Monday, July 26, 2010

Rural life...

Today my dad came out to use the truck. It was close to suppertime, so when the kids asked to go along for the ride, I told them no. (Driving around is considered entertainment here in the Panhandle). Dad left, we ate, and a short time later he pulled up to the house again.

"I didn't go alone," he said upon opening the door.

I was a bit confused, did a quick head count and thought for a moment the dog had tagged along, except that our Lab hates cars almost as much as she likes chasing chickens. "Weezo went with you?"

"No. Jewa did."

The cat?

Our cat has not been happy with the recent move. He's sticking around but under protest. Cats are very territorial after all, and don't take kindly to humans moving them to new and unapproved territories. Jewa, being an inherited kitty, has already been through one big move and is quite finished with that sort of thing as he has made very clear very frequently of late. His favorite spot from which to launch guided guilt rockets happens to be in the spare tire well of the truck. I guess he must have been mid-pout about the time dad took off today.

I'm glad he made it back. The poor fella experienced 70 m.p.h. in the underbelly of a truck and then politely asked to ride up front for the return trip.

Although he allowed my dad to pet and comfort him all the way home, he is still not on speaking terms with me. He took one look around, and then disappeared to hunt up a new spot from which to blame me for everything.

Because it's Monday and you need more coffee...

The week is back and wants revenge for all the fun you had without it over the weekend. Distract it with this and maybe it will play nice...

This one's for Hannah O...who is busy rediscovering music in more goofy eras.

Saturday, July 17, 2010

The memorial dent...

If you've been wondering where we've been, the family has moved in and has been fixing up the ugly yellow trailer. The last three weeks have been busy with hammering, hollering, and hauling.

One little story from the house...the backdoor.

Trailers are funny things. When you move them from one site to another, they bend and flex just enough to make things interesting. Windows and doors leak until you seal them up again (more about the deluge in another post). The former owners hadn't wanted to mess with a backdoor and had at some point simply sealed it shut. We had to saw it out to replace it. My wonderfully handy husband got a new door in quickly, efficiently, and level-ly. The only problem is that the slightly tweaked trailer frame doesn't quite match the accurately level door frame. It's hard to shut that new back door. It takes quite a slam.

Well...since there's a trick to getting the backdoor to shut, my husband was explaining and demonstrating. Since I'm too smart for my own good, I was impatient and experimenting. I was fiddling with the lock at about the same instant my husband was demonstrating the way to slam the door. Somehow my left index finger got involved in the process. This led to a finger-shaped dent in the backdoor frame.

Just so you know, as long as the windows are open, the nearest neighbors can hear a good, loud bellow. Also, an aluminum door frame is not stronger than bone. Nothing was broken, just bent. Both the door and the finger work just fine.

Sunday, July 4, 2010

Ringing the bell

After a recent scare--my Autistic son decided to go and visit a neighbor without my knowledge--I've been dwelling on Simon and all of his many differences. I've been brooding over his nebulous and unpredictable future.

Most days I am lucky: I remember that I have one of the sweetest people I know for a son. Simon is incredibly, unusually good natured and happy (usually). The thing is, he talks with his eyes instead of his mouth. He just won't be pegged into the expected developmental slots. There really isn't a measure in the children's magazines or doctors' charts for all those things he's good at--nonverbal communication, enjoying clouds, infectious giggles. Sometimes this makes me worry. Lately, I've been worried a lot.

Then along came this video (thank you Mike). When I see something like this I can remember that "normal" is merely a region on somebody's bell curve. In a lot of ways, Simon's ahead of that curve--he just doesn't brag about it.

Incidentally, when he happens to have some accomplishment he wants to brag about, he brags. He does it about the way you'd expect any person to brag, the only exception is that it is wordless.

The gentleman in this video, Stephen, has Autism, too. Like my son, he lives in a world that doesn't speak his language. I think this man has negotiated that language barrier very well. His accomplishments give me a glimpse of a future I can recognize.

I've stopped worrying so much.