A Simple, but Very Enjoyable Weekend

Samuel flew to Denver from Houston all by himself on Friday.  It's a long story including the ex-husband planning a vacation the week before Samuel starts year-round school (claiming that I didn't tell him this was happening, whatever).  I am very proud of Samuel.  He was pretty nervous about it because the other times he has flown he has had Solomon and Miriam with him.  In addition to that experience, the flight was more than twice as long as the flight from Albuquerque to Denver is aaaaand  his flight was delayed by almost an hour aaaaand  even after his flight "landed" at DIA the plane had to sit on the tarmac for another 45 minutes while the previous plane left its arrival gate.  All of this while he had an enormous stomach ache from eating a crap load of junk food before and during his flight.

Yes, Samuel starts school tomorrow.  You may remember my being flabbergasted when we moved here that the elementary school had not only a 2-week spring break (what, not just a week?!) but also a 2-week fall break (sweet!).  There were also several 4-day weekends incorporated into the calendar.  All of this left that school with just a 2-month summer break.  This is called a 'Transitional Calendar' and it's meant to prepare both students and their parents for the inevitability of that school becoming a year-round school.  This would happen once the population in that region reaches a point where the school simply cannot accommodate all of the students who need to attend at once.  We were notified over a year ago that this coming school year would be year-round and here we are.

It's not such a bad thing, this year-round business.

1)  Our family only has to do it for one year as Samuel is entering the 5th grade and next year he'll attend the middle school which can accommodate more students and operates on a traditional 9-month calendar.

2)  Samuel will get more one-on-one time with either myself or the ex-husband has he has periodic 3-week breaks interspersing his 9-week school attendance periods.  I think we'll all benefit from this.

3)   Samuel's ADHD means that his attending school OR  having too long a break from school translates to extreme boredom and frustration for him, as well as increased frustration for me as we attempt to focus on school work and homework.

Anyway, Samuel is back with me while the other two are in Albuquerque/Houston/in transit to ABQ from Houston/wherever.

Samuel and I have had a fabulous weekend.  We've gotten caught up on snuggling that we missed for a few weeks -- and boy, let me tell you -- this boy needs his snuggles!  (Truth be told, so do I.)  We went with Lance to my co-worker's house yesterday morning to help her with some yardwork and we made some money.  We spent the rest of yesterday resting, eating and refueling after that arduous morning.

This morning we sorted through leftover and still-usable-school supplies to determine what is still needed for school tomorrow.  Then we went shopping for the remainder and packed up that backpack you can see here.  This will be Samuel's 4th year still using that same backpack.  I told him we'll see about buying a new one for middle school next year.  (I cannot believe he's going to middle school in a year!)

 

We've played lots of video games, both separately and together.  Here he is embarking on a new level of Fancy Pants.  Occasionally he asks for my help on something but, let's face it -- a gamer I am not.  More often than not he assigns me to "stand right here, swing your sword and just kill that one spider while I jump on this wall, rappel up to the next level, kill the Rat King and all the other spiders, collect all the stars and advance to the next level."  Ha ha ha!

I'm really only good at Sims 3. I am currently waiting for him to finish up on Fancy Pants so I can get back to my new Sims 3 character and her ambition to become a world-famous international spy.

He almost always stands like this while playing video games.

Camping

Campfire.

Rushing water. 

Crickets. 

S'mores.

Ladder ball. 

The freshest of mountain air. 

An occasional train rumbling and screeching through the canyon. 

Levi's laugh that begins with an asthmatic-sounding grunt. 

Lance's guffaws. 

Ashley's giggle. 

Sisters and brothers and friends around a campfire, under a clear sky with music and full bellies.

An afternoon of wading in the Colorado River behind us, a morning of hiking to Hanging Lake in front of us. 

This is the life. 

Cleaning Up My Camera Roll

This is a collection of photos that I have had sitting in my phone for months. I am keeping them because I like them for whatever reason. But right now they're just taking up space and I'm afraid I might lose them some how (read: accidentally delete them). So here they are. 

This was taken from the window next to my desk at work. There are three coyotes running through the snowstorm. 

This is a poster from inside The Ogden. I saw it on the wall while waiting to use the bathroom before seeing Trombone Shorty. I had to take a picture -- blurry as it is -- because I am 90% sure I was at one of those two shows a few years ago. 

This is confetti in my plastic cup of champagne on New Year's Eve at Star Bar. Boo. 

Frozen fountain splash outside Levi, Ashley, and Lance's apartment. 

A snail that Miriam sculpted out of glittery silly putty. 

Suzy hit 83,000 miles. This was a few months ago. I think she's gone another 3,000 since then. Love that car. 

A restaurant name that makes me giggle.  Two different cities? In two different countries? Why?

A guy on the train platform. His shirt says, "4:30 Better late than never."

Winter Won't Quit

I am sick of this. Truly.

Wind + Dirt + Traffic = Bad

Samuel and I are stuck on I-25. We were making great time after I picked him up from the ex-husband. Until we hit this. We have been sitting here for almost an hour. I have lost track of how many emergency vehicles have passed us in the median and on the shoulder. There was even a helicopter. I have mapped a couple of other routes to get us home but they would take at least 4 hours.

I have a hunch that we came upon this immediately after it happened. As soon as we were stopped I did a traffic check and the back up was only a mile. I am so glad we stopped to use the bathroom when we did. I hate to think of what would have happened if we'd been a mile closer.

This Sick Season Is So Bad ...

:cue: "How bad is it?!"

This sick season is so bad that I have memorized the lot numbers on our packages of albuterol, Atrovent, Zofran and dexamethasone.

This sick season is so bad, our department is going through 2 tanks of oxygen per week.

This sick season is so bad, I've lost track of how many children we've transported to Children's Hospital.

This sick season is so bad, I'm developing a fear of ever touching my face for fear of contracting the newly discovered, yet horrible, strain of coronavirus or the eternally evil norovirus.

Metaphors in a 9-year-old's Mind

This song was on the radio this morning. Samuel piped up from the backseat and said, "I can tell this song is from the time of the hippies." I asked how he could tell that and he said, "Because they said the big wheel keeps spinning around. They're talking about a record player and that's from hippie times."

New Year Update

So, it's 2013.  That shocks me for a lot of reasons.  I remember a writing prompt given to me in fifth grade, years ago.  We were supposed to write about what life would be like in the year 2000.  I was certain we'd have flying cars and humanoid robots doing our household chores, a la Rosey from the Jetsons.  Here we are 13 years after that supposed reality and I'm still doing all the dishes and laundry I can't pass off to the kids.  I do not have a flying car.  Suzy the stupendous Subaru is car enough for me but I can't deny that a flying Suzy would be awesome.

Anyway, it's 2013.  I'm starting another college semester in about 2 weeks.  This time I'm taking some kind of lower level algebra.  I guess it's pre-algebra for college.  I'm also taking a philosophy class.  I took introduction to ethics, which falls under the umbrella of philosophy, last summer.  It was a fun class with interesting lectures.  This time my philosophy class is logic, persuasion and argument or some such business.  I'm looking forward to it.

I read some reviews of my philosophy professor on this site.  He has pretty good ratings.  There is one bad one but the reason this person rated him badly is because he goes off on tangents and tells stories during his lectures.  I think that's awesome, so I'm not counting it against him.  I don't know who my algebra professor is yet so I can't look them up.

I finished last semester with good grades in both biology and its lab and my last English composition class.  I loved those biology courses.  I learned so much and was able to apply a lot of the knowledge I already have to learning the information in that course.  The English course was annoying in that it was a freshman composition class that I've somehow avoided when taking other English classes.  It was pretty basic.  I did have to write a rather lengthy thesis that counted as a third of my grade, but I'm proud of it.

Works is busy.  Good grief, it's busy.  This is a really bad sick season.  There is lots of flu, gastroenteritis, strep, pneumonia, and garden variety upper respiratory viruses.  I'm so tired of hearing the same old symptoms -- which no one can cure -- that I'm having a difficult time not rolling my eyes and telling everyone to just go home, stay hydrated and ride it out with OTC medications.  They expect a doctor to fix them with some kind of magic.  I'm sorry, but when viral symptoms start, it's going to be a few days before you feel better.  Coming to see the doctor doesn't mean you are fixed.  Please do not call us when you're not better tomorrow.  And for Pete's sake, do not come back to the office; you're just going to expose yourself and your kid to whatever else has mutated overnight and is hanging about now.

The kids are doing well.  Miriam is flourishing in middle school.  I'm relieved.  I was nervous about her starting there this year but she's doing just fine.  Solomon is struggling some.  We are trying to cope with ADHD and all the stuff that goes with that.  Solomon is so smart and a hard worker, though.  I know he'll be successful in the end.  Samuel is doing well.  I think we finally have the right combination of therapies at school, medication from the doctor, and IEP accommodations to suit him.

What really pleases me is the broadening of the kids' horizons.  They're offered so many opportunities by living in this area.  They're friends with a wonderful array of kids and they're learning so much about people; they don't even realize it, but I can see it.  We're taking advantage of music and art opportunities that only a city like this can offer.  I recently bought tickets to a ballet performance for the four of us.  I cannot wait and the kids seem pretty excited, too.

Things with Paul are pretty great.  I have the best time with him and I'm so grateful for him.  We've gone to some fantastic events in the last year together -- lots of theater shows, some concerts, a couple of ballets, and we're going to the symphony and to see David Sedaris in the next two weeks.  I'm so excited to experience these things with someone who enjoys them as much as I do.

We've had our share of sad and disturbing things happen.  I'm still bothered by a lot of them on a regular basis.  They cause me anxiety sometimes.  I wish I could change them but the reality is, I can't.  No one can.  It's the bad thing about being in this world.  All of those don't cancel out the wonder that is the rest of our lives.

Waiting for Parent-Teacher Conference

Samuel and I are standing in the hallway outside his classroom waiting to speak with his teacher. We are reading personal narratives written by his peers.

One is called "How I Came to America". It's the story of a classmate who was adopted from China. She talks about her parents adopting her sister and then going again the following year to adopt her. She talks about how their parents chose their names. She talks about celebrating their adoption days.

And now I fear I am too choked up to have a coherent conversation with Samuel's teacher.

Heavy

That's how I feel.  So much pain and fear and senselessness in the world.  It's piling up.  So, so heavy.

Death in my family.  Sudden, accidental death of a friend of a friend before that.  A mad gunman murdering movie goers. A child at work diagnosed with a brain tumor.  Another brought to us, seizing, not breathing, whisked away in an ambulance after we do what we can.  A 10-year-old girl abducted, her non-intact body found in an open field 5 days later.  A close friend's son hit by a truck and dragged down the street.

Life is so fleeting. It can be destroyed without reason, without warning, without regard for anything or anyone.

I am terrified to let the kids loose in the neighborhood.  A quick glance the wrong way at the wrong time and they're flattened by a car.  A creep follows them to the playground.  Or follows them home.  They disappear into any one of a million cars never to be seen or heard from again.

I do so much to protect them, to do the best for them.  In a hundred ways, every minute of every day, I think about what would be best for them and how to do it.  How to keep them safe, give them the best that I can.  And it may not be enough.  What if it's not enough?

Even if none of those accidents happen, even if none of those premeditated horrors befall them, even if none of that happens, what if?  What if there's a silent, genetic predisposition lurking some where in their bodies?  What if I take them to the doctor for a headache that isn't just a headache?  What if ...

I try valiantly not to let them see this.  I encourage them to go out and play.  I call them when they get off the bus to hear them get home.  I hug them tightly, so tightly, every morning and every night and every chance I have in between.  I smile at them and laugh with them and tickle them.  I caution them about creeps and about anyone who gives them a funny feeling.  I teach them the rule of the road -- that everything is bigger than you and everything else wins, no matter what the crosswalk or the sidewalk say.

I do all this and I hope against hope that it's enough.  I do all this because the "what ifs?" lurking in the recesses of my mind, or plaguing the forefront of my mind, can't take over.  Life goes on because it must.  Being petrified on account of the heaviness is not an option.

Friday Night

This is what it looks like from here. Thanks to a good 20 minutes of chores from each of my children and 45 minutes of decluttering and wiping surfaces from me, we're starting this weekend off on a good note. (Read: clean house. Yay!)

Lasagna that I assembled and froze ahead of time is baking. I'm in my old lady nightgown and I have wine. Samuel is playing video games. Solomon is reading. Miriam is practicing new hairstyles.

Life is good.

That Is a Lot of Data

I wonder if it's because I watched 3 videos from the DNC totaling about 2 hours?

Uncle Max

I have had this post sitting in my editing box for more than 3 months.  I started out wanting to say how sad I was that the end was near, how much I was going to miss him.  But those words would not come out, no matter how hard I tried.  Since then, he has passed and I have thought about this post at least weekly.  I have come back to write it many times.  I save it every time without making any progress.  I don't know what to say.

In the last several years I've only seen him once or twice per year.  But knowing that my Uncle Max was in the world made my world better.  I miss him.

I miss his laugh.  He had this hysterical giggle that overtook him when he was telling a funny story.  His eyes almost disappeared into his face and he couldn't get the words out.  Watching him tell a funny story was almost funnier than the actual story.  Almost.  Almost, because he had a plethora of funny stories -- pranks he pulled on friends, pranks he pulled on family, pranks he pulled on teachers.  In these stories, his getting caught was usually the thing he found to be the funniest.

I miss seeing him with his horses.  He loved his horses so much.  I've not had many experiences with horses at all, but the ones I have had, Uncle Max was always there.  Horses will always be linked with Max in my mind.

I miss his concern.  When I got divorced, his thoughtfulness and sensitivity were so meaningful to me.  He related to so much of what I was going through.  It was really good to know that he was thinking of me and he was on my side.

One summer when I was about 12, Jennifer, Lance and I spent a week or so with Uncle Max and his family.  He worked nights and beds were in short supply with so many people in the house so I slept in his and my aunt's bed with my aunt while he was at work.  One morning he came home from work while I was still asleep and my aunt had gotten up to shower.  Max leaned over the bed, thinking I was my aunt, and tried to snuggle up with me.  When I turned over and he saw that it was me, we were both a little unnerved, to say the least.  But after that, it was one of the funniest things ever.

Uncle Max was always up for a good time.  A few years ago, after Thanksgiving dinner at my parents' house, Jenn and Caleb and I left our children with Mom and Dad.  Then, anyone who was interested walked the few blocks from my parents' home down to the main street to have drinks and shoot pool.  There was quite a crowd -- Jenn and Caleb, Lance and his girlfriend at the time, Jonathan, Max and myself.  I believe Caleb's brother even joined us.  We had a great time.  At some point in the evening, Max tried to refresh my two-stepping skills, of which I have very little.  I have no idea how many times I stepped on his booted toes (Ah, yes, the cowboy boots -- a Max trademark.) but it didn't matter.  We had lots of good laughs at my expense.

My heart aches so much for my cousins, for Max's wife, for my mom, and for my grandparents.  I know that as much as I'm missing him, it cannot compare to what they are feeling in his absence.  There is just so much sadness in this.

A few times in the nearly 3 months since he has been gone, someone in my family has commented on or Liked pictures of Max in my albums on Facebook.  When I get the notification and click through to the photo, it takes my breath away for a few seconds.  It's so good to know that he is not and will not be forgotten, but that reminder that he is no longer with us hurts so much.  It's good to have so many great memories about such a great human being, but knowing that there will not be any new memories hurts so much.

I guess that's what I want to say.

These Kids ...

Miriam: "Can we get Pop-Tarts?"
Me: "No."
Solomon: "Pop-Tarts are full of sugar!"
Miriam: "That's why they're yummy!"
Solomon: "That's not a good enough reason."

New Belgium

Paul and I have wanted to tour the New Belgium brewery for a really long time.  The problem is that they schedule tours two months out and the Saturdays when it's easiest for us to go are always filled up as soon as they open.  Finally we decided to just pick a day that I was off work (I have one scheduled day off every two weeks) and schedule our tour for that day.  Paul would just take off work for the afternoon or whatever.  So that's what we did.  We ended up going in mid-July on a Wednesday afternoon.  It was the best Wednesday afternoon I had all summer.

I really love New Belgium.  They make some delicious, unique, innovative beers.  I like the story behind the brewery.  I like that they're locally owned and operated.  I like that they have come up with some really great ways to reduce their carbon emissions.  I like that their tour is free and they serve lots of beer during said free tour.

Signage

Fermentation tanks

Fun mirror

Mosaic floor in the fermentation room

Inside a fermentation tank

Thank you.  I will.

Such beautiful vessels

Multi-season, multi-sport bike

Hops

Fat Tire bottled 13 minutes prior

Very cool bottle lights

The bottling line

That's a lot of beer.

Can art work

New Belgium is very green.

Maybe my favorite beer ever

I would put this in my house if I could.

We saw a rainbow.

The ride home.

Guam Liberation Day

Paul has new neighbors.  The guy came over a couple of weeks ago to introduce himself and they chatted a little.  I think they moved here from Iowa.  Or maybe it was Ohio.  I frequently get the two confused.  Anyway, the guy told Paul that they are originally from Guam.

And then he said that in a couple more weeks they would be celebrating Guam Liberation Day.  He hoped the commotion wouldn't be too much of a problem.

Guam Liberation Day is today.  Today when we got home from motorcycling about, there were -- no joke -- about 2 dozen extra cars parked on the street.  They are barbecuing and dancing and laughing.  They are having a great time.

I Googled "guam independence" (because I couldn't remember that it was called 'Liberation Day'.) and eventually came upon this:  Battle of Guam.  I had no idea.  It's kind of neat the things you can learn from new neighbors.

This Happened Today

Funny/sad commentary of the day:
"Are you guys doing some sort of special study of chlamydia and gonorrhea up there in peds today?" said a lab tech after I took her the fifth specimen in two hours.

Boyfriend moment of the day:
Me:  "Oh, man.  This is a jalapeño and I don't have any rubber gloves.  I'm gonna get jalapeño residue on my hands."
Paul:  "Here, I'll cut it up."
Me:  "But then you'll have jalapeño residue on your hands."
Paul:  "Yeah, but I don't have contacts." :takes knife, cutting board, jalapeño pepper:


Meal of the week:
Lime-marinated fish tacos with avocado, mango and jalapeño salsa.  Black beans on the side.

Con. Den. Sa. Tion.

It never happens here. Except when we have a 30 minute typhoon.

Happy Anniversary of American Independence

If it weren't for the cloud of wildfire smoke enveloping us this would be a perfect day. Even still, it's a good day. A very good day, full of family, friends, grilled foods and various types of booze. I repeat: it's a good day.

Tuesday 9:00 AM by Denver Butson

A man standing at the bus stop
reading the newspaper is on fire
Flames are peeking out
from beneath his collar and cuffs
His shoes have begun to melt

The woman next to him
wants to mention it to him
that he is burning
but she is drowning
Water is everywhere
in her mouth and ears
in her eyes
A stream of water runs
steadily from her blouse

Another woman stands at the bus stop
freezing to death
She tries to stand near the man
who is on fire
to try to melt the icicles
that have formed on her eyelashes
and on her nostrils
to stop her teeth long enough
from chattering to say something
to the woman who is drowning
but the woman who is freezing to death
has trouble moving
with blocks of ice on her feet

It takes the three some time
to board the bus
what with the flames
and water and ice
But when they finally climb the stairs
and take their seats
the driver doesn't even notice
that none of them has paid
because he is tortured
by visions and is wondering
if the man who got off at the last stop
was really being mauled to death
by wild dogs.

This is my favorite poem. I heard it on "The Writer's Almanac" one morning on my way to school last winter. It really resonated with me. I was reminded of it this evening because Miriam asked what my favorite poem is. She had to ask for a homework assignment. I was about to tell her something by Robert Frost or Emily Dickinson but then I remembered this one. I couldn't remember the title of the poem though and it took several minutes of google searching on my phone for me to give up. I knew I had heard it on "The Writer's Almanac" so I went to their website and searched the archives until I found it. Now I'm posting it here partly to share it with you, but mostly so that when I want access to it again I can find it without spending 20 minutes on the interwebs.