End of the streak

So when I felt like no one was listening to me a few months ago,  I subsequently lost my voice.

Just this week I began to feel the tentacles of depression intertwining in my brain.  And then I lost my identity.

Yes, today will be a day of report and replace.

It was good while it lasted.

Two weeks and counting

Another duly noted uncatastrophic week passed last week much to the delight of everyone involved.

Aunt remains in a holding pattern although they insisted on a care plan conference call this morning. The last time we had one of those was at a critical juncture. Today's was an annoying formality. The doctor says she can't rehab so we wait until she can. Their primary concern was that insurance wouldn't be a problem.

Cousin has a Halloween party on Wednesday. She called last week looking to get some cowboy boots. I said if we could find them at Walmart- o.k. I wasn't expecting a positive outcome. Then I saw the ankle boots with zippers on the side that are like fake short cowboy boots. Halloween costume for the win.

Greathusbandbob has been motoring along breathing freely until this weekend. Some sort of bug caught him and when that happens in combination with copd it's pretty terrifying for him. What is Prednisone and nebulizer for $200, Alex?

The best part of today was lunch. I brought baby carrots and mini Italian bread rolls. Nurseshelly brought spinach dip. A clever shared lunch may be the new self soothing Sunday nightmare dread solution.

The latest binge is PBS' Mr. Selfridge. I can't even begin to express what a relief it is to watch a show completely devoid of zombies, blood and guts. Just silly British antics that all work out in a feel good way in the end. This in contrast to last night's Walking Dead which was one of the most disturbing things ever. I tend not to watch- greathusbandbob likes it- and will only listen and even that filter offered no relief.

I have the sleeves to an effortless cardigan by Hannah Fettig on the last stretch to completion. It will be delayed for a few days as I make a monkey hat for our guidance counselor's new baby. He has a son named Jack. Baby girl didn't have a name as of noon today so we sent out a quick note suggesting Jill or maybe Jillian so that he would have Jack and Jill. There's been no response, I can't imagine why it hasn't been a priority.

In the past I might have skipped writing this post given its lack of storytelling excitement. Except I really want a record of calmer days so that the next time the shit hits the fan I'll be able to look back with some relief.

 

Lunch of the Goddess

Or something like that.

Whenever I have had snacks at kmitnightgina's house they are delightful. She's got some smarts when it comes to mixing flavors and appears to just "throw together" magic.

Last week I decided to see if I could transfer the idea of that to my school lunch and realized that part of the problem with lunch at school is the manner in which it is delivered. I experimented with tiny plastic containers and then decided to try to "plate" my lunch for greater appeal.

 

This looks so much better than snarfing food out of plastic baggies and cardboard boxes. It just so happened that prek teacher at school was looking for lunching advice. She saw this and was delighted.

When I told her I painted the fancy plate at the WOW factory she said "I want to do that!" And then there were a bunch of "me too's" from school friends I like a lot and I think we might have a field trip in the works.

Speaking of field trips I'm hoping for an awesome knit night field trip on Election Day (also the day after my birthday). It involves having regularly scheduled knit night at Sarris' ice cream parlor. Knitnightgina and knitnightdrjustine are in so I can pretty much count on some awesome. KnitnightLucy has found us and she makes me damn laugh. There is nothing better than a fast thinker and quick-to Laugh-er. And we can add another one to the club.

Note to future self- when life is complicated, it's harder to laugh. When it relaxes, the laughing comes back. That is such a relief.

 

Details at 11:00

So I wanted this post to be something like "confused elderly rehab patient photobombs local hero" or something like that. There is a perfect news teaser to go with this picture. I just don't have it.

 

But I've just declared greathusbandbob the master of selfies in my head. Also I think he is very handsome.

He's wearing his Gabe's Steelers garb- new t-shirt and hoodie. We were trying to be gangstahs family visitors at the nursing home.

I had a matching hooded outfit but couldn't fit in the pic. It was another open the yarn room door surprise last week. Only this time I was slightly suspicious because he kept lurking in the hallway when I got home from school and doesn't usually show off his new clothes or wear a hoodie with the hood up in the house.

Also for all of my dog readers out there. Warning. This ramp leads to the gates of Hell and should NOT ever be used to get on a bed that's too high. No matter what, wait for your owners to lift you up onto the bed.

 

 

Unev-what-ful?

If tomorrow passes without a crisis it will be the first week since late July that has been uneventful.

Hooray.

Last Friday a child (who was 11 years old) started crying at me and screamed "you're a JERK!" because I took the ice pack intended for his knee after he started eating the ice in it. A little bit later after talking about how Solomon Linda's Mbube was lifted by Pete Seeger after a trip to South Africa, he shouted "YOU STOLE FROM ME!"

The hardest part in managing this situation is to encourage other kids in the class to have compassion about the hard day he must have been having rather than looking at me and meekly saying "you're a jerk" when he's not around because it cracks them up. Especially since when I walked into the teachers lounge the school nurse that I eat lunch with yelled "you're a JERK!" when I walked in and I laughed my ass off.

School story the second. There are 17 kids in my elementary band class. Today we got through "go tell aunt Rhody" while still hanging on to all of them. Also they changed the words to the song and it now involves macaroni. When we finished I gave a short speech letting them know that if they didn't practice between now and the next band class, they would lose it and we'd have to do the whole thing again.

There is one girl that is about six inches shorter and as skinny as the trombone she plays. She raised her hand and asked, "Mrs. Terry, can I make an announcement?" I said, "of course." She shouted "LET'S MAKE MRS. TERRY PROUD!!!"

Moral of these stories-

There is nothing worse than a fifth grader who hates you and there is nothing better than a fifth grader who adores you.

Brain in Action

Minding my own business, cutting out manipulatives I saw a piece of scrap paper good for a note or message.

I remembered a band student who would have received a "token" (good behavior reward) had he only taken one of those sheets and written down the number of minutes he practiced for band.

Then I thought about those tokens.  Maybe he didn't want one.  What are they good for anyway?  Tchotchkes from a school store.

Remember that time we had a food drive and let students use their tokens to buy food to donate to the food drive.  That was awesome.  Kids who couldn't spare extra food got to contribute.

Why didn't we do that last year?  Oh yea, that requires planning ahead of time and a principal who can follow through with the plan.

Oh wait, we have one of those now-I must immediately go tell her that we should do this.

#howdidigetsolucky

 

So I got home and heard the details of my life as they have been taken care of by greathusbandbob (including pie and donut delivery to the hip doctor and his office) and I was just about full up of gratitude.

Then I walked into my yarn room/office and saw this. I have been laughing and smiling ever since!

 

Unwanted company

le sigh.

Cousin slipped in the shower this am. The person we pay to help take care of her responded quickly (she's o.k.) and put her to bed only to find a bed full of unwanted guests. Bed. Bugs.

FML

Greathusbandbob to the rescue- he and our helping friend removed mattress and bed springs and got on top of calling an exterminator. All of this while I made a last minute oh shit I forgot about it run to the big city for a meeting the superintendent called.

The girl has been really clean in the new place. That means she either brought them with her from over a year ago. Unlikely. They were there when she moved in, also unlikely. Or she picked them up at the drop-in center where she goes daily. After sharing these possibilities with her she casually mentioned. Oh yeah, the drop in center had bed bugs. From here on out there will be drop-in center clothes and house clothes and drop in center clothes go straight into hot water.

Aunt is still in hospital. When I called this evening she was trying to get to the bathroom without the giant person moving contraption.

I got home and went for a walk. While I detest the box store that begins with the letter W, ours happens to be on a high hill surrounded by bucolic scenery. It's the next best (and only) alternative to Zumba which would have meant another hour in the car.

I am so over this adulting business.

Yawr boox ahr ovahdoo

The laugh of the week.

Aunt Vickie is actually my sister-in-law. Greathusbandbob's sister-in-law to be precise. In spite of being from Brooklyn, her New York accent is Jersey Kardashian times infinity. For whatever reason, this came naturally to my ears and out of my voice (unlike my Jamaican accent which sounds like a Spaniard living in the Baltics.)

On occasion I use this accent to get the attention of the kids I'm teaching. It's also handy to pull out when you feel like yelling at them but yelling isn't really called for. They are always begging for it.

Yesterday two girls reported to music directly after library, put their glasses down to the tips of their noses, looked over the top of them and proudly stated "Yawr boox ahr ovahdoo" in a pretty decent Aunt Vickie accent.

Hilarious. And the tradition lives on.

Also cracking me up is the collection of sheet music that came with the keyboard last week. I finally sorted through the stack and found-

Songs from Neil Diamonds, The Jazz Singer, hits from 1976 which included Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody, the theme from Mash, the Alley Cat, the theme from Love Story and Morris Albert's Feelings.

There were others but if you are my family and you are reading this, you are already laughing your damn ass off.

Apparently we had the musical tastes of a 50ish year old gay man.

Aunt update. Being the hero he always is, while I was taking the cousin shopping, greathusbandbob went to Morgantown on a home game day to check on aunt. The amazing doctor called yesterday to say that she was having anesthesia/pain med related cognitive issues that will likely subside. And in fact according to husband she is- loopy, sleeping, talking in her sleep and out of it similar to the way she was last time. But this time the health care people are aware of it without us telling them so it's not so scary.

Today is the one year anniversary of cousin moving to the 'burg. We are celebrating with Laverne's famous apple dumplings and ice cream. I'm going to secretly pick up her friend to join us. She will be so surprised. I think we'll make a list of all the things she's been able to do that are new since she's been here.

What a difference a year makes.