Oregon Trail

on being unique

2011-06-25T12:58:00.000-07:00

We were sitting at the dinner table the other day with two of Thomas' friends, which is a relatively common occurrence. We had two containers of Ranch dressing on the table, one nearly empty and the other brand new. Stephen reached for something and knocked over the nearly empty container. I looked at him, stared him down, and knocked over the full one. Game on. Stephen cocked his head at me, raised an eyebrow, stared me down, and grabbed his dressing container. I grabbed mine and we began a duel. This seemed unwise at the dinner table, so we moved to the living room, jabbing, slicing, and disarming one another. After three rounds of raucous parrying, we ended our duel, sat down and continued with dinner.

One of Thomas' friends looked at the other one and said, "This never happens anywhere else in the whole entire world." The other one casually agreed, saying, "Nope, and that's what makes this place so cool."

The Curmudgeon in My Midst

2011-05-19T21:38:00.000-07:00

I have started biking to work a couple of days a week when I don't need the car. This has proven to be both invigorating and interesting on a number of levels. And I have a feeling this is only the beginning...

One day last week while looking for alternative routes, I rode by a house that had a driveway full of really nice cedar planter boxes. I was pushing it for time, so I decided to stop by another day to check them out, since I have been thinking about getting one for the deck (the only really sunny spot) to grow vegetables.

Tuesday night after work, I stopped by. Upon ringing the doorbell, a small black poodle began jumping up and down in front of the door like it was on a pogo stick and barking. A woman wearing a house coat and scooting herself around in a wheelchair with her feet finally noticed and yelled, "Jim! There's someone at the door!" then turned to me and said, "He's comin' out through the garage!" I step over to the garage and out comes a tall, elderly man wearing a plaid shirt and overalls, with bright blue eyes and a sparse, wispy white crew cut. He says, "What can I do for you?" "Well, I was riding by on my bike the other day and noticed your planters and I thought I'd come check them out." "Best darn planters in the state of Oregon!" he declares. "Well, that's why I stopped by, because they look pretty nice. How much do you want for that one, there?" "That one? Well, that one's $40. Course, it's not done yet, it still needs the cap and the trim on it." "What if I wanted one twice that size, could you make a custom one for me?" "Well, now why would you want to do that?!!! Then I'd have to charge you more for the custom work and you could just by two of those for $80!" "Good point." Silence. Then he growls, "I woulda had those ready by now but the goddamn weather has been so bad that I can't get any work done on 'em." But his eyes are sparkling and he's not really that angry or frustrated. (Remember, his entire driveway is full of planter boxes.) So I say, "Well, it looks like you've been plenty busy even with the weather." He brightens. "Let me show you what else I've got." And he showed me his work. More planter boxes with places to mount a bench. Wishing wells. Birdhouses. He has indeed been busy despite the uncooperative weather, which he continues to bemoan as we peruse his wares. I tell him he should advertise and he jerks his head back, tilts it to one side and looks at me through narrowed eyes, still smiling, and says "What are you tryin to do, kill me?! I got enough work to do around here without advertising!" "Good point," I say again. Can't argue with that.

So I commit to purchase two of the planters for $80 and he says he'll have them ready the next day if the weather cooperates. We exchange cards and phone numbers and he notices the letters after my name. "What's that all mean?" "I'm a social worker." "And you work at a clinic?" "Yes." He sizes me up. "A healer, then." And I smile because I have been called a healer before and I love it. And I reply, "Yes." "What kind of healer, then? You do acupuncture or something?" And I laugh and say, "No, mental health." "MENTAL health! Well! I need some of that!" "I think we all do from time to time". And he's cool with that, which I didn't expect, and we proceeded with our transaction. As I was leaving, we shook hands and he said, "What's your name again?" "Lydia. And you're Jim, right?" "Right. You want a good tip?" "Sure." "You like a good cup of Folgers?" "Yes." He leans in close to my ear and says, "then put some bullshit in it." I laughed out loud. "You remind me of a bunch of my relatives. My dad says things like that." "Good man. Good man." And we smiled and shook hands again and I left, my day strangely brightened by this grumpy old man with a sparkle in his eye.

Today, I went to pick up the finished boxes but first I called Paul and told him what I was up to, saying I'd be home in about a half hour or so. This time, the dog was not there to announce my arrival and the woman in the wheelchair apparently could not hear the doorbell. She finally noticed my movement out of the corner of her eye and says that Jim is out back with the dog. Apparently, I'm supposed to go out back and find him. So I do, and we miss each other and I can hear her yelling that he's got a visitor and he comes out through the garage again. "Hi, Lydia!" he says when he sees me. "Hi, Jim! It looks like the weather cooperated with you." "Yeah, it's been all right. Tired today." "Well, you've been working, it looks like," and I gesture to all of the finished boxes. He smiles at the acknowledgement of his hard work and says, "And that's not all! See there? I've been spreading the compost, too." "I see that." "Well! Let me get those boxes loaded up for you." "Hang on, let me throw on a different shirt so I can help you." "You don't have to do that!" "Don't worry, I've got it right here and I'll just throw it on over this." "Oh! I thought you were going to strip right there." "Not a chance." (Next time I will try to be more clear the first time so he doesn't have heart failure.) We load the boxes and I write him a check. "Is a check okay?" I ask. "I'm not worried about your check bouncing," he says in his crotchety old man voice. Then he brightens. "If it does, I've got your address and I'll just come and take my boxes back." "Well, if you wait until late August, there might be some ripe vegetables for you, too." We smile at one another because we are both in on the joke. "Good idea. Come on over here and sit down for a minute," he says, gesturing to two chairs in the shade under a tree in his front yard. I was glad I'd told Paul it would be a bit.

We sat in the shade and talked about sexual perverts (a neighbor girl that had been molested by her father had walked by, prompting this discussion), fishing, religion, his millionaire siblings, coffee ("Have you ever had that Dunkin Donuts coffee? Now that's good. Can't stand that Starbucks stuff.) and Minnesota. It ends up he and his twin brother were born in northern Minnesota on a reservation in a tar paper shack, lived with between 7 and 9 people there, and raised dairy cattle. After a bit, we wrapped it up. We stood up, and he said, "You're welcome to come by anytime and share a cup of coffee and some bullshit with your old friend Jim." I looked at him and smiled. "I'd genuinely like that." I need a curmudgeon in my midst.

What I Did on My Spring Break

2011-03-24T16:07:00.000-07:00

This is Spring Break for my kids, so I decided to take time off, too. We haven't done anything spectacular, but we've been having a good time being together. We planned a Board Game Day for today, but realized that the whole world is not on break and it wasn't going to happen, so we rescheduled for Sunday. I took William to get his infusion and puttered on my computer for a couple of hours. Thomas and I went to Powell's Books and an Art Supply store. Stephen and I plan to eat lunch at one of our favorite restaurants. Good, solid relaxing time.

But Tuesday was my highlight, because we went to the mountain. The ski conditions aren't FANTASTIC, but still GREAT, so I decided this was the day I would learn to snowboard. Stephen agreed to try it with me.

Stephen is hilarious when he's looking forward to doing something. Suddenly he goes all micro-manager on all of us, making sure that we've packed appropriately and badgering us to leave earlier than is sane. He wanted to leave around 6:30 a.m. It is a two hour drive and the rental shop and lifts don't even open until 9:00, so this is really harsh. Especially since we automatically slipped into vacation mode by staying up until 1:30 a.m. But we said we'd try. We did try, but we didn't leave until 7:30. In hindsight, it would have been better to actually leave closer to 6:30 if we wanted to get on the mountain before 10 a.m.

Still, we made pretty good time until we saw the notice that chains were required to get up the last stretch of mountain to the lodge. The last time we had to put on chains, the guy directing traffic had to help us just to get us out of the way. So we haven't really learned this skill yet. But we gamely got out of the car, and spread out the instructions, hoping that this would signal do-gooders that we are complete noobs, and started in. Surprisingly, we got them on with relative ease independently, boosting our self esteem and survival skill points significantly, and we were on our way again.

Finally, we were on the mountain, tricked out with our gear. I was totally stoked because I found out that, due to the fact that my natural stance is with my right foot forward, I am considered "Goofy" foot and not "Regular". Goofy sounds tres cool to me. Stephen and I weren't able to make the first lesson, so we decided to putter around on our own after a few tips from Thomas' friend, Daniel. This proved to be an utterly frustrating experience for Stephen, who repeatedly asked permission to use expletives to describe his current state of being and the worthless nature of learning this new skill. We decided it would be best to see if he could switch out his gear and get skis. They kindly switched him out with no extra charge. Sweet.

But I decided to stick to the plan. I really wanted to give it a try. So after lunch, off I went to my class. I was clearly the oldest, and strangely, the only white person in my class until another young woman arrived late. We learned how to get around with one foot strapped in, which did some major tugging on my weaker knee and started to worry me a bit. Maybe if I switched to Regular? Give up the coolness of being Goofy? Something to think about.

Then we made our way to a small half pipe to practice, and eventually made it onto the bunny hill to try our skills there. First, backwards, digging in our toe side (do not curl your toes, this doesn't help at all, not to mention the charlie horse). Then forward, digging in our heel side. Then curves from each position. Then combining the two to zigzag down the slope. This was utterly exhausting and took a lot of practice just to get the skill down enough before moving on to the next one.

So here's where I brag just a bit: I was the fastest learner in the class and went from level I to level III during this lesson. Thank you! Thank you very much! At first I thought it was because I've skied for so long but later I wondered if it was easier for me because I used to water ski - similar in that, when slaloming, your feet are both strapped in to one ski and you need to be aware of your edges. Hmm. Either way, that was an ego boost.

That said, the harsh reality is that I was sweating buckets after the second skill we learned on the half pipe and shaking from exhaustion by the end of the lesson, making it difficult to get on the chair lift without wrecking. I'd fallen more times than I could count, reaching back to catch myself with my hands, which I quickly figured out must be how many people break their wrists, because they ached immediately. That, and my tailbone, which was clearly compromised after a few contacts with the packed snow.

But I would totally do it again! This is one super-fun way to spend a day! Skiing always does this to me. I get on the slope and I immediately start devising ways to get back on the slope again. Maybe if I taught lessons. Maybe if we got a cabin. Maybe if I took every Wednesday off during the winter. Maybe if I called it therapy and brought my people out with me...

For now, I'm off to yoga to work out some of the residual kinks. And tomorrow I've got a massage scheduled to get the rest of the kinks out of my neck, which is clearly attached to the tailbone and not at all happy with the spills. But this will not stop me. I'll be back...

Classic Lydia Stories: Talley and the Tree

2011-01-15T18:24:00.001-08:00

At our first house on Hansen Road (we moved three houses down the street when I was a teenager), there was an Ash tree next to the driveway. I loved that tree, and it was perfect for climbing by the time I was old enough to want to. I used to climb up in the tree, perch myself on a particular branch, then lean out, let go, grab a lower branch, swing, arc, and jump off. Better than jumping off a swing. Even MORE fun if you closed your eyes during the swing and the arc.

Talley, my younger sister, used to climb the tree with me. One day as we were swinging out of the tree, I told her, "It's even MORE fun if you close your eyes!" So on the next turn, Talley gets to the particular branch, closed her eyes, leaned out, completely missed the other branch, came hurtling out of the tree screaming bloody murder (I think her eyes were still closed at this point), and suddenly landed on the ground with a crash. Now think about this. She was screaming all the way down up to the point of impact. That means her mouth was wide open and her tongue was partially extended. Imagine what the force of the sudden impact would have on her jaw. And where her tongue was in relation to her teeth. Yep, you got it, her mouth slammed shut and she bit her tongue. Big time.

I came out of the tree, saw her bleeding from the mouth, and ran in the house to get Nanny, our grandmother, who was staying with us during the summer while my mom worked. (My mom was the only one on the block that worked at all.) "Nanny! Come quick!" "What happened?" she said. "We were jumping out of the tree with our eyes closed and Talley missed the branch!" On hindsight, this does not sound like the smartest thing to be doing on a summer afternoon. Nanny came out, saw the mess Talley had made of her tongue, and got my dad, who was in his office downstairs, to bring Talley to the doctor's office.

When they got in to see the doctor, he took a look and said, "Huh! Look at that! It's cut clear through. Do you mind if I have Dr. So and So come and take a look at it?" And my sister, whose tongue is swollen and sticking partway out of her mouth, shakes her head and says, "Doe, dat's otay." Dr. So and So comes in and also wonders at the amazing cut. Then a series of nurses enter and they take a look. No one has seen anything like it. We're not sure if they were all looking because of the curiosity of it all, or in order to consult together as to how best patch it up.

They eventually decided to give Talley stitches and return her home. We had dinner that night, and Talley sat across from me with her tongue still swollen, numbed from novocaine, her baseball cap on her head with the bill toward the back but skewed so it rested behind her ear. Her fine blond hair stuck to her forehead from the humidity and her cheeks were rosy from the heat and excitement of the day. She sipped on a milkshake while the rest of us attempted to eat our dinner with this pitiful reality in front of us. I'm sure she was even more pitiful than necessary in order to increase my guilt but it did not faze me. I knew I was not at fault. Anyone else would have known enough to wait until they had a hold of the branch before they closed their eyes. Not Talley, though. She jumped straight out of the tree with her eyes closed and her mouth wide open.

When it was clear that she wasn't pitiful enough to induce an adequate level of guilt, Talley attempted to speak, botching the attempt and sounding like she belonged in an institution for the developmentally delayed. Apparently, my mother couldn't take the aura of guilt that was permeating the room any more, burst into tears, and fled the table. I said, "Why is she crying?" because I was impervious to the guilt factor and could not figure out why this was so upsetting. My dad and grandmother looked at me, boring into my soul with the combined guilt power of two adults and Talley, and said, "She's just happy it isn't permanent". Then they looked at each other with a "mission accomplished" expression on their faces, and proceeded to finish eating their dinner while Talley sipped happily at her milkshake and I felt the first pang of doubt. Maybe it was my fault...

Disclaimer: I honestly don't remember if Talley was ever mad at me for telling her to close her eyes. I don't remember her making me feel guilty about it and I don't really believe my parents blamed me either. It was an accident. We were fortunate it wasn't worse. But that doesn't stop the what ifs. What if I had explained the procedure better? What if she had ended up with broken bones or knocked her head? What if it really was my fault? I'm just happy it wasn't permanent.

On Being a Carrier and Letting Go

2011-01-08T17:11:00.000-08:00

I have been on a journey over the last year or so. Much of this learning began through experience at work as we delve into how best to serve individuals with history of trauma. At least 95% of all the people I serve have had long term, chronic trauma in their lives. As a result, we as practitioners need to be aware of how our buildings, forms, actions, and words may affect a person with this kind of history. I also taught DBT, which incorporates mindful awareness into Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. I was clearly punting.

Just over a year ago, one of my traumatized clients had to move out of the facility where he lived. I watched as he unraveled due to our lack of awareness of how this move was carried out would affect him. During this time, I had a deck of "Wisdom Cards" that I would choose from every few days for inspiration. I chose "I am Willing to Let Go" over five times in a row. I gave the deck to others to hold, I closed my eyes, I shuffled the deck. I drew the same card. I was not willing to let go, as I was horrified by how this move was being carried out and the effect it had on this individual. While the move has been positive overall, he is still recovering from it. I think we both are...

I began to look into mindfulness and meditation as ways to treat trauma, as this has been proven to reduce symptoms. I went to a workshop and followed up with a study group with coworkers designed to implement these practices into our work and lives. These practices are not only beneficial to trauma survivors, but to anyone experiencing life's stressors. Practitioners who work with people who have been traumatized tend to pick up on the trauma and carry it themselves. I began to work more in my own life on the concepts of radical acceptance, non-attachment to outcomes, and sitting quietly as I observed my thoughts and sought to non-judgmentally calm them.

I had the opportunity to attend two seminars on trauma as well. At these, I learned more about how the brain reacts to traumatic events. Fascinating! Our linguistic center shuts down when we experience trauma but our body retains the memory as a physical experience. Effective treatment is often linked to body movement through theatre, dance, yoga, or guided movement therapy that serves to integrate the traumatic memory in a way that can be managed by the individual.

Work was stressful. I began to hunger for a better way of relieving this stress in addition to desiring to be a more effective teacher and clinician and decided to look into yoga. There is a studio near my office that offers yoga, yoga therapy, and mindfulness based stress reduction classes. The more I read their website, the more I was convinced that these were my kind of people.

Today was Day 2 of yoga. The first day we spent practicing melting into the floor nearly the whole time, which sounds really weird, but was amazing and surprisingly difficult. I developed really sore muscles in my upper back and I was thinking "Really? From melting? Wow, am I ever out of shape!" But in the following few days, I would catch myself as I walked, realign my shoulders, and feel the positive difference as I walked along.

Today's lesson was more of the same, but with a focus on the shoulder and neck area. At one point, we laid on our back on the floor and had a partner press down on our shoulders. At one point when it was my turn, I felt myself quit fighting the resistance and allow my partner to just press my shoulders down to the floor. She exclaimed (quietly, because it's yoga), "You let go!" And I said, "Yeah, I did," and thought "Wow, that was weird..." And we stayed there and breathed a few times, then let up. But something had snapped in my brain.

As we moved from this into the "Dead Man" pose, which is where you melt into the floor and breathe and observe your thoughts, I was struck about how profound it felt to let go. And suddenly, tears were streaming down my face (screwing up my breathing) and I was thinking about how much I carry and have carried, since junior high or high school even, and being in awe of the power of letting go as a physical act. I later thought of how, in a literal sense, we carry things with our arms, and our shoulder muscles feel the strain, and how symbolic it is that I carry secrets and bear responsibilities and who knows what else I have as my load, and how ironic that my shoulders are bearing the strain. I thought about all I've been learning as head knowledge about how important movement is to recovery and thought, "So this is what they mean." And I laid there (not doing the dead man very well at all because I had to keep wiping away tears and attempting to breathe with some regularity) and trying to force myself to let go of the fact that I was currently sucking at yoga. Which is okay. I am by nature a carrier and have been since early on. My habit is to hold on, cling to, bear. I have not let go. But today, I found a new pathway in my brain. I can still carry. But now I can also let go.

Classic Lydia Stories: The Fish that Got Away. Thank God.

2010-12-05T23:12:00.000-08:00

I haven't been inspired to write much about the day to day lately. Partially because I can't really talk about work, so that's out, and partially because I'm toast by the end of the day, so writing in general is out. But I miss it, and it's good self care, and I keep thinking that maybe if I write enough it will all start to make sense. Then Thomas showed me "Hyperbole and a Half", a blog that is HILARIOUS, with hand drawn pictures, written by a young woman with a great sense of humor who talks about things in the present and in her childhood. http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/ And I got inspired again. But I'm not attempting the pictures.

So, which story first? It has to be the one about:

The Fish that Got Away. Thank God.

When I was little, we used to go to Florida each year to visit my grandmother, Nanny, at her place on the beach near Daytona. My aunts and uncles and cousins from my dad's side of the family would all be there and we would play in the pool, then the ocean, then the beach ALL day long the whole time we were there. Except for a few breaks to walk down the street to 7-11 to get a slushie. Or go into town and play Skee-Ball and pinball at the arcade. But the thing I loved the best besides the beach was to go fishing with my Dad and Nanny. She was the best fisherman of us all even though she was also the kind of grandma that wore shiny gold flip flops and all sorts of diamonds.

One time when I was about 10 or 12, we went for our annual trip to the Indian River to fish. This river empties into the ocean nearby, so when the tide comes in the water mixes with saltwater so you can catch ocean fish without having to go deep see fishing. This was totally cool because the fish were so amazing compared to the ones in Minnesota. The shanty where we usually rented a boat and got our bait had crushed shells that made the pavement crunch under the tires of the car and smelled like fish, heat, and water. We got our boat - a regular fishing boat with an outboard motor - and some shrimp for bait and took off down the narrow river with the mangroves hanging in on either side.

I never knew how dad navigated that river. We were in the Delta, so it fanned out, but there were so many places where the river split that I lost track. Everywhere there were the mangroves on either side, creating an open-air tunnel for us to travel through. We had to watch for manatees so that they wouldn't accidentally come up under our boat and tip us over or get injured by the motor. When we did see them, they were often already scarred by run-ins with other boats and propellers.

We arrived at a spot and fished to our hearts content. At one point, I lost half my shrimp to a smart fish, but decided it was enough to keep using as bait. I lowered the line again and pretty soon after that, I felt a strong, slow pull on the line. This was not cool because it felt like I'd gotten stuck on a log and that is SO EMBARRASSING when your trying to be as cool as the adults in the boat. So I kept quiet about it and tried to work it loose. I reeled it in and it slowly came up. I pulled it in some more and it still came up. I reeled it in again and started working it up. By this time, Nanny noticed something was up and said, "What have you got, a WHALE?" and I said, "Well, I thought I was stuck on the bottom but it keeps on coming up". Which is when my dad noticed.

When someone has a large fish on the line, my dad goes into hyper-over-drive. "Reel in your line, Mother! Hand me that net! Put this over there! Lydia, keep the tip of your pole up! Now bring it around here! Not that way! This way!" It's like he figures we all forgot how to fish and need to follow his orders. So we do, just to keep the peace, because now is NOT the time to be arguing when you have a lunker on the line.

So I kept on reeling it in, and bringing it over to the side of the boat Dad wanted it on, and he was ready with the net and Nanny was out of the way when all of the sudden we saw what I had on the end of the line. And if we were in a Wild West movie in the middle of the desert there would have been that sound track that is like a buzzard seeing it's next meal when the good guy is about to die. But we were in the middle of a Florida river and there wasn't a sound to be heard because there at the end of my line was a SHARK about half as long as the boat we were in. And we all looked at each other with eyes as big as saucers and my dad said real quietly to Nanny, "Hand me that gaff" which she did without a word.

Now in Minnesota, no one carries a gaff around on their boat. It would be like toting a shotgun around in the middle of the suburbs. It just doesn't make sense. But in Florida there is always a gaff on the boat. A gaff is a long metal stick with a large hook on the end that is used to grab or gut a large fish. We had never used one before, but if we had, I would have had a crying hissy fit because it was "so mean". This time I didn't need to ask if there was another option. Even though I clearly had a lunker, it wasn't exactly a keeper and there was no way we were going to use the hemostat to get the hook out of the shark's mouth.

He directed me to bring the shark up to the side of the boat. Strangely, the shark was not thrashing or fighting at all - like I said, I thought I had a log on the end of the line. So I slowly and quietly brought it up to the side. And then I watched as my dad raised the gaff to gut the shark, his lips pressed together in a thin line, hating that this was the only option. But then, with my dad's arm partially raised while we all watched as if it were slow motion, the shark moved ever so slightly like it was coming around, angled it's head and looked my dad in the eye. It was as though he knew all along what we were up to, like he'd played this boring game with us and was oh, so, done, like he was wise and old and teaching us a lesson. He looked at my dad right in the eye, shook a bit... jerked his head.... jumped off the hook... and swam away. And just like that, it was over. My dad stood there in the boat with the gaff in his hand, my grandmother said something like, "Well, I'll be damned..." and I sat dumbstruck, holding on to my rod with the bit of shrimp dangling at the end of my line over the side of the boat thanking God that this fish had gotten away.

Staycation/Being with the Entire Family

2010-06-18T10:45:00.001-07:00

We just finished about a week of Staycation with my entire family in town. This is not a large group of people, but sometimes formidable nonetheless. Honestly, I wasn't sure how it would go. William graduated on Saturday, which is a really big deal not because he struggled academically (which he didn't) but because he struggled, period. Life with Asperger's is not easy to navigate, and as life gets more complex with time, it becomes even more difficult to find one's way through each day. When he was first accurately diagnosed in 5th grade, we had our doubts about whether or not we would make it through middle school - not joking. It was HORRIBLE. But William is figuring it out and at the same time managing to get decent grades and graduate. How cool! So my family decided to come out and honor the achievement with their presence, which is also very cool.

My folks generally stay in a hotel when they come to town. This is what we do. We honor one another's private space and time and we go home when we need a break. This works fairly well, except that they usually leave just when I am finally able to sit down for a minute and relax, so there is no opportunity to really talk. Sometimes I wonder if this is the whole point. We have some serious things to talk about - like what do we do with Mom now that she's started wandering? Dad wants her to keep living at their place - is this safe? What are our options? These conversations didn't happen. We were too busy. I won't see them again until December at the earliest - then what conversations will we need to be having?

My sister, her husband and child decided NOT to stay at the hotel, saying they wanted to camp in our back yard. It has been raining all winter, with a particularly amazing rainfall a few days before they arrived that flooded the area where we would normally place a tent. It has also been unseasonably cold, with record low-highs on Tuesday and Wednesday. Primo camping weather. Instead, we blew up the air mattress and stuck it in the family room. This was the wild card factor, and it had the potential for disaster or greatness depending on everyone's mood. We got greatness - hanging out after the day was done, playing board games, and talking about things that needed to be said. My nephew hardly spoke to his parents the entire time he was here, listening to William talk about Pokemon like a disciple at his master's feet, playing with the dog, and running around with Stephen. We thoroughly enjoyed all of them.

On Wednesday, previously noted as a record cold day for June, which also included a steady rain all morning, a bunch of us went fishing. I am choosing to assume the surfer's mentality for this event - "No bad days". We got up at 5 a.m. to arrive at the dock by 6:30. It was crappy weather, I had to pee for the first four hours even though I had clearly emptied my bladder prior to getting on the boat, I was freezing, and we didn't have a nibble. But we were on the water, which is better than any other day at home or the office. After a brief bathroom break and a change of rigs, we went out again and fished for sturgeon between a shipyard that smelled of slime and welding and a paper plant that was spewing steam and god-only-knows what else into the air and water. Mmmm. Kinda glad none of them were keepers. But the rain had quit and I was warm. Still better than home or office.

Mom is slowly losing her mind to Alzheimer's. She knows all of us, but cannot keep track of what we are doing at any given point in time. Her face is fixed in a constant expression of concentration as she tries to make sense of everything going on around her. She woke up each morning at the hotel not knowing where she was. She is in the constant motion phase already. My sister tries to make her stop - a futile endeavor. I try to channel her energies - yes, you can dry the dishes even though I normally air dry them. Then I will put away everything so the job is "done" even though I'd rather be playing or talking or spending time with everyone. It is like redirecting a river - you cannot stop it from flowing, but maybe you can gently guide it. Or maybe it's more like being on the river in a kayak, looking out for rocks , whirlpools and waterfalls and guiding the kayak safely through or around them - not always successfully. Saying goodbye to her frankly sucked. They were all packed up and we had time to eat at my favorite local restaurant. After the meal, we stood on the sidewalk and I said, "Okay, this is it! I love you! Bye!" And she had forgotten. She looked at me like I had slapped her and said, "What?!! What do you mean?" And I had to explain it to her. How awful. I get weepy with goodbyes anyway - everyone that knows me knows this - but this? Ugh. Not cool.

They've been gone for less than 24 hours and I'm frankly bored. Three whole days before I go back to work. The problem with a staycation is that work is physically right around the corner, which makes it more difficult to psychologically unplug from it. Just before I left, one fellow was quite ill and suicidal - this is something I've gotten used to before leaving on vacation, just par for the course - but still hard to just walk away from it. I've been checking my email periodically and skimming the ones that seem important. There are way too many to process in a timely manner when I get back and it's so tempting to dive right back in. I have things to do here, like cleaning up and putting away all the things that got taken out. Woo. Thrill me. It is times like this that I am thankful for my job - it is fun, meaningful, and always interesting. I am also thankful for the time with my family, which was nearly perfect. I am working on being grateful for the next three days even if I am bored stiff. Hopefully, the boredom will give way to enlightenment as I process things that normally don't make it to the front burner of my brain.

Role Reversal

2010-04-03T11:14:00.000-07:00

We've been noticing an interesting trend around here with Paul in transition and me working and transitioning into a management role. Here are some examples:

1.) I came home one night and said, "Okay, I've got about 15 minutes and I need to go to that meeting." Paul looked at me, confused, and said, "What meeting?" "The one we talked about on Sunday, remember?" To which he replied, exasperated and put out, "Lydia, if it's not on the calendar, it doesn't exist." Which I found exceedingly funny, because this was a direct quote from the past, only it used to be me saying it. I pointed this out, and we both lightened up. This time around, we have grace for one another, since we've literally lived in the other's shoes.

2.) I was washing the dishes one night after dinner, exhausted, and realizing I had no more energy to do anything else that day but crash. Then I realized I hadn't had any energy to do anything else but do my one thing and work on the computer for a few weeks. This used to drive me nuts about Paul. He was always so tired and couldn't participate in the things that needed to happen to keep the household running except on a limited basis. I suddenly understood where he was coming from. Paul came in the room and I said, "I realize I haven't been able to do more than just one thing for the family lately and I apologize." He got a smug but forgiving smile and said, "That's okay. You're cooking dinner every day and that is a huge help." "I know, but this used to drive me crazy about you and I want you to know I get it. I wish I could do more, but there's just no way." "It's okay, Lydia, I get it."

3.) The other night after dinner I laid down on the couch because dinner wasn't sitting well with me. I participated in the conversation around me from the couch for a while, then drifted off to sleep. I vaguely heard Paul leaving to walk the dog, which we normally do together, thought about trying to wake up, but reveled in the total relaxation, rolled over, and covered up with the blanket better. Three hours later, I went to bed and slept through the night. Then it happened again about three weeks later and I remembered that Paul used to do this, too! He would just check out of life around him and crash while the rest of us quietly went around our business. How weird! It didn't make any sense at the time - why would he lay on the couch in the middle of everything? (You keep thinking you just need a few minutes of shut-eye). How could he fall asleep with all the activity going on? (Wrong question. The real question is how could you not fall asleep in your plate?)

4.) Paul wanted me to think through something with him the other night. I couldn't even believe he would try to talk to me about this. My brain is fried, I'm home from work, but I still have at least 400 things to do or figure out. I looked at him with a smile on my face and quoted him from 4 years ago, "I can't be bothered." He used to say this was the running tape in his head and I thought it was so rude. The things I had to say were important and I wanted his input at the time. Now I get how overwhelming the small details can be and he understands the importance of partnering in decision-making. We both understand that we need to find a good time for this kind of conversation, rather than peppering the other incessantly with details that could probably wait.

Lest you all freak out, because the theme is exhaustion and feeling overwhelmed, do not fear. I am on a learning curve, and was not only learning my new job, but training the person taking my place. Nearly all my staff is new within the last 4 months and we have a lot to figure out. Things are beginning to make sense and I'm learning how to balance the demands of the job, not take home everything in my head, and compartmentalize. I'm even finding time to do things I really enjoy, like blogging, reading, and gardening. It is a process, but I'm enjoying it, and I have a husband that gets it. And, while he helps me to maintain balance, I get it from his perspective, too. We are able to laugh about ourselves and figure out how to support one another in this new chapter of our journey.

Transitions III

2010-03-06T09:41:00.000-08:00

This is the end of "official" week 1 in my new position. The emails are starting to make sense, and I'm beginning to wrap my head around the finer points of HUD and SAMHSA grants and their requirements. Sort of. (The SAMHSA grant is 191 pages long, just to give you an idea.)

I had a staff meeting and imparted my vision of a healing community that includes a positive, supportive environment for staff to work in. I think it went over well, but it may take some time to actually implement the rhetoric. We have already made small changes in the way we do things, such as erasing the lines between "staff" and "client" wherever we can and replacing the language with "community". I was also able to include the resident's opinion regarding a new hire and the return of a resident to the facility, which felt totally empowering.

In short, this week was FUN! I had 150,000 things to do each day, which keeps me interested, and I was able to just live in the moment and do my best with each thing that presented itself.

It is sunny and 43 degrees today, with daffodils, forsythia, and Camellia blooming! Last week we skied at Mt. Hood - the sky was an unreal deep blue set against the white peak of the mountain. I had to take off my goggles to make sure it was not an illusion. It doesn't get better than this...

Transitions II

2010-02-24T22:13:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I'm transitioning into this new position at work. Let's just say that the learning curve is pretty steep at this point. Example: I open my email yesterday at 3:00. It practically fills up the page (not normal) and only half of the headings make any sense whatsoever. I have three marked "urgent" that I don't even know who to call to find out what they are about or who asked them to be sent to me. I have created folders to file emails in so that I can review them later when it all starts to come together, but I don't even know where these emails should be filed. Maybe I will create a new file: Clueless, Day 1.

Transitions

2010-02-13T10:49:00.000-08:00

I am in week two of the transition into the Program Manager position at work. Interesting and profound experience - closing out my clients from the community has proved the most daunting, as they will experience the change more intensely than those that still live on site. I've worked with each of them for 2 - 3 years, gaining trust through street outreach and moving through that stage all the way to 1:1 therapy.

"ZZ" told me he sensed I was 'leaving him' before I told him. (Most endings tend to have parallels to other separations - death, break-ups, moving away.) The next time we met, he had had some time to process the situation. He was sad and fearful of moving forward, saying I had 'almost had' him, meaning he was nearly ready to talk about some of the deep deep things he's been working toward bringing up for nearly two years now. This frankly sucks, as he is so close to getting to some of the real meat he needs to be talking about and I'm concerned he'll never get it out. The next week we met, he said he had thought about 'just dropping' me altogether - now he's breaking up with me! At least he's working on it, and we'll see how it all shakes out.

The second fellow has cried for three sessions straight. He was already depressed when I had to tell him, but wow. He told me I'm the only person he's ever trusted and that he didn't know what he would do. Winning trust is one of THE most rewarding things about my work, so hearing people express this is always moving to me. I'll still be on site, so I assured him I can still meet periodically and he could make the transition gradually in order to feel safe. He appears to be coming to terms with things now, and was able to make it through our last session without tears. Cool.

The Hippie Philosopher Anarchist and I met the other day off site. He recently left the program, just randomly leaving and not coming back, then calling me a week later after he'd missed court and therefore has a warrant. We talked about his move, what his plans are, and my transition. I had the opportunity to tell him what I had learned from him: With him, everything is a metaphor. The metaphor he used to describe the situation where I work was a comparison between a war time economy led by a Chieftan (the current program manager) and a peace time economy led by a Spiritual Healer (that is his perception of me). When the community was in crisis last year, we were discussing the situation and he brought up this metaphor, accusing me of getting sucked into the war time economy. He said something like, "I just want to know what the Healer would do!", challenging me to find a way to bring peace back into the community. I think about that comment often.

"Maynard" is an entity unto himself. Out of all of these guys, he's allowed himself to trust me more deeply than anyone. We met earlier this week to pass the case management baton on to his new worker - he has a LOT of case management stuff to do yet, because we were great at counseling, but not so great at getting stuff done. The meeting went well, the new worker built rapport immediately and got him to agree to an appointment he was trying to avoid. The next day he came in to process the change, saying he was fearful of successfully accomplishing case management tasks because he would lose support, expressing a sense of loss of our relationship, and fear of trusting another. He said with me, he felt 'known' - a profound and amazing word, especially since his mantra all along has been that he feels 'misunderstood'. But now, because of this sense of feeling understood, he thinks that maybe he can learn to trust others - terrifying and wonderful! That's what this is all about! My hope for him is that he will be able to trust others, be deeply understood, and ultimately find peace.

Needless to say, this has been an emotional week, full of solid, good stuff. In the background, I've got various residents approaching me and expressing excitement for when I officially move into the Program Manager's role, with one expressing concern regarding whether or not I'll be able to hold the community together. It will be a change for everyone to move from a war time economy to a peace time economy. What will the Healer do?

Spirituality and Social Work

2010-01-22T22:22:00.000-08:00

The place where I work is called "Luke-Dorf", which sounds like a really stupid name, especially when people screw it up and call it Luke-Dork. But the name was chosen to represent Healing (Luke, the writer in the Bible, was known as a physician or healer) and Community (Dorf - German for village). So the intent is that we engender a Healing Community. I am ALL OVER THAT. But it is sometimes difficult to walk this out when people are mandated through the courts, breaking rules of the treatment center, and treating one another like idiots. In short, when we get caught up in the daily grind.

Yesterday, we had a training by Dr. Phil Shapiro, a psychiatrist in the area who has also pursued integrating spirituality into mental health practice. It was really encouraging, as there have been studies done that prove that people with a strong spiritual base are able to handle pain more effectively than those who don't. I have been in conversation with a couple other people in the agency and we have been grappling with how to promote the idea of a healing community in each of our programs. I hope that we can actually take what this training had to offer and incorporate it into our work. I hope that there are enough people interested in ongoing conversation about integrating spirituality into our work that we can have a work/study group about it. There were a bunch of us in school that got together regularly to kick around these ideas and psychoanalytic theories and it was a great way to stretch the mind, grow, get outside perspective, and support one another. I miss that.

Also work related: Some of you may have already heard this, but I will be moving into the Program Manager position effective March 1st. This is a daunting and wonderful opportunity, and I am both thrilled and terrified. This week we informed our clients of the change and it has been funny to watch people's reaction, which went something like this:

Current Program Manager (CPM): We want to let you know about a change that will be happening in the near future. I will be moving out of state soon and will need to step down from my position as of March 1st.
Clients: Oh crap!
Silence.
Clients: Wait! Who will lead us when you're gone?
CPM: Well, that's the other thing I'd like to announce. Lydia will be moving into my role.
Clients: How cool! (Applause and general sense of relief.)
Clients: Wait! Who will counsel us?
CPM: We don't know yet, but we will let you know when we have decided.
Clients: Wow. That's a lot of changes...

I have summarized this as the "Oh crap/How cool" response and I've noticed that it cycles from fear to hope and back around. Funny, that's kindof how I feel about it, too...

Goofiness

2010-01-14T23:24:00.000-08:00

The other day, we went for a walk at a local nature park with all the kids and a friend of Thomas'. William was not in the mood, so he walked apart from the group as we cavorted down the trails. We've been watching Monty Python skits on the internet or through Netflix lately, and have picked up some strange habits. As we went down a long sloping path, Stephen "cantered" down the way, clopping imaginary coconuts and chattering on with a British accent. We all followed suit, clattering along with our "coconuts" and calming our "steeds". Then we approached a bridge and Thomas began walking across as though he were from the "Ministry of Silly Walks". Link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IqhlQfXUk7w
On the way back, there were several uphill climbs, which we decided must be done backwards. This is when people started passing us going the other way. Suddenly, I felt torn between being William and staying in the moment of fun (I stuck with the fun, but preferred not to be identified and therefore did not make eye contact.) Paul felt the need to explain our strange behavior. I'm just glad they didn't see us on the bridge. But I can't get over the novelty and fun of a nature walk with four teenage boys, acting particularly goofy, and generally having a great time. We may be one of the strangest families out there, but we love each other and we sure do have fun.

Grieving/Celebrating part 2

2010-01-08T21:06:00.000-08:00

Well, speaking of grieving, here's another one for you: We found out this week that Stephen also has Crohn's. That's two out of three of our kids. Crohn's is essentially an abnormal immune response in the intestines. If you really want to know more, here's a link: http://www.ccfa.org/info/about/crohns . The good news is that Stephen is not nearly as sick as William was at the point of diagnosis, so we can forego some of the nasty meds like steroids and some with potential cancer causing side effects. Once he is stabilized, we will just have to wait and see how the disease progresses. It may stay relatively mild, or wax and wane, or grow steadily worse. Like I said in the last entry, we grieve and we celebrate, sometimes all at once.

I had a few more celebrations this week at work. One person got housing, just in the NICK of time, another is approved for benefits, another is getting coming through a long spell of depression and learning from the experience, another is a new man due to a simple medication. These are HUGE WONDERFUL THINGS in my line of work. I also had a major breakthrough with one of my clients. We have been working together now for about two years. He left this summer for a while, but right before he left, he had agreed that maybe some medicine would be a good idea. When he came back and wanted to enter our program again, he was told that things would have to be different and that he would have to take medication. Suddenly, he was not in favor of trying medication at all. He was about to be terminated from the program due to this issue, as it is considered non-compliance. At the same time, I got a letter from a friend of his saying he totally appreciated the work we've been doing with this guy and the positive change has been significant. At that point, I'm all like "We are NOT losing this guy!" So I pass on the kudos and advocate for more time while I figure out how to remove the barriers to my program manager and she says, "Take me out of the equation. Tell him I realize that having me be a part of this decision is getting in the way of things and I trust you to make the right decision." Psych! I approached the fellow on my way out the door that night and told him the scoop, saying, "Just think about this and we can talk about it more tomorrow." He responds, "Well, I'm just afraid of going back to jail if I decide the meds aren't good for me." "That's the whole point. You and I will work together to figure it out." "Well then, let's do it. There's no problem." I nearly died on the spot - we've been working on this for HOURS over the last week and within five minutes it's settled? How cool! Which reminds me, I need to thank my program manager. Good move.

The Christmas tree is still up - sure is pretty, but it's getting to be like an overdressed belle after an all night gala event and now she's at the diner drinking coffee but she should just go home and take off all her jewels and go to bed. Maybe tomorrow.

Happy New Year!

2010-01-03T16:34:00.000-08:00

Part of my New Year's resolution this year is to begin blogging again. I find it a wonderful way to sort things in my mind, attempt to make sense of the senseless, and put things into perspective. In short, it's good self care for me.

I need to focus more on self care this year. Work has become increasingly complex and demanding. I continue to love my clientele, and find each individual challenging, complex and ultimately rewarding. Each of them demonstrates on a daily basis the courage it takes to walk this life with a mental illness, often stemming from trauma, exacerbated by poverty, and misunderstood by family members. I realize how fragile each of us are, and grieve for "my people" as they walk through life and try to make sense out of it.

And grieving is hard work. I am constantly thankful for my education, and the time we spent working on closure, endings, and grieving in general. I would never have dreamed that grieving would be something I wanted to master, but this is indeed the case. It is necessary in the work that I do and, I'm finding, in life itself. We can't escape it, so we might as well do it with grace.

You may be thinking this is not a very "Happy New Year" posting. I beg to differ! Grieving is really a beautiful thing. If we have nothing to grieve, we have had no connection to life and love. To grieve means we have things we care about and can therefore be thankful for. I am thankful for this life and all that is in it! May you also find life abundantly satisfying this year!

Year III.5

2009-09-18T23:44:00.000-07:00

I feel like this year is like a bad Windows version. Some years are just like that. A new version comes out and you wonder, have they worked out the glitches yet? I prefer not to get the updates right away. Take time, let someone else figure out the holes in the plan. But you can't do that with the time continuum now, can you? The system breaks down, one that was working perfectly fine before the update, and now you've got to add/delete programs and reboot.

Everyone is still healthy. I'm still employed, although a minor glitch there is that we've been through a lot of transition and I'm working too much. We are moving toward balance again and I hope to achieve it before Christmas. The kids are all in school and liking most of it. The dog is healthy and happy. The glitch is Paul's job. Back in April, they moved his entire department to the company they had bought out, eliminating his position. He had the opportunity to apply for jobs within the company and found one in underwriting the day before the deadline. He's worked in underwriting before and it wasn't his favorite, but he figured it was do-able.

He's been at it for four months, and by month three we knew that this was not going to be a long term solution, as he was not happy and having much more difficulty with the job than he had anticipated. So he put a few feelers out, but couldn't move on them due to constraints within the company. Long story short, they gave him a written warning, then let him go before he had a chance to fulfill the goals on the warning. He's been there successfully for over 14 years, so we really didn't expect an abrupt end. Can anyone say, "System Down"?

For those of you who are the worrying type, you can all chill out, we are financially stable and will do just fine on my high paying social work job. We are very thankful for that.

But we are definitely regrouping. This would be the phase with the computer when you try to figure out how much you've lost, and remember that you didn't back up any of the stuff you meant to. For instance, I'm not so worried about the financial part, because that didn't get eaten up in the crash, but I wish we had a way to stick with our same health care plan, because it is such a pain to find new doctors and dentists and start all over. That component got fried. Bleah. And Paul needs to figure out what to do. Definitely a regrouping going on there. Does he try to find another job within the company? Branch out? Find the color of his parachute and start another career?

The good news is that, when stuff like this happens, I feel like I've got the best computer guru in the world on my side. He doesn't gripe at me for how dusty my computer is inside. He doesn't freak because I don't back up my data like I'm supposed to. He's there with his can of air and his pocket protector and tool kit, pointing out the problem areas and suggesting cool and spiffy new programs that will make things better once we get this all back together. We've had so many "glitches" before and they always turn out okay. Different than we had planned, but just fine.

We're still in the repair phase, identifying lost data, and looking into spiffy new programs. I'll let you know when it's time to reboot.

Happy Father's Day

2009-06-21T19:04:00.000-07:00

It has been some time since I last blogged - October, according to my records. I think the main barrier has been that the kids had homework, so they needed the computer, then when they were done, they would want to chill in front of the t.v. (in the same room as the computer) and I can't stand the noise. So fine, be that way. I decided to get my own computer. I am totally thrilled about this, because I've been having to go in to work from time to time to finish up paperwork, but when I walk in the door people see me and want to talk. My co-workers are the worst - "Sorry, I know you're here to do paperwork, but I just wanted to ask you one question about ..." Dah! So one hour of paperwork turns into 2 hours of baloney and I end up really frustrated. This way, I log in from home, do my thing, log out and I'm all good. Much better!

The big news today is the phone call at 8 a.m. from my sister. On a Sunday, so I figured something was up. She starts with, "I'm just calling with an update. Everyone is fine." Okay, so then what is going on? I'm figuring there is drama between her and her husband or something. Then she starts to fall apart - I can hear it in her voice - and she says that Dad is in the hospital and it looks like he may have had a mild heart attack. It sounds like they went for a bike ride yesterday and he didn't feel well afterward. So he rested and had some water and went home. The pain didn't subside, but he went to bed (cool - in hindsight, I am screaming HOLY CRAP! He's waiting to go to the hospital with CHEST PAIN!) He said he felt fine all night - got up a couple of times to go to the bathroom and was okay, but only felt okay for about 15 minutes once he got up in the morning. So he calls Talley (again, brilliant - why are we not calling 911?) and tells her she should probably come and bring him to the hospital. So she does. And my mom went to church.

They get Dad into a room right away and give him a nitro, which makes his blood pressure drop dangerously low. "The nurse didn't like that too much" he says. I bet. They run an EKG. The doctor comes in and reads it, which indicates that nitro is the worst thing for him and they put him on beta blockers instead. He immediately feels relief.

Nearly four hours pass and I haven't heard anything from anyone. The last I know was right after Dad tanked with the nitro and Mom is walking to church. I start getting antsy and try to call Talley. She's in the dead zone at the hospital, but I try anyway. Then I call Mom and Dad's house. No answer. Is she safe to walk to church? I figure she's probably walked to Chanhassen by now. I call the hospital and they tell me Dad has been admitted and they give me a room number. I relax a bit and decide to wait because I know they'll call when they can. Five minutes later, Talley calls and says that Mom is at the hospital with Dad and she's gone home for a break.

It sounds like the Dr. is asking the right questions. He identifies sleep problems and decides to monitor his sleep tonight. He listens to our concerns regarding his unregulated blood pressure meds. He says they will do an angiogram when the time is right. I talk to Dad and he says he's feeling "Pretty good." I lay into him: So help me, you need to be straight-up about your pain level because you MINIMIZE and that's going to get you into trouble. Understand? "I'm trying to be good," he says. And I think of all the times he yelled at me when he was actually terrified and I want to laugh. "Thank you, Dad," I say. "I love you," he says. Somehow it means more today. "I love you too. I'll call again later."

I call later and Dad has perked up. He tells me his side of the story. It sounds like he didn't go in any sooner because he kept thinking it was his blood pressure meds being all wacky. Still. Geez. It sounds like they took him off his beta blockers about a week ago and it could be that that was what triggered the attack. He mentions that he feels pretty anxious. I'm just glad he's there and getting it addressed. The alternative to not being there is grim.

Later, like right this minute, I realize that no one else knows. What about his sister? What about my cousin? What about the neighbors? Did anyone call? Do I call? Hmm. I'll have to think about it. Meanwhile, I'm thankful to have a father on father's day.

Fracture

2008-10-18T10:45:00.000-07:00

Let's just say we're rethinking our involvement in Mixed Martial Arts. At least I am. First, there was the incident with my knee (pop!pop!pop!), for which I accept at least half the blame. Then the other day, the group was doing "no contact or light contact sparring" without gear during the last five minutes of class. Stephen's hand met his partner's foot at just the right point of contact to cause a "boxer's fracture". Hmm. Is this just part of the sport or is there something wrong with this picture?

Stephen was an absolute trooper. He continued the exercise, just keeping his injured hand pulled back. He sat through the announcements and dismissal. He calmly asked the instructor if he had any ice and was given an ice pack. Then, as we were leaving, he looked at me and quietly said, "As soon as we get to the car, I'm crying my eyes out." He got in the car, curled up in a little ball, held his arm, and wept.

When we got home, I took a better look at it and did some quick triage on the internet. It was pretty clear that he needed to be seen so that an x-ray could be taken. So we left for the ER and underwent the obligatory sign in, triage, billing/HIPPA paperwork, waiting, watching other sick people and families, and finally being brought back to an exam area. There was an ornery, pitiful, toothless old guy on the other side of the curtain that had been there for three hours waiting for a room. He asked for food and they brought him a sandwich, which he couldn't chew. Then they brought him soup, which was evidently "stale and lukewarm". He asked for a phone so he could talk to his family, then complained about the wait and the food, and asked his family why they weren't speaking to one another, saying that if they weren't going to tell him, he might as well just die. Oh, brother. Shortly after that, they took him to his own room. Thanks be to the Almighty God of Room Vacancies.

The doctor came in with the x-rays and sat down to talk to us. Shortly after she arrived, before she had shown us the x-rays, a nurse delivered a cart to our area. Ah, the cart. That means we are going to DO SOMETHING. Sure enough, it was a fracture, so she explained that she would give him a shot of novocaine, manipulate the bone back into place, splint it, and set us up with an orthopedic doctor. Stephen has a thing about shots, so we had to talk him down off the rafters to get that over with, allowing him to inflict puncture wounds onto my hand while he squeezed it during the procedure. Then the bone was back in place, and we came home by about midnight.

So, yeah, I'm thinking about our involvement in Martial Arts. My primary concern is that, at this school, we have been allowed to make contact with one another as beginners. This is super-fun and has it's benefits. But do the benefits outweigh the now-obvious costs? Are injuries to be expected in this sport or could they be avoided if we waited until a higher belt level before making contact? Stephen just got his yellow belt, worked really hard to get there, and wants to stay. I understand that, but my "mom instinct" is seriously aroused. I found myself angry, frustrated, and frankly wanting a victim. RAHR!!! DON'T MESS WITH THE MOM!!! So maybe after I calm down a little bit I'll have a conversation with our instructor. Just give me a little time.

That Small Town Feel

2008-10-12T11:03:00.000-07:00

Lately I've been noticing how the community we live in has a real small-town feel to it. The structures in the downtown area have sort of a Mayberry feel to them. There is a drug store/soda fountain, a classic old courthouse with gigantic cedars, an old stone church building which is now a center for the Arts, and an old theatre which was recently renovated. There are also newer buildings and businesses (yes, there is a Starbucks and a McDonald's within walking distance). But it's not just the setting, it's the people.

I spend a lot of time in the downtown area. My job is there, I visit people in jail or go to court to support my clients, I volunteer with youth every week, my kids play games at the local gaming store, there are good restaurants and cafes, our doctor's offices are there, and I go to the Saturday Farmers Market whenever I can. So I know the coffee guy at one place because he volunteers at the same place I do and works his "real job" next door to my office. And the woman who sells Haralson apples at the Farmer's Market lives a stone's throw from the grocery store. And the people who took over the gaming store let me write a check when they first opened because they recognized me as a regular. There is a drink at the soda fountain named for one of the youth I work with.

Living and working in the same community presents certain challenges that I hadn't had to think about before. I see my clients everywhere. At the grocery store, at my church, at the library, when I'm having coffee with a friend or dropping my kids off somewhere. I go to the same clinic as two of my clients. I drive along the road and see homeless people I know nearly every time I'm out. This means I need to make a conscious effort to "unplug", not stopping to talk to people I know and care about or haven't seen in some time, leaving it for the guy who is doing the Outreach job now. It means sitting away from the window so I won't be seen when I'm off the clock. It means my life is not as private as I would sometimes prefer it to be.

But it also means I'm CONNECTED, and there is something very cool about that. I know the people that are raising my vegetables and fruit, fixing my broken jewelry, sharpening my knives, making my coffee, baking my bread, hosting my children. It is good. It is home.

Rain = Christmas?

2008-10-08T21:41:00.001-07:00

It has started to rain again. Just a few days, then sunshine, then some more rain. Not the solid gray mist that settles in later in the season. But rain. I absolutely love it. I want to open the windows and listen to it. I want to be alone in my room so I can hear it on the roof. I want to wear polar fleece and rain gear and walk in it. The kids love it too, but for different reasons. They want to build a fire in the fireplace, make cookies, play board games and make their Christmas List. Wait a minute - make their Christmas List? What is that all about? And then I realized. Rain signals the beginning of the new season. Here the only difference between fall and winter is colder rain. We don't really get a crisp, dry fall with glorious color. The trees change, then drop their leaves, but it has already started to rain by then and there is no fun in making a pile of leaves and jumping in it unless you just want to get wet and muddy. We rake the leaves into the street in December and a big vacuum machine comes by to suck them up. So the rain really signals the beginning of winter weather, and the kids have acclimated to that fact. We still love snow, deep down, and will never lose that. But this year, Rain = Christmas.

Post knee surgery update

2008-09-17T19:33:00.000-07:00

This week I am celebrating 5 weeks post op. No doing the jig in celebration, but definitely a milestone.

Surgery itself: I was in pre-op when the anesthesiologist came in and said, "You want to go to sleep?" And I said, "Not really, I'd rather stay awake." And he perked up and said, "Really?" And I was like, "I have an option?" and he said he'd check into whether or not we could "do a spinal". So I can hear him while he checks with the surgeon and asks how long it will take and whether or not a spinal will be sufficient and he says, "Yeah, she's all gung-ho!" So he comes back and he's all smiles because he gets to do a spinal on me. Woo. So I was awake for the procedure, which was very cool because I could see a little of what they were doing through the reflection in the big surgery lights, ask questions about what was going on around me, and participate in the banter re: the Olympics. They said I might not remember anything because I was given a relaxing medication, but I remember all of it.

Week 1: In bed 24/7 with my new enemy THE MACHINE. I hated that thing. I had to be on my back even while sleeping, which is not natural for me. I finally got permission to sleep on my side just 2 hours per night when I needed it. That worked pretty well, except one night I never woke up to my alarm and slept way too long so that spooked me and I only used this freedom when I really needed it. I only took two pain pills, which made me puke my guts out, so I got permission not to take those either. That left me with The Machine, Tylenol, Aleve, a lovely white pressure stocking, and my new friend, Mr. Cryo-Cuff, which pumps ice water around the affected area. Nice.

The kids and Paul were supposed to wait on me at all times. I only had permission to get up and use the bathroom and eat dinner. They were amazing about this with only one glitch in the middle of the first night where I needed some food to settle my stomach and no one heard me ringing the bell. "Helllooooo!?" From then on, I had crackers by the bed all the time. Watched t.v. and played games with the kids when they wanted to, which I found amusing.

Week 2: Checked in with Dr., who really liked his fancy suture work. Felt dizzy for about two days from being upright again. Went to physical therapy to check in and get mobility measured. Drove myself in the van, which PT found a little nuts. Walked Stephen to the pool and realized it was too far. Fortunately, Paul was on his way home and came to get us in the car when we were done. Got permission to go to work the next day. Went to work but needed about 15 minutes just to pull myself together after getting ready all morning and walking two house lengths to my office door. Once there, did fine, but exhausted when I got home. Worked two days and then had three days off during which I was really good to myself.

Week 3: Felt great on Monday, so walked to the courthouse from work for a meeting there. (Really no other option - by the time I would have walked to my car, found a parking space near the courthouse and walked in there, it would have been the same.) Didn't think I could get Mr. Cryo-Cuff past security so I left it at the office. Once at the courthouse, realized I did not have any Tylenol with me. Sat down for the meeting and proceeded to feel my leg lock up and begin throbbing. Knew for a fact that I was in trouble and still had to walk back. Walked back, feeling like a chisel was being systematically hammered under my patella with every step. This was the first time I had actually felt pain since surgery. And it lasted all week long. I thought I was going to have to go back into surgery to fix whatever it was that I had screwed up, but was assured that I had just overdone it, needed rest and ice, and all would be well. Didn't believe them at all. Over the weekend, rested, iced, put the white sock back on, and used crutches for distance walking. Felt bored stiff but significantly better.

Week 4: Walked to the courthouse again, this time with no ill effects. Paul said I had looked "drawn" when arriving home from work last week so I agreed to cut back on some meetings I had in the evenings that week. Felt absolutely fine and probably could have done them, but no way to know this ahead of time.

Week 5: Beginning to feel functional again. Able to walk upstairs using both legs, and sometimes downstairs as well. This is a really big deal! Woo! Stephen is getting his Yellow Belt without me. Bummer.

So there's the summary. From here on out, I should just be getting stronger and better, so I'm thinking you won't have to hear about it any more unless something really huge happens. Like I break a record for recovery time and get to ski by Christmas. I can always hope!

Bad day at work

2008-08-05T21:47:00.000-07:00

Ugh. Today was not a good day. On my way in to work I got a phone call from my boss's boss, who had come upon a costly mistake of mine. I had noticed the mistake about a month ago and have taken measures to make sure that it never happens again, but nonetheless, it was costly and I am responsible. I find I do not like making mistakes, as they make me feel stupid. Like I should have known. The truth is, maybe I should have known, but I waited too long or put it on the bottom of my to-do list, or assigned it less value than it really needed and didn't do it. So my butt is in the proverbial sling. It is not a comfortable place to be. My immediate boss was very supportive in light of the situation, and when I informed other staff members that I had learned a valuable lesson, we had a spontaneous brainstorming session so that we ensure everyone is trained properly and other measures are in place to ensure it never happens to anyone else. So, I felt supported but still nerve-wracked. Being a rather classic first-born, I want to do things well. Being this particular first-born, not only do I want to do things well, and right, and not get in trouble, I also want to be the BEST at what I do. So I hate falling short, even if there are good reasons for doing so. Or not such good reasons. Blea.

So I went through the day feeling rather ill. Then, at the end of the day, one of my clients had a serious crisis that needed to be dealt with immediately. This was sad, and frustrating and unsettling all at the same time. For now, the crisis is averted, but I know for a fact that we are only beginning our journey with this one. Sigh.

When I got home, I was feeling beat down and frankly spent. I had no extra energy to let children bend the rules or cut one another down and called them to the carpet on every infraction. William said I was crabby. When I apologized and told him I'd had a tough day at work he said, "Well, that doesn't mean you can take out on the family," which is what I tell him when he says he's had a bad day at school. Thanks for the advice, buddy. I'll work on that...

Drama in the 'hood

2008-07-25T19:12:00.000-07:00

Evidently, there were SWAT teams and tanks in the neighborhood this morning. Paul and I noticed it was unusually loud at 6:30 a.m. so we got up and closed the windows and went back to sleep. We later found out about the SWAT teams armed with machine guns, the bleeding fugitive running through our neighborhood leaving a trail of blood, the helicopters and the fact that they still hadn't found him by noon. They found him around 5 p.m. about a block and a half away. Sure am glad I had the day off work today...

On Wisconsin Weddings and Taking Away the Keys

2008-07-23T21:39:00.000-07:00

The Homestead. The first real part of our "vacation" (not including getting over the red-eye) involved going down to Paul's hometown to go through his mother's things one last time in order to pick out important things he would like to keep. Sounds like a picnic, right? We were braced for it, but it still brought out the grieving in all of us. Paul didn't want to spend the night in the house, as it was just an empty shell. Jill felt ill one night after we had been going through things all day, and I cried my eyes out while reading a letter Anita had written her folks after giving birth to Paul. Whew! For us, it still just feels like she is out of town or something.

Funny how certain things have meaning for each of us, too. Denise wants the baskets that Anita used to use to serve crackers. I found the casserole dish that she used to put the mashed potatoes in every Thanksgiving. Paul found a couple of trains that we will display and would like to find the motion picture camera his dad used when making family films. Stephen wanted the Frosted Flakes box with Tony dressed as a MN Twin. Then we got to the boxes of photographs, letters, and history. What on earth will we do with all of that? Precious stuff, but overwhelming. We will need more time to make sense of it all.

Wisconsin Wedding. Our dear friend Susie was married in Wisconsin to a man we have never met. The location was three hours away on deer infested roads. In fact, the standard farewell in that area was, "Bye! Nice to see you! Watch out for the deer!" And no wonder - the critters were everywhere! I found this strangely nerve-wracking and developed far-sighted night vision specifically designed to hone in on movement in the far shadows beyond the high beams, where the deer lurk before leaping out at oncoming vehicles. This gets tiresome, so instead I found myself planning departures in order to have enough daylight to get to our destination before it was too dark, like the deer were a new breed of killer vampire deer that hunt you in the night or something. Creepy.

The bridegroom, Steven, is a quiet fellow, not one for crowds of strangers, solid and true. For me, quiet people are a special assignment from God designed to get me to slow down, breathe, and listen. With Steven, when I could settle myself down long enough in the midst of wedding preparations, I found him thoughtful and engaging with a dry wit. He is originally from Scotland, and the wedding reflected his heritage throughout, with tartans, hand bindings, Celtic trinity symbols, and Celtic gifts to the wedding party. For some weddings, the choice of theme is just that: a theme around which to base the plans. But this wedding was different. It struck me particularly during the hand-binding ceremony, where the tartan of the groom is used to wrap the hands of the bride and groom together. Then they are blessed by the priest and released. The meaning is similar to the unity candle ceremony I am familiar with. But the sense of this ceremony was an overwhelming sense of belonging. Do you ever have one of those strange spiritual moments? This was one of those. It was powerful but quiet and subtle as well, like a giant invisible tartan had descended from the ceiling and was enveloping all of us (at least all of us in the wedding party). There was a sense that as long as we all lived, we would belong, that we were bound together by this sacred rite of marriage into this clan. Indeed, another part of the ceremony involved writing our names in the Register as witnesses to the event. History. Eternity. Whoa.

Taking away the keys. Before we left town, my sister and I had decided it would be a good time to meet with our parents and talk about "future plans". My mother is exhibiting increasing symptoms of memory loss consistent with Alzheimer's, getting worse each time she gets sick. Lately, she repeats questions several times throughout the day, cannot retain certain bits of information like where we were staying or how long we would be in town, and cannot manage her own medications for fear of double dosing or missing doses. Nothing earth shattering, but significantly worse than she has been.

We talked about what to do next and when. My dad started out the meeting by saying, "THE ANSWER IS NO!", then he grinned like the Cheshire Cat. Troublemaker. Needless to say, he is not real psyched about the need to move. My mom had no idea what the meeting was about, so we briefed her about our concerns and gave examples. We stated that we wanted to talk about what the next move would be and to discuss what that would look like. She had no clue that she had been repeating questions or that she had "wandered" while they were on their Cruise a couple of weeks ago (yeah, that would be a biggie. In the middle of the night, she disappeared from the room and came back with a new key. In her nightgown. When we told her she kind of laughed and said, "Did I look good?") At least she still has a sense of humor. We told her that we were concerned about her ability to drive and explained why (no recent incidents there, but she has not driven for 4 months.) Driving requires several cognitive functions and is very complex - she was not thrilled about giving it up, but agreed after hearing our concerns. After that, we had a moment of silence and my dad piped up again, "The answer is NO!" as though we were going to ask him to give up the keys next. Thankfully, that is not in the works at this time.

My dad kept bringing up his health as we discussed their future, which was appropriate but upsetting, because his issues are the kind of things that will pick you off in the blink of an eye. So we acknowledged the fact, and shrugged our shoulders at life. What can you do? It's not like you get to pick how you will grow old. And even if you could, what would you choose? The rock or the hard place? Long and slow or blink of an eye? I've seen people go out both ways and it seems like there are benefits and deficits to both.

As I think about it, this was a really sane discussion for my family. We acknowledged the issues, came up with viable plans to deal with them, and treated one another with love and respect. As a rule, we prefer to avoid pain, particularly the pain of grief and loss and therefore death and all discussions remotely pertaining to it. But we did it and are stronger for it. Now if we could only turn back time...

On Visiting One's Home Town

2008-07-13T20:39:00.000-07:00

We are in MN this week. The first portion of the trip will be with Paul's family, and the second will be in WI for a wedding. That means a whole day and a half in the cities, so for you Mpls. folk, this is not your year. Hmm. We'll have to work on that.

Anyway, we took the red-eye flight in and arrived early Friday morning. With a whopping one hour of sleep under our belts, we crashed at my folk's house (who had conveniently made themselves scarce). So, upon waking around 2:00, it was time for breakfast. The kids all love Caribou Coffee and my folks live near 50th and France in Edina, so we walked to the nearest Caribou.

It was during this outing that I realized how ingrained certain habits and trains of thought are. No sooner was I in the door than I began to wonder if I was underdressed, even though I had taken the usual amount of time to dress and primp. I even packed only my nicest clothing. But somehow it wasn't exactly right. I needed to do my nails (or, should I say, have my nails done), my tan lines are uneven, and my hair was a bit out of line. I sat up straighter, hoping that would cover my flaws. I felt like I had reverted back to High School where everything had to be JUST RIGHT or else, well, it just wasn't and THEN what?!! Eeew! Then a guy came in about my age wearing patchwork blue plaid shorts with a polo in a matching blue and docksiders with no socks. And a beautiful tan. I mean right out of the preppy handbook. And at that point the spell broke. Okay, this guy was really cute and he was probably a classmate of mine in High School (except then his cool boxers would have been showing). And the women had beautiful, expensive clothing and tans. But I don't WANT to be like everyone else! This is part of what I LOVE about Oregon! I can wear my best clothes with little or no make up and NO ONE CARES. If you look great, great! If not, so what? You are still a great person! Maybe tomorrow you will have a better hair day. If your tan is not perfect, well no wonder! Who has the time?!

Even so, I still wanted my toenails done (I'm missing half a toenail from skiing, and have to wear strappy shoes for the wedding). So later in the day I stopped in and had that fixed and got a pedicure as well. When they are done doing your nails, you are supposed to wait around while the polish dries. They even give you these little disposable flip flops so you don't ruin your polish. They are one size fits all, blue, and hang off the back of your foot about 4 inches. But I needed to get home, so I decided to assert my newly self assured persona. I held up my head, paid the girl that had done my nails, sucked in my gut, and walked home wearing my brand new disposable flip flops.

Knees

2008-06-27T22:52:00.001-07:00

I have recently realized the importance and value of knees. They hold you up, and they keep you stable. If one of yours is not working properly, you suddenly feel like you are in your own personal earthquake and cannot catch your balance. You realize how many steps it takes to get everywhere. For instance, I need to take three steps just to get a spoon in order to measure out my coffee in the morning. (I have put a cupful of spoons next to the coffee now). You need to recalculate how long it will take to cross the street, because you cannot run anymore. Without a properly working knee, you cannot do a lot of things you used to take for granted. Skiing, horseback riding, hiking, Taekwondo. Not to mention just standing.

I blew out my knee at Taekwondo the other day. I was paired with a tall 14 year old and we were practicing take-downs, which are extremely fun. But working with him is like trying to take down a rubber band or a Weeble - he just won't go down. So I said, "Fine, if you're going to give me a hard time, I will make it harder for you to get me down." And I planted my foot. Note to self: planting your foot in Taekwondo is not advised. So, he went to do what we call a "sweep" and he couldn't get me down. (Ha! It worked!) So he made another sweep, this time even harder. Note to self: sweeping harder is not advised. The proper move is to get the person off balance, then sweep again. When he did the second sweep, he nailed me good but I was ready for him with my firmly planted foot, which stayed in place while my knee went "Pop!Pop!Pop!" and went out from underneath me.

After the initial shock there was no pain but my leg would not support me. So a chair was brought onto the mat and I sat there for the remainder of the class then wobbled off the mat and back home. (I am not a weeble, I wobbled AND fell down). Pink Floyd's "The Dark Side of the Moon" was on the radio. "The sun is the same but in a relative way but your older, shorter of breath and one day closer to death." Yeah, thanks for the reminder, as if I hadn't noticed. My leg felt like spaghetti. I looked up knee injuries on the internet and decided I'd better raise it, ice it, and see the doctor in the morning. We had a few good laughs because I looked like Tim Conway doing his old man routine on the Carol Burnett show. Hysterical.

The doctor was pointless but set me up with an MRI and offered to get me out of having to go to work until he found out I just sit around all day. When I told him it had happened while I was doing Taekwondo, he said, "So you do this for fun?" Perfectly serious. And I'm like, "Well, yes, that is the idea..." I got a call this morning with the results from the MRI - he said it was a partial tear or a bad sprain but they wanted me to see the orthopedic doctor this afternoon.

The orthopedic doctor, who looks like he's on steroids, wears custom tailored shirts because his shoulders are three feet across, and goes to the tanning booth regularly, informed me that I do have a partial tear on my medial cruciate ligament (MCL), which will heal on it's own with time. Then he said I also have a complete tear of my anterior cruciate ligament, which can only be repaired with surgery. Surgery is optional in a way, if you never want to do anything where you plant your foot and push off from it again. Like skiing. Or climbing. Or Taekwondo. Or riding a motorcycle or a horse. In other words, I can take it easy for the rest of my life or I can opt to get this fixed. I'm opting for surgery.

So then the doctor asks me if I'm ready to hear about what surgery entails. This can't be good if he frames it like that. But I had been looking on the internet and knew that one option is to use "harvested" tendon from a cadaver. The other option is to harvest tendon from your own knee and use that. Both have risks, and it's pretty much a toss up re: which is better for me. I'll be thinking about that one. Then, and here's the kicker for me, you are on strict bed rest for 7 - 8 days. I hadn't read about that yet. You may only get out of bed to eat and go to the bathroom. You will be hooked up to a machine that will move your leg constantly in order to promote healing (but, I'm guessing, it probably doesn't promote sleep or sanity. I hate the machine already). You will be in rehab mode for 3 - 4 months. Etc. Etc. Etc.

But after all of that, you are supposed to be able to do the stuff you took for granted two days ago. And maybe you will forget how many steps it takes to get from point A to point B. And you won't worry about which foot you should use to go up that step, or how on God's green earth you are supposed to get your foot in the pant leg while balancing on what amounts to a piece of spaghetti. And you will never plant your foot again when you are doing take-downs in Taekwondo, and you will be thankful and grateful for having your knee back. At least that's how I'm thinking the story will go.

Garden Picture

2008-06-24T20:18:00.001-07:00

As per request, here is a picture of the garden. More later or when the light is better...

The garden

2008-06-20T08:53:00.000-07:00

This is year three for the garden, so it finally feels like it is coming together. This morning I ate breakfast on the deck before the kids got up. It was amazingly peaceful... A dragonfly is resting on the tip of the lilac bush. The rain has stopped now, so seeing a dragonfly reminds me of the desert in New Mexico where I learned that they are a symbol for water and therefore life. I smile. My garden is a place of life. I look over at the hummingbird feeder and wonder if the hummingbirds have found it yet. Below it, I notice a spider web hung in the middle of the path, perfect and glittering in the sun. Must have made it last night - I just walked by there yesterday. Good place, too, because the hummingbird feeder drips and there will be bugs attracted to the nectar. I guess the garden is a place of life and death, then. Hmm. I hear squirrels chittering in a neighbor's tree - there must be a nest there, because they are going crazy. When they quiet down, I hear songbirds. I still don't recognize their song, but they are familiar nonetheless. I notice there is enough sun in one spot to put another zinnia. Yea! I love zinnias. I see another spot where I can move a coralbell. That will be better than where it is now. A hummingbird arrives, flits around, and finds the feeder. Cool! They have found it. A few minutes later, another one arrives, zipping over my shoulder and visiting the bouganvillea (another favorite of mine), the dianthus, and the pansies (all red or deep pink). I think I should plant some more pink. And maybe some sunflowers for the jays and some coreopsis for the finches. Time to go, but I am utterly at peace and ready to see what the day has in store.

More stuff

2008-06-12T09:03:00.000-07:00

Today is the last day of school. Of course, the kids are like, "Psych! Freedom!" and I'm more like, "OMG, what am I going to do?" I never feel good about summer with the kids at home. It is a battle every day to do something other than veg in front of a screen. Good thing there is a pool nearby, it is my only hope. But even then, that only lasts for so long. Sigh. Time to put on my armor, grab a crowbar and begin prying people off the couch.

Okay, enough of that. Now for an update about Martial Arts Class. It is FUN! The classes we were taking in MN were all about form and memorizing different steps. This class has that as well, but we get to spar with people our own size and belt level as well. We are learning to do "take-downs", which is essentially throwing someone on the floor. This is my favorite thing to do, especially when I'm the one being taken down. I can't help but laugh because it is so fun. Probably not a good learned response if I were in a "real" situation where someone wanted to hurt me, but I'm sure I will figure it out. In the meantime, I'm learning to breathe out, keep my chin down, and my guard up. Fun!

Pokemon. Did I mention that I have been sucked into the vortex? There was a pre-release party, where you could go, pay a fee, get twice as much merchandise (cards) than you could normally get for that amount of money, make a deck out of the cards you got, then play the game all day with various other players. It was genuinely fun. Many of the same people were there that had been in Salem for the regional tournament, although they left their costumes at home. Two sure-fire signs that I have achieved Pokemon geekdom: 1.) I received a "booster pack" at the end of one round, which is essentially 8 - 10 cards in a foil package. As I looked through the cards I had gotten, I found one that is relatively rare AND worked well with the deck I was constructing. My jaw dropped and I audibly gasped, then realized what I had done, looked around, and realized I was among friendlies that would understand my glee. Still, what a dork. 2.) After playing my deck all day at the tournament, I could see the gaps that needed to be filled in order to make my deck stronger. We came home, and William and Stephen and I looked at all the cards they had collected over the years in order to find some to make our new decks stronger. They had a few cards that would help me, but what I really needed were some "supporter" cards (don't ask, just go with the flow here). The only way you can get those cards is to either buy them online via ebay, or buy more booster packs or Level X decks. Suddenly I realized why the kids are always saying, "I NEED this new deck" or "I NEED to get this pack of cards". Because if you don't get them, your deck sucks and you always lose no matter how well you play. And that is only fun for about an hour. And I'm looking at my birthday money and thinking, "Is this really how I want to spend my birthday money? Really? What about the garden?" And I bought a tin with a Level X in it (a bargain, because now I have something other than a sandwich baggie to carry my cards in). Cool.

A note about Sasha, our dog. Last year, she shed all summer long and was quite ill. We did all sorts of interventions trying to figure out what was wrong and finally decided it was allergies. Long story short is that we've had her on a limited diet of Duck and Potato for over a year now, and she is FINE. Whew! This dog has been an interesting creature in our household. The first thing she did when we got her (two days after Sundae died - I was NOT ready for a new dog. I loved Sundae) was to go around the house and find every tennis ball that we owned. Sundae could have cared less about a tennis ball. Sasha LIVES for tennis balls. At first it was cute, but by about day three all we wanted to do was find the "off" button on her. Oy! We did find the off button eventually, all you need to do is hand her the ball and say, "Go lay down" and she will. The other thing is, that she picked Paul to be her favorite person and he has responded in kind. He lets her on the bed, in the middle, stretched out to full length. This was never tolerated with the other dogs. He baby talks her, and pets her and grooms her. She seeks him out when he is home, following him to the bathroom while he gets ready for work, bouncing a ball on the floor in hopes that he will blow off work and play with her instead. She ignores everyone else when Paul is home unless they are cooking in the kitchen or opening a door to the outside (maybe they are going to play ball without me!). At night, when we kiss the kids goodnight, she makes the rounds with us, jumping on the bed and snuggling with each child. She even knows the order, often going to Thomas' room before we even know he is ready. In the morning, when my alarm goes off, she flops her head up next to me so I can pet her and come awake slowly. This is my favorite part of the day and the best way ever to wake up. She is turning out to be a great dog after all.

Deeper

2008-05-22T09:08:00.000-07:00

So the last blog was like a thumbnail sketch of what I've been up to. But there were a couple vignettes within the sketch that are worth telling.

First, a little more about skiing. The program Thomas and I took part in is a ski club. They rent a deluxe coach bus, which takes you up the mountain and then back again when you are done. Spiffy way to go. Some poor slobs had to take school buses up the mountain. The kids on our cushy bus called them "Ghetto buses". Snort. I tried to just be thankful for our glorious accommodations, bathroom included.

That is the upside. The downside is that we had to LEAVE by 6 a.m., which means we had to get up at about 5:15. On a Saturday. The first week this was no big deal. We were so pumped for this thing that it was all fun. The second week when I went downstairs to get Thomas he burst into a low moan, crying, and saying he didn't want to go, that he had decided he didn't want to do this anymore. Of course, I'm not exactly perky at this time of day and have not had my IV drip of caffeine yet. Not to mention that this is the first I've heard about him wanting to bow out. So I make him get up and get dressed, fussing and moaning the whole way, while I try not to engage, knowing that I am one millisecond away from completely biting his head off. He continues to moan and wheedle while we get our breakfast ready to go and pack up the car. I will not have it. I tell him we can have this discussion tomorrow, but not now. It is all I can do just to keep myself firm without laying into him or signing him up for another month of "torture". I tell him he needs to be absolutely quiet. It works for maybe three minutes. We make it to the bus, he curls up into a ball in his chair, still moaning and throwing me "I can't believe you are making me suffer like this" looks. Good Lord. I press my lips together in the thinnest of lines and remain silent. The bus drives away. About an hour into the drive, 7:15 or so, Thomas sits up in his chair and says, "Hey, I have an idea! What if we make a deal? I will not whine about skiing any more today. If I can do that, will you buy me a ______?" (I don't remember what it was, but it was a freaking sweet deal in light of the horrid morning we had just gone through). So I readily agree. And that was it! He was a changed man and we had a lovely day on the mountain. Honestly, I really don't think it had anything to do with our bargain. I think it had everything to do with the fact that his brain woke up at 7:00 and he had the ability to reason. Ugh.

Skiing vignette number two: I think I mentioned on the previous post that we had joined this club with a friend of Thomas' and the friend's mom. For the sake of anonymity, she will be known in this account as "Kathy". Kathy had taken Thomas to Mt. Bachelor last spring during spring break. She was a chaperon for the ski club. So I figured she knew how to ski. On the first day, there were several things she needed to do as a chaperon and we were not able to hook up until just before lunch. We finally did, and took a look at the hills available to us and chose a chair lift that had runs from Green (beginner) to Black (expert). As we made our way to the lift, Thomas and I pulled ahead and she struggled to keep up. First warning sign. We waited for her, and kept making our way to the lift. Once there, she asked the attendant to slow the lift down so she could get on. Second warning sign. Then, as we approached the top, she saw that the lift drops you off at the top of a small hill which slopes downward to a flatter area where you have some space to make ready for the descent down the hill. And she says, "How are you supposed to get off?" And I looked at her and said, "You just ski down the little hill and stop at the bottom." And she said, "I don't, I can't, I, I..." and then we were there and she HAD to get off and she started screaming, "aaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!", with her pitch rising as she swerved in between people at the bottom of the hill, missing them all, then falling down in a heap. Warning sign number three and we haven't even started down the hill yet.

So we begin making it down the hill. After a short distance, Kathy said, "Why don't you guys just go on ahead, and I'll make my way down at my own pace." This was beginning to sound like a good idea because we needed to have Thomas eat lunch in time for him to go to his lesson. So we left and went on down the hill. Then we had lunch, got Thomas hooked up with his lesson, and I skied two more runs. I tried to call Kathy a few times in there on our cell phone (this is a new concept for me, by the way - cell phone use as a way to keep in touch on the mountain! Brilliant!), but she did not answer. On my third run, I happened to notice a Ski Patrol helping some poor soul make it down the hill one little bit at a time and thought, "Oh, what a bummer, that person just got in way over their head." Then I looked again and realized it was Kathy. And all the should-haves came crashing in. I should have realized this run was going to be too much for her. I should have stayed with her. We should have had a better plan for staying in touch or finding one another (her phone had died - so the cell phone idea is great, but not foolproof). By this time, she had been on the hill for 2 1/2 hours. She had fallen and the lens of her glasses had fallen out. She managed to get it back in, but still couldn't see (Thomas and I had purchased goggles after our first run - it was snowing mightily and they were a necessity). In addition, her son had forgotten his snow pants and was wearing hers. So not only was she blinded, terrified, and embarrassed, she was also freezing. The ski patrol had been coaching her down the hill, staying with her and helping her not to give up and die in the snow. I asked if she wanted me to stay with them while they made their way down and she said yes, if I didn't mind. It was the least I could do. After another half hour, we made it to the chalet. Three hours on the mountain for her.

The moral of the story? KNOW YOUR LIMITS AND STICK TO THEM!!! HAVE A SAFETY PLAN!!! SKI WITH A PARTNER!!! And last but not least, HEED THE WARNING SIGNS!!!

Catching Up

2008-05-16T08:37:00.000-07:00

Okay! It's been a few MONTHS since I've last blogged. Eeek! This is due to several factors: 1.) life is busier now, as I believe we are 80% acclimated to living in Oregon now. The other 20% of non-acclimation factor is due to severe pining for friends and family back in MN. Sigh. I don't think that will ever go away. William has it the worst of any of us, poor bugger. 2.) I have kids that use my computer and believe it is theirs, fussing and moaning whenever I "need" to use it. Therefore, the path of least resistance was for me to skip using the computer until after they go to bed. Well, duh, I'm freaking exhausted by then and for some reason Paul prefers my computer to his laptop, so then HE wanted to use it. Fine, I'll just read a book and go to bed. 3.) I think, as we become more adjusted here, that life feels more "normal" every day. Stupid things like driving on the obnoxious highway with 42 traffic lights and 200 billboards between here and the next city don't seem so novel. Seeing the llamas on the way to work is a highlight, but no longer out of the ordinary (except now they've had babies again - OMG, they are SO CUTE!).

In any case, I still have things to say and I've been missing blogging. We finally got Thomas a computer to call his own - for two or three birthdays and Christmases, that is, until he pays for it. So now I have my computer back.

The first thing you need to know is that Thomas and I skied every Saturday in January on Mt. Hood through a program offered in our community. Downside: getting up at 5 a.m. to catch the bus so we could get to the mountain when the slopes open. Yuck. But the bus was this deluxe coach thing and there were video screens available and we watched these wickedly awesome videos about skiing by Warren Miller so by the time we got on the mountain we were frothing at the bit to get out there and GO! I've never skied a mountain before. The chair lifts are a good three times longer than anything in MN, and the weather is not bitter, just cold enough for the snow to stay powdery, and the runs are downright glorious. I am hooked for life. I have begun scrapping plans to buy a mini Cooper and am looking into cars with 4 wheel drive. I am figuring out ways to support my habit - maybe it would be cheaper in the long run to have my own gear? For sure it would save time - no lines for rental gear - therefore more time on the slopes. Maybe I could use three of my birthdays and Christmases to buy gear and season tickets. Maybe, rather than having to leave before the crack of dawn, it would be better to have a cabin or condo up there. That way, we could go as a family, bring the dog, and ski as much as we can handle physically. But I am the only one in the family that is experiencing this feeling of bliss about skiing. I would gladly get up every Saturday at 5 a.m. just to go.

So you see, it is bad. I am progressing in my addiction and it is out of control. I love the mountain. When I drive on the aforementioned ridiculous highway full of signs and stop lights, the mountain is visible on a clear day and it calls my name. It is absolutely beautiful. I used to wonder how Monet could stand to paint the haystacks over and over, with variations due to the time of day, but I can understand painting the mountain over and over. There are never two days alike. Sometimes you can barely see it because of the faint haze. Sometimes it is in stark contrast - white against a deep blue sky. I could go on and on, but you get the picture. I think I need to write a sonnet about it.

I've also gotten to spend a few wonderful afternoons with my friend and her horses. Dang, now I have to choose between addictions. She has allowed me to ride one horse, Fury, a bit, groom the horses and just hang out and smell the horsey air. The little horse, Digger, is my favorite - he is too young to ride yet as he is still being trained. But they let me work him on the lunge line (I found out there is an art to doing this without getting dizzy - blea!) and I get to watch while they train him. He is a character.

William and Stephen have been participating in a local Pokemon league. This is a great group of people from adults to young children that get together every week to play the game and trade cards. We went to the regional tournament in Salem, which was a blast, in a B-movie kind of a way. There were people (adults and children) dressed in character, and one of the leaders got a promotion to a higher level volunteer, which they announced at the beginning of the tournament. Evidently, this is a very big deal because the fellow threw his arms up in the air and yelled, then nearly fainted and everyone cheered and some ran up en masse to hug and congratulate him. Seriously, folks, it was like being at a Star Trek convention or something. BUT, you couldn't ask for a nicer group of people. They will lend you a card so your deck is stronger and then you can beat them. One of the members of our group got stuck with someone who had never played the game before, so he had to spend a lot of time explaining the game to her (there was an odd number of players - when this happens, they recruit from the parents that thought they were just coming along for the ride). Well, in the end they ran out of time and she had more points, so he lost. They gave him a "good sportsmanship" prize and recognized him publicly for his generosity. This has been a great source of entertainment for William and Stephen and a good place to make some friends.

Lastly, for now anyway, Stephen and I have started taking martial arts training again. The place that we are going to is a WHOLE lot different than the one we were attending in MN. We got to spar on our third day there, and it is a better cardiovascular workout. Probably one third of the time is spent on form, compared to 3/4 in MN. The MN training was a more pure form of martial art, which has it's benefits, but right now, Stephen and I just need to MOVE and have fun doing it, so I'm really happy with the program.

Okay, that is the bare bones of what we have been up to. Hopefully, now that I have a computer to use again, I'll be able to blog more frequently again and fill in some more of the gaps. Later!

I've been Tagged!

2008-02-01T18:16:00.000-08:00

First things first: We have a (relatively) new notable blog to advertise: our friend Strolling Amok. I totally appreciate his take on life as it is and I hope you do too.

http://strollingamok.blogspot.com/

Okay, Strolling Amok, I love you man, but being memed was a total pain in the neck. First I went to look up all the fun links and had some really cool sites that were strangely related to my situation. The first (My Band Name) was a female reformer in Africa that died of tuberculosis in the 1800's. Darned if I know her name because I lost the stinking paper that I wrote it down on. The second, my album title, was "A Rainy Sunday Afternoon" - Cool! That works! And my album cover was the coolest picture of an ancient white church building in the middle of rolling green hills with a spectacular rainbow over it. I saved it wrong and couldn't find it again to save it right because the sites are all random. I spent waaay too much time trying to find it again on the stinking site using all sorts of key phrases to no avail. AAAARGH! So here is official attempt number two. I promise not to cheat, which is strangely tempting because something in me wants it JUST RIGHT...

Here's the deal. You look up the following sites and follow the directions.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random The first article title on the page is the name of your band.
http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3 The last four words of the very last quote is the title of your album.
http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days/ The third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.

The name of my second band is: Makabe Ibaraki (a town in Japan)
My album title is: Delight of the Blood
My album cover is:
I had to ask my 13 year old how to get the stupid picture to copy correctly. So I figure I will tag a younger person than me. Bethany, you're it! (She changes her blog titles periodically, so tune in later for her most recent site).

Forgot the Ending!

2008-01-21T17:43:00.000-08:00

Regarding 'On being a leper' ... the results of the test are that the resident in question has latent (NOT contagious) TB, so no worries. In fact, it is questionable whether or not his original positive test was a true positive - long story. But I am glad for the experience, for the lessons learned, and for the chance to get inside the head of the leper, if only for a moment.

On being a leper

2008-01-13T14:56:00.000-08:00

At the time of this writing, I am waiting to hear the results of an x-ray for one of the residents at the place where I work. I will not know until tomorrow, Monday. If the results are negative, it is a very good thing. If they are positive, it will mean that everyone in the house has been exposed to active tuberculosis.

So even though it's still only a small possibility, I've been thinking about the what-ifs this weekend. Paul laughs at me, because I've had a couple of 'sort-of' near death experiences before, and I tend to go straight to the what-ifs. But it helps me to plan, and writing helps me to sort it all out. I've also been thinking about how I feel about it all, and my feelings are all over the board.

Feeling #1: Anger. I am angry with myself and all my coworkers, because we should know better than to let anyone in until they've had their TB test. But I think we have operated thus far on the "it can't happen to me" assumption. Well, duh. There are rules for a reason. I am angry with the resident for not coming clean with us. He knew he had tested positive in the past and had only finished a partial round of antibiotics. But he came in anyway.

Feeling # 2: Fear. I am not afraid of having the disease myself. If I have it, it is still very early in the process and I will most likely still be in the latent stage. This is easily treated. The biggest fear surrounds William. He is on a medication that greatly reduces his ability to fight disease. If he were exposed to active tuberculosis, he would have to discontinue this medication (the only one that has worked to keep his Crohn's under control), and take preventive antibiotics. Ugh. This is huge. I am also afraid of the 'wave' effect it would have. I'm not exactly a homebody, and I can't imagine how many people I've come in contact with since this person moved in to the house. And how many people they've come in contact with. And alerting everyone...

Feeling #3: Paranoia. I've had this cough lately... but it developed only a week after the individual moved in to the house, too soon to be a result of exposure. Nevertheless, every time I cough, I think about it.

Feeling #4: Resignation? Peace? I know that God will not give me more than I can handle, and that if the worst case scenario ends up being the case, I will just have to move through the steps and do what I need to do. And if the results come back negative, then it is a lesson very well learned.

Feeling #5: Leprous. The pastor at our church gave a sermon based on the story in Mark about Jesus healing the leper. Much of the time was spent describing what it was like to be a leper in Jesus' time. Everyone was afraid of catching the disease, and indeed, it was very contagious. If you caught it, you were quarantined with everyone else that had it outside of the city. This was basically a slow death sentence, because once you were sent to the leper colony, there would be little chance of recovery since you would be constantly exposed to the illness. I was strangely able to identify with the leper in the story during this telling. What were his feelings? Fear, certainly. Would he ever have contact with his family? What if they got it?

Also shame. Back then, leprosy was considered to be a result of sin. Fortunately, we do not link our illnesses to our sins any more. Or do we? Haven't I flirted with disaster by choosing to work with an at-risk population even though my son's wellness depends on my own? How are my choices linked to my health, and therefore my family's and in this case, everyone around me? If I have it, and I'm contagious, I would definitely feel shame and responsibility.

But Jesus touched the leper. Even though he was highly contagious, an outcast. Even this is amazing to me. Strangely, I'm not so amazed that Jesus touched him. After all, he was/is God, and he must have known that the plan was A.) Die of leprosy or B.) Die of something else. So his decision to touch the guy doesn't seem like such a big deal. But the fact that the leper allowed himself to be touched does amaze me. Would you allow the Christ to touch you if it would be your fault he died of the disease? Would you allow anyone to touch you? Breathe your breath?

Which brings me full circle. The person that moved in knew, and yet he allowed us to breathe his breath. Where does that leave me? Hopefully, I can approach it like Jesus did. Either the plan is A.) get tuberculosis or B.) not. I hope I can react with the compassion Jesus had as well, and continue to treat this person as, well, a person. Versus a non-person, an outcast, someone to be despised. Basically, a leper.

Perspective

2007-12-04T20:47:00.000-08:00

Just a quick footnote to sandbags and siphons...

As crazy as it was yesterday running around trying to keep the water out of the house, we are really one of the fortunate ones to be able to talk about what happened and make a comedy out of it. The water did not come in, except for a trickle at one point. The water was not sewer water. We have great neighbors that offered to pitch in when we needed it. The roof is in tact, the trees are still standing, etc. etc. We are fine, we are warm, well fed, and dry.

There was a news story yesterday that a man had been found drowned in a river in Tualatin, a nearby town. He was 54. I thought to myself, "Oh, man, I wonder if that's one of 'my guys'?" because many of the homeless men I work with are in that age range. We always worry when there is flooding because some of 'our guys' sleep or hang out under bridges. Sure enough, this morning I got a call from my co-worker and it was a fellow I've met a couple of times. We don't know the circumstances surrounding what happened, but it was sobering all the same. We are so very fortunate every day and take so much for granted. My muscles (and the kid's muscles) are a little sore from hauling buckets of water. A small price in the great scheme of things...

Sandbags, Siphons, (Buckets) and Sump Pumps

2007-12-03T17:20:00.000-08:00

In case you haven't been following our weather here in Oregon, we have just been hit with hurricane force winds and accompanying rainfall. The governor has issued a state of emergency, but Thomas still went to school today (the other two had the day off because it was the end of the semester). We only lost power for about an hour last night - not bad, really. But today has been an "adventure". Paul is in Minnesota. Hmm, what's wrong with this picture???

7:15: Wake up to the alarm on my cell phone - good thing I had the foresight to set that in addition to my clock. Any kind of storm around here means we will lose power, so I'm beginning to get the hang of it. Check the internet to see if school is in session for Thomas. Indeed it is. Poor guy.

7:30: Go to wake up Thomas. He immediately starts crying and arguing with me about the accuracy of my assessment. I don't feel so sorry for him any more and start ordering him around. Get up and get dressed, Thomas. (My pants are still damp in the dryer) Turn the dryer on until you have to go. Eat your breakfast. Stop talking about it! I don't want to hear any more about it, the power is on, the roads are clear, now go to school. Goodbye. I love you.

9:30: Look outside our family room sliding glass door and notice that water is beginning to accumulate on the patio. Crap. I was hoping this wouldn't happen. Decide sandbags will be a great option.

9:35: Go to Home Depot and get sandbags. They only have four left, so I buy them. Two of them have holes. I leave them and go to Lowe's, which is next door - Handy! Buy two more sandbags. Go home. Put on Stephen's winter boots which I think are waterproof. Haul sandbags out of car and around back. Discover the boots are not waterproof. Also discover that the sandbags are freaking heavy - 60 pounds each. Ugh! Suck up and keep hauling. Try to form a barrier in front of the sliding glass doors and then try to sop up the water between the bags and the door. Well, duh. That is not going to work. Give up, put on dry shoes and go back to Home Depot for my refund.

11:00: Call my folks to tell them how we are doing. Find I need to process this situation, so it is good to talk it through. I tell my dad about the sandbags, feeling very cool that I figured this out on my own. Then I tell him the water is up to three inches on the patio. He totally freaks out. "THREE INCHES?!!! YOU'VE GOT TO GET THAT OUT OF THERE!!!" "Where am I supposed to put it? There's nowhere for it to go!" "I DON'T KNOW! MAYBE THE STREET? JUST GET IT OUT OF THERE! DO YOU HAVE A HOSE?" "Yes, I have a hose, but I don't know if the street is lower than the patio." (Notice the mind-meld here - I knew he was talking about a siphon.) "YOU HAVE TO FILL IT UP FIRST..." "Don't worry about it, I know how to do a siphon. Okay - I'll see if I can get one going." "Do you want to talk to your mother?" "Yes, but only for a minute, I should get the siphon going..."

11:??: Order William to come outside with me to get the siphon going. He has no idea what I am up to and no idea how a siphon works. I only know I need two people to get the thing going. I figure I will use the spray nozzle on one end to plug it until I'm ready to let it go, fill it with water from the tap, unscrew the hose, plug it, run it to the developing pond, have William open it at the street end, and let 'er rip. In theory, this is a great idea. But when I unscrew the hose from the tap, the water spews everywhere, telling me clearly that the water wants to come out this end, not the end in the street. I try running it to the pond anyway. I go to the street and try sucking the water through, knowing that this is not potable aqua in any sense of the word, but figuring it is better than gasoline. My lips feel like they are going to get sucked into the hose and I realize I can't do it because I have run the hose up and over a little berm.

Re-route the line and try again. Meanwhile William is watching me and asking for the 10th time if he can go inside. I tell him flatly, "NO." But he has no clue what I am doing. I ask him to come to the pond and he meanders over. Aaaagh! I take a moment and explain my expectations: When I say come over, I mean RIGHT NOW. Run if you have to. When I say open the sprayer, hold it down to the ground and open it. The hose has to be lower at this end for it to work. You got that? He says he gets it. We try a couple more times and the water continues to spray out the end that is supposed to go in the pond. But I think if I can just plug it long enough to get it INTO the water, then have William open it up, it will work. I tell William the plan, run the water, kink the hose, unplug it, run it to the pond, yell for William to open up his end, weigh down my end, run to him and find him holding the hose waist high, with the end dangling at his feet, barely trickling. Aaaaagh again! I grab the hose, throw it on the ground and say, "THIS is holding it down!!!", then remove the nozzle. It starts to run, then to my surprise, continues running. It works!

Every half hour after that: Go outside and make sure the siphon is still working, not plugged, etc. It sure doesn't flow very fast. Look online (thank God we still have power) and determine that, according to the math, the rate of flow is related to the difference in elevation between point A and point B. Can't do anything about the flow. Watch the water continue to rise despite all my scientific prowess.

3:30: Check the sliding glass door again. This time there we have a breach and water is starting to come in. Tell William and Stephen to put on clothes they can get wet and meet me outside. I grab as many buckets as I can and start filling them. Distinct memories of bailing out the boat while fishing in the rain with my dad fill my head. The boys come outside and look at me like they are sure I am crazy. I tell them what to do: grab a bucket, fill it up, carry it over there and dump it in the street. They decide they only have to carry it to the other side of the berm and we quickly develop a muddy strip. Ugh. I try again: You need to carry it all the way to the street. And now you need to go around the muddy part. They fuss, but I tell them to suck up and just do it. We get into a rhythm and then Thomas comes home. He starts to argue with me about my methodology, thinks the hose is putting water INTO the pond, and feels that we should be spending our time making signs for passersby to see that say: FLOODING HOUSE! HELP WANTED!! I tell him to shut his mouth and get his butt in gear. But now our rhythm is off and we need more buckets, so I let him go to a neighbor and get some. He wants to beg them to help, too, but I figure this is a character building experience, especially since there is so much fussing going on, so I won't let him.

We use the new buckets and require Thomas to play the "quiet game". After a few more trips to the street, the neighbor across the street comes home and sees the activity. He comes to check on us and we discuss the options. I am thankful for another brain to think this through with me. A sump pump would be a really good thing right about now, but neither of us know anyone that has one. He offers to help, but we are making headway on the level of water and I am sure we will be done shortly. He thinks maybe he will bring over another hose and see if we can set up another siphon. In a little bit, he comes over with two more buckets and starts to work with us instead. The kids think I am a traitor because I wouldn't let them get help, but I got help. I explain that he volunteered. I seriously don't know how long it took, but we got the water away from the door, verified that it was no longer seeping into the house, released the kids from their burden, emptied a few more buckets full just for good measure, talked about possible permanent solutions - a sump pump? A drain? Jack up the patio a few inches? and had a nice cold beer. Then a few more neighbors got home and we all stood in the rain with my feet squishing in Stephen's boots, and talked about the adventure. One neighbor has a sump pump at work and said he'd bring it by tomorrow. General consensus is that we should have a big party next summer where we dig a trench and lay in 3" PVC piping and a drain box and they kind-of lost me right about there because I got stuck wondering how we were going to get the water to flow into the street and not back into the patio area. But they are all convinced that this is a really great idea and if I provide the beer, we can do this thing and it will work!

7:01: Finish blogging and determine that it is time for another ibuprofen. Can't decide if I want to check the water level on the patio or not... Oh, yeah! What's wrong with this picture? Nothing! Because when Paul is gone, that is when the crap hits the fan! So stuff like this should just be expected. Gosh, I can't wait 'til the next time he leaves.

8:15: Decide to check the level on the patio. It is rising again. Sadly, put on boots and gear and go out to scoop again, this time alone as the kids are all working on homework. They periodically stand and watch me silently through the patio door. It starts to rain again, and I am quickly soaked to the core. Fortunately, it isn't cold. Thomas comes out voluntarily after he is done with his homework. I am grateful, but by this time I am beginning to think we are not going to win the battle. I have him check the siphon. I decide that I am not getting up in the middle of the night to bail out the patio, so that means I will need dry towels if it starts to leak in again. Send Thomas to gather all the wet towels and put them on the spin cycle. He comes to the patio door and tells me there is no spin cycle. I know my washing machine, and there is a spin cycle. I instruct him where to find it and go empty another two buckets. I come back and he says, "Did you mean the washer or the dryer?" The washer, Thomas. "There is no spin cycle." "Thomas, there is a spin cycle. Go read all the settings on the knob and if you can't figure out which one is the spin cycle, memorize them and come back to me." I empty more buckets. At some point, William comes out and I instruct him to fill buckets. Thomas is standing at the window again. He tells me the settings. He has missed the entire right side of the knob. I tell him to look again. He says, are you sure you mean the washer? Yes, I'm sure. I empty more buckets. He is at the door again. "Um, Mom? Do you want rinse and spin or drain and spin?" he says with a shy grin that reminds me of my father when he is caught. "Drain and spin. Thank you, Thomas" By this time, I realize it truly is a losing battle and it is time to call it quits, and maybe go buy a sump pump at Home Depot or Lowe's. We empty our buckets and go inside. Thomas announces he is so proud of everyone's hard work, he will make us all hot cocoa. What a team! It is 9:00. I call Lowe's. They are closed. The door is not leaking. I think we'll make it through the night.

On Having a Thirteen Year Old

2007-10-24T21:53:00.000-07:00

If the word on the street is true, this will most likely be the first in a series. We have a 13 year old in the house now. Nothing new, really, Thomas has been thirteen since April, and William is almost 16 (that is another blog). But somehow, with William's Asperger Syndrome, we missed out on some of the "typical" teenager stuff that we keep hearing about from others. This weekend was particularly thirteen, maybe just because it was all together on one weekend vs. spread out over the summer. Nonetheless, it is definitely a new era.

Thomas has had an affinity for the more "Goth" looking kids at his school. He likes their thoughtfulness on issues of life, their creativity, and their friendship. He is not a Goth himself, but prefers to wear black, and has a purposely "half-empty" perspective on life. On the other hand, he can be heard cracking up laughing with his brother, or making all of us laugh with his silly antics.

This weekend, he asked if he could dye his hair black. Now, if you've seen him lately, you know that hair is not something I have chosen to fight about. His hair is out of hand, curly, and not especially styled. If he ties it in the back, he looks like Paul Revere, but he doesn't wear it like that in public. So now he wants it black. And I'm thinking to myself, "This is right out of the textbooks! He is differentiating! How funny is that! We can get a temporary dye thing and see how it goes - we don't have to go jet black, just darker, and see how he likes it." However, I suggested he let me talk to his dad before he sprang it on him. He didn't. Instead, Thomas said something like, "Hey dad, would it be okay if I dyed my hair black?" And Paul said, "Ugh! What do you want to do that for?" or something just about as supportive. Nice. Now, the good news, according to my friends with girls this age, is that at this point, any girl would have burst into tears and stomped out of the room or something along those lines. No, we have the fortune of having a boy, so instead of crying, he takes this cue as a signal to engage. Utilizing his future debate skills, he attempts to win over his audience. To no avail. I did finally talk to him privately and he agreed that a temporary, non jet black color would be okay. Thomas and I ran over to Target, and he pretended to be very interested in something across the aisle while I located the choices of colors (waaay too embarrassing to be looking at hair color). It turns out he's not even ready to do it - 6 weeks is a long time for your hair to be the wrong color if you hate it. So he will think about it.

No sooner did we end this conversation than he said, "Could we go to the store? I want to find some black jeans with those really skinny legs." So, he could use another pair of pants, and I'm thinking to myself, "As long as they aren't more than any other pair of jeans, I don't see why not." But the only place to get them around here is at Hot Topic, which is like this radical Rock N' Roll/Goth store where you can buy those big wide pants with all the zippers and chains on them, or the big long black coats, or even a straight-jacket for those days when you just don't think you will hold it all together without one. Fortunately, it sounds like Thomas is going for more of the Beatnik look, with the skinny jeans, vans, and maybe a belt with square studs on it. And the black hair. Differentiating indeed. (Well, okay, maybe not that different, since I'm sitting here with a piercing in my nose, but different than he's ever been.)

Sunday, then, he asked to go across the street from our church to Costco with a couple of friends to get a Churro. And I'm thinking, "Holy Moley, Rocky! He's going great gangbusters with the whole becoming his own person thing! This is really cool!" So I let him go. And he was gone a long time, and we all got bored waiting for him. It seemed pointless to try to go get him, since the place is like a mall, so we waited some more. Finally, we see them exit the building. I get out of the car and begin to cross the street to hurry the process along. I cross the street and look up to find them piled on one of those carts that you can load two pallets full of whatever on, with one of them pushing them madly down the center between all these cars. And I'm thinking, "Oy! How stupid can they get?" And I catch their eye (they are too far away for me to yell without turning into some freak) and sternly shake my head "No", at which point they all get off the cart. I instruct them to bring the cart back. Thomas volunteers, grabs the cart, and goes careening off at full speed to return it. This time I did yell, "Walk!", which he didn't, and I closed my eyes because I couldn't watch and heard a huge smacking/crunching/banging noise. Which evidently everyone else in the entire parking lot also heard because it was like one of those commercials where everything gets really quiet and they are all just looking and waiting to hear what you will say next. So I say, loudly, "Did you hit the car? Please tell me you didn't hit the car," and then calmly went over to make a big show of inspecting the vehicle, which he had not hit. The cart had gone under the car and crashed into the cement thing you pull up to when you park. Then I told Thomas to WALK the cart back to the store, and turned to go back to his friends, who then decided it was time for them to leave. Wise choice. And I'm thinking to myself, "So THIS is what they mean about raising a 13 year old. One minute they are practically an adult, and the next they do something proving they need constant supervision! And then blame you because they couldn't hear you telling them not to do it!" Hello! Isn't that the whole point? If you want to do stuff on your own, you're supposed to be smart enough to have that voice telling you when NOT to do something idiotic without your parent breathing down your neck saying, "Well, dear, let's just take a minute to consider the potential consequences of your actions here..."

The next day, Thomas showed us the bruises on his legs from rapping them against the cart when he crashed it into the concrete slab. I'm just glad that's all he has to show for it ...

Amazing. Grace.

2007-10-20T11:10:00.001-07:00

In case you do not know this already, Paul's mom passed away on Wednesday October 3rd. I find this is more difficult to write about than I expected. I don't want to eulogize. I don't want to give a play by play of our experience of it all. So I will go with random snapshots.

Friends and family. One of the most important things to be personally was that when Anita passed away, she had her dear friend, Faye, with her. Anita was ALL about friends and family and her definition of both was wide-ranging and inclusive. Although I am legally an "in-law", she accepted me as a daughter, something I could never quite wrap my head around. Over and over at the visitation, people would come up and say, "When I first moved to New Ulm, Anita was there. Every time she was going somewhere, she would call me and say, I'm going to lunch, why don't you come with me?" When people moved away, she kept in contact, calling and writing regularly. She had a tremendous capacity to continue to add people to her circle of friends and family. Amazing.

Visitation. Almost 300 people. Feeling like we'd been there for 2 1/2 hours when it had only been 45 minutes. Suddenly being very conscious of the fact that every germ of every person in the room was on my hands. Recognizing people, but not knowing who they were or how they fit in to the fabric of Anita's life. After all, this was part of her role to connect all the dots for me. "You remember the _______? (I know the name, but I don't know who they are.) They are the one's whose daughter ____________ and they used to come with us when we went ________ ..." I wish we could have name tags with the stories connecting the names to the faces. Story after story after story of how Anita had touched people's lives. I knew she was a fierce friend, an energetic contributor to her church and community in countless ways. Yet still, I'd underestimated her. Amazing.

Change. It was odd to watch us all assume a role Anita had done. Jon remembered nearly everyone. Jill knew the story behind nearly everyone. Paul became Skip again automatically, and his role was to connect with everyone. Denise and I kept things going smoothly, making lists, running errands, and ensuring everything got done. Tim fixed things that needed fixing (okay, not a role change for him, but one that needed doing). So it takes six people to do what she did alone. This is not really surprising, considering that, among other things, she took care of her husband Paul all alone for so many years. Amazing.

Family time. I can't pluck this out as a separate experience. How to describe it? Pleasant and pervasive, like the smell of fresh baked chocolate chip cookies, or rather, molasses cookies, since those were Anita's favorite.

Grace. We made it through. The kids did great, telling stories about their Oma, and being polite at the visitation and funeral in the midst of their grief. We made it despite the exhaustion inherent in waiting for someone to pass away, jumping when the phone rings, wrapping as much up as possible at work every day, staying up late checking flights, not having anyone to watch the dog until 12 hours before we left town, oversleeping the alarm and waking up when we should have been leaving the house. We made it through all the arrangements that have to be made, from choosing a coffin, verses, and flowers to choosing what food to serve after the funeral. (No jello per Anita's wishes. Cookies, candy, and bars at every table. Enough for leftovers. She would have wanted it that way.) And not only that, but we even enjoyed ourselves. We laughed, played cards, caught up with people, and cried.

In closing, here are words that people used over and over to describe Anita: Mom, Oma, sister, cousin, friend, co-worker, 5 foot spitfire, powerhouse, Energizer Bunny, friend, great cook, involved, caring, caregiver, friend, volunteer, Twin's fan, talkative, outgoing, friend, stubborn, opinionated, food-pusher, Mother Anita, friend.

Catching Up

2007-09-22T12:57:00.000-07:00

I was talking to my mom today, and realized I had a bit of catching up to do. First of all, meet Digger, who is an Arabian/Saddle horse mix. Before you panic on my behalf, rest assured he is not mine. A friend of Paul's from work, Connie, bought him. Here's the short story: Connie had sent pictures of Digger to me about two months ago, and my immediate thought was, "That is the cutest little horse! If I was in the market to get a horse, I would buy him in a minute!" And then I dismissed the thought, because, of course, I'm not in the market. A few weeks later, Connie called and mentioned she was considering buying him and asked if I would be willing to help her out by taking care of him an hour or two a week. My only question was, "What if I want to take care of him every day?" So we went to meet him, she bought him, and he has moved to his new home as of last week. When he is acclimated, Connie will call me, and I will begin to go and groom him and exercise him. He is only two, so no riding yet, but that is okay by me - just breathing the horsey air is enough. To me, this is the best of all possible worlds - I get to take care of a horse without paying the vet bills or the boarding fees!

The kids are back in school and adjusting pretty well. Stephen came home after the first day and said, "That was my best first day ever!" Thomas got a math problem right, and was asked to teach the class while they went over the remainder of the problems on the assignment. William came home from his first day and when I asked him how it had gone, he answered, "Bad," and slumped his shoulders and pouted. Then I said, "Well, what about Japanese?" "Oh, well that class was okay." "And English?" "I like the teacher in English." "And math?" "Math is going to be easy this year, and the teacher is nice." So his day was not so bad after all. Since the first day, they've continued to do well, even starting their homework spontaneously before dinner (gasp). There have been a few incidents of bullying and teasing, which my kids don't handle well at all, but those are being addressed and the kids feel empowered by the process. Thomas will be in a play this year through the community. Stephen decided to let him go it alone this time around and maybe they will do one together next season.

The dog has been sick since about February. Happy, but sick. She was diagnosed with Giardia and medicated, but as soon as her meds ran out she was symptomatic again. In this case, symptomatic means pooping in the house because she couldn't hold it. Not something you can easily ignore. So we put her back on meds and got sent to a specialist. In the midst of treatment with the specialist, she got a rash that required antibiotics. After that, an ear infection, but only on the surface. All of these things added together started to look like allergies. So now we get to go to a veterinarian allergist. Ouch - Ka-ching. Part of me just wants to give her benadryl every day and call it a done deal. Oh, well. Another good reason not to buy a horse, as it seems the dog is creating enough veterinary bills to cover it. Meanwhile, she seems to be happy and energetic as long as we keep her well stocked with tennis balls. (Which, as a side note, I find myself washing and scrubbing with a toothbrush on a daily basis. This is not a chosen past time, but one that saves me the trouble of cleaning little ball-marks off the walls, floor, cabinets, and trim. Ugh.)

Paul's job has been stressful lately, with pending changes and new management. He feels secure about his future, but the atmosphere in the department has been tense at best. For now, I'm just going to leave it at that. If you want to know more details, you'll just have to email me.

The garden. One thing I discovered about the Northwest is that fall is a great time to plant perennials, because it rains all winter and the plants get well established. So that means it's a great time to shop for perennials, too! I've found a nursery nearby that carries a wide variety of plants - this was beginning to worry me, as the first nursery I really liked has closed and that meant I was stuck with Home Depot and whatever I could find at the Farmer's market. My favorite new plant, which I hope will thrive, is a bouganvilla (sp?) . Yay. Paul worries about me and the garden, as it is always changing and never "done", which to him equals cash outflow. But I set a budget and remain very patient about planting only what I can afford and keep alive, so we have worked out a peace treaty. For now anyway. It should last until about springtime...

My job continues to be challenging, stretching, exhausting and rewarding. I had my six month review toward my licensure this week - normally a two year licensing process, but I work part time, so I'm on the God-only-knows-how-long-it-will-take plan. But the review was good and insightful. Strengths: I am a strong clinician, empathetic. "Growth areas": because I'm empathetic, I care about what happens to my clients and tend to carry that around with me, which can lead to burn-out. This is only too true. So I need to learn to detach a bit more without becoming callous. One approach that I've always used is to view the client with "unconditional positive regard" which my supervisor reminded me is from Carl Rogers. I plan to read up on him to see if we have anything more in common. Perhaps he can teach me how to detach a bit.

Crazy

2007-08-23T15:59:00.000-07:00

I visited a man in jail today. It's not the first time I've been there, several of the people I come in contact with through my job are often incarcerated. For a while there, I felt like I knew more people in the jail than I did outside of it.

But today was tough. The man I visited is severely mentally ill, but does not recognize his illness. He loves the outdoors and thrives there. He loves people and approaches them daily to talk to them. This makes people really uncomfortable because of the way he presents. So the police come and tell him to move along, or whatever, and ban him from all the places where he tries to talk to people. After a while, he can't go anywhere without getting into trouble and he's sick and tired of the police telling him what to do. Inevitably, he ended up in jail.

He looks worse than awful, like Strega Nona after two weeks without sleep. He hasn't shaved since he got there a few days ago, his hair was all over the place, and his eyes were wild. He was cuffed with a chain around his waist so that his elbows were bent and his hands were stuck in front of his stomach. I believe his legs were shackled as well - after all, he is a Level 8, the highest security risk in the building. This also means he is in solitary confinement. I am the first person he has talked to since he got in.

He is in jail for failing to appear in court - an honest mistake. I am not at liberty, obviously, to discuss details. Suffice to say that every "crime" he has committed can be attributed to his mental illness. What is jail supposed to do anyway? Provide a holding place for him while he waits for trial? Punish him for breaking the law? Even if he did deserve the punishment, this would be too much. For him, it is not punishment but torment. I don't see the purpose. What he really needs is help.

I'm not sure I can help him. For one thing, he wants me to bail him out, which is absolutely against every professional ethic out there. For another, I've tried to help him for several months before he was jailed and don't feel like we've gotten far. Every time we get close to a victory, something happens to snatch it away. Entire systems need to change in order to move forward for him. Now he's in jail, being tormented, which will deteriorate his mental health and make him appear even more crazed for his appearance in court.

I've been reading a book, Crazy, by Pete Earley, that talks about this very subject. Jail is not where the mentally ill belong. But neither, in many cases, is the State Hospital an appropriate choice. Instead, community service agencies like mine attempt to serve severely mentally ill individuals who may or may not be taking medication, may or may not recognize their mental illness, may or may not be able to trust anyone long enough to get help. This makes it incredibly difficult to make any progress, as the unstable ones go from jail to hospital to jail with varying lengths of time in the community in between. There is never long enough in any one place to get a handle on anything so these individuals never really get help anywhere. Maddening. Illogical. Crazy.

Exhaustion

2007-07-21T08:14:00.000-07:00

Paul's mom had her second intensive treatment for her brain tumor the week of July 9th. She was mostly paralyzed on her left side and confined to a wheelchair. She endured the treatment, but when it was time to be released from the hospital, the staff was concerned that she wouldn't be safe at home so we found a residence that specializes in rehab and hospice care that would take her until she could get strong enough to go home. She was admitted on a Friday. On the next Monday (was this just last Monday? It feels like weeks ago...) we found out that the Dr. would not approve her to go home unless it was as a hospice patient as he could no longer advocate for treatment. She is just too weak. Meanwhile the family is having a cow because A.) Anita only wants to go home, period, and B.) No one was doing any kind of physical therapy to get her stronger. In addition, the people at the residence kept thinking she was there for hospice. After thousands of minutes of phone calls and emails amongst the family and staff, we decided to approach Anita about going home under hospice care. This was a terrifying prospect - who wants t have this conversation? But Anita knew she was not well enough for further treatment and opted to go home under hospice care.

This meeting was on Thursday morning. I called the social worker at Abbott to tell her all had gone well and to have a mini-celebration because it had been so painful for the family and so much work to figure out what we needed to do and now that the decision was made, it felt like 500 pounds was lifted off our backs. I felt like cutting my hair, cleaning the house and planning a decent meal! Creativity abounds! The social worker celebrated with me for a minute and then raised a concern: because Anita will most likely need medications given to her to stop her seizures intermittently between scheduled doses, the law would require either a family member or RN on site in her home at all times as the disease progresses. It would be up to the Hospice Center in New Ulm to decide. Suddenly, I was exhausted again. We had just told Anita she could probably go home, which is the only thing in the world she wants right now, and we were being told that it may not be possible. I was so angry - why did they let us give her hope to go home if she wouldn't be able to anyway? After several more phone calls, it turns out that the nursing staff did try to prep us by explaining the cares that Anita would need and so on, but we naively went forward saying it would all work out. We actually considered going against Dr.'s orders and taking her home anyway, because that is where she wants to be.

So then the task became finding out what it would take to A.) Bring her home or B.) Find a place closer to New Ulm that could care for her. In addition, somehow we needed to find out what it is about home that Anita wants? Her pillow? The pictures of the family? The view? Closure? That way, if the answer did end up being "No, you can't come home" then at least we could bring some of home to her. The deeper I looked into it, the better the place where she is currently staying started to look. Home would require a family member or RN. We would be on our own to find an RN, not to mention that that person wouldn't necessarily be trained in end of life issues, even if we could find one. We could ask a family member to stay with her, but we already tried that once and it is way too intense. Not to mention the fact that Jill and Jon both faint at the sight of blood - not the best quality to have when you may need to think quickly in a medical situation. (But we love you guys!) Other facilities near New Ulm are not necessarily set up for end of life care, but for long term care - a very subtle but important difference.

But beneath the physical question of where to have Anita so that she can get the best care was always the question, "Are you sure she's going to keep getting worse? What if we lined up Physical Therapy? Couldn't the staff put her in the wheelchair for a while so she can sit up? Maybe she would be more alert if there was someone with her more often to stimulate conversation." Our brains were still in treatment mode, and we were stuck in the blame/anger stage of accepting the inevitable. In truth, Anita knows she is dying. She has told the staff several times. But when the family comes around, she says she plans to get stronger. So is she ambivalent or trying to protect us? Reality is that she NEEDS to sleep 18 hours a day just to have the strength to be awake for the other 6. Reality is that physical therapy would use up precious strength that she needs for other functions. Reality is that the reason the staff at the facility kept thinking she was there for hospice is because they deal with people every day that are in hospice and they had no evidence to convince them otherwise. It was us that needed convincing.

So we are exhausted. Going to the store at 11 p.m. for milk, talking on the phone and having another call beep in at the same time all day long, missing work, making really tough decisions, grappling with reality, crying in the car or randomly when people ask "How are you?"

So, how are we? We are grieving, but we are fine. Fine in the original sense of the word. This family is one amazing unit. We have given the staff and social workers an education, we are strong advocates for what we want, we communicate, work out problems, vent, and come up with a solution. We are fighters for those we love and we love one another fiercely. We learned this from Anita.

friends and family

2007-07-10T15:47:00.000-07:00

We were able to go to Minnesota to visit friends and family for about a week at the end of June. My parents were in Seattle, so we stayed at their place and then they came through here at the end of their trip. It was totally challenging trying to balance everyone's needs and wants on this trip. There are only so many hours, and so many things we needed to do. Even then, I was having flashbacks to when I was a kid and my parents dragged me around to EVERYONE in Tennessee while they visited. Back then, all there was to do was sit on the cement steps in the back yard and squish ant with our thumb while the grown ups talked. Ugh. At least our kids had video games (one of the few times I've been thankful for the foul things). From the grown-up perspective, one to two hours of face time just doesn't cut it. It was nice, but just enough to make me thirsty for more. And I know darn well that I'm not going to get back for a good long time.

That said, I got to have coffee with a bunch of my friends and it was just like I'd never left - we all talked at once some of the time, and then one person would tell a story while we all listened, and then another, and we laughed and could have cried. We also had a lovely afternoon at the arboretum with a family friend even though it was 96 and humid. (We actually wanted the kids to experience the humidity again because they have a rosy memory of Minnesota weather. Moral: Be careful what you wish for.) We had dinner with our old neighbors, met the new neighbors and got to see what they had done to the house (Good job! We love it!)

We got to spend some really good time with my sister and her family - with the highlight being relating to Teddy - what fun! And we spent a good amount of time with Paul's side of the family as well - so good that William was trying to fanagle a way to stay for the rest of his life. Paul and I stayed with his mom and the kids stayed "on the farm" with the cousins. We were really glad to be able to spend the time with Paul's mom, see with our own eyes how she is doing, and have the opportunity to go to a couple of Doctor's appointments with her to hear things first hand.

So now we are back in Oregon and our new reality. I find that now that I've hit the one year mark, I'm not as inclined to blog. Part of it is a time issue - I'm plugged into work and church and getting to know people in the neighborhood that I can hang out with - so this means I'm not avoiding housework by blogging. Also, what else is there to say? For the first year, it was new every day. Now it's just the same thing over again with a little twist. I think this is something to be thankful for. Frankly, the most interesting thing is work, and I can't talk about that except in the broadest terms.

A couple of updates just for fun, though:

The dog has been sick for about three or four months. Her primary symptom is pooping in the house because she has diarrhea - aren't you glad you read this? Long story short, we've been through all the standard tests and medicines and still can't find what's wrong so she had to go to see a specialist. Now, I love animals, but when we start talking specialists I start seeing dollar signs instead of cute furry animals and this makes me uncomfortable. Nonetheless, the specialist seems to know what he is talking about (as compared to the general vet that was giving me a "deer in the headlights" look every time I asked a question. Encouraging.) The specialist reminds me of Winchester from M*A*S*H combined with Dr. Clark, a professor of mine, only the specialist has slightly more personality and a sense of humor.

The fourth of July was SO FUN!!! One of our neighbors decided to invite the entire cul de sac and then some to barbeque and light fireworks. So we hung around outside (mosquito free), talked to neighbors, got to know others, laughed and generally had a great time. This is good.

My folks were here for five days. We did several touristy things with them, cooked and ate up a storm - fresh berries are in season! - and I had time to really sit and talk with each of them. My dad is especially fun to discuss work situations with because he is willing to grapple with my ideas and question me - it keeps me sharp. He and I also enjoy talking and doing home improvement things and are dangerous at places like Lowe's. So that is fun, too. Mom and I talk about warm and fuzzy things and her health and her grandchildren and how I'm coping out here. So overall, very good stuff.

William got his very first job walking two puppies (labradoodles - so cute!) in the neighborhood (as a result of a contact made at the 4th of July). He is very conscientious, and excited to be gainfully employed.

Moon Phase? Stephen. Collision

2007-05-24T10:15:00.000-07:00

Two weeks ago was absolute chaos. Paul was in Vegas for work at the Caesar's Palace in an upgraded room with a jacuzzi that he never used. Here, the kids all got sick and stayed home from school while I ran back and forth from work managing them and doing my job at the same time. To top it off, two of the people on my caseload went into crisis mode and stayed that way the entire week while a third silently stewed, frustrated because his paperwork was being pushed to the back burner continuously. Unreal. I swear it was the moon phase, or the sunspot activity, or something because EVERYTHING went crazy.

Stephen was in a community production of Alice in Wonderland. When he introduced himself to the group at the beginning of practices, he said, "My name is Stephen and I like to play video games because THEY ROT YOUR BRAIN!" After that, he was given a couple roles where his personality could shine - the walrus and the Ace card. He had a blast, and got some good laughs for his comical performance. Now Thomas wants to be in a play as well, so we will see about signing them up for the next go-round.

I was in a fender bender yesterday - ironically, right in front of "Dave's Collision Center". Hmm, I wonder if they set up a collision vortex there? Anyway, no one was hurt. I was in the left lane of a one-way street when the woman in front of me in the right lane decided to take a left turn. She was thinking it was a two-way street, so didn't expect me to be there. I was ALMOST able to stop in time, but we made contact, so we had to call the police and go through the hassle of calling insurance companies, etc. The girl that made the turn was about 20, and was shaking and crying, so I ended up coaching her through the process - "Okay, it's going to be fine, but here's what we need to do..." Strange element of the surreal about it.

Another funny note about that event was this: these two guys stopped in the parking lot where we were filling out paperwork with the police. One of them came over and asked one of the officers a question. Then they went into a bank, did their business and came back out. As they were backing out of their parking place, the officer's back was to them. The guy was about halfway out of his parking spot, then suddenly remembered that he didn't have on his seat belt and there he was right in front of the police! He got the funniest guilty look on his face, quickly buckled himself in, then noticed that I had seen the whole thing. I just grinned at him and he grinned back, then left.

The kids have two more weeks of school. That just seems like a really long time. The pool in our neighborhood opens next week, which is none too soon. Too bad it will be cool again next week - it has been in the upper 80's lately. I put up a 10 x 10 gazebo on our deck in the back yard - a very happy, shady place. I will post a picture later when the flowers are all in bloom.

William Update. Motherhood.

2007-05-13T15:51:00.000-07:00

First, a William update. In case you haven't been following our story, the short version is that, in William's mind, Oregon SUCKS!!! And, in case you don't know us very well, we don't encourage the use of the word "Sucks" in our household, which tells you how very Suck-y it is. William has good, although misguided reasons for "disliking" it here, mostly centered around all the hard/sad/awful things that have happened since moving here. The tricky part is that most of it would have happened if we had stayed in Minnesota anyway, so it isn't really fair to blame it on Oregon. But he needs something to blame, so Oregon it is.

Being in the mental health field, I often check in with him to see what we can do to make it better (besides moving back, which is always first on his list). The other day, he mentioned two things: 1.) that he wished he could find some people his age to play Pokemon with, and 2.) he wanted to volunteer at the local Wetland Preserve. So I went to the internet to see what I could find. After entering "Pokemon Portland Oregon" into Google, an amazing thing turned up: There is a Game Club for kids from 12 - 18 with Asperger Syndrome in a nearby city. They bring their Pokemon cards, YuGiOh! cards, computer/video games, other board games, etc., and food to share and play their hearts out from 6 - 10 p.m. once a month. Needless to say, we decided to check it out.

Friday night was our first try. We decided to eat first and I had to laugh at the food choices - it was an Asperger's dream world. Pizza, strawberries, popcorn, lemonade (not fizzy pop), chips, more pizza, more strawberries, and the list went on. Nearly every favorite food of William's. There were large and small children all over the place with Pokemon t-shirts, backpacks filled with video game equipment and stacks of games to play. They would notice one another, ask what games they had with them and what systems they worked on, and have an entire conversation with one another. These are the kids that no one will talk to at school. The ones that get bullied for being "weird". That have no friends. But here, somehow, they have created a place where it is safe to be themselves, talk to one another, move around in clumps, bond over their infinite knowledge of Zelda or Samurai Warrior or Dragonball Z Budokai Tenkaichi. It was a beautiful thing. So beautiful, in fact, that Oregon's rating has gone from a -25 to a -15, a huge improvement in only a few hours.

William and I also signed up to volunteer at Jackson Bottom Wetland Preserve and got trained in yesterday to be "hikers wildlife survey" participants. This means we can go whenever we want, hike around, and write down any evidence of wildlife we see: scat, nests, tracks, actual sightings, carcasses, whatever. Very cool, and something both William and I are looking forward to. This brought the Oregon rating up from -15 to -13. Not a huge jump, but still an improvement.

I honestly thought that, at the rate we were going, William would not be ready to start plugging in to things here until next year. But all of the sudden, he was ready! This is a tremendous breakthrough and I am very thankful.

Motherhood. I've been thinking about motherhood lately for a couple of reasons: 1.) Because I've been reading my friend Amanda's blog as she struggled with the loss of freedom that often accompanies motherhood and 2.) well, duh, because it's Mother's Day. Then our pastor asked a few of us at different stages of motherhood to share a one or two minute bit about what it is like to be a mother at this point in our lives, so I had to put it into words.

When I read Amanda's blog, she was in the midst of a mini-crisis - all around her, people were having fun, going to concerts, shopping in New York, etc., while she mucked out the barns and turned down opportunities in preparation for her baby to be born. She asked, "Is this what it's going to be like from now on?" and I thought about it. My answer? Yes. This IS what it's going to be like. And no, it isn't. So I wrote her. "Answer: Yes. And no. Ultimate sacrifice meets unbelievable joy. Loss of freedom meets incredible peace. Tears meet laughter. Welcome to motherhood, Amanda."

Isn't this just the way it is? Motherhood is the epitome of dichotomy, a study of opposites. First of all, it's DISGUSTING. Who in their right mind would sign up for cleaning up every body fluid imaginable, especially when it never ends up where it's supposed to? Puke is never in the bucket, poop is often outside of the diaper, and pee is seldom in the pot - mostly all around it. On the other hand, motherhood is full of BEAUTY. I look at my children's faces and watch them make right choices and I'm convinced it's worth every disgusting moment. Motherhood is TERRIFYING. I've watched William waste away to almost nothing, I've watched Thomas drift away out of control in a kayak, I've watched them all go under anesthesia. I've watched them leave the house to go to school or go to a friend's house and thought, "Oh God, keep them safe...". Part of the terror is the WONDER. If they weren't wonderful, it wouldn't be terrible to lose them or see them hurt. But they are wonderful. They hug me and say they love me. They smile and laugh with me. They want to be together. Lastly, motherhood is EXHAUSTING and EXHILARATING all at the same time. I'm so sick and tired of doing 4th grade homework I could scream. (Didn't I already pass 4th grade?) If I have to mediate one more fight or snide, hurtful comment I may burst. If I have to remind ANYONE to follow the long-standing household rules and get a blank stare like it is new information, I might climb the walls. If I have to go to Target or the grocery store for the 5th time in one afternoon AGAIN because my brain is so flipping, utterly stupefied from doing homework, housework, mediation, meal-prep, rule-reminding, or any other mom-ified chore, I may just resort to just banging my head against the wall until it's over or someone else goes to the store for me. And yet, I would never give it up willingly. It is exhilarating to watch my children grow, to develop into unique, amazing, gifted human beings that have a place in this world. And I get to be a part of it! To watch, nurture, hold and ultimately... release. Again and again and again. Welcome to Motherhood.

Two weeks worth

2007-04-22T20:04:00.000-07:00

Easter. If it is true that it is better to give than receive, then the Marti's should be wallowing in an amazing post-giving afterglow. The Radke-types spent the week prior to Easter taking turns being sick with what we called the "steam roller" flu. This consisted of two days of feeling like you'd been run over by a steam roller, then gradually feeling better. Paul thought, in uncharacteristic arrogance, that he was going get by without succumbing. But late Thursday night, he started to feel it coming on. The original plan was to travel up to the Marti's, who live in Olympia, on Saturday, spend the night, celebrate Easter and leave before I-5 backed up completely. We called them, told them what was up, and let them know we would keep them posted.

By Saturday morning, Paul thought that maybe he could make it up there for just Sunday if I drove (fine by me, I prefer to be behind the wheel). So we called the Marti's again, told them we would be transporting the virus to their house, and went about our business. About an hour later, the phone rings. It is Jeff, and he instructs me to just sit down and say "Yes" to his proposal. They have talked, and feel like it would be better all around if they come to our house, bring all the food, do the driving. I'm thinking to myself, "And this is better because..." and not coming up with anything except that Paul can go back to bed if he needs to. So I do as I'm told and agree, then tell him to hang up quick so I can start cleaning the house. He says not to do anything I wouldn't have done anyway if they hadn't been coming. Yeah, right.

So they came down, brought nearly all the food, a bottle of wine, a nice plant, great company, good laughs and stories, and the list goes on. There is no way we could ever pay them back and this bothers me. If I were the giver, I would not want anything in return. It is a chance to just give, with no strings attached. But as the recipient, I feel so lame! What is up with that? This happened with my trip to Minnesota, too, as the ticket was a gift. How to say thank you in a way that actually expresses how thankful you really are? It just isn't possible.

Milestones. Along with Easter, that weekend signified our one-year anniversary here in Oregon, a birthday for me, and a birthday for Thomas. Strange how just being here a year makes certain things feel "normal". I know what to expect from the trees and plants - soon my Star Magnolia will be done blooming, and my rhododendron will begin. The birds are coming back, and I recognize the ones I didn't last year by name. The rain will stop and go from now until mid-June, then stop completely. These things I know because I have lived them, and now they are part of my life, not just hearsay from the neighbors. Rhythm is a good thing.

Holes. Well, only one. In my head. Actually, in my nose. I've been wanting a piercing for over a year now, and almost got it last year just after we moved here. But Stephen said he "wouldn't know" me and the kids in general were totally against it. So, since they had already been traumatized enough already by the move, I tabled the idea. But then a year passed, my birthday rolled around again, things were feeling normal (i.e. in need of spicing up), and I figured the kids could handle the change by now. Stephen was still against the idea - he was so adamantly against it, you would have thought I was getting a half-inch peg with a skull stuck in there - but I figure I let him wear a 19" rat tail, so he would have to live with a piercing. I didn't get a peg, just a tiny sparkle, and he has warmed up to the idea so much he wants to know how much it hurt, and whether or not it would hurt him if he got his ears pierced. He's actually wanted his ears pierced since Kindergarten, so no surprises there. For now, though, he is still afraid of the pain - maybe I should play it up so he forgets about it altogether...

Stephenisms

2007-04-06T14:37:00.000-07:00

Stephen has come up with a few "good ones" lately. Here is a sample:

"I'm a new mind!" This usually follows yet another one of his utterly unique ideas or tangents.

"Ooo! You smell colorful today". When I came to wake him up after just applying vanilla spice lotion.

"I'm a Mama's boy, and proud of it!" Following a field trip that I was chaperoning, where he held my hand and hugged me numerous times throughout the trip. Sigh.

Kudos

2007-03-24T10:56:00.000-07:00

For a change, this entry will be all about Paul. Otherwise known as Skip, if you have any connection to New Ulm, Radke's, Schluter's, and maybe Gustavus.

Yesterday, Paul went to work as usual and went about his day. At about 10 a.m., he was going in to a meeting when his boss said it could wait, and that he needed to come with her to meet with someone else. Now, things have been changing a lot at his office, and being called away from your regular routine means something is up, big time. So Paul lost all the spit in his mouth and his pupils dilated, and it was all he could do not to panic, like any normal person would do at a time like this. His boss saw the classic signs of terror, and comforted him by saying, "It's okay, it's a good thing. Don't worry." Now, if this had been Paul saying, "Don't worry, everything is fine," no one would listen, because he tends to minimize emergencies. But his boss is trustworthy in this regard and he was able to function well enough to follow her to the meeting.

The intricacies of the meeting you will have to get from Paul, since I glazed over about five minutes into his explanation of what happened. The gist was this: he is getting a BIG promotion, more responsibility, more management opportunity, and, *gasp*, a salary increase to match. I think he went into shock after that, and was probably good for $0.00 per hour for the remainder of the day, although he did say he had one or two really good ideas that he was able to articulate. Their bad for telling him so early in the day. He has the weekend to recover and should be functional again by Monday.

So, KUDOS to Paul! We are proud of you!!!

Destiny

2007-03-17T10:50:00.000-07:00

HomePlate is the drop in center for youth that I have been involved with since June. I started out as a regular volunteer, then added outreach work, then the steering committee. The Coordinator is also a Gustavus grad - we have hit it off beautifully - our approach and outlook to working with youth is very similar, and we have dreams of making HomePlate a full time drop in center.

This is another one of those things that has been interesting to watch unfold. When we considered moving out here, one of my criteria was that I would be able to find meaningful work that I could enjoy. My presumption was that I would be working in downtown Portland. After we got here, I realized that was going to be a 45 min commute each way, and part time hours were going to be hard to find. Then I found the job I currently have, which I totally enjoy, is in our county, and now that the Safe Haven has opened up, my office is about five minutes away.

But I didn't want to lose the youth piece, so I have continued with HomePlate, cautiously watching to see if it was going to be too much. So far so good. The other night, we had another Steering Committee meeting and began discussing our need for an Executive Director. As soon as the topic came up, I lost all the spit in my mouth. This is one of my signals that I am supposed to DO something. But good Lord, Executive Director? So I waited it out. We decided to come up with a job description. Bing, bing bing, right down the line - things I was already doing or would be happy to do. Then the qualifications. Again, you might as well just put my name in the slot. But no one was looking at me funny, so I knew I was the only one thinking this was a tailor-made job for me. Then the kicker - how many hours do we think this would take per week? 2 - 5. Is that all? So what's the fuss? I can do THAT! So I said something like, "I would like to put my name in as a candidate for that position." And everyone nearly fell off their chairs because this is a need that has been around for a long time and we were thinking we'd have to advertise, and it would take months more, and here I am just sitting in the room going, "Well, duh, I can do that." So I'm in, and we changed the title to Co-coordinator to reflect the partnering element of the role, and it is very, very cool. Hurrah!

Talking to strangers, Model Cars

2007-03-16T19:44:00.000-07:00

Talking to Strangers. You know how your mom always told you to never talk to strangers? Well, I have been thinking about that a lot lately with my job and then my life. It's my job to approach strangers that may be homeless, start a conversation with them, get to know them, etc. etc. It's not the kind of thing your mom would encourage. 80% of the people I talk to are under the influence, 30% are mentally ill, most have a police record of some sort. The weird thing is, once you get comfortable talking to strangers, it's hard to stop. I was at the grocery store the other day, going about my shopping, and this guy came up and started talking to me. It became apparent very quickly that he was mentally ill and I thought to myself, "What? Now strangers are coming up and talking to me?" But not five minutes later, I started a conversation with another stranger in the checkout line. Aaaa! Turn me off! Disclaimer: Do not try this at home. These stunts are performed by trained professionals in a wide variety of situations.

Model Cars. William had to assemble a model car for Basic Auto class. It was a great idea, as it really helped to grasp how each part interacted with the whole. BUT, William doesn't DO small motor, which means Paul was enlisted to help (he used to make models when he was a kid, so a natural choice). Then Paul left for North Carolina, and it was up to me to help. I have determined that making models is not my favorite past time. In fact, I find it utterly maddening, frustrating, and INFURIATING! Not to mention BORING!! Gah! How could anybody want to do this for fun?! The pieces stick together only long enough for you to think you've really got it made. You let it sit out to dry for some time. Then, you go to add the next series of pieces and suddenly, PING! PING! PING! A bunch of pieces from the last session fall off. Ugh! The only way this could be remotely fun would be if the glue was toxic and toasted your brain. Hey! That's what was missing! We were using safe glue!

Random note about food

2007-03-10T13:11:00.000-08:00

I went to a conference last week with a number of co-workers from my agency. We were supposed to be on our own for our meal, so when the time came to decide where to eat, I was curious to see what we would end up with.

When we came out here with Paul's company in December to scout out the area, Paul ended up feeling sick, so I was on my own with all his co-workers. When it came time to decide where to eat, I said, "Well, if anyone is going ethnic or spicy, count me in on that group." There was no ethnic or spicy cohort, so we went for Italian instead. Good food and company, but not ethnic or spicy. Sigh. The next day, everyone wanted pizza, which is like torture to me because we have pizza every Friday at home. Fortunately, there was a Russian deli next door to the pizza place and I was able to get some pierogis (sp?). Yea!

So I was holding my breath when it was time to pick a place to eat with my co-workers. The conversation went something like this: Where should we eat? I don't care, just not fast food. Exactly. No fast food, and certainly not McDonald's. Yep, and the more vegetables, the better. Well, I know of a Mongolian grill not too far from here. Ooo, Mongolian is good - let's try that. So off we went to find the restaurant. It couldn't be found, so we also considered Japanese (they were closed) and ended up at an authentic Mexican restaurant. On the way, we talked about our different food experiences - chicken legs, fish eyeballs, 100 year eggs, Turkish food. I just had to laugh - you know I'm happy when the discussion is about whether or not chicken legs and fish eyeballs are good eating. :)

MinneSNOWta

2007-03-05T09:42:00.000-08:00

Fair Warning: This entry is all about me, so if you want to know what is going on in the rest of the family's life you will have to wait for another entry.

Last weekend was my dear friend Kristen's birthday. After a flurry of phone calls and negotiations a couple of weeks ago, I had a ticket to Minnesota in hand for the party.

If you are at all in touch with Minnesota weather, you will know that they got walloped with snow twice last week. I was scheduled to change planes in Phoenix and was pretty darn sure I would be spending the weekend there instead. Thankfully, the snow had been cleared enough by the time we were scheduled to come in so our plane took off on time and we got there with no trouble at all. Susie picked me up and we went to her boyfriend Jason's house and had dinner so we could meet and get to know each other a bit. For the record, I approve. :)

After dinner, Susie took me to my sister's new house, which is totally beautiful and looks out over a wooded lot near Bush Lake. Mircea and I played a quick game or two of ping-pong (he beat me by two points) while Teddy followed Talley everywhere she went. Teddy is absolutely gorgeous, with eyelashes that could create a wind current, and he is talking up a storm, so he is fun.

The next morning, Mircea went to Sofitel and got us fresh croissants for our morning treat. Then we played with Teddy some more - by this time he had decided I was safe, so while I sat on the floor, he repeatedly pushed me over and belly laughed. It was a beautiful, sunny, winter day, so we went sledding as well - another activity Teddy totally enjoys - and a great work out to boot! Then off to a really great Indian buffet at Tandoor. I haven't found really great Indian food here in Oregon (unless it costs a fortune), so this was a treat. After lunch, they dropped me off at the Powell's house. Our time was way too short and sweet, so I cried as we parted and couldn't straighten up fast enough to be composed when Kristen and Bethany answered the door. So I started my time with them by crying for a bit - oh, well.

John had said he could get the party together on his own, so we decided that we should make ourselves scarce in order to facilitate that. We decided to go shopping just for fun and accomplished our mission. John had said that another one of dear friends, Dana, was planning to arrive early in order to help organize the party, so we arranged to be home a little early in order to have time with her. When we walked in the house, Kristen went first and then I waited a second and followed quietly. Poor Dana almost went into shock and started crying, so I cried right along with her. (Crying along with people is a gift of mine, I think.) It was wonderful to catch up with her, as we haven't kept up our contact as much as we used to.

After a bit, people started arriving for the party. It was a riot to watch their faces as they recognized me, said hello, then did a double-take/jaw drop when they realized how out of context I was. After a few of these encounters, I decided to be the doorman so that they could get over their shock and move on to enjoy the party. I truly had a great time - what a great way to see everyone. Thank you, John and Kristen.

Sunday, we got up and exchanged ideas for brunch - a miracle! John and I had both had the great idea of going for Dim Sum. Psych! So we stuffed ourselves, then came back, listened to the girls play cello and piano, and played a quick board game until they had to bring me to the airport. Again, really hard to leave, but we are planning to meet up with them this summer in the Grand Canyon, so that helped.

My trip home was ... interesting. The flight left from MN a bit late, which made my connection in Phoenix pretty darn tight. I touched base with the flight attendant and the best she could do was recommend I move as close as possible to the front and make a run for it when we got in. Gosh, thanks! So I made my way forward and ended up sitting between two really nice women, one of whom spoke about the loss her family has experienced as a result of Katrina. Heavy stuff, but good. The other gal worked for the airline and was able to call in when we landed. She found out my connecting flight was leaving 10 minutes late and told me which gate to go to. Cool! I still ran for it - why is it that I can run and run on the road, but you put me in a situation where I have to run and I feel like I'm going to keel over? Must be the adrenaline rush... I hope I never have to run to save my life or someone else's... Wheeze, gasp.

I made my flight, got in to Portland around 10:30 p.m. and hopped on MAX to make my way home. Random side note: Downtown, about 15 youth with bicycles got on the train. They started talking to a couple who asked them which hills they were going down and they talked for a bit. Evidently, there is this whole sub-culture out there that joy-rides down these massive hills in the dark on their bikes. They got off en masse at Washington Park to ride hills there. Yowsa. About half-way home, I realized that the train wasn't going all the way to our city. By this time it was about 11:30 p.m., so I decided to take a bus from the Transit Center. Trains, planes, buses and automobiles. This is nuts.

I wasn't feeling particularly safe at this hour - the only female in sight, with a suitcase, and knowing darn well I would faint if I had to run. Some guy had overheard my conversation with Paul as I arranged for him to meet me at the bus stop vs. the MAX station and then I thought how freaking stupid that was and toyed with changing my plans again just to be safe. But I got on the bus and decided to play it by ear. Two stops later, another guy gets on and I nearly fell over - it was one of my clients! My clients are the best people to have around at that hour - street smart, know the ropes, and watching my back. Nice!

So the short of it is, I had an AWESOME weekend. It was really hard to be there and not do EVERYTHING and not see EVERYONE and only spend a little time with the few people I did see, but it was totally worth it, and I can't thank everyone enough for the time I had with you. Thank you, John and Kristen for facilitating a really great time for me!

Are we having fun yet?

2007-02-26T10:13:00.000-08:00

Well, yes and no. Here's some reasons why:

Stephen's no answers: The end of Terabithia caught him off guard, even though he had been warned. Still, we think it will grow on him. Then last night at 3 a.m., he woke up and puked all over the bathroom. Ugh.

Stephen's yes answers: He got to go to a birthday party on Saturday at the local indoor pool. He had a GREAT time, loved the pool, made some more friends and couldn't stop talking about it. We also went to see The Bridge to Terabithia, which he mostly enjoyed. Today he is staying home from school (see below for an explanation).

Also, we met with school personnel re: whether or not he qualifies for assistance. The good news is, that he is truly doing well, with only a few rough spots: spelling, self esteem and interpersonal relationships. Since spelling is the only academic area of concern, we will be addressing his needs by continuing his involvement in a lunch group and expanding his opportunities for socializing. I will also work with him on phonics at home. We have signed him up for a play, Alice in Wonderland, through the park and rec system and he is the second person on the waiting list. We also got a great book from one of the school counselors called Pumsy the Dragon. It is about a dragon whose best friend is Stephen (!) and how they learn to take control of thoughts that get them feeling down. Excellent book.

Thomas would like to have more time to interact with his friends, so he is not having enough fun. Actually, this is a beautiful thing because it shows that he is healing from the grief and loss of the move. We are approaching our one year anniversary in April and only now is he beginning to be able to reach out.

Thomas' answers: Thomas is having more fun lately because he's finally gotten plugged into the Wednesday night youth group at our church. This enabled him to make some real connections and he reported that he made seven friends the first night. The material they are covering is perfect for middle school issues as well and offers some great discussion opportunities. He is also enjoying playing on the computer as a character in Gaia, an online interactive game/society. Very interesting to watch him interact there - kind of a dry run for real life. For those of you concerned re: online predators, we do keep an eye on this site and what goes on there. There were a couple of other sites that were just plain rude to newcomers and we pulled the plug on them immediately. This one has been good so far. Thomas and his friends answer anyone's question re: where they live with, "FREAK!" and then they run away.

William is not having fun because some kid at school wrote nasty comments and symbols on his sweatshirt during a movie in class. However, he handled it really well, reported it to the Dean, and didn't fall apart at home which is what I would have expected. Very cool.

He is having fun playing Zelda on the wii. Almost too much fun according to his mother. He also has fun helping me cook and he's really good at it.

Paul is traveling as we mentioned in our last entry. He says he's not having fun. I would like to not have fun like that sometimes.

I am not having fun because I am the one that gets to clean up after people who throw up all over the bathroom. Note: not just all over the bathroom floor, but all over everything. The walls, the toilet, the pajamas, the shower curtain, the heat vent. Every time I go in there I find a spot I missed. Ugh. I am also the one that gets to clean up after the dog when she has an accident in the house. She has done this twice over the weekend due to a change in our routine (I am trying to transition her into using the dog run so she doesn't go in the garden area but she doesn't understand.) So I called the trainer we went to when we first got her and we are back on track. Ugh again. Lastly, I am not having fun because Safe Haven's opening has been delayed yet again. I hate waiting.

I am having fun meeting the new people I will be working with when Safe Haven opens up. I'm also having fun seeing the daffodils and crocus bloom in February and dreaming of gardening ideas. I've sworn to myself that I won't actually plant anywhere that I don't have irrigation figured out, so that helps me keep it simple and do-able. And I'm in painting mode as well - Stephen's room and the dining room are done. Now I need to rent a tall ladder and get the living room painted. Very fun! Can you tell I've been taking my vitamins? :)

Random other notes: Anita, Paul's mom, is well enough to go to Florida and has tickets to leave this weekend! Holy moly Rocky, that is great news!!!

Also, as I mentioned above, our one year anniversary here is approaching. In some ways, it feels like five years, in other ways it is hard to believe a year has passed. Each of us is making the transition the best we can and I am truly happy to say that, while we still grieve the losses of friends, family and snow in Minnesota, we are finding our places here.

Catching Up

2007-02-20T21:50:00.000-08:00

Last time I wrote, Anita had just gotten home from the hospital. Since then, it has been a whirlwind of arranging 24 hour care, figuring out finances and insurance coverage, emailing and conference calling all the siblings, and so on and so on and so on. The short story is, we have found an agency that will send a caregiver to Anita's home 24 hours a day. This is a huge relief. Anita is slowly feeling better since her bout with pneumonia, but has had a couple of setbacks as well. She is trying to get strong enough to go to Florida, which is a great motivator for her.

Thomas is in our news again this week, as he made the honor roll at his school. They had a little breakfast for all the students and their parents and handed out the bumper stickers - how cool is that? I haven't put it on the car yet, though, because something inside me wants to say "Proud parent of three boys who do their very best with their gifts despite occasional great and small obstacles". Ah, well.

The Police are in my news for two reasons: Number One, they are back together for a Reunion Tour!!! Now this is DEFINITELY cool!!! Truly, this is one concert I would go see - and I can sing along with every song! Now to find affordable tickets... DA DOO DOO DOO, DA DA DA DA...

Reason number two is that I got to give my presentation to the local police as a part of their training. MOST interesting, with some good interaction between the officers and me. They had some really great questions and concerns but they also had some pretty classic stereotyping going on. My hope is that, after I've done all eight sessions over the year, we will have come to some mutual understanding.

My job is beginning to morph into my role at the transitional living facility we are opening called Safe Haven. We hope to have the first person move in next week. For me, it will mean more hours, better pay, my own clients, and working very close to home. It will also mean fewer outreach hours and time with my co-worker in that area, which I will sorely miss. We have gotten to know each other quickly through all our hours in the car and have enjoyed a lot of laughter as well as clinical discussion regarding the various ins and outs of our clients personae.

One interesting thing about working at Safe Haven is how another piece of my puzzle is being put into place. Oftentimes with me, I will have a definite sense of peace about a path to take or a decision I need to make but have no idea why. When I was in school for my Masters, my first Field Placement at the Interprofessional Center (IPC) was one that I did not really choose. (It was not available when we put in our applications and all of my choices did not work out.) When I was informed that I could either begin the application process again or take the position at the IPC working with asylum seekers, I jumped at the chance both professionally and personally, since I love working with the immigrant population and hate the application process. And I kept thinking, "Hmm. This is not what I would have chosen. What is God up to? Hmm..." That was the first year of the IPC's existence, which was an experience in and of itself - brand new concept, brand new program - everything. It is through this program that I also got my exposure to youth work. I'm still hooked on that, which I do now through HomePlate. And now, here I am beginning again in a brand new program that utilizes a brand new concept with only a few models to follow. Hmm.

Stephen would want to say, "Gong Hay Fat Choy!!!" or, "Happy New Year" in Chinese. It is the year of the Pig, very auspicious. We celebrated by making Chinese food - steamed buns with barbecue pork, noodle soup, Pocky and Koala cookies - and watching a Jackie Chan movie. Next year, we would like to go to the Chinese Garden here and see the dragon dance.

Paul is in travel mode right now. He had the opportunity to go to Minneapolis last week for business, then spent the weekend with his mom. Now he is in D.C. at the Ritz Carlton "special business rate, that's how we got to stay here" and a daily food budget that could feed our entire family and more. Okay, yeah, I'm a little jealous. My bed sags in the middle. I used the lint remover roller to get rid of dog hair that mysteriously appeared on my pillow, up my nose, and in my mouth. We ate at Burgerville last night and thought that was really cool. Woo. Two of the kids developed low-grade fevers and stayed home from school. I juggle working and parenting by phone. BUT, I also painted the dining room and caught up on my blogging. Really, I don't know which of us is having more fun!

News this week

2007-01-26T14:57:00.000-08:00

Paul's Mom. Paul's mom was admitted to the hospital January 18th with pneumonia. She had been feeling short of breath since the Sunday prior, we had all said go see the doctor and she put us off, saying she would be going in to the oncologist on Thursday. She is generally a tough cookie, so we let it go and didn't force her to go in! Ugh! Long story short, she has given us quite a scare, but is finally on the upswing and was released Tuesday. She is quite unsteady on her feet and requires someone to be there 24 hours a day in order to help her get around without falling. 15 minutes after arriving home, she stood up without waiting for help, fell down and bumped her head on the wall. So it was back to ER for a C/T scan because she is susceptible to bleeding. 3 hours later, she was cleared to go home again.

This has been really hard on the family. The social worker that is working with us gave us a good idea of what to expect from here on out and it is not a picnic. While the tumor is under control for now, the type of cancer she has will send out tendrils that eventually start new tumors. She will undergo regular MRIs to monitor this and will be treated quickly when they arise. Meanwhile, she will remain at high risk for infection, especially pneumonia, and will require 24 hour care for some time yet (to be determined) depending on how long it takes her to get back on her feet from this bout. Pray for us.

Thomas. Well, as long as we are talking about medical issues but on a much lighter note, here's the latest with Thomas:

We had chocolate fondue the other night - a new favorite in our household along with meat fondue, because Paul got a fondue pot for his birthday. I was cleaning up in the kitchen while the kids started eating their dessert when I heard a ruckus. William and Thomas were yelling, "Oh! Oh No!! Holy crap!!" I figured they had tipped over the pot and there was chocolate everywhere, which I did not want to see, so I waited. Then Thomas came in the kitchen with a handful of blood and I started saying, "Oh! Oh No! Holy crap!!!" And then I got a cloth, applied direct pressure and stemmed the flow. He had evidently been trying to skewer a strawberry that he was holding in his hand and got a little carried away. He is fine, no infection, just a little pale and woozy for the rest of the evening.

The police. I am totally pumped! The Police department from a neighboring city has asked us (my co-worker and I) to be a part of their training. My co-worker doesn't have the time to do it, so I get to be the presenter. I will be discussing Mental Illness in the Homeless community, what our role is as PATH outreach workers, and brainstorming ways that we can collaborate with the police and vice versa. The police in the area have been getting really bad press regarding their response to both the homeless and mentally ill, so this is part of their solution. It is not their intent to become mental health professionals, but to become informed regarding the resources that are available to them when they come across someone that fits these criteria. I am hoping that this proves to be a great step toward positive change.

Snow Days

2007-01-17T11:33:00.000-08:00

Just a quick update, here. We had three inches of snow overnight and woke up Tuesday to a traditional Winter Wonderland! Since this kind of snow only happens every two to 5 years, there is no such thing as a snow plow. That means: Snow Day! No school, offices close, the city virtually shuts down. Stephen and William were ecstatic. Thomas burst into tears. He has been homesick for snow the last few days and had prayed for just enough snow to make one snowball, that's all. Talk about "over and above all you can ask or think". An overwhelming answer to prayer.

Today is day two. The snow never melted yesterday and the roads are still terrible, so here we are. Oh, well, the house is cleaner than it has been in a while...

Story #17: Mr. Yuck

2007-01-13T21:26:00.000-08:00

In response to some queries re: finding a dead man in the Boundary Waters, I will now tell "The Story of Finding the Dead Man in the Boundary Waters" or "Mr. Yuck" for short. For those who know me, this is story #17, and you've probably already heard it before, so you can skip it. I figure if I write it down and give it a number, when I get senile and start repeating myself, you can all say, "Yep, story 17, you printed it in your blog in 2007 and we don't need to hear it again." Or perhaps something that preserves my dignity a little more, like, "Oh! Isn't that the one where ...?" and I will remember on my own that I've already told you the story 10,000 times and then I will try to tell you story number 21, which I remember isn't printed in my blog and you've only heard 5,000 times so you will have to listen to it.

But for now, Story #17:

Finding the Dead Man in the Boundary Waters

When I was in about 10th grade, give or take a year, the youth group at our church took a trip up to the Boundary Waters. We canoed in to a base camp area and then took day trips out from there. We ate bacon and eggs fried on the overturned lid of a washing machine and nasty flavored instant oatmeal for breakfast. We tried to fish without much luck. We even tried catching our own leaches (successfully) to use for bait. Must have been the wrong kind of leach. It didn't help that one guy, Bruce, kept yelling, "Here, fishy fishy fishy!!!" Everyone knows you can't catch a fish if you're loud. At least he was funny.

None of the girls on this trip were really my type - they were the kind that bought butane curling irons so they could have their hair perfect for the whole trip, or they weren't my age, or they all preferred to sit around vs. fish, hike, explore, play cards, etc. - so I got permission to sleep on a tarp on a point near the girl's tent instead of having to be in the tent with them. This ended up being AWESOME, because I laid the tarp on a low-growing evergreen patch that turned out to be a great mattress and I was able to see the stars (sans smog and city lights - wow!). Then, one night there was an amazing display of the Northern Lights that arced from NNW to due East. And one night it snowed on me, too, but that just fed my tough-girl-I-can-make-it-through- anything attitude. Hear me roar!

On one of our day trips, we went to check out a smaller lake nearby. As we approached one of the portages, we noticed that someone else was already there. There was a canoe and several packs neatly placed along the entrance to the portage. We pulled up, grabbed our canoes, and started hiking. I was toward the end of the line, with the youth pastor and a few of the guys in front. As we got near the end of the portage, one of the guys came back and very loudly said, "There's a guy sleeping up there!!!" We were all telling him to shut up then, when he said he was being loud on purpose so the guy would wake up and we wouldn't startle him. So we all stomped and talked until we reached the end of the portage. There was more gear, neatly laid out, and an elderly man sleeping on hi side with his head on a rock. We had made so much noise that we figured he must be deaf, certainly not dead, so our pastor went up to him and tapped him on his side to wake him up. That's when we knew there was something absolutely not right here because when he tapped the guy, it sounded like a watermelon: Thump, thump. Regular people don't go thump, thump. Plus he didn't move. Another sure sign. We looked at one another in silence - "You mean, he's dead? Are you serious???" our eyes said.

It would be interesting to talk to the people on that trip now, as adults, and ask what they were thinking. No one screamed - it wasn't scary, just ... unreal, out of the ordinary, unexpected, unsettling. And sad. And solemn. We decided we'd check his wallet for identification, which we did. I still remember his name and address to this day. Then we went back to base camp - suddenly seeing another lake just didn't appeal to us any more. Plus, the youth pastor said we could place some distress signals out in the lake so the ranger-types in the float planes would land and then we could report what we had found.

Two days later, no float planes had landed yet. We decided to flag someone down on the road instead. The only down side to this choice was that the closest route to the road was to go past the dead fellow again. So a few of us went - maybe two canoes. Of course I was in one of them - after all, I'd slept under the stars and in the snow! Tough as nails! So off we went. Little did we know that two days plus a little rain would bloat the fellow a bit and turn him green. Now it was starting to get creepy. In retrospect, at least he hadn't been mauled by animals or anything - that surely would have traumatized us. Instead, we just got royally grossed out and, being teenagers, decided to call him "Mr. Yuck". You know, the little green face stickers that you were supposed to put on all the poisonous things in the house so your little kids wouldn't drink it? Well, that was his new name. Back at camp, we sang songs about him, told outrageous stories about him, and basically did what ever we could to laugh about it instead of puke or freak out.

On the way back to camp - Behold! There was a float plane! And it had seen our distress signal and was coming in for a landing. We told the two people in the plane about the man we'd found. When we told them his name, they were shocked - they knew him, an old trapper in the area - and he wasn't expected back for a few days yet so he hadn't been reported as missing. They assured us they would take care of everything and thanked us for alerting them.

I wish I could say there was a moral to the story, or a "take-away". If anything, it would be that finding a dead person isn't necessarily scary. Unsettling, yes. But, in this case not scary. We were fortunate that the worst thing that happened to him was that he turned a little green. Thank you, Mr. Yuck, for going easy on us.

Work Adventures. William

2007-01-05T15:40:00.000-08:00

Item 1. Love. Every week at HomePlate, a different group comes in to prepare and serve the meal. The groups vary between church groups, people from different places of work, or random volunteers found over the internet via a service like Craigslist. One week a while back, there was a group from an Alaskan Airlines susidiary that came. I ended up sitting down with a few of them at one point and discussing the various reasons youth become homeless. It was an awesome discussion and I came away from it feeling like they had really grasped the plight that many of these youth face. One woman in particular was very touched and promised to approach another group she was involved in to see if they would like to come and prepare a meal as well.

Last week was the week her group came. They are a Buddist non-profit organization that provides relief worldwide and most of the members from this chapter are immigrants from Taiwan. When I arrived, they had set the tables using beautiful blue tablecloths with a small vase of flowers on each one. The food they had made smelled wonderful and tasted even better - vegetarian Chinese dishes - and the youth were very appreciative. In addition, they had brought some basic supplies like socks and underwear and to top it all off: hand knit scarves (representing over a year's worth of work).

This was an utterly overwhelming experience for me. I had to leave the room a couple of times just to weep. I'm still trying to place what is was that moved me so. Was it that everyone there was of Chinese descent? (In case you don't know me, I love China and had planned to move there at one point.) Was it the way they expressed their sincere love for these kids? It was palpable. Could it be that where there is love, there is God's presence and that was what was so moving? In any case, the youth knew they were loved, they felt it and it was beautiful.

Item 2. Close call. My co-worker (Lisa) and I went to check on one of our clients who lives under a bridge next to a river. When we got there, the first thing I noticed was that his bike was there. Then, as I got further down the hill, I noticed that the water had risen quite a bit and that his chair was now in about 6 - 8 inches of water. In addition, there were several tarps stacked up near the water's edge that were about to be swamped as well. This fellow usually leaves his site in good order, putting everything away before he leaves, so this was unsettling. I called his name several times but there was no answer so we presumed he was gone. Then we debated about whether to move his chair and tarps for him. I went further under the bridge and looked up to where his sleeping bag was and nearly jumped out of my skin - he was still in there, not moving (dead?)! No, wait - was he? I couldn't see very well as it was very dim. But as I backed out, I realized that what I had thought was his head was really a canvas bag. I know in a very theoretical sense that in this line of work, some of my clients will die. But I just don't want to be the one that finds them. Slightly reminiscent of the time we found the dead guy up in the Boundary Waters... but that's another story...

Item 3. Closer call. After HomePlate the other night, we were putting the trash out in the bin at the back of the church when a man came walking along in the alley/parking lot. He confronted us, thinking that we were "ruffians", and asked us to move away from the door of the church, saying that he is the self-appointed guardian of the church. Then he began to quote the scripture "Choose you this day whether you will live or die" and put his hand in his pocket. At that moment, I thought for sure he had a weapon. Then I wondered what the right answer was to his question - if we chose "life", did that mean eternal life? As in death? And if we chose "death" did that mean actual, physical death, or spiritual death, which could mean life? So I began to unlock my cellphone in my pocket, just in case I needed to dial 911. Fortunately, this guy was only crazy, not violent, and after he was done with his sermonette and conspiracy theory linkages of the Hebrew language to numerology, we were free to go. Yikes.

William had his last dose of prednisone (steroids) today. This is worthy of a celebration. We have tried to wean him off twice already, but he would begin to feel awful again within just a couple days. This time, the medicine that he is receiving intravenously is working. He is chubby again, which looks great on him, especially since I know he will need some extra pounds to burn if/when he has another bout of illness. So celebrate with us!

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

2007-01-02T10:05:00.000-08:00

My folks were able to come out here and join us for the week before Christmas. This time, they actually got to see some of the sights in the area, although Mt. Hood was still rather elusive. (Their first visit, they worked with me on the house nearly the entire time. We had to drag them to the Japanese Garden and a few other places.) We ate at a fantastic restaurant my dad had found called the Wildwood, in addition to several darned good meals at home. We also went to the Art Museum downtown, rode the MAX, took a drive through the countryside to see the llamas, visited a swanky shopping area called Bridgeport, and hung out together. All around, a very nice time and a great way to transition into Christmas away from family and friends.

Another highlight is the arrival of the WEBCAM. "The cousins", i.e. Jill and Tim's kids, have been missing us terribly, so for Christmas they sent us a webcam. This way, we can see and hear one another on a regular basis, like a telephone with a monitor. (Okay, do you remember how futuristic video phones seemed only a short time ago? I distinctly remember thinking there was no way this was possible, and if it was possible, it would only be for the very rich. Amazing.) We have been in regular contact with the cousins since the arrival of the webcam, although our microphone feature is not working, so they cannot hear us. (I've spent a good 6 hours trying to figure out the problem and plan to call customer service now that the kids are back in school. Is that like getting coal in your stocking? Hmm, maybe I'd better check to make sure those guys aren't mad at me about something...) But, even with the glitch, it has been super cool.

The kids would also want you to know that they pooled all their Christmas gift money together and got a Wii (the latest gaming system by Nintendo). One of Paul's co-worker's, Howard, gave us a tip that a local department store where he works might be getting some in. So Paul casually dropped by on his way to work on the designated morning and snagged one. Now we are forever indebted to Howard and possibly forever hooked up to Wii. It is pretty darn fun, even for us parental unit types. Except the fishing sequence on Zelda - way too realistic. Lots of waiting and waiting and waiting. I came downstairs at one point to check on the kids and William was flopped backward on the couch with the controller in his hand. I said, "What are you doing?" "I'm fishing." "Why are you laying down?" "Because the fish aren't biting." "How long have you been trying?" "I don't know!" But he was obviously bored stiff and had been there for some time. Hmm, this scene is vaguely familiar... Oh! That's it! There's Paul sitting in the back of the boat poking the end of his pole into the gas bubbles for hours on end, bored stiff, as my dad and I sat in silence plying the waters - waiting and waiting and waiting...

We had a quiet New Year's Eve here - or what passes for quiet in this household, anyway. Then New Year's Day, we went to the Science Museum to see an exhibit about the science behind Star Wars. Decent exhibit, but I can't wait to see the rest of the museum! I planned to make "Hoppin' John", or black-eyed peas and rice, for dinner - a Southern tradition for good luck on the New Year. So when we got home from the science museum, I went to the store to get the black-eyed peas. But they were ALL GONE!!! The canned ones, the dried ones - ALL of them! Now, this would never happen in Minneapolis. There must be a whole lot more Southern transplants out here than I ever dreamed! But never fear, our luck is in tact, because I went to another store and found some there (on the top shelf, out of reach, so I had to get help to get some down.)

The Storm

2006-12-31T15:26:00.000-08:00

Well, it's time to do a little catch-up. I find that when the kids are home from school, it is harder to get quiet time on the computer. The computer is in the same room as the television, which doesn't help. In addition, the kids want to use the computer more and more lately, so I have to wait my turn. I hate waiting...

The Storm. Thursday, December 14th, we had a tremendous windstorm, with gusts up to 60 mph. The coast had gusts up to 100 mph, and waves up to 40 feet. There was also a ton of rain. I was scheduled to volunteer at HomePlate and as I got ready to leave, I happened to go in Thomas' bathroom. Water was POURING in the (closed) window from above the sill somewhere. A quick look outside leads me to believe the caulking job is faulty and couldn't hold up under horizontal rain. But no way to tell for sure, and even if that is the problem, no way to fix it until the rain stops (i.e. - June or July).

HomePlate meets in a well protected basement. The power faltered a bit, and was out for a few minutes but was then restored. I got a call from Paul while I was there, and they had lost power at the house as well. Then the woman who comes to HomePlate to pick up the leftover food to bring to a needy family arrived, and said power lines were down everywhere. This made us all a little nervous, as we had no handle on how bad it really was out there. When I left, not one traffic signal was working, and there were clumps of emergency vehicles stationed around several areas where power lines or trees were down. Creepy.

When I got home, I looked around to see how the house was faring. We have a patio just outside our family room door that is the lowest point on our property. This was flooded, and quickly approaching the sliding glass door. I tried in vain to redirect the water by digging trenches, but the ground was already saturated and this did nothing. Eeek! Where are the sandbags when you need them? (No water came in, although you can see the flood line on the door...) The power remained out until around 1 a.m. at the house, but we were one of the lucky ones that got our power restored relatively quickly. You can read all about that in the paper. To top it off, school was cancelled because several buildings were still without power. Early Winter Break!!!

That was Thursday. Sunday, the power faltered again, although there was no sign of rain. How weird is that? It was off for a bit, then back on, then off, then we had a brown-out, then it was off again. We decided that the neighbor's incredibly bright Christmas display must be taxing the system, but later checked on Paul's (conveniently battery operated wireless) laptop and discovered that a transformer had caught on fire. Actually, it exploded - one of the youth at HomePlate was a few blocks away when it happened and said the fireball was above the 100 ft. tall trees. "Intense," he called it.

We actually enjoyed the time without power and are considering going "powerless" (i.e. no phone, computer or t.v.) on a regular basis in order to preserve sanity and appreciation for one another. In theory, the kids are in favor of this as well. We'll see how it goes over when the time actually comes to turn things off...

I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas...

2006-12-11T08:35:00.000-08:00

Time for the honest truth again. It's harder than I thought it would be to be far from family and friends during the Christmas season. As I decorated the tree, I pulled out ornaments that had been given to me by friends and family over the years. Then Bing Crosby started to sing "I'm Dreaming..." and "I'll be Home..." And, while we've had more snow than Minnesota thus far, the only precipitation we expect is (duh) more rain. So I'm feeling nostalgic and a little bummed.

But not too bummed. The beauty of having moved far away is that you can start all over and do whatever you want. And I don't want the chaos that Christmas had started to become in Minnesota. The only crazy thing about being far away is that you need to have had your Christmas shopping done a month ago so you can ship everything, which is a new reality to me. So some people are getting presents late. But, we've invited my folks here for the week before Christmas. We will see some sights, eat some seriously decent food and play board games with the kids. Meanwhile, Paul went home to New Ulm this weekend to spend time with his mom and family. From our conversations on the phone, this sounds like it was a very good visit. So, while this Christmas is a little scattered, we still have family time, good food and some presents to open. I think it will be just fine.

News Flash. Lately, the news in the paper is all about people getting stuck in the snow and rescue teams having to go and find them. Evidently, this is a common theme around this time of year. I read today that there were 24 people that had to be rescued on Mt. Hood alone last year. I find this amazing. I mean, it snows in Minnesota, but people don't get lost in it on a weekly basis. But here, when it snows in the mountains, it is like an instant blizzard and it sounds like you are buried before you can even turn your car around. Frankly, this is terrifying to me. We tend to be a little carefree about driving in the snow, like it's no big deal, and we scoff at the way people panic around here when there is a little on the road. But when you add the fact that there was probably freezing rain under the snow, there are no plows, no salt or gravel, and in higher elevations the chance of getting stranded, it starts to make more sense. At any rate, I'll be paying attention to the forecast before I go gallivanting off through the mountains.

Ride along. I had the opportunity to do a civilian ride-along with the police the other day. (In the front seat, where the good guys belong...). As a part of my outreach to youth, we thought it would be helpful to coordinate with the police, see what they consider to be the problem areas, etc. So I scheduled a ride along. The thing about it is, you don't get to choose what is going to happen that day, you just have to go with the flow. But serendipity ruled and we got called to an area high school where there had been an assault. It was a fascinating process from the perspective of a mental health worker, as there were several places where I would have thought it would be a good idea to involve a counselor or social worker and there was no one in sight. Instead, all the youth were suspended or expelled for their involvement and the school staff has marked them as trouble makers. Is this really supposed to solve anything? What is the expectation here? It sounds like sending your kid to their room to think about what they've done but their room has a t.v. and three game systems with online access. There will be no thinking going on except how to pick off the next enemy before they themselves get blown away. Hmm, is there a theme here? Rather, I would use the opportunity to hook up these kids and their families with some counseling, anger management, etc. (in addition to suspension/expulsion). Anyway, I had fun and hope to debrief with the school personnel some more to see if I missed something...

The Countryside, The Critter, The Kid,

2006-12-05T09:11:00.000-08:00

The Countryside. For Thanksgiving, I wanted a good wine to go with the meal. Being a wine-dork, I had to look up what would pair nicely with turkey. Fortunately, Epicurious has a great site with recipes, wine pairing suggestions, and a guide to which vineyards produce consistently decent wine. So Pinot Noir sounded like the way to go, and Lo and Behold, Oregon is one of the top quality producers, since the climate is very similar to the region in France that also makes this variety. In fact, there is a vineyard on my way to work, about seven miles away, that was recommended. Now how cool is that? So I high-tailed it out there. Up a curvy, mountain road, past huge homes that are being built into the mountainside, and into the wine-tasting room where there were a few people standing around tasting wine. At this point, I am completely out of my element. It is apparent that there is a "right" way to do this tasting thing, and I certainly don't know it. So I pretend that I am a very busy person that knows exactly what I want, grab my bottle of wine, and get the heck out of there. I pull out of the parking area, and begin to head down the hill, when there is a sun-break throughout the entire valley. (This was a very big deal, because we had record amounts of rain this November and we could seldom see anything further than the car in front of us.) The clouds lift, and I can see the entire valley and all the way to the coastal mountains. There is still fall color all around, and the clouds that are left scudding across the mountains add a hint of dark blue. It is absolutely breathtaking. I suddenly realize that people get all wistful about wine country because of the scenery. Funny. I always thought it was about the wine...

The Critter. For some time now, when I bring the dog out before bed, she has been sniffing and sniffing as though there were something under the deck. Cats roam free around here, and I figured that's what it was, since it is fairly dry under the deck and it has been raining, raining, raining. Then I started to put things together. Lately, we've had strange piles of barkdust with poop in the middle cropping up around the house. Not very cat-like. So the other night when the dog indicated there was something there, I got the flashlight and checked it out. Little round ears. Little masked eyes. Little raccoon under my deck. Actually, medium raccoon from what I could see. Terrific. So I came inside and checked the internet for solutions. I'm happy to coexist with the critter as long as it doesn't wreak havoc. But my sources say they carry ringworm and all sorts of other nasty diseases that could get passes on to the dog, then us, so we need to kick it out.

The county we live in offers a list of about 20 things to do, all very humane, and discourages live trapping and removal because the stress can kill the animal. I still had questions, so I called them and I got a recording says they will not accept calls regarding raccoons, opposums or skunks and gave me another number to call - Critter Gitter. So I call Critter Gitter (all I can picture is some guy in a trailer cleaning his shotgun with his trusty coonhound and a pick-up out back) and they offer to live trap it and remove it. Hello? Does the county know this? What is the message here? When I told the woman that answered the phone (not the shotgun-wielding redneck I expected), that I planned to try to get rid of it myself first, she recommended I put a sprinkler on the deck so the water would run underneath and make it less cozy. There was no way for her to know that the deck is already slick from all the rain. The other suggestion they had is to be as active as possible outside as this will discourage wildlife from wanting to live with you. What do they want me to do, have a weekly neighborhood picnic in the dark, in the rain? Maybe I'll put the sprinkler under the deck, then hope it doesn't decide to move into the chimney. Aargh.

The Kid. Last week, I breezed over Stephen as there was not much to say. This week I have an update. Before we left Minnesota, we'd had Stephen tested for dyslexia and whatever else we might find. Long story which I won't get into here, but we'll just say he'd reached a crisis point and the testing was well warranted. I'd suspected something was up for at least a year but he wasn't far enough behind in his work for the school to agree to testing. When we moved here, I approached the school with the results of the testing in my hand and was told that we should "wait and see how he does", then go from there. I set my jaw and waited. He did relatively well for the remaining two months of school. Then this year began and within two weeks he was overwhelmed with homework so I set a meeting with the teachers. One of them said, "He is a little off-task, and I think he could do better", which nearly caused me to transform into a she-bear and create havoc, but I refrained (proven fact that wreaking havoc doesn't get you very far) and left her with the report we'd gotten following the testing. She said it was "interesting". Again, at conference time, I raised my concerns and my feeling that he could reach his potential if he had accomodations in place. She said she would look into it, and I said I would write a letter requesting an evaluation. I never heard from her or anyone at the school after that. So last week I finally wrote the letter.

Yesterday, I got a phone call from the special ed director at Stephen's school. She is sure we met last year when we moved here (Really? I have NO recollection of that, but it's possible) and that she recommended we have him evaluated by a physician for ADHD in order to qualify him for an IEP. I remember being told to look into medication for ADHD. Evidently, since I already knew he had been diagnosed with ADHD, her request was translated in my brain as "try the meds and then we'll see how he does". Major communication breakdown on both of our parts. She said that she remembers reading his test results, but never read the whole report, thinking the test results told the whole story. She sincerely apologized, said, "This child needs to be on an IEP. I have my own children and I'm telling you I get it." and agreed to do whatever was necessary to make it happen as soon as possible. I cannot tell you what a relief this is. Stephen is a gifted, wonderful child and school is so hard on him. I am thrilled to watch the transformation as he gets the help he needs to succeed.

29 shopping days...

2006-11-27T11:18:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving. We have much to be thankful for. A home that doesn't leak. A strong family. Beautiful surroundings. Friends with whom we shared the holiday. Days of sunshine. Raindrops that hang on the trees like crystals. And today, Snow! Here is the view of our back yard. Of course, as we are originally from Minnesota, this looks like next to nothing, but it is a big deal here. However, contrary to rumor, school is in session, much to the kid's chagrin.

William. No cramping and an increased appetite just in time for Thanksgiving dinner! His next treatment is this Friday. At that time I hope to get the go-ahead to begin reducing his steroid doses again. This is the first time he's been cramp free in ages, and we are very thankful.

Thomas. Thomas has taken to drawing lately. He has all sorts of Anime/Manga style characters that he has developed. Many of them have cyber technology built into their bodies or special suits that give them certain powers. As he talks about his characters, it is evident that they are really outgrowths of himself. Many have experienced loss of family and loved ones and are struggling to piece their lives together as a result. Many of the powers they have parallel gifts that Thomas has (x-ray vision = insight, sixth sense = empathy) . Others are in the process of finding their niche in a new world. As we talk about his characters, we talk about him and how he wants his story to turn out. It has been a wonderful, non-threatening way to process the move with him. On the outside, he appears fine - laughing, enjoying friends and family. But in the quiet moments, he is still deeply sad and experiencing the loss of all that was. We are glad he is able to use his drawing to communicate with us on this level.

Stephen. Nothing to report, I just didn't want you to think I'd forgotten about him.

Sasha. Sasha has found her true identity! Several times when I've taken her for a walk, people have stopped and asked, "Is she a flat-coated retriever?" And I would have to say, "I have no idea" because I've never heard of that breed before. Finally, this weekend I looked it up under Google images. Nearly every dog looks like it could be her! Whether or not she's a purebred, she is a great family dog and we are really enjoying her.

Slipping and Sliding. Part of the by-product of the rain is that things get slick. Like the leaves on the front lawn. And the deck. I have wiped out twice already in the last month and have the bruises to prove it (no pictures, ahem). Fortunately, the osteoporosis hasn't set in yet and I haven't broken anything. Part of the problem is that I need to re-train my brain to think wet = slippery like snow = slippery. Hopefully, I catch on before I do break something.

William. Work. Paul's mom.

2006-11-18T10:27:00.000-08:00

William had his first infusion yesterday and everything went fine. There was a chance that he would experience an allergic reaction, but he didn't. He was sleepy afterward and rested for the remainder of the afternoon. The doctor came in to touch base with us during the infusion - I thoroughly enjoy this physician, he has a great sense of humor and is compassionate as we struggle through our choices. He said that, because of the last bloodwork that came back, it looks like William is not doing well on the 3rd medication we had tried as his white blood cell count is down. So we are backing off of that medication, and being very thankful that we have the IV treatment to try next.

Work is pretty darn fun. I have met more permanently drunk people than I've known in my entire life. The other day, my co-worker and I were walking down the streets of Tigard with six homeless people, three of whom were literally staggering drunk, while the other three had just finished their morning beer. It was 9:30 a.m. As I get to know these people, I am struck with their humanity, their kindness, and their sense of humor. My job is to identify the people that are mentally ill, build trust and relationship, and plug them into services that will address their illness when they are ready. This can take anywhere from a few weeks to a year or more. In the meantime, I get to do what I call "therapeutic shooting the bull", which is the equivalent of "therapeutic hanging out" with youth, as I get to know their stories. And such stories...

I am also starting to do youth outreach for HomePlate. I've contacted the schools in the area and will be meeting with school counselors and speaking to health classes. This has been an interesting process, as people take a LONG time to return calls around here - about two weeks, in fact. In Minnesota, if it took that long, you knew they had lost your number or were blowing you off. But here, it is normal. So I get my shorts in a bundle and they call back like everything is fine and I have to re-group. Weird. And I get such mixed responses. Some people are all gung-ho about it and can hardly wait to set me up to come in, others are so rushed I feel guilty for even trying to talk to them, and still others are clueless. One counselor left me a voicemail that said, "Why don't you send us your brochure? That would probably be the best way to go about it. We don't have many homeless students in our school." But I have access to the number of identified homeless students are in that school. (Key word: identified. My numbers don't include the ones that haven't said anything yet. In fact, if this counselor is any indicator of how safe it is to self-disclose homelessness, I wouldn't be outing myself either.) I can't wait to call her back and gently, kindly, set her straight.

Paul's mom and got a good report after her MRI this Thursday. The tumor has shrunk slightly so she can take a break from radiation treatments and back off a couple of her other medications. She will continue to take seizure meds, a stronger dose of chemo pills, and get regular blood workMRIs done. Overall, this is good news, although she will most likely be nauseous and tired from the chemo. She is dealing with everything very well, the hardest thing being losing her independence - no small thing, as she is one competent lady. Go Anita!

Seattle

2006-11-14T14:38:00.000-08:00

Or: A Comedy of Errors

We had a long weekend because of Veteran's Day, so we arranged to meet the Marti's and "Do Seattle". Here is the original plan, and what we actually ended up doing:

Original Plan Actual Outcome

Leave approx. 10 a.m. Instead, took Wm. for blood draw, Paul worked from home on his computer, left at approx. 12:30.

Meet at Marti's for lunch. Starving. Stopped at McDonald's 1 mile from our house.

Meet Dan Skillings for dinner in Tacoma. A miracle! We met him and had a wonderful meal. (How weird is that to meet Dan in Tacoma? He lives in Bogota, Colombia. We used to see him in Minneapolis every year, but here we were with the Marti's and Dan, having dinner in Tacoma...)

Go to Seattle Saturday a.m. Another miracle! In fact, two miracles, since I pulled out in front of a light rail train, scaring the crap out of all of us, as we left the hotel. (I thought it was sitting still - there were no bells or arms down...plus, I had plenty of room, really!)

Go to see the Dead Sea Scrolls at the Pacific Science Center. After trying since Wednesday to reach the Science Center, found out Friday a.m. that the Dead Sea Scroll event was sold out for the entire weekend.

Park, and take the monorail to the Needle. Parked, waited about an hour for the monorail, and found out that they had cancelled service because of a gas leak under the track. Walked to the Needle.

Enjoy the Needle. Enjoyed the Needle, except Thomas was bored and made it his job to pester me incessantly about how long we had to stay. Stephen looked out every set of binoculars and loved it.

Eat Lunch. Found a Food Court, so everyone got what they wanted - another miracle!

Go to the Waterfront Market. I think we had planned to take the monorail here as well. Instead, we walked part of the way and caught a bus for another portion, then walked again. The market was crowded but fun. It reminded me of China, minus the smell of diesel fuel and sewage.

See the famous fish market. Did it! We watched them throw fish at the famous fish market, where they had a HUGE Monkfish hanging down as part of the display. As Stephen got closer to look in it's mouth, one of the guys behind the counter growled "AAAaaaaRRR!!" and pulled back on a rope attached to the fish's tail. Everyone jumped and we all got a good laugh. Then we waited for someone else to get punked, which they did - even better when you know it's coming.

See the first-ever Starbuck's. Did it! Not sure why this was important, but we were right there anyway...

Take the boat tour of the area. Ha! That is funny! Maybe next time - all that walking had us worn out and there would have been a mutiny if we'd made anyone do one more thing. We wisely chose against this.

Swim at the hotel. Psych! This also worked.

Eat at a restaurant two blocks from hotel. This was ridiculous. We left the hotel, but the road splits into a "Y" and we chose the wrong arm. We walked in the rain for too long, finally found the restaurant, and learned that there would be a two hour wait to be seated and a one hour wait to get food to go. We decided to go get the cars and head for the Interstate, hoping for a halfway decent chain restaurant. So we made a dash for it, got in the cars, and sat in traffic for the LONGEST TIME. As we sat there, we noticed that there was a restaurant serving pizza and pasta with seats available. Since we weren't going anywhere, I jumped out of the car and ran ahead to the Marti's car to see what they thought. They opted out and decided to go home (which ended up being a smart move) and I rushed the kids out of the car and escorted them to the restaurant while Paul found a place to park again. When we got in the place, they said they were closing in 20 minutes (at which point Stephen nearly had heart failure) but they could make our order to go. WHEW!!! Evening saved!

Go to a museum in Tacoma Sunday a.m. We went to the Art of Glass museum and loved it. Downside: they didn't open until 12 noon. However, we were able to watch a visiting artist making pieces in the "Hot House". They had a small gallery (would have liked more of this) and a place to create our own art, where we also spent a lot of time. There was also a bridge outside that has a large collection of Chihuly's work and that was a highlight.

Eat lunch at Marti's on the way home. Well, we didn't leave the museum until 2:00, so that put us back significantly. But the Marti's graciously hung around all day waiting for us and we stopped in and ate cheese and crackers, then left around 4:30.

Drive home while still light. Oh, well. It was dark, and raining, and there were gale-force winds. But we made it back in good time and in one piece. Besides, after our near-death experience with the light rail, a little rain was no big deal.

Enjoy our time with our friends. Definately! Despite all the waiting, foiled plans, and walking, walking, walking, we would do it again any day.

Updates

2006-11-06T09:03:00.000-08:00

William. Here's the latest deal on William: we went to the doctor last week and determined that a.) the inflammation is so bad in some place(s) that all the medicine we have him on thus far cannot fix it and/or b.) the ulceration in his intestines has caused a hole or a fistula (like a mini appendix) to grow and become infected. Neato. So we scheduled a CT scan for Friday, which will determine more specifically what is going on, and then we can plan our attack. If it is inflammation, he will begin IV treatments with a strong anti-inflammatory. If it is infection, he will get antibiotics. If neither of those work after a time (I don't know how long), then we are talking surgery. William was pretending to read during my discussion with the doctor, but he heard that part and was unnerved at best. The doctor was very cool about it and allayed his fears saying that surgery was a long way off, there were so many things we could try before that. Funny, that's not what I heard, but for the time being I'll go along with it.

William has been like a little lamb as he experiences his cramps and gets poked, prodded and tested. Sometimes I wish he would scream and raise Cain. In a way, that would be he was back to his old self. Now, he's just so mature. We talked about it the other day. I said, "William, I'm so proud of you with the way you've been handling this whole thing." He said, "Yes, I think I'm a better person since I've had to go through this. I've had to learn how to live with pain." So, if he hadn't had to live through the pain would he be harder to live with? I think it would be the opposite for me. More pain = more ornery.

Update within the update: We got the results back from his CT scan and they show that everything is normal. That translates to: he is experiencing a very stubborn case of uncomplicated Crohn's. Our best option is to go with the IV medication at this point. Upside: getting off of prednisone, which over the long haul WILL CAUSE bone density loss, slowed growth rate and a host of other complications. Downside: this medication CAN CAUSE cancer in some people. So we are weighing a will cause vs. a can cause. Frankly, a sickening choice.

Paul. Paul is a much better person these last two weeks. I attribute it to three things: 1.) He finally got his Oregon license 2.) He finally got the title registered for car we bought this summer and 3.) He got another round of antibiotics for his chest cold/bronchitis. As I've mentioned in previous blogs, his long term stress level is three times over the danger zone. So, my theory is that he took real steps toward reducing some of his stress by getting these things out of the way.

However, I would like to take a moment to register the fact that life is not fair. That booger waited FOREVER to get his license and title squared away. I half expected them to fine him or call the Sheriff and have him spend the weekend in a cell. But what does he do? He takes a half day off, goes to the DEQ to have the car exhaust tested and is turned away - not because his car failed the test (see previous blogs for my experience), but because it doesn't have to be done until his plates expire. So he goes to the DMV, waltzes into the place, studies the stinking drivers manual during the waiting period, passes the test, and comes away with his driver's license like it was a piece of cake. Ugh! I swear if it had been me, I would still be locked up in a cell and the car would be impounded. (I refused to drive the car until he got it squared away. Twice in Minnesota, I used his car to run a brief errand and was pulled over for expired tabs or headlights being burned out. He drove that car every day and never got stopped - what is up with that?!)

The weather. It is positively balmy here. Like, tropically balmy. It started to rain last week and then a warm front came through. Last night it poured. Today in the paper they called it a "typhoon" and warned that rivers could be flooding. Really? I expected flooding in February, but now? And now I know people who live under bridges. How do they get the flash flood warnings?

I have been curious to see how the house reacts to all the rain. So far, besides feeling like the heat is turning on every five seconds in the morning and the gutters being clogged with leaves, it is holding up just fine. The gutters are an obvious easy fix. The heat, on the other hand... I've been reading up on energy saving steps, and our house is probably in need of most of them. BUT, the good news is: the other day I thought it would be a good idea to see how the chimneys looked so we can have a fire in the fireplace when we are ready. Lo and behold, there was daylight streaming down upon my face as I gazed up at the flue. Duh, duh, DUH!!! I never thought to check the flue until now, so the heat has been going straight up the chimney(s). Check that one off the list...

The last week of October

2006-10-30T11:34:00.000-08:00

This morning, the water in the birdbath was frozen over and there was frost all over the grass and the rooftops. Then, as the sun came out and warmed things up a bit, the leaves on our maple tree began falling like giant yellow snowflakes. Absolutely beautiful. Good thing we didn't rake this weekend - it would have been an exercise in futility.

It was a gorgeous fall weekend here - crisp air, sunlight in the afternoon, fog in the morning, and the trees are peaking in their color. Saturday, we went to the playground at Stephen's school and played "Monster tag" for about an hour and a half. Sunday, Stephen and Thomas and I went to an apple farm nearby, had a hay ride, went through a maze, chose pumpkins and apples and generally had a great time. But not nearly enough time outside to suit me. Paul and William stayed back, watched football, and took the dog for a long walk/play time.

William is having another hard week with his Crohn's. I spoke to the doctor last week and he said the blood work we'd had done indicated that none of the medicines we are using at this time are working against the inflammation. Well, now, isn't that nice? Actually, the prednisone is working, but it is just a giant band-aid with lots of horrible side effects over the long haul and we're trying to eliminate it. So we are going in today to discuss our next option, which is weekly IVs. If that doesn't work, then I honestly don't know what is next. I don't even want to speculate.

The kids are all psyched up for Halloween. They are all wearing a black cape and plan to carry some sort of weapon. I'm not sure what they're supposed to be - just scary, I think. Frankly, I hate Halloween. The night itself isn't terrible - it's kind of fun to see the little kids come by all dressed up - but all the build-up for an evening of candy-gathering (half of which they let rot because it's not what they like) is just a bit much. As a rule, the kids get these elaborate ideas for their costumes and then I'm supposed to figure out how to make it happen. Then I spend hours making costumes because I refuse to spend $20 + at the store for something they will never wear again. Fortunately, this time around two of them already had black capes from previous years so I only had to make one. And we have an arsenal of fake weaponry to choose from, so that's covered. Whoopee. I can't wait.

The group I've been volunteering for has hired me on 4.5 hours per week for 10 weeks to do outreach to the youth in the community. That, combined with my 'regular job', brings me up to 20.5 hours a week. Ooo, don't strain yourself. By the time the 10 weeks are up, the shelter in Hillsboro should be open, and I will get all my hours there. At any rate, I'm thrilled to be working because it keeps me awake and alive.

Random tangent: speaking of being awake and alive, I would like to know what the heck happened to my youthful good looks lately. Now, don't go saying, "Oh, Lydia, you look fine... because I know a lie when I hear one. I blame it on the move, or maybe the lighting in the bathrooms here. My eyes are all wrinkled and puffy looking like the woman on the "before" pictures for the Hydroderm ads, my neck looks like I'm turning into a gecko, and I feel like Jamie Lee Curtis in Freaky Friday every time I look in the mirror - "Crypt-Keeper!" Ten years ago, I thought I wouldn't care about wrinkles, that I would just age gracefully and not try to cover it up. Now, Botox looks really good. Well, not that good. I'm still determined to age without plastic surgery, Botox, and the like. Maybe I'll get used to the "new me" in the mirror. Maybe I'll change the lights in the bathroom. Maybe I'll just never turn them on in the first place...

Stuff

2006-10-21T10:08:00.000-07:00

Just a few random things that are on my mind:

Haralsons: When the leaves start to turn and the air gets cool, it is time for Haralson apples. So I began looking for them in the store, eagerly anticipating their tart flavor and perfection when cooked and baked. They were nowhere to be found. Strange, I thought, maybe the season is different out here or something. So I asked one of the produce guys at the grocery store. "Oh, no. We don't get Haralsons. No one around here bakes so they are hard to sell. Maybe you should try some of the local orchards or farmers markets for an exotic variety like that." Exotic? Are you kidding me? Now I know how the kids feel because we can't find Kemp's Yo-J or Potato Topper.
The good news about the apples is that they can be shipped and my sister was kind and generous enough to send me a box full. Whew! Maybe I will save one and plant it...

Conferences: We just finished conferences for the kids. They are doing really well - A's and B's. (In case you are wondering, William is in all mainstreamed classes except for math. He will be ready to be in mainstreamed math by next year.) I had a very cordial discussion with Stephen's teacher during which I expressed my confusion regarding A.) his test scores from Minnesota B.) his performance here in Oregon, which has been encouraging thus far and C.) the fact that he is qualifies for Title 1 services. The teacher and I agreed that, while he is performing slightly below the standard, he is not far enough behind to fit the "discrepancy model". On the other hand, we also agreed that he could probably perform up to his ability if he had some supports in place and we will be looking into what is called a 504. This is very encouraging news, as I felt like the teacher was receptive to my input and we are moving forward. My last interaction with her felt like banging my head against a brick wall.

Guilty pleasure: Okay, this is so stupid but I have to say it. Thomas, Stephen and I have been watching Mr. Meaty on Nickelodeon. It is a show (using puppets) about two teenagers, Josh and Parker, that work in a fast food restaurant at the mall. The mall girls are also there - among them, Ashley and Ashley II - and when they are disgusted they make a sound like a cat coughing up a hairball. They go to the bathroom in groups, where they have worldwide multi-media meetings about Unicorns and guys that are dissing them. Josh and Parker are clueless as they try unsuccessfully to understand the mall girls or do stupid things like eating raw meat and dealing with the consequences (a giant tapeworm that leaps out of Parker's mouth, eating everything before he can.) Eeeew! Hack, hack. The whole show is disgustingly gross, but oh, so funny! Paul and William can't stand it, so it doesn't appeal to everyone, but I highly recommend it for extremely stupid fun.

The First Day on the Job

2006-10-18T08:48:00.000-07:00

Tuesday was my first real day at work. I was instructed to wear my outdoor clothes and asked if I had a walking stick. When I said, "Yes, I have a walking stick!" my coworker, Lisa, said, "Good, bring it. I have one I always bring and I have Mace as well." Oh. I guess the walking stick isn't exactly for the rough terrain.

I met my coworker at a local park where we hung out, talked shop (Fun!) and scoped the area for possible homeless people. No one there today, which happens, so on to our next stop. Lisa had arranged for us to visit one of her clients that had recently gotten into housing. He is originally from Venus and wears a full beard and a skirt. Nicest guy. We checked in on him, made sure he has what he needs, touched base with his temporary roommate and moved on.

Next stop, a drop in center for homeless where they can get a hot meal, do their laundry, take a shower, etc. The staff was in a meeting, so we introduced ourselves to the clients that were there. As soon as they knew who we were, a few of them expressed interest in talking further. Evidently this drop in center is so overwhelmed they have very little time to sit and listen to the needs of their clientele. Not impressed. So Lisa talked to a couple of people and I spoke to a gentleman that is most likely suffering from delusions. We call this therapeutic hanging out. When the staff meeting was over, we met with the director of the agency, who is the creepiest person I've ever met. She was judgemental, rude, self-righteous, and unprofessional at best. Lovely. On the other hand, she is the only person providing any services at all and she has done a lot of good for the community. Still, I couldn't get out of there fast enough.

Last stop was a hike in the woods behind a cemetery. This area used to be a big campsite for several homeless, but it was flooded out last winter. The debris is still all over the place - sleeping bags, clothing, garbage. We scoped out the area for new residents, found a new campsite where no one was home and another with a couple of migrant workers. Must work on my Spanish. It was very interesting to watch Lisa on this walk. Much more cautious, very wary, instructing me on the proper etiquette for approaching someone in their campsite. Most informative. I have the feeling she's got some stories to tell.

Overall, it was a very good day. The clients we met were really interesting people, my coworker is a gifted professional, and she tells me the agency is kid and dog friendly and encouraged me to bring the dog on our next day of hiking outreach. Dude! How cool is that? She also said that they are totally low key about how you fulfill your hours, as long as you fulfill them. Can it really be? Only time will tell...

Funky thoughts. News Flash

2006-10-10T23:48:00.000-07:00

My friend Cindy Pearson was here last week. She has family nearby and spent the night with us "on the way to the airport". I cried with her again. Not the whole time she was here, but once or twice. She seemed slightly amazed when I said I really don't cry much. Last time I saw her was nearly a year ago, in China, working alongside her, and I cried every day. Something about it just got to me - I love it there. I love the smell, the outdoor markets, the street food, the sardine-packed buses. Paul and I had hoped to work in China at one point not so long ago, but things beyond our control closed that door for now. So I cried.

This time when I saw Cindy, she had just had a very refreshing and much needed time of what I call "cocooning". We talked about real things, like how are you doing? Suddenly, I realised that no one real - no one face to face, no one I was safe to really tell - has asked me that question in a while and taken the time to listen. And I realised that I've had to be strong and put a good face on things a bit lately. So it was good to have her here, even if it was only overnight. Refreshing in a cleansing and introspective kind of way.

Now, for those of you out there who are experiencing a guilt complex because you haven't called or emailed me to see how I'm doing lately, just chill out. You are all doing just fine. It was the combination of in person, long term friendship and listening ear that got me. So relax.

On another sober note: We've changed William's medication in order to get better control over his Crohn's. We've been backing him down off of prednisone gradually, but he couldn't get past a certain dosage without experiencing symptoms. This just means the prednisone has been masking the fact that he's really still very sick. And that is unsettling at best. The new medication is a very effective drug IF he isn't in the 1% of the population that has trouble with certain side effects. Like liver and bone marrow functioning. We had to make a special appointment to talk to the doctor about this drug because it is such a heavy hitter. Then, when I went to pick it up at the Pharmacy, they had to give me a spiel as well. So start praying NOW that William will be in the 99% that do not experience nasty side effects, because if this drug doesn't work he has to go in for weekly IVs. Yuck.

On a lighter note: We have a joke about the trees here. Paul keeps saying, "The trees! They grow so straight and tall!" The people who have been here for a while (yes, Jeff, that's you) think we're kind of funny about it. But the trees ARE amazing. While Paul is amazed at how straight and tall they are, I am wowed by the variety, especially among the pine/conifer/fir/spruce types. There is a very large one that is silvery greenish grey. It's needles grow in star shaped clusters and it's branches reach out like long, narrow fingers. And another that looks like a rustic Christmas tree, maybe 8 ft. tall and it's leaves (leaves? is that right?) grow in fan-shaped groups along branches that stick straight out from the trunk. And one that looks like a pear on a stick with chartreuse (that would be yellow) highlights where there is new growth. And tall narrow ones whose branches drape down in a gentle "J" shape with strings of needles hanging off them like - I don't know, homemade pasta hanging to dry? Fringe?. And fuzzy looking ones! And, yes, tall and straight ones - we have a mini Sequoia woods nearby. Every time I go out to walk the dog, I notice a new tree, or a new thing about one. It keeps me busy.

Today, in addition to the trees, I noticed a boat next to someone's house. They seemed to have it moored to the deck, with a bright yellow rope tying it there. I thought, "Why would they do that? Especially here, especially now - we haven't had enough rain to even keep the grass alive. And they have it tied to the house as if it were going to flood tomorrow." And then, BAM! It hits me. Man, if you think THAT boat looks stupid tied to the house just because it hasn't rained all summer, think about how the one in Noah's front 40 must have looked to his neighbors. At least this one was on a trailer, so if they wanted to go somewhere besides the driveway they could. Old Noah wasn't going anywhere in that thing until the floods came. And who knows? It could very well flood here in February, I don't know! Maybe the guy's not so crazy after all...

News flash: The job search is OVER! I interviewed Monday and it went well (obviously, duh). As I mentioned in the last post, it is a Homeless Outreach Assistant position. I will be working with a seasoned outreach worker (who is also an MSW), going out to where the homeless here in Washington County camp out, assessing their needs, building trust and relationship with the hope of engaging them in services such as shelter, addressing mental health issues, etc. They were very up front about the fact that this particular job is not funded at the MSW level but they plan to split the seasoned worker's job into two twenty hour positions and add two MSW level case managers in the near future and they would love to have me transition into one of those roles. They even raised the salary a dollar an hour as a token of their good will. Funny. I am truly fine with this. It is a great way to get to know the agency, begin building relationships within the homeless community and familiarizing myself with the services available to them.

One of the questions they asked me before they offered me the job was, "How will it be for you to work with adults vs. youth?" I had fortunately given this some thought - is it homelessness that is my passion or youth? Working with severe and persistent mental illness or just plain having a job in the social service field? I could only say I don't really know but I'm willing to find out. Again, they were very cool about this and said that usually people either love it or hate it. If I love it, I can transition into the Outreach Worker or Case Manager role in a few months. If I hate it, there will be a youth shelter opening up next door to the adult shelter with mental health positions as well. And I would be free to go. If not, I am encouraged because I got two more calls for interviews within the last couple of days. Feast or famine, I guess. I finally figured out that the way they do it out here is to collect resumes for about a month and then sift through them. So there's at least a four week lag time before you hear from anyone. Nerve wracking.

But I have that overwhelming sense of peace about this job so I'm thinking I will love it. The minute I was called to come in for an interview I knew that this was IT. It is exactly what I asked for: near where I live, working with homeless people, part-time, utilizing my degree. I wasn't even nervous for the interview, which says a lot since I was on the verge of throwing up for my first one.

A totally random thing that I love about this job already is the drive in to the office. They are located in a nearby town called Tigard. When I Mapquested for directions, it said I should take the T.V. Highway, which I HATE. It is full of stop lights, cars, pedestrian crossings, signage, signage, signage, junky buildings and Harvey the 25 foot rabbit. Estimated time 25 minutes. This is bogus. It will take AT LEAST 45 minutes in rush hour, stop and go traffic. So I tried again with the "no highway" option and it showed me a back route on country roads. Estimated time 25 minutes. I decided to try it, plan on a 45 minute drive in case everyone else takes that road too, and see what happened. It was GORGEOUS! I passed two llama farms, a large apple orchard, vineyards, a Victorian home on 16 acres that I want to buy, rolling hills, misty vales, harvests in progress. And it took 25 minutes with virtually no traffic. Just WAIT till I get that Mini Cooper! Zip! Zip!

The Omigosh! It's October! Update

2006-10-04T14:17:00.000-07:00

October! The burning bushes are bright red, and the leaves are beginning to change on the trees. The weather has turned significantly cooler, with one last week in the low 80's. Rain threatens to be a few days away. I frantically finished painting the patches of bare wood outside left by the previous owners dogs. I feel like yelling, "Batten down the hatches! Stock up on the Gore-Tex! Book a room for February where there is guaranteed sunlight!" It is soup weather, wool sock weather, campfire weather. Except it hasn't rained significantly yet, so no campfire. Around here, that could mean wildfire, especially with my beloved barkdust covering the entire region.

But we have had soup, and chili. And, thanks to a new oven, cookies, shortbread, and whatever else I can dream up. Did I write about the oven? Short version is, it broke, but not completely enough to be covered by the insurance plan that came with the house. But we got a nice discount on a new one and an additional discount covering the amount it would have cost to fix it. So we got a new oven and we LOVE it! For the first time in our married life, we have an oven that is properly insulated. You can actually touch the glass door and not blister. What a novel idea.

A path! I ordered more gravel (to be delivered this time). So yesterday, I laid the path in the garden and placed the gravel. It barely made a dent in the pile. I have more area that I wanted to make into paths, but not quite yet... Oh, well - I've got something to do, anyway, and I'd certainly rather have too much than too little.

Let's see, I'll update you by individual:

Stephen: Stephen seems to be having a pretty good year. He isn't coming home upset every day from school like he was toward the end of last year, and is making friends. He is much less angry this year and able to cope. But, he's spending a LOT of time on his homework, even with me there to make sure he stays on task, so I asked for a meeting with his teachers. It seemed like a good time to check in re: how we could accomodate his dyslexia and attention issues. The meeting was the strangest thing I've ever been to. I literally thought they had mixed him up with another child. They have him in the "middle" reading group and the "higher" math group and according to them, he's keeping up. The math teacher showed me a test he had just taken that was 60% correct and said that was fine (fine? Almost half wrong is fine?) The majority of the problems he'd missed were word problems. The teacher that has him for all his other units characterised him as "bright, but distracted, off-task, and daydreaming" but seemed to feel that these were character problems vs. related to any disability. No mention whatsoever about how we could accomodate him.

At first, I was so confused by the meeting I didn't know what to think. Should I be proud that he is doing so well or really ticked because I'm getting the run around? The next day, he brought a test home that he had left 3/4 blank. I asked him what happened and he said he'd run out of time. So I wrote the teacher and asked for her version. She said he'd been given extra time (during recess) and that she felt he "could have done better". I asked Stephen for more information a few days later and he said, "I had the answers on the tip of my brain, but then they would fly away. I don't know what happened." From my reading, this is a typical problem with dyslexia. So now my dander is up and I'm figuring out how to best go about getting him services. Roar!

Thomas: Thomas is doing well. He is enjoying his classes and making do with the creepy building. He's found a few friends that have mutual interests and hangs out with them at lunch. He is acclimating.

William: William is doing well in school. (!) That is a really cool thing to be able to say! He enjoys most of his classes and tolerates gym. A girl walked by him last week and said, "Hey, cutie". He doesn't know who she is and wouldn't be able to pick her out of a line-up, but still... (By the way, no teasing about this, or I will have to delete it from the record.)

The downside with William is that his Crohn's is acting up a bit so he's been cramping and miserable for the last few days. I spoke to the doctor the other day and we will be changing his medication in hopes of getting it under control.

Sasha: Sasha is shaping up nicely. A couple of weeks ago, I was this close to bringing her back. Things have to be pretty bad for me to think like that. At that point, I had decided that she was Obsessive-Compulsive about tennis balls because she would NOT give me a moment's peace unless we were playing ball. I mean every minute, every day. We started obedience classes and the instructor had no idea what to tell me to do about it. (Super!) Then she (Sasha, not the instructor) started growling at the ball if she couldn't reach it, usually when it was under my chair, and I started dreaming that she was going to bite me. I looked up growling on the internet and decided that I needed to establish my Alpha position in the pack and tell her to cut the crap. Which I did, and she tried to stare me down so I stared back until my eyes dried up. She finally backed down, came up and 'apologized' and has been the best dog ever since! Amazing!

Paul: Well, let's just say Paul is holding up under the circumstances. Last week, I got totally fed up with him because it didn't seem like he was pulling his weight around here. After a completely pointless 'conversation' about it, I reflected on possible causes for his behavior and decided it must be stress. Then I used an online stress measurement tool to determine how bad it really is. He scored three times higher than the "danger" zone with my conservative estimate. Okay, then, I'm backing off, and we are looking at ways to ameliorate the stressors.

Lydia: Okay, so my stress index is two times the danger zone. But I thrive on a certain level of change so I'm perfectly fine! Until someone crosses me, that is. And if I learned one thing doing my master's degree, it was the importance of self-care. So bring on the herbal tea and massages!

I have another interview scheduled for next Monday. True to form, (as in, isn't that just like God?) this one could be PERFECT. It involves outreach to the homeless population in Washington County, where we live (handy!), and is part-time (handy!). The same agency is opening a shelter in our area in January and there is the possibility of more hours/responsibility as time goes on (handy!). I submitted my resume at night via the internet and got a call from them at 8:30 the next morning. So I'm guessing we are mutually psyched. In addition, Home Plate, where I've been volunteering, is looking into hiring me to do some outreach as well. So hour by hour, piece by piece, I may have work.

Sidenote about homelessness/mental illness: Within the last month, there have been several stories in the newspaper regarding incidents between the local police and people who are either homeless, or mentally ill, or both. It is really unsettling, especially when you look at them all together. I feel like cutting out the stories from the paper and collecting them, formulating a conspiracy theory. But that would make me look a little crazy and then I might end up dead - shot or beaten by a platoon of officers because I was sighted in the house holding a pair of scissors over the newspaper. Here is a sample:

A 'transient' (Does it matter that he was transient? Would it have made a difference if he'd had an address?), thought to be camping out in back of a WalMart was shot and killed by an officer. The man had refused to show his hands when asked but when he finally did, he was holding a gun. A toy gun. Okay, this would be on the list of things not to do to a police officer. But around here if you do something like that, it seems like you end up DEAD. What ever happened to just shooting them in the arm to make them drop the weapon?
A 57 year old man walked into someone's home and said, "I live here, this is my house. Don't you know who I am?" The homeowner was somehow able to convince the man to leave. He then went to another house, walked in, and sat on the couch. The family freaked out, ran next door to a neighbor, and called 911. After "trying unsuccessfully to communicate with the man", the police called the SWAT team. They evacuated the neighborhood, burst into the home and found him in a corner of a room talking to himself. He has a history of mental illness.
An 18 year old came home drunk one night and started talking suicide. His mom called the police, frantically asking for help, saying he was suicidal and possibly homicidal. He left the house with a knife in his hand and was in the driveway by the garage when the police arrived. The police told him to put down the weapon, he didn't, they shot him with rubber bullets, he reeled and headed for the door to the house again. The police thought he was going to hurt someone in the house so they shot and killed him. Some of the bullets passed through the house, barely missing the grandma sleeping in her bed.
Police came across a 42 year old man acting erratically and possibly urinating in public. He ran from them, they chased him, witnesses say they pushed him to the ground, kicked him and beat him in the chest and head repeatedly. Then they tasered him and he went unconscious. The medics were called, vitals were normal, so the police shackled and hog-tied him and brought him to the station for resisting arrest. The nurses there said he needed medical attention. He was put back in a police car and brought to the hospital but he was dead on arrival. Autopsies indicated his left chest appeared to be 'flattened', he suffered from 26 broken, splintered or crushed rib bones, multiple contusions and abrasions to his head, chest and abdomen. No trace of any alcohol or drugs. Long history of mental illness. A brilliant, gifted man struggling with schizophrenia.

These stories sicken me. There is something very wrong with the way the police force handles people with mental illness. I don't know if their training is outdated or if they even have training in this area. Honestly: The SWAT team? Three officers yelling at a drunk teenager, shooting him with rubber bullets and expecting him to - what? I would have headed for the house to get out of the firing line! And finally, kicking and beating a man most likely in the middle of a psychotic episode. To death. There has got to be another way. I hope they are trying to find it.

The Interview/The Week

2006-09-24T21:49:00.000-07:00

The interview

I interviewed for a job on Tuesday. I had sent my resume in for a position dealing with transition-age youth, meaning those within the "system" that are transitioning from children's services to adult services. It was a 30 hour per week job - perfect! The woman that called me from this company informed me that the youth position had been filled, but she wondered if I'd be interested in another, similar position that was full time. I listened to her spiel, and I was interested, so we arranged an interview time.

The interview went well, from my perspective. They asked questions that were pertinent to the work and let me know that we were all on the same page as far as our approach to serving this group of people. I would love to work there. I was invited to come and "shadow" someone for a half day to get a feel for what the job would really be like. But I kept thinking about that 40 hour week. They were very flexible with how you could fulfill those 40 hours - start early, work late, work longer hours and get a three day weekend every other week, etc. Add on to that a 1 1/2 hour commute each day. So I came home and did the math. And I did the math again because I didn't like the answer. And then I tried it another way and it still didn't come out right. And I could feel the opportunity slipping away. There was no way to do this job at 40 hours and stay sane in the process.

So I called the hiring supervisor and told her that I'd been looking at the situation and felt that I would not be able to work 40 hours per week, but that 32 hours would work really well. I asked if that was even a conversation we could have and she said, "No," and gave me the reasons why, which were perfectly normal and expected. And she said if my situation changed to let her know and I said I really liked the company please let me know if anything changes from your end and that was the end of it.

I have really mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, my feminist man-hater side is screaming INJUSTICE! If I were a man, I could just take any job I wanted and have the rest of the family run around and make everything pull together! If I were a man I wouldn't have to think about how to get the laundrydonekidsfedofftoschoolgroceriesboughthousecleanmedstaken AND do a job on top of it. I just want to do what I want to do sometimes and not have to think about the repercussions. I really hate June Cleaver.

On the other hand, my kinder, gentler side says I did the right thing. I honestly don't want to be roped into a 40 hour week, which with drive time would be a 47 1/2 hour week, and we all know social work positions rarely wrap up nicely at the end of an 8 hour day. I want time to garden, read, learn Spanish fluently. I want to be able to help my kids with their homework if (when) they need it. I want to be there or have Paul here shortly after they get home from school. I want balance. I still hate June Cleaver, but she can do her thing and I will do mine. Just don't make me be her.

So, I'm back at it. Combing my sources for job openings. Making a list of interesting prospects. Calling to inquire whether or not 32 hours a week is an option. I am on my proverbial knees a lot more, too. I am reminded of Watchman Nee's book Sit, Walk, Stand. Basically, sit and listen. Wait for peace. Walk it out. Then stand. Stand on the promise and know. I find myself going back to the sense of peace we had when we considered this move an awful lot lately. I remember thinking this is an unreal peace we have about this move. That was a little unsettling. What did God have in store for us that we would need this intense, unwavering sense of peace to stand on over and over again? We knew we were in for it and yet we knew it was right. So this is part of it. I'll just keep at it.

The week

Well, that was my week. Lots of thinking. And Paul is slowly getting over his chest cold, which turned into bronchitis so he's been real fun to have around. And I do so well when he is sick - so caring, and nurse-like, all hugs and service and 'can I get you anything, dear?' Yeah, whatever. The real story is that every time he coughs I think I'm going to gag, too, and it gives me a headache to watch him eat Oreos and Cola when he's on antibiotics so I stay far away. Like in the basement. I really want my bed back, but I'm already Nurse Rachit (sp?), so I am just waiting it out.

Last night, the kids and I went to Jackson Bottom, a wetland preserve here in Hillsboro. We LOVED it! They had a special program with live raptors, all sorts of hands-on bones to touch and pelts to identify, a night hike on the trail and the Rose City Star Gazing club out to look at stars through these huge telescopes. (I caught Stephen and Thomas trying to convince one guy that there had to be life on other planets and that the government has been covering it all up for a long time. Area 51 and all that. Conspiracy, you know.) So before we do any more star-gazing, I will be giving them the 'please don't embarrass me' lecture...

Errrgh! And other stuff

2006-09-18T08:49:00.000-07:00

Here is an excerpt from a RANT I sent to Paul via email on Friday morning:

“Can I just say that I am sick and tired of looking for a job?

I have spent every morning this week searching the internet and other sources for jobs. I carefully review each possibility and find that I either need to speak Spanish or settle for a stupid position that requires only a high school education. Not only that, but my licensure in MN is worth virtually nothing here. I had to take a test in MN, they don't even ask for that here. I may or may not get credit for the hours of supervision I had, and I have to pay $15 just to have the State of MN verify that I had any licensure at all and that I not in default or being disciplined in any way.

Today, I spent a crapload of time filling out a tedious skills, education and employment history form for the State Employment Agency online. They matched me with 6 jobs, two of which required only a H.S. education. One job looked really promising, so I called about it: It was with Outside In, one of the homeless youth agencies in Portland I've been following. The employment agency told me to call Outside in directly. I thought it was weird that this job was posted and I hadn't applied for it yet, so I looked it up on their website. Sure enough, the position was not listed. Then I called them and found out it had been posted (and filled) in July. (I forgot to ask what year). The girl I spoke to was so confused, she had no idea what I was talking about because it had been filled so long ago. UGH! And then I remembered why I hate the State Employment Agency. I used to have to bring people there when I worked for the Lao Association. We would spend hours completing paperwork only to find out that there were 20 jobs posted two years ago and filled two days after that. WhatEVER! It is a complete waste of time!

NEWS BULLETIN: WE INTERRUPT THIS RANT TO INFORM YOU THAT THE AUTHOR JUST RECEIVED A PHONE CALL AND AN INTERVIEW!!!”

True story! I was in the middle of this email to Paul and got a call from one of the agencies I'd applied to a couple of weeks ago. The woman I spoke to had been given my application for a position that had already been filled. She called to see if I would be interested in interviewing for a similar position with a slightly different clientele. The job sounds very interesting and the wind up is that I will interview on Tuesday and see if it is a match. The only glitch so far is that it is a full time job and I was aiming for part-time. However, they seem to be very flexible with how you fulfill your hours so it just might work. I'll check into that very carefully during the interview.

Saturday. Well, this is probably too much information for you, but it will help to put things into perspective. Saturday, I woke up and realized I'd gotten my period. Usually no big deal, but today, I could feel the hormones coursing through my veins. Someone was going to pay. I very graciously warned Paul that I was a living time bomb and bit his head off because he had slept in to prove it. Then we decided I should do something else for the day so no one else got hurt.

I decided I wanted to go get a load of some free gravel that I'd found on Craigslist. I plan to make a path in the garden and this was the very material I wanted to use. I went to the computer to double check the address but the wireless mouse was out of batteries and so were we, so I was off to Target first. I got the batteries and stood in the longest line there for no apparent reason. Got home, got the address, and off I went.

Or crawled, I should say. What is up with the traffic on T.V. Highway? It was Saturday! Why was everybody on the road?! So it took forEVER to get there. As I watched my gas gauge go down, I began to wonder if it would even be worth it. By the time I got there and back, I would be paying the same amount for gas as it would have been to have an entire load dropped off at the house. Sure enough, I got to the place and it was mostly dust with a little bit of gravel. But I loaded a bunch anyway just to save face and figured I could at least get a start on the path.

When I got home, I started to unload the rock out of the van. Yes, I'd used the van, lining it with tarps to protect it. This worked pretty well, but it was a total pain to empty it out. In addition, the dog was underfoot and wanted to play ball. And it was dusty and I was irritated because it was so not worth it. By about the fourth wheelbarrow load, I wanted help badly so I went in to get Paul. He was in bed again and the kids were vegging and fighting in front of the t.v. NOT GOOD! So I stormed out and finished on my own, then came in, took a quick shower, bit Paul's head off again because he was in bed and left for the store because it was dinner time and I needed ingredients. At least it was my night to choose the meal (Cuban Chicken Paella).

Fairness Update: Okay, so Paul has been sick with a respiratory thing lately and has had a cough (Bark? Hack? Gasping wheeze?) for about a week. He keeps saying he is getting better and he actually sounded pretty good on Friday. It turns out he'd given himself four doses of "Non-drowsy" cough suppressant throughout the day and was completely wired. So Saturday rolled around, he wasn't medicated, and he crashed. At least that's the story. (He's going to the doctor on Monday).

Sunday. Whew! My hormones are back in order and it's a brand new day! Thank God for that, because NO ONE had fun yesterday.

Funny story of the day: Paul and I have decided to check out the "Community Groups" they have at our new church. These groups are larger (30 - 50) and designed to allow people to get to know others at the church on a more personal basis in addition to having a time of prayer and study. The fellow who was leading it mentioned that he'd gone to school in Northeast Tennessee. When he said that, I thought, "Well the only place in Northeast Tennessee is the Tri-Cities, where my dad is from. I wonder if that's where he was?" So after the meeting, I asked him and he said sure enough, that was the case. Then I told him my dad was from there and he said, "How did he ever get out of there? No one ever leaves!" And I kind of laughed, because my mom always jokes about saving my dad from "that incestuous bunch" (Ha! It's a joke, people!). Then the fellow explained that he'd led a bible study for a group of women in their 60's when he was there and that none of them had been further away from home than Gatlinburg, TN, so he figured no one ever left. Then he said, "And you know what the other funny thing is? EVERYONE knows who Daniel Boone is and they are all related to him!" To which I calmly replied, "Actually, I'm related to him by marriage. (True!) I've even got a book detailing my family history that has it in writing." Maybe I'll bring it next time to show him...

So, How are the Kids (and Adults) Adjusting to School?

2006-09-11T08:48:00.000-07:00

After the first week of school, things are looking fairly bright overall. Here's a play-by-play:

Stephen was pretty sure he was going to hate school, suffer greatly, and most likely die in the process. He was an absolute nervous wreck the week before school and acted up accordingly. Just edgy all the way around, so the slightest difficulty was A BIG, HUGE DEAL!!! After the first day, he came home all smiles. He likes his teacher, and he loves the "tally" system that she uses to encourage good behavior. By the end of the day, he had acquired the most tallies in the room for bringing a paper from home and being in the quietest group. This was a beautiful way for him to start the year. He continued to smile all week and has made a few new friends. He is also learning to just disregard the kids that tease and say mean things. This is a big step for him - up until recently, he has felt that he needed to personally punish these kids or make sure that they get punished. Hmm, can you say 'vigilante'?

We have set his room up with a desk so he can do his homework without the distractions of his brothers/the dog/the dad getting in the way. He was doing math homework one evening and getting really frustrated with it because his brain was shutting down. We talked it over and I asked him what would help - did he want something squishy to mess with? chewing gum? what? Suddenly, his face brightened up and he turned on some music. Then, with a smile beaming on his face, he stayed on task and completed the rest of the work in no time! Good job!

Thomas never said a word about how he felt about starting school. I think he was quietly looking forward to it, but didn't dare say so because he was in the minority here. After the first day, though, it was a completely different story. The bus was a half hour late picking them up both on the way to school and on the way home. He had worn jeans and it was hot out by the end of the day with no air conditioning in the building and he thought he was going to die from heat exhaustion and a pounding headache. To top it off, in an attempt to do damage control (?), part of the orientation consisted of openly discussing the two ghosts that reportedly haunt the building - one is a troubled, bullied kid that committed suicide by hanging himself in the building two years after it was built and the other is a disgruntled janitor from way back. I guess they thought it would be better to get the stories out in the open rather that hear them from the 8th graders.

For Thomas, at this particular moment in his life, it was the worst thing they could have done. It brought up every grief and loss issue that has been just below the surface for him for the last 6 months and he absolutely fell apart. We problem-solved most of the issues the first night - wear zip-offs, bring water, etc., but he didn't tell me how awful he felt inside until two days later. So the next morning when he was supposed to be leaving for the bus, he completely fell apart again. This was the same day the electrician was here to move the outlets up in the kitchen, so I've got that drama going on and I'm completely stressing about the house, Thomas hears that the "whole house could burst into flames at any given minute", he's freaking about going to school, misses the bus, and refuses to go at all. I tell him to get in the car and we'll talk about it there because I'm not in the mood to discuss it in front of the electrician. He gets in the car, we talk about it, but he's still not telling me what's really going on. He just says he can't go to this school, it's horrible, no, he's not being abused by anyone but he just can't do it, and so on. None of the reasons justify him getting to stay home so I bring him to the school. He refuses to get out of the car and says he is more than willing to break the law and be truant. By this time, it's almost comical, but I'm running out of ideas (don't tell him that) and I'm thinking something REALLY BAD must have happened for him to snap like this. But he needs to go to school and get over it, so I say, "Fine, then, stay in the car. I'm going to go in and get the principal." "No! No! Don't get him! I'll come inside!" he says. Then he tells me he will hate me for life, etc. etc. and I tell him I love him and I'm glad he's doing the right thing and he goes to school. Drama!

That afternoon, he came home and hugged me and apologized and said he was very, very sorry. Then he talked about what was really going on inside and we had a chance to really deal with the losses he's experienced since we've moved here. In the end, it was beautiful - we made a list of the things he's lost and another of the things he's gained and a third of the things he's anxious about at this school. Then we crumpled each list and burned them in the fire pit, saying a prayer for each one and symbolically giving it all up to God. He was a new person afterward, and said he felt so light and free!

William is in the High School this year. He was not looking forward to school at all, either, but did not seem as anxious as previous years. He just did what I call 'low-level griping', which he seems to think is some sort of prerequisite behavior prior to things that he might not like. But it's almost an act and I kind of get a kick out of it because I can see him smirking just under the surface. Then I say, "I see you smirking, and I'm thinking you're not that worried about this," and he tries to cover up his face or change his expression but he can never do it and then we both crack up.

He also came back from his first day mostly smiles. He said he had a couple rough spots where he thought about Sundae (why does school bring up Sundae?) but people helped him through it and they were really nice. He likes most of his teachers except the gym teacher seemed a little abrupt and one fellow was WAY too PERKY! He has since warmed up to these two as well. A few things have come up such as no para in one class where he thought he should have one, so he has brought up his concerns with his case manager and they are working to iron it out. This is amazing! Up to this point, I have been doing the majority of the advocating for him while talking through the process with him and encouraging him to advocate for himself whenever he can. He's done this a few times, but this year he just took it upon himself and has done a great job of letting his needs be known. In addition, he has come home and done his homework at the kitchen table with very little assistance or urging from Paul or me. AND he's excited about doing some creative writing in his English class. Good show!

Paul and I are really glad the kids are going to bed earlier and then staying there. It is nice and quiet for a while before we need to crash, and we've needed that to have time to talk or just chill this week, especially while we process the news about Paul's mom.

I've been applying for jobs for the last few weeks and have several resumes out. I haven't heard a thing from anyone except, "Thank you for your recent inquiry, we'll pass your resume on to the supervisor in charge of hiring." I'm beginning to feel a little ill. What is it? Is there a glaring, stupid error on my resume? Is my letter of introduction totally missing the mark? Or worse, what if the theory base I use is not what they are after out here? That would be bad. But then I talk myself down from a panic attack and remind myself that, back in December I met with this fellow and felt there would definitely be meaningful work that I could get excited about. And that I haven't come this far just to be forgotten. So I think it's just a matter of applying, praying for the right job, and waiting it out. Ugh. I hate waiting.

Sasha is fitting in nicely. She is a silly dog that loves to play whenever there is a human available. He favorite game is to take her ball and push it out of reach, either under the dishwasher door, or behind the garbage cans or under the deck. Then she growls at it or barks until the human helps her get it out. This was really cute and funny for a while, but then she started doing it at midnight so I took her ball and put it in the drawer of my bedside stand and told her to leave it until morning. Once the ball is no longer in sight, she quits - I don't know if she just forgets about it or if she gives up, but it works! (Whew!) She also loves to give kisses and has the biggest, wettest tongue on a dog her size I've ever seen. (Gaack!) At least she doesn't drool. She likes to lay down next to you and get petted with her head on your stomach. This is like relaxing with a warm and furry bowling ball on your belly. Everyone should try it.

The Good, the Bad, and the Worse

2006-09-08T11:29:00.000-07:00

The Good. Again this week, we have just been impressed with how well we have gotten "plugged in" around here. On the first day of school, I went to pick up Stephen. As I was walking to the school, I came across two other moms I've gotten to know over the summer that were also going to meet their children. They invited me to join them, and we chatted and strolled our way to the school. It struck me as we got there that I had seen them talking to each other as they waited for their kids last spring. At that time, I was the new kid on the block, and stood some distance away from them (because, duh, I didn't know them). And here we were like old timers by the end of the summer. Later that evening as we walked the dog, Paul and I were greeted by at least four people that we have gotten to know in the neighborhood. I looked at Paul and just grinned. Groovy.

The Bad. I had the electrician out to move the outlets up in the kitchen before the cabinets get installed. He started working, pulled one of the outlets out and said, "Oooo, aluminum wiring. That's bad, really bad. I will need to call my supervisor to see if I can even touch this." And I'm starting to freak - "Bad? Really bad?" What is that supposed to mean? So he explains to me that, during the 70's oil crisis, there was also an anti-copper thing going around so they started wiring houses with aluminum instead. About ten years later, they realised it was a really bad idea because houses were burning down. Evidently, the aluminum expands and contracts too much, eventually arcing and burning through the lock nuts, then the walls, and the ceiling, and - well you get the picture. So our options are to rewire the entire house in copper (bottom line - a minimum of $30,000) or go through the house outlet by outlet, fixture by fixture, and install new improved lock nuts (at about $3 each) that won't allow the arcing to occur. There are about 3 or 4 lock nuts to every outlet, fixture and switchplate. Tedium ad nauseum and ka-CHING. But less ka-ching than rewiring, so there you are.

The worst of it is that the inspection noted that there might be aluminum wiring and we should have a licensed electrician check into it. And we were like, "La, la, la - aluminum wiring - how nice is that?!" And never thought twice about it. Note to self: if it says have it checked, have it checked for crying out loud. *Sob!* I feel so STUPID!

The Worse. Okay, momentary stupidity aside. This is serious. We now have all the reports back regarding Paul's mom's tumor. The MRIs indicated that it was calcified and most likely slow growing. However, the pathology report has shown otherwise. It is a "malignant Oligoastrocytoma, grade 3, not localised". Translation: cancerous tumor made of two kinds of brain cells that is growing quickly (4 is the worst - aggressive) and is spreading. This has us all reeling from the news. She met with the doctor today to discuss treatment and will be receiving radiation 5 days a week for six weeks and chemo daily by a pill for a year. They would rather not do surgery because the cancerous cells are embedded within the useful brain cells. Please keep her in your prayers as this will no doubt be a long haul. The good news is, she is one amazing lady. She has been the picture of health up to this point, has a great circle of family and friends to support her through this, and is a fighter.

The Last Week of Summer

2006-09-05T08:59:00.000-07:00

The last week of summer ... unbelievable. This morning the kids are all off to school and the dog and I are Home Alone. Bwa-ha ha ha!!! I spoke to my sister on the phone about five minutes after they left and she said, "What are you going to do all day now that they are gone?" Well, let me count! All sorts of things that I can't do because I get interrupted, like patching up the paint outside or thinking an entire thought. And things I can do in utter silence, like filing all the random papers that pile up on a daily basis around here or studying to pass the Oregon portion of my licensure for Social Work. Or things that are absolute torture when you have the kids along like running multiple errands all at the same time or shopping for a new bathing suit (bad enough the way it is...). One thing I'm particularly looking forward to is going to the DMV for several hours in order to get my license plate for the car. Finally. Oh, well, four hours with a book at the DMV is better than four hours with the kids at the DMV.

We had a darn good final week, though. We went for walks in our neighborhood parks with the new dog. We swam in the pool. We brought Stephen to a movie last weekend with a couple of his friends from the neighborhood. The kids went to the doctor for their check-ups (okay, that wasn't so fun for Thomas because he had to get booster shots). We had our friends the Marti's here for the afternoon on Saturday and we went to Art in the Pearl and out to lunch with a family in the neighborhood that we have gotten to know.

Dude! Do you realize how cool this is??? We did stuff with other people from the area! Like, omigosh! We might be adjusting! Even today for the first day of school, the kids were in a relatively good mood: anxious, but excited all at the same time. If you know them at all, this is a miracle in and of itself. Stephen was funny, though. He tends to watch the clock so he isn't late. This morning, he looked at the clock and said, "8:01! Four minutes of summer left!" Pitiful.

And I will close with another classic quote from Stephen this week. We were standing outside talking to Mark and Amy, the neighbors that had driven us to the vet when Sundae died, and introducing them to Sasha. (We hardly know these neighbors, just so you know.) Stephen noticed one of the neighborhood cats wandering around and went off to pet it. After a few minutes he came back, got Mark's attention, and said, "Um, excuse me, but a cat just crapped on your lawn." "Crapped"? He just said "crapped" to these people we hardly know? So now you know why it's such a big deal that we did things with people from this area - they are still willing to get together with us even with our many idiosyncrasies. Beautiful.

Pictures

2006-08-28T16:08:00.000-07:00

I think I've figured out how to post pictures, so here are a few of the house. I don't have the formatting piece down yet, but here goes anyway. The first picture is the front of the house. The second is our courtyard, which will someday have a fountain, more plants and a sitting area (think decompression zone from a hard day's work). The third is our living/dining room area and the fourth is the view of the greenspace from our deck.

Sasha

2006-08-28T14:41:00.000-07:00

It's official, we've decided we are a dog-lovin' family and can't live without one. So, not even 24 hours after Sundae had died, Paul was looking online to see if there were any dogs that might work for us. The kids were ready, Paul was ready, and I was still crying but willing to look. Then we actually found one that seemed to be a match! What are you going to do, let her sit in the shelter? Heck, no! So we called about her, asked a few questions, and arranged to "meet" her Saturday.

Saturday, we went up to the shelter (in Washington, about an hour away) and met her. We worked really hard to be objective and say we were only checking her out but we were failing badly. Thomas said, "If she comes up to me and licks me on the face, we have to bring her home." So, as soon as we brought her out to the play area, she ran up to Thomas and licked him in the face and we knew we were goners. Then she found every ball and stick available and wanted to play. She was friendly, appeared healthy, and after less than five minutes of deliberation, we decided to keep her.

Her name is Sasha, which means "helpmate". She is about a year and a half "retriever mix", which could mean anything, but she appears to be black lab mixed with spaniel, border collie, or setter. We've decided that she is a combination of Sundae (because she is smart and snuggly), Daisy, my sister's dog (because she's kind of silly/kooky), and my nephew, Teddy (because they are both crazy about balls. His favorite phrase was "The ball? The ball? The ball?" for quite a while). She loves typical lab things (like playing with balls) and sticks and hanging her head out of the window. She prefers several balls at a time with one in her mouth while she frantically tries to catch the others. She has found Stephen's stockpile of sticks in the back yard and romps around with them. She is housebroken (whew!) and smart and is learning our ways quickly, although she has NO idea how to 'heel' and believes she belongs on the bed at night. And she snores. She's already catching on to sleeping on the floor, but I may have to live with the snoring. Ugh. I've brought her to the vet for an initial check up and she is indeed healthy, already spayed, and weighs 57 pounds (all muscle). We believe she will fit right in and are looking forward to getting to know her.

We are by no means done grieving for Sundae. Everything was so sudden, and there was no time to say goodbye. We've talked about it as a family, and plan to make a stepping stone in her honor and put it in the yard where she used to sit and watch the world go by. Hopefully, that will bring us some of the closure we need. In the meantime, between getting to know Sasha, getting ready for school, and life in general, we are doing alright.

Sundae

2006-08-25T11:19:00.000-07:00

Well, this is awful. Sundae died last night at about 6:00. Here's what happened:

I was getting ready to go to HomePlate, where I volunteer with at-risk youths. Paul and William had gone to the store to get some dinner. As I got my purse, Sundae saw a dog in the greenspace and started running around the house barking - she does this, partly to notify us of an intruder and partly because she wants to go play with the dog. I told her to leave it, which is our classic response to this behavior, and kept heading for the door. She followed me, still excited, and went to jump up on me to beg me to let her go play. I said, no we're going to leave it, and put my knee up, which she knows means don't jump up on me, so she backed down.

Right when she backed down, she faltered and kind of fell over. I thought she had thrown out her back on the tile, so I waited a second for her to calm down and then went over to her. She tried to get up a couple times, then did, walked a couple more steps and then collapsed completely and her tongue turned blue.

I called a local pet hospital and told them I was having a medical emergency with my dog and they referred me to an emergency pet hospital. I called them and they talked me through CPR for her and gave me the number of another pet hospital where I could bring her. The CPR helped her tongue turn pink again, but I couldn't hear her heartbeat. I wasn't sure whether that was just because I was shook up, or if it really wasn't there.

Meanwhile, Thomas and Stephen came out of their room to see what was going on. When they realized it was serious, they started weeping and wailing as loud as possible and pleading for Sundae to come back. Not helpful. I got Thomas to straighten up long enough to get Paul on his cell phone and tell him to come home immediately, which he did.

Once Paul got back, we tried to figure out what to do. I had been giving CPR, but was pretty sure it wasn't working. Plus, how can you get a good chest compression on a dog that doesn't lay flat on her back? She kept tipping over, and I had to lean her up against the wall... The pet hospitals we had been referred to were over 25 minutes away, she'd already been out for way too long even if they could revive her, the kids were a mess and there weren't enough grownups to go around.

We decided to see if one of our neighbors who is a nurse had a stethoscope, but she didn't. Then Paul had a brainstorm and went to another neighbor that has a dog and asked for a vet referral. The vet they use is very nearby and was open until 8. He volunteered to drive while I continued the CPR and his wife called them to let them know we were coming.

When we got there, after a minute in the waiting area (Ugh!), they ushered Sundae and I back and listened for her heartbeat. There was none, which is what I thought, but still...

The vet and I discussed what had happened and he said that every once in a while, a dog that appears perfectly healthy will have a heart defect that goes undetected and they just die like this. So the wind up is, she just had a massive heart attack, and there was nothing we could have done. She was only about 5 years old.

So those are the facts. Emotionally, we are a bit of a mess. It was way too fast and there was no way to say goodbye (being a social worker, I am planning on some sort of 'closure ceremony' so we can do a better job of saying goodbye). This has been a bit of a "banner year" for us. If you start from exactly one year ago here are a few big things that have happened: I went to China. The day I got home, we found out that Paul's office was closing down and we had to decide between moving or severence, we came to Portland to check it out, we felt totally peaceful about making the move, I had to quit my job, we said goodbye to absolutely everybody and cried our eyes out, we moved, the kids transitioned into new schools, we found out William has Crohn's, my mom has been sick, Paul's mom may have a tumor in her brain and now the dog has died. Any way you look at it, that's a lot.

Summer's End

2006-08-24T09:40:00.000-07:00

Less than two weeks until school starts. William and Stephen don't want to talk about it and refer to school as "the 's' word". We got a desk for Stephen's room and he said he wanted to use it to "study". I said that was the whole reason we had gotten it for him, so he could have a quiet place to do homework. "No, I'm only using it to study my dragons and Egyptian stuff! I'm not doing homework here!" Okaaay, we'll see about that. Best just to let it be at that point. Once school starts, he'll mellow out. I hope. For now, though, we are walking on eggshells while we shop for school supplies and begin moving bedtime back to a reasonable hour. Yikes.

License plates for the van. See "Red Tape Days" for the background on this lovely process. So, the last time I wrote about this, we needed to have "code 46518" (or whatever) dealt with in order to pass the emissions test because the engine light stays on. I had told the worker there that we'd had that checked and I understood that nothing was wrong. He got all in a wad and said he couldn't understand how people could say there is nothing wrong when it's obviously a code 46518 and needed to be dealt with. So I agreed to bring the van to a mechanic to have the situation addressed.

Fortunately, one of our neighbors has a shop nearby, (but he only works on axles and brakes - not emissions), but recommended another independent guy in the shop next to him. Yah, Hortnagl is his name und he iss vrom ze olt kountree (Austria, that is). So I brought the car to him and he cleared the code for free and said drive it around for a couple of days. If the light comes back on, we need to deal with it. One day later, the light comes back on. By this time, we are entertaining out of town guests at full tilt, so we don't have time to bring the van back for a while. I finally do, explaining that the light had come back on, and could he please de-gunk it or whatever the next step is and let me know how it goes. He does, for a very reasonable price, finds nothing wrong (does this sound familiar?) and says drive it around for a couple of days to see if the light comes back on. Which it does.

I call him again and say the light is back on. He says that this means the sensor is broken and needs to be replaced. A common problem with this car, but one that can be fixed. So we bring it in and have the sensor replaced. This really ticks me off, because there is NOTHING WRONG WITH THE CAR, which I already knew but old dude at the DEQ won't believe me and I just spent over $200 to have it fixed so I can bring it back, pass the emissions test, and sit at the DMV for another 2 - 6 hours just to get a license plate with a picture of a tree on it! RAHR!!!

Finding a dentist. Speaking of rants, here's another one. I decide it is time to set ourselves up with a dentist, mostly because Thomas is developing fangs in his upper gums and it is probably time to start thinking orthodontist. Or garlic around our necks, but we'll go with the orthodontist first. So I find a place nearby and call them. The first question I ask is, "Are you accepting new patients?" "Yes, we are." Second question, "Do you accept our insurance (which is Aetna)?" "Yes, we do." Great, I'd like to set up an appointment. I go through the entire process, names, birthdays, insurance numbers for each member of the family. This takes a while. Then the gal calls me back as she had forgotten to write down our phone number (she used *69 to call me back). Then she calls me again to get our address. I'm beginning to wonder if this was a good idea. Maybe they haven't had any new patients in about five years...but she quits calling and we have an appointment set.

The next day, someone from the office calls Paul, thinking he is Thomas, to see if it would be possible to make his appointment at an earlier time. Paul puts us on a conference call, then disconnects us, so I call the dentist's office back and move the appointment. A few hours later, I receive another call from the dentist's office saying they were verifying our insurance and determined that we would be out of network. See above. Wasn't the second question I asked, "Do you accept our insurance?" Evidently, there are two separate plans within Aetna, and we have the one that doesn't work with this office. Probably just as well, these people were making me nervous.

Cell phone. I had to have my cell phone number changed to a local area code. My plan would have let me keep the old number, but last year, William's case manager had to use her cell phone to contact me because the school phones wouldn't allow her to dial long distance. This was strangely sad for me. More closure, more finality, more permanence here. Sigh.

Kitchen. Cabinets will be installed September 14th. I found a table that goes where the refrigerator was, but it had a support bar right in the middle underneath. I wanted my garbage cans to go under there, so I took out the bar and moved it to the back. This was a very big deal for me - I was so nervous that I would drill the holes wrong or something - but I didn't and I even successfully used a countersink. Cool.

Moms. Paul's mom is giving us a scare this week, as she had a seizure-like episode when she was at coffee with her friends on Monday. She is undergoing tests to determine what happened. It is weird for us to be all the way out here and not able to do A THING. Maddening.

My mom has been sick(er) since the day we left. She rallied for a little while, then started feeling worse again with both pain in her chest/lungs and intestinal issues. She is scheduled to see a gastroenterologist in September. The pain in her chest is being addressed with antibiotics. Again, really hard not to be there, and especially maddening because I keep reminding her to sign a release of information so I can get in on the loop, but she forgets. Ugh!

That's all for now! Thanks for listening!

The Last Visitor

2006-08-17T17:07:00.000-07:00

We have just finished a week with Paul's mother, Anita, and had a great time. More sight seeing - some of the same things like Cannon Beach and Multnomah Falls, but some new things too like the Saturday Market and Astoria. Some highlights:

Eating outside on a terrace at a restaurant in Cannon Beach. This is normally no big deal, but we chose to eat outside because we had the dog along and were not comfortable leaving her in the car at the back of the restaurant. Then the temperature started to drop, and we got blankets and sweatshirts out of the car and scooted closer to the heater. Still cold, but we are from Minnesota and have camped in worse than this, right? William finally got warm enough to give up the blanket he was using and Anita nearly snatched it out of his hand to wrap herself up in it. Okay, so it was really cold.

Five mountain view. Okay, maybe three. Or two. Paul swears he saw all five, but it was pretty iffy. We found out about a viewpoint at the top of Larch Mountain where, on a clear day, you can see five snow capped peaks. It is a beautiful area with a brief hike and a lookout point. We saw Mount Adams and Mount Hood for sure, and we'll do it another day to see the others when it is actually clear. (There have been forest fires on Mount Hood lately, and it has been hazy for about a week).

Blueberry/blackberry picking. We found a "U-pick" blueberry place about a mile away from us - 75 cents per pound! So we picked about four pounds and froze most of them. Then we came home and picked at least four more pounds of blackberries for free in our greenspace. Okay, not for free - we paid with our own blood, literally. I have scratches on my stomach (?), arms and legs and I was wearing a thick long sleeved shirt and jeans. Dang! But I made pie out of both berries, very nearly duplicating the best pie I ever ate at Rick Orred's mom's house when I was in college. Totally worth it.

I have been dreading the day that Anita goes home more than anyone else's parting because she is our last scheduled visitor for the summer. Therefore, from now on we are truly on our own. I have very mixed feelings about this. On one hand, I am confident we will make it. The kids will start school, establish friendships and join activities. I will (hopefully) find a job and be able to plug in some more in the community. On the other hand, I have a very real sense of anxiety about being alone out here with no one to really talk to. Communication with people from home comes and goes in spurts, and feels like it is tapering off - maybe not, but when I'm feeling anxious/lonely, I am sure everyone is busy and can't write. And "winter" is coming, with rain and more rain. How will I be with that? There is no way to know until we live through it. So while I am hopeful about our future here, I am anxious to see how it will all come together.

This Week with the Radke's

2006-08-08T00:15:00.000-07:00

This week has been full of puttering around, doing things that need to be done. The main motivation for this has been the sudden realization that it is FREAKING AUGUST already!!! If I get a job, I will not have as much time for all this puttering around! Scary! So get a move on.

So, I've fixed the toilet in the master bath, which was running and running. This is a very big deal for me because I generally shy away from plumbing. Just way too many things to go wrong, all involving water and a mess, and the thought of it gives me a headache. But thanks to the internet, I was able to figure out what the problem was, buy the part, and replace it. AMAZING! Well, okay, it doesn't run and run anymore, but now it only flushes completely every other time. It still needs a little tweaking, I guess.

I also moved some plants around in an effort to save them from the rain free environment.

I've started painting the kitchen, as we have ordered the cabinets and they are due to arrive in a month. (I wanted to paint first, so I wouldn't have to work around them). I am using the same color in the kitchen as I've used in William's room and in the master bath - it is what I call "Paprika Red" - very rich. But also risky and I wasn't sure I would like it. So when I was done, I stood back and took a look. "I LIKE it," I said out loud. Paul piped up from the other room, "When did you decide to paint it that color?" And I'm thinking, "Where has he been? I picked this color out when my folks were here and bought a ton of the paint so I would have enough." I am quite sure we have talked about it, because we did the whole walk around with the paint swatches thing. Hello! So I told him, "I've had it picked out since my folks were here and bought all the paint then." And he replies, "Oh. (Pause.) Because it's kind of turning up all over the place." Which just makes me laugh. And it also makes me want to paint another room that color just to get to him. Ha! But I think it would start to get to me, too, at that point. Later, I find out that he never realized that the paint color in our bedroom (more of a burnt orange) is different than the "paprika red". This makes sense, coming from a person that calls anything in the red family from purple to dark orange "red". I suppose in his mind it is a very subtle difference.

Saturday, we had a very pleasant afternoon with Brad and Teresa Brubaker and their family, who were passing through on their way to her mother's house. It is a bit surreal to be entertaining people from home out here, as it makes us feel like people are still nearby and could just drop in any minute. Ah, well.

Sunday, the whole family went to the church we have been considering. It was a bit loud for William, and he said the guy who gave the sermon was a little enthusiastic (i.e. strange). We pointed out that our pastors back home often gave similar sermons and used some of the same techniques to get their point across. He said, "Yeah, but I know them." So we think that, with time, he will get used to it. Time will tell...

A note about spiders. There are more spiders here than I have ever seen before. They are in the house, outside - everywhere! And there are so many different sizes and colors! I like spiders, because they eat other bugs, so I don't mind having them around. The other day, I saved one that was floundering in the shower stall and put it on the lid of the toilet. When I got out, it was still just laying there, so I got a piece of toilet paper and gently laid it on top of the spider to soak up the extra water. It immediately clung onto the paper, which I set down, and then it proceeded to rub it's belly (in circles) and drag it's legs on the t.p., drying itself off. I've never seen anything like it - fascinating!

Yesterday, I came across a beautiful web in the garden. The sun was shining through it just right and I wanted to see it better, so I got a spray bottle of water and misted it. The spider, who had been sitting in the middle of the web, then ran around to the droplets of water, which promptly disappeared - I think it was drinking them. I suppose if it hasn't rained, there isn't much dew in the morning for them (?). Looks like I've got some learning to do.

In December, when we had come out here to check out the area, I had met with a fellow regarding whether or not I would be able to find work out here. He was very gracious, and invited me to call him when I was ready to look for work. I called him last Thursday, and he returned my call yesterday. He told me he frankly didn't remember me, but believed that he had invited me to contact him, and said that if he'd done that, he must have liked me. So he asked me to send him my resume, we arranged to meet on Wednesday, and hung up. HUGE ADRENALINE RUSH AND PANIC ATTACK!!! I promptly went to the computer and began to compose a letter to him. I wrote one sentence, but it wouldn't indent properly, so I tried to tab over, lost my cursor, and pushed enter, which sent the mail to him. Gaaack!!! What a dork! So I meekly composed another letter, instructed him to disregard the first, and very professionally proceeded to promote my strengths. Which are obviously not in the emailing category. Ah, well, we'll see...

The Wind-up about everything else

2006-08-02T12:54:00.000-07:00

While William's health has been the centerpiece of the last several weeks, life goes on around us and there are other things to update you on.

Church-hunting: I think we may have found a church. While this sounds guarded, I am excited about the possibility. It is called Our Place Church. If you want, you can check out their website at www.ourplacechurch.com. One of the advertisements for the church was: "Your Rockin' Place to Worship!". I thought, "Oh brother, how silly is that?", but the worship DOES rock and God was in it. The message was solid, applicable to today, grounded in solid theology. There are small groups, fellowship groups on Sundays, AND they have a vibrant youth ministry for our kids.

It has been interesting to watch the family get used to the idea of going to a new church. I am anxious to get plugged in - of course, this makes sense, since I am an extrovert and I'm at home all day with the kids. Alone. In the house. All day. All summer. (Can you feel the desperation?) Thomas is also ready to go, and readily came with me the second time I went so he could check out the youth program. Stephen broke down and cried and had a complete fit when I suggested he come as well. When we finally got to the bottom of what was going on, it ends up he didn't want to go because that would mean one more step away from Minnesota, and one more step toward really staying in Oregon. In short, it brought all his grieving to the surface again. So we let him stay back that week. (Once Thomas came back with a good report, Stephen was game to go and loved it the next week.) William isn't in the mood to do anything and really hates Oregon right now so it may be a long road to get him to go at all. And Paul is fine to stay home with him - he prefers to make changes gradually and there have been a LOT of changes lately.

Job hunting: I am beginning the process of looking for a job. It is unreal how nerve-wracking this is for me. I sent in one application and nearly had a heart attack when I put it in the mail. Then I looked into their requirements a little more and I'm not even sure I want it (their focus is very "problem-centered", my training has been "strengths-based" and it may not be a good match). This is disheartening, because it makes me wonder if I will run into this all around the area. If so, that would mean I would need to work in downtown Portland. This is not all bad, in fact there are a couple of jobs I would love there, but travel time would definitely increase and so far everything I've seen is full time. This makes it hard to achieve work/life balance, and I tend to be out of balance already, without the help of a job I love. The short of it is that I need to have wisdom to be able to know where to apply, what hours to work, whether to stay in this area or look downtown, etc. Overwhelming. But NOT working is bad for me. I tend to get into trouble at home because I am bored. Then I start planning projects that we can't afford, and this is even more frustrating to everyone.

Yard/house: Speaking of projects, we are moving forward with the kitchen cabinets. (Don't worry, we can afford this one). This is REALLY EXCITING to me, because right now my pantry is a bookcase, and I am using a portable table for countertop/storage underneath. The fine china is in the hall closet upstairs. Handy!

The garage is also in order - a major feat. Now there is room for the cars, but the garage door is broken and needs an opener.

The yard is challenging! I have a new appreciation for water conservation. It literally hasn't rained since early June and this is normal. Oh, wait, it rained one day in July, and that one day broke the record for monthly rainfall in July. When I planted in late April/May, it was still raining on a daily basis and I had no idea it would be like this. So now I'm running around watering plants just so they will survive. I hate this. I just want to plant stuff and then leave it. So I dug up all my annuals and stuck them in pots, and have limited my watering to the pots and a few newer bushes in order to establish them. I've also been reading a book about sustainable organic gardening in the Northwest and am totally inspired. The only downside is that I have no idea what any of the plants this woman mentions in her book look like, so it is hard to picture it in my head. Even so, I've got a scale drawing of the house drawn up, and have laid out paths and a little rock wall, and an extended patio area, and fruit trees. This would be one of the projects we can't afford right now. But I have a plan, and this makes me happy, and I can pick away at it as we can afford it.

The other amazing thing is the weather! Summer is positively gorgeous most of the time! We've had three bouts of REALLY hot weather in the 100's, but even then the temps get down in the 50's or 60's at night. During the last spell, the kids, the dog, and I slept on our new deck and enjoyed the breezes and NO bugs. For the last week and a half, we've had highs in the 70's. We call this "camping weather", and it makes us happy like we are "up north at the lake". But we are home! Cool.

Crying Days: Okay, let's face it, moving is hard. While we are doing really well here and transitioning as well as can be expected, crying days happen on a regular basis. At first, it was weekly and now it happens about every two to three weeks. I may get an email or phone call from a friend or former co-worker, or one of our guests will go back home and that is hard. (You can still write and/or visit - I just appreciate you more these days!) I consider these days a normal part of the grieving process and am allowing myself to feel the pain for the day and then move on. So far, this seems to be working well. I really missed my friends when William was the sickest. All I wanted to do was go out to coffee with someone, tell you how hard it was, hear everything that was going on in your life, cry and laugh together. And there is no one here I can do that with yet. Bugger. Again, let me stress that you don't have to worry about me - I believe this is NORMAL grieving and it will lessen with time as I get plugged in here. (If it doesn't lessen, then you can call in the mental health police.) :) But I want you to know you are missed.

The Wind-up about William

2006-07-22T14:51:00.000-07:00

Here is the short version:

1.) The two prep days before William's procedures were AWFUL!
a.) the medicine made him sick to his stomach
b.) he was down to 88 pounds by Friday a.m.

2.) William has been officially diagnosed with Crohn's Disease.
a.) the procedure went well and we will not have to do it again. Thank you everyone for praying!
b.) we have already begun treating it

Here is the long version:

This is not for the faint of stomach. I just need to write it down for my own good, so consider yourself warned.

Wednesday, we began giving William Magnesium Citrate (nasty liquid) and Dulcolax (pills). He nearly gagged while swallowing the liquid because it tastes so disgusting so we doctored it up with sugar and kool-aid and whatever else we could think of and he choked it down. We had been instructed that he couldn't eat anything but clear liquids after 2 p.m. that day. When it came time for his "last meal", he was so sick already that he couldn't even eat it. Shortly after that, he threw up bile and mucus (all over my arm, which was holding the bucket). I called the doctor's office and was informed by the medical assistant that this was to be expected (Hello! Thanks for the warning!) because the medicine is designed to clear out a blocked system. William has had diarrhea for almost two months now, so his system is anything BUT blocked. The medical assistant also said that we needed to keep on giving him the medicine in order to make sure that the doctor would be able to see what he needed to see once he got in there. Great. He took the medicine and tolerated it better in the evening.

Thursday, I gave him his next dose in the morning as instructed. He did his best, swallowing a little at a time and following it with a "juice chaser". Then he threw up all over the dining room table. I called the doctor's office again, because this time none of the meds had had time to get into his system and I needed to know what they wanted me to do. They said wait an hour and try again. Oh, for crying out loud! Give it a break! So I went to the store, bought more liquid, and figured out that if he could keep half an ounce down every half hour, he would be done by 10 p.m. This worked fairly well for the rest of the day.

Then I went to the place where I've been volunteering and left Paul in charge. Soon after I left, William fell asleep - not part of the plan. By the time I got back, we were two hours behind in doses. Not good! So we talked it over, and decided to try giving it to him every 15 minutes instead of every half hour. And he threw up again, so violently that he also lost control of his bowels. (I warned you!). Now we were behind again, plus he'd thrown up the pills, we needed to wait an hour before we could attempt to give him anything again and we were running out of time (he was not supposed to have anything to eat or drink after midnight). At this point, it wasn't looking like we were going to get the medicine in him. We could only hope and pray that his system was cleaned out enough for the doctor to see what he needed to in order to diagnose correctly. We gave him two more small doses of the liquid before midnight and went to bed.

Friday, William and I got up in time to be at the hospital by 6:30 a.m. for his procedure. I was seriously sleep deprived, but functional. He wore his pajamas. They checked us in and escorted us to a room where they prepped William. A nurse came in and attempted to start an I.V., but because he was so dehydrated, she had significant difficulty. She was also trying to draw blood from the same spot and was unable to do so. Finally, she was able to get the I.V. line in where it belonged and then poked his other arm to draw the blood. I am normally able to watch these procedures, but when she started having trouble and William was in pain, I could feel myself getting faint. So I looked away, worked my legs a bit, talked to William, etc. until the feeling passed. Whew.

After a bit, another nurse came in and brought us down to the room where William would be having his procedures done. As soon as we walked through the doors into the room, I could feel my guard go up. I realized I had been under-emphasizing the fact that William would be under anesthesia for the procedure because it makes me really nervous. There were at least five people in the room making preparations. The anesthesiologist introduced himself to me and asked a couple questions about how William has tolerated anesthesia in the past. The Gastroenterologist was there and asked if I had any last minute questions and said he would come out and share pictures and chat when they were done. (William told me later that he was giving him the evil eye the whole time - he blames the doctor for coming up with the idea to have these procedures in the first place). Then they started a drip through William's I.V. and it was time for me to go. So I kissed William and told him to keep being a trooper and left with one of the nurses. As soon as I got out of the door, I started to cry. Man, that is hard to leave your kid with a bunch of strangers in a surgical room and a mask over his face. The nurse was kind to me and waited while I pulled myself together, then showed me to the waiting room. Ugh!

At the end of the procedure, the Gastroenterologist came out and spoke to me as he had promised. The pictures he had been able to take made it very clear that William has Crohn's. I was just so relieved that he was able to see what he needed to that I almost cried again. (I told you I was sleep deprived!) (I had also been plotting my counter-attack in case William was not cleaned out enough for the doctor to see what he needed. I have firmly decided that there needs to be another preparation protocol for people who have had diarrhea for as long as William has and that surely, there is another way.) The doctor also said that we could begin treating William's symptoms with Prilosec (for sores in his throat) and Prednisone (an immunodepressant, designed to help his body stop attacking itself) the next day! This also almost made me cry. It has been a long time of waiting in order to give him something that might help him feel better and quit losing weight. The rest of our time at the hospital was non-eventful. He woke up, ate a popsicle and some water, rested a bit, watched "The Price is Right" with Bob Barker (!) and went home.

A note about the medicine: The doctor warned us that Prednisone is not something you want to be on over the long haul as it has several nasty side effects. Some of them are: stunted growth, irritability and moodiness, lowered resistance to infections, puffiness, acne, and weight gain due to increased appetite. He will only be on it for a couple of weeks, and then we meet with the doctor to discuss our course of action over the long term.

My initial thoughts re: the side effects were "no big deal" because it is only short term. In fact, weight gain sounds really positive at this point. But he started with the moodiness and irritability yesterday already, and it promises to be a LONG two weeks. He is worse than me with a really bad bout of PMS. Paranoid, angry, blaming, angry, sad, angry, you name it - all bundled into these incredibly intense moments that need to be dealt with RIGHT NOW! Today was much better - we are talking openly with him about how to validate his feelings without validating the intensity of his response. I'm sure we will get through it, and again I'm so thankful to be doing something that is moving toward recovery vs. discovery that this is just a little bump in the road. Thanks again for walking it with me.

Visit

2006-07-19T10:02:00.000-07:00

It has been two days since Paul's sister Jill and her family left, and we are still recovering. We had a blast and did a TON of sightseeing: Mt. Hood and Multnomah Falls, Mt. St. Helen's, the Zoo via the MAX (we had planned on going to the Forestry Center, but there was an area wide power outage that day - fortunately, the Zoo has a backup generator so that became our default outing), meeting up with Paul and Jill's cousin Wendy and her family, and, of course, the beach.

Mount St. Helen's was AMAZING. We had read that the drive to the mountain was beautiful, but we were still wowed. The road follows the path of the Toutle (pronounced "Tootle") River gorge, with beautiful vistas and thick forest throughout. The river itself doesn't look like much because of all the ash that has been deposited along the river's path, clogging it and causing it to look more like a stream. The forest growth was actually much younger than we thought - Weyerhauser has replanted logged areas, and the oldest section we saw was twenty years old.

When we got to the mountain - or should I say, VOLCANO, it was (safely and slowly) erupting. There was a small stream of smoke coming up from one section of the crater and we were told that the equivalent of one dump truck full of ashy lava was being extruded every 10 SECONDS. At this rate, the mountain could rebuild itself in 50 years. On the way home, we stopped at a campground/helicopter/horseback riding establishment that also served food and had a great mountain-worthy meal. (They also have a yurt that you can stay in! Maybe we'll come back and we can spend the night there!) Paul and I are looking forward to going back, as we felt like we only scratched the surface of what there is to do and see in that area.

We finally got to try Reo's Ribs, a restaurant that I've had my eye on since the first week we've arrived. There is a large smoking contraption outside the building - you can smell the meat slow cooking when you drive by. When you go inside, it is as though you have been transported to the middle of Mississippi in the summer, except this building has air conditioning and serves SoBe juice. They serve ribs (the best I've had in a LONG time), bbq brisket, catfish, fried okra, cornbread, greens, and the list goes on. I've decided that if Paul ever mistreats me, I'm going to take my container of Rolaids and go stay with Reo. :)

We also went to Mo's, which is supposed to be one of the best seafood restaurants along the coast. Disappointing food, when it's been built up to be the best, but we got to eat outside with a view of the ocean. This was especially cool when one of the other patrons jumped up and said, "Whales!" and we all got to see a small pod of whales swim by, spouting and frothing the water around them. Lucky!

Other notes:

The deck has been built and it looks great! Whew, that felt like a close call.

William's procedure is this Friday. He will be going on a clear liquid diet beginning this afternoon and continuing through tomorrow. I'm really not looking forward to this, and neither is he. Ugh.

We are also bracing ourselves for another bout of 100 degree weather this weekend. It still amazes me that we can live through it without air conditioning, but it gets down to the mid 50's at night and that makes it palatable. Weird!

More Updates

2006-07-10T09:07:00.000-07:00

William: William has continued to feel better this week and has stopped losing weight. An appointment with the specialist opened up on Thursday, so we snatched that up right away. The preliminary diagnosis is Crohn's disease, a type of inflammatory bowel disease. It is a lifelong disorder treatable with medication. In order to confirm that this is indeed what we are up against, and therefore how we will treat it, William will undergo an endoscopy and colonoscopy next week. Prep for these procedures is actually worse than the procedures themselves, from what we hear. He will be required to stay on a clear liquid diet for a day and a half before he goes in. He is not at all pleased about this prospect and tells me he is sick and tired of being a "lab rat". I don't blame him.

Henry: Henry is the name I have given to the MINI Cooper I designed for myself online. Version 1: The paint color I had chosen for Henry no longer exists, so until they bring that color back, I am holding out for the perfect MINI. Version 2: My stinking husband won't buy me everything I want and made me choose between finishing the kitchen and getting Henry. Version 3: Because we need a car TODAY, AND I was unable to get the perfect MINI at this time, AND even if I could get the perfect MINI it would take a few months to get here, AND the kitchen is way up there on the priority list (I currently have three Target "Organize It" shelves for my mixing bowls, crock pot and so on, a bookcase which acts as my pantry, my fine china in the linen closet, paper plates in the garage, and a fold-out table for counterspace), we rationally decided that we should get a reasonable car for now, finish the kitchen, and put Henry on hold. (Sob.)

Lola: Lola is the name I have given to the car we got (as in Run, Lola, Run!). She is a five speed, 2002 Chevrolet Prizm (thank you for the recommendation, Kristen!) with 35,000 miles on it. She was owned by a gentleman that sounded like George Kelley over the phone and called me "Sweetie" when we hung up. (I had talked to the owner of another car as well. This guy sounded like I had interrupted him from his favorite t.v. show, his babe, and his ice cold beer. I would have smacked him if he had called me sweetie.) Lola runs well, was loved by her previous owner, and has a great sound system. I am bracing myself for the process of getting the title in my name. Another trip to the DMV!

Talley: Talley is my sister, who came for a visit with her family (husband Mircea, son Teddy and Mircea's daughter Erika) last Thursday through Saturday. It was really good see all of them, as we genuinely love each of them. We took the MAX to the zoo on Thursday, went to the beach for the day on Friday, Erika and I went to see Pirates of the Caribbean Friday night, and we took a walk in a beautiful park near our home on Saturday before they left. There is more to say about this visit, but I will need to create another blog for that...

Deck: This is what I want to do to the guy who is supposed to be re-building the deck off our Master bedroom. Unfortunately, I don't think it would help much, and I would be the one that got hurt. Plus I really like the guy and when he is here, he does good work. (This guy is maybe three inches taller than I am, but three times as heavy. His calves are the size of my thighs and, while he is big, he is solid. It would be like trying to deck a refrigerater full of cement blocks. Well, a wheezing refrigerator. Maybe if I could get him to run after me I could beat him...)

He says he will be here on a certain day to work and then he never shows up. Then one day he did show up, got the footings and the frame done, said he'd be back in a week and I never saw him again. That was two, maybe three weeks ago. Then we got a letter from our insurance company saying that they will be terminating our insurance next Tuesday because we have a deck with no railing. So I call him and tell him that while deadlines hadn't been important before, they are suddenly very important, and could we arrange a day for him to come and finish it up? He said sure, I'll be there next Monday. That was last week and he never showed. I called the insurance company to ask for an extension, which, with some proof like a photo of what has been done and a copy of the proposal, they will consider. He just called this morning and said he will be here tomorrow to finish it up. We'll see.

Jill: Jill is Paul's sister, who is coming tonight with her family for a week-long visit. We have a ton of things planned and are looking forward to our time together. Bring it on!

Update/Giving Thanks

2006-07-02T15:43:00.000-07:00

Thank you for your prayers. We've had several phone calls and emails indicating that people are praying and we genuinely appreciate it. William has had two really good days with little or no fever and a better appetite. He and I (Lydia) went to the dog park and had breakfast together at a nearby restaurant yesterday, then went swimming and to Barnes and Noble. This is a HUGE improvement! He has been lucky just to get off the couch prior to this.

Today, he is ornery and wants everything his way. For instance, he was planning on having tuna salad on crackers for lunch today. I made the tuna and turned around to get the saltines and they were all gone. When I broke the news to William, he had a complete fit, didn't want it on toast, couldn't think of what else he could eat and so on. As I disciplined him for his terrible attitude, I was beaming inside. Earlier this week, he would have just rolled over and said, "That's okay, just give me whatever," a true sign of how very ill he has been feeing. I even told Paul that I would welcome butting heads with William over something stupid, because it would let me know that he is feeling better. Be careful what you ask for, right? :)

We are still in the waiting game to figure out what exactly is going on and have an appointment scheduled with a specialist on July 12th. But we are encouraged and hopeful and thankful because William is feeling so much better for the time being.

While managing William's illness this week has been fairly all-consuming, we are consciously trying to take a "panoramic" view of the situation. In other words, we are forcing ourselves to see that, while our activities and thoughts are turned more toward William than they normally are, those activities and thoughts are not the whole picture. We still have swimming lessons, trips to the library, more swimming, work, continuing to put away the contents of boxes, getting psyched for Lydia's sister and family to visit after the 4th, getting psyched for Paul's sister and family to visit right after that, and trying to decide whether or not now is the time to buy the mini cooper (Lydia: Well, duh! We're down to one car! Of course it's the right time!) (Paul: Not necessarily. First, we have to configure the cost output ratio as it compares to the savings/income ratio in relation to the intended expenditure ratio for the entire household and the priority factor as it relates to all of the above. Then we have to think about this for a significant period of time while Lydia patiently waits. If Lydia fails to wait patiently, we must reconvene, discuss the matter, stress the importance and moral value of thinking through these things thoughtfully and with patience, and begin the process again.) Uh, yeah, we're having fun with this one...

So again, thank you for your prayers. God is answering, we have more grace, William is rallying, and we are getting closer to knowing what is going on. Thank you.

The Fear Factor

2006-06-28T11:25:00.000-07:00

William is not better. In fact, he has lost at least two more pounds since Friday and has developed a low-grade fever. Yesterday, we got the results back from the tests they had run. There is no indication of a bacterial infection, viral infection or parasite. Half the tests indicate there is inflammation while the other half indicate there is none. The short of it is there is no easy answer and we will need to run more tests. Meanwhile, it feels like I am watching William just wasting away.

I have read several places that when we undergo stress or are subjected to trauma, our brains tend to revert to the fight or flight response, or reptilian brain. It is as though our brains withdraw into themselves and focus only on survival. I feel like I am physically experiencing this process. It is as though my brain is creating a partial vacuum and I can feel the strain in the muscles of my face.

Paul can feel it, too. He needs to fight what ever it is, but we sit here not knowing what it is that's bothering William. We need an enemy with a name. We need something to fight.

The doctor called today. She has ordered more stool samples and blood work and is referring us to a pediatric gastroenterologist. She also decides to allow William to eat dairy again. He eats better and feels much better. I can feel the tension leaving again because we are moving forward and William is doing so much better. He comes with me to run a couple of errands, happy to be out again. But by late afternoon, he is obviously running out of fuel. By 7 p.m., he is running a fever of 102.

So, please continue to pray for all of us. There are too many things that it could be - some minor, some serious, some just a hassle. We need patience for the process, grace for William who continues to be a trooper, and wisdom for when to do something different.