe something like... "Hilary, my ass! Vote for anyone but..." |
| I'd say this is gonna be a quickie, but that term always gets me in trouble. I had a training this afternoon for work, and morning stuff ran long. I knew I wasn't going to get a full lunch hour so I said to two of my co-workers, "I'm running home for a quickie lunch, and I'll go straight to the training from there." All they heard was "I'm running home for a quickie." They took an inventory of my clothing so they'd be able to notice any changes. I was tempted to go home, muss my hair and slip off my shirt off so I could wear it inside out for the afternoon. Then I could walk into the training with a great big smile on my face while humming "Something to talk about," or "Afternoon Delight"... you pick. Ah, the lengths we'll go to for a little levity. My work day ends at 4:30, but here it is 6:00 and I'm just getting home. Why? Well, I'm not working tomorrow, so I had to stay and tie up all my lose ends. I've got shit hitting the fan from all directions, and it is all I can do to dodge it. I'm thankful that I've got a long weekend ahead of me though. The training this afternoon was on Cultural Competency. It was hard to sit through because a) I was stuck cooling my heals at a training when I knew I had STUFF to do and b) because I hate cultural competency training as a general rule. If you haven't had the great thrill of attending such a training, let me give you the basic message. 1. There are lots of different kinds of people in the world. 2. We tend to favor people who are like us. 3. We need to make the extra effort to extend ourselves to those who are not like us. Yep, every year we get this mandatory training. Every year they come in and tell us that the magazines in the waiting room, the art on the walls, and the pictures on our website need to reflect the diversity of the community we serve. Fine... whatever. What I dislike about these trainings is the idea that the only diversity that matters is racial and ethnic diversity. I always come away feeling like a nothing. I do not contribute to diversity because I belong to the majority... I don't even belong to a particular ethnic group. Guess I'm a Heinz 57 kinda gal. My relations immigrated a really long time ago and did that whole melting pot thing. They didn't stay in urban areas where they settled into ethnically based neighborhoods. They moved west and west and west again. Now the melting pot is frowned upon and everyone should retain their cultural identity. Now they've replace the melting pot with a freakin' salad bowl. Each ingredient retains all it's original qualities while contributing to the whole. It seems that there is no room in the salad bowl for the mysterious substance left over in that old melting pot. I once asked my Grandmother where my family was from. She told me Nebraska because that where her parents were born. "No," I said. "I mean originally! Where are we from?" "Oh! Well I think my Grandma was Pennsylvania Dutch, but I don't know about Grandpa." So... near as I can tell, I am predominately English, German and Scottish, but there is some supposing that there might also be a smidge of Irish and Polish. So what's not diverse about me? Okay, so they are all Western European orgins. Does that mean I don't count? Somehow in all this discussion about recognizing and appreciating diversity I end up feeling like the only one who came empty handed to the covered dish luncheon. Enough of that. It FINALLY rained yesterday and the world is all fresh and new and the pollen count dropped! This is a good thing. This means that when it was time for me to open my eyes this morning, they opened. It was the first time all week they weren't stuck closed. It looks like we'll get more rain tonight too! |
| Having nothing of interest going on in my own life I'll give you an update on my friend Bonnie. When last I wrote about Bonnie she was enamored with a guy who'd been coming into the bar where she works. In her pathetic attempts to make small talk, she had inadvertently given the impression that she was a lesbian. Oops. Topping it all off was the basic problem that she didn't know his name, but we were calling him Mark for convenience sake. Well... turns out his name actually IS Mark! That worked out well for her. As for the problem of mistaken orientation, I guess it helps to bring in a lesbian to set the record straight. Enter a second friend... Denise. Denise decided to visit Bonnie, at work, in hopes of meeting Mark. Bonnie seems to have an inexplicable attraction to losers. As her friends, we feel some obligation to point out the faults in these men. The thing is... Mark doesn't have any obvious faults. He is really a good guy. As Denise put it, "he's dreamy." This is really saying something because there are very few people that Denise likes. The problem is, Mark is just like Bonnie. They are both very unsure of what to do with all this mutual (YES! it appears to be mutual) attraction going on. Thank God for Denise. She suggested that the three of them go out for a drink after Bonnie's shift ended, and then, when they were ready to call it a night she passed out napkins and pens and suggested they exchange phone numbers. He called Bonnie once, and after that we had to pester her to give him a call so he'd know she was interested. Me: Did you call him yet? Bonnie: No. Me: Why not? Bonnie: I don't know what to say? Denise: Do you still have the napkin? I wrote it all down for you. Me: You didn't! Denise: I did! I wrote down exactly what to say. Bonnie: I need more. You only wrote like one or two things. What do I say after that? Denise: Well, he'll say something back and you'll start a conversation. Damn! There are reasons she is single. Well, many phone calls later and Mark was becoming a regular at the bar, but he still hadn't asked her out. So Denise works her magic again and arranges a double date. She and her significant other took Bonnie and Mark to a gay bar. Now there's a first date! When it is time to go Denise and Mark hug goodbye. Bonnie is upset because Denise got to hug him before she did, but now the happy couple are on hugging terms. They also had their first solo date. Mark took Bonnie to dinner and a movie. Now... if they could just work up the nerve for that first kiss. Baby steps... Denise is like the proud Mommy holding the tempting cookie just out of reach and urging on each tentative, wobbling step. It warms the very cockles of my heart. |
| Spring is in the air! I walk outside breath deep and... ah... ah... ah... CHOO! Excuse me. I'm having an allergy attack. In reality the allergy attack is about a week old now... and that is getting very OLD indeed. My eyes have been itchy, red, swollen, watering balls of fire! Tonight I hit the pharmacy in search of relief. Picking up a box of eye drops I read, "soothing relief from pollen, smoke, dust and ragweed" hmmm... this sounds promising. "relieves irritation and redness" nice. very nice. "fast acting" sold! So I bring the little bag into the house and eagerly tear into the package. I carefully read all the product information and proceed to administer the drops. "SON OF A BITCH!" I might as well be dripping boiling oil into my eyes. We're talking SEARING pain. With both my eyes squeezed shut against the (literally) blinding pain I prayed for a quick death. Fortunately, it didn't come and the pain subsided. With tears streaming down my cheeks and an intermitint painful twitching in my eyes, I reach into the bag and pull out the nasal spray.  |
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