CTR Movies

A few days ago, my enterprising hubby became the new film critic for the Davis County Clipper and the Syracuse Islander.  Why do they call it the Islander?  That has GOT to be the dumbest name for a newspaper.  If anything, it should be called the Island View, or something.  But anyway.  That's where his movie reviews will be from now on.

This is a volunteer gig for him, which sucks for us.  But on the bright side, he has his own blog now, so the reviews will be posted there too. It's on the side bar, over there, to your right, under the good reads section.   Scroll down.  A little farther.  Keep looking. It's there, I promise. Check it out.  It's new, so there is not a lot of reviews there yet.  Be patient!! I think he is going to post his old reviews there too, AND he has a Peter Pan blue ray to review as well. (hint hint).

Snow Patrol

Hey, wouldn't that be funny if I wrecked the rental car we just got on Friday?  No, not so much, but that's nearly what happened this afternoon.  Driving through a snowstorm to get to Sunday dinner at Grandma's, I slid right through a red light.   Then I changed my minde on the whole dinner things,  turned around and went right back home. Call me chicken, but I'm still skittish after Thursday's debacle.

So we wound up eating frozen pizza and pasta  at home instead, and watching  a movie while five new inches of snow fell outside, and we heard reports of people stuck on freeways and slide offs in the canyons.  Tomorrow the insurance adjuster is supposed to show up and give us the verdict on our car.  Will it be totaled?  Will it be repairable?  Tune in tomorrow for the exciting conclusion....

The sooner we get this resolved, the better.  This fancy new van we are driving gives me the heebie jeebies.  It make me want a new car, which is an impossibility at this juncture of our lives.   I don't want to get used to the luxury of driving something dependable and with enough room for all of us, and with a radio you can actually tune.  I don't know how to drive a car whose engine isn't always threatening to die, and that actually stops when you put your foot on the brakes.  Except it didn't stop too well in the snow.  But still. The sooner I get back to driving the old beater I deserve, the better off I will be.

Outta Control

Yesterday, without any warning whatsoever, I lost control of my mouth.  I yelled "what the hell!" at some poor innocent bystander who had done nothing to provoke me and must have thought I was a lunatic.

I had no idea my mouth was going to open and those words were going to come out.  I was just walking along, thinking about the stupid freezing rain that had fallen that morning, and how dumb it was that it was taking me five times longer than usual to walk from my car to my work building because I was moving across the ice sheet in the parking lot so slowly because I really really really did not want to fall.

Then all of a sudden, I realized I had just said "What the hell!" in a really loud, angry voice, and the guy nearby who was only trying to make his own careful way across the parking lot had heard me and probably assumed my profanity was directed at him.   I didn't even know my mouth was going to open.  It just popped out.

So I just glared at him for a minute then walked a little faster.

It was so weird.

I hope this is not the first symptom of a mental illness. That's the last thing I need right now.

Later in the day, I lost control of my car.  Hit a patch of black ice and slid across the road, plowed through a snow bank and crashed into a fire hydrant.  Then I got stuck in the snow bank.  I got out of the car and tried to push the car out, but that wasn't happening.  So I got back in and did the gun it  and rock it and burn all the rubber off your tires method, and I finally got out.  It was very cold, very slick, and still raining, so I drove off and left a big chunk of my bumper, a broken light, a hubcap, and some other random car parts just laying on the sidewalk.  When I got  home, I realized I probably should have made sure I didn't damage the fire hydrant.  I kind of laid awake for a while with visions of water spouting out of the ground and turning into huge piles of ice everywhere, and then the cops knocking on my door asking me to come down to the station for questioning.    But I haven't heard anything yet, so I'm hoping it's all good.

When I got home and inspected the damage  to my car a little closer, it was pretty bad.  Some black stuff is hanging off the under part of the car around the tire.  The whole right side of the bumper is gone.  The washer fluid thingy is busted.  It is probably totaled. So my insurance company rewarded with me with a brand spanking new rental car to drive!  Like that makes any sense- hey give the crazy woman driver a prize for her defensive driving skills!  This makes two cars I have demolished in the past three years.  I am on a rolllll.

On the bright side, the funniest part of this whole ice nightmare was Hokey the cat. When we opened the back door to let him out, he took a flying leap onto the back porch like he always does, hit the ice and went flying across the porch and down onto the lawn.   He recovered  his cat dignity shortly thereafter, but dang I wish I had that moment on video.    The sadder part is watching Maggie trying to make her way down off the porch to the lawn.   She slips and slides all the way,  falls down and gets stuck, gives up for a while, then struggles back up to her feet only to fall again.  Poor old doggie. We help her the best we can, but I know it hurts her to try and make her way through the snow.  She is a good sport about it all.

So, that pretty much sums up what life is like around here.  We are out of control and falling apart,  slipping and sliding every which way, saying bad words, falling down and crashing into things, and all the while, random, unexpected crap keeps falling from the sky and ruining everything.   But, at least it isn't boring.

Right Side Up Again

Today was better. Today the weather just seemed like a crazy adventure- driving through snow covered streets, through smog filled air and shivering all day in the meat locker I work in  had some kind of odd charm to it today.   Maybe because I knew that if we could just survive today, tonight would mark the beginning of a  hard-won four day weekend for us. Four days because the kids have Monday and Tuesday off school, and I have all those days off work.  Hard won because of all the poor buggars who were desperate for me to come work for them this weekend, and who I had to keep turning down.  I'm grateful for all the extra hours I'm getting, but sheesh.  Give a girl a break!  Also hard won because we kept turning down invites from friends wanting to go places and do things.  I'm ready to just sit at home in my  pj's for a day or two, maybe cook a little bit of something good to eat, and ponder the state that our lives are in.

So, here we are on Friday night, eating junk food and watching TV.  Olivia is drawing  beautiful pictures of princesses for me.  She just handed me one that says at the top , "this is prssec bel " . Then it has my name on it, Lin, the date 2013 and "how old 41".  Yup, 41 sounds good.  I tried to convince her I was 26, but she wasn't buying it. The kids have cleaned up the kitchen, the dishwasher is running, and we even have clean underwear in the dryer.  Life could be a lot worse on this particular Friday.

One more thing, just because I want to remember, we were talking about Maggie getting old yesterday, and Olivia said to me, "Don't you think it's about time Maggie moved out and got her own place?  She is getting really old to be living at home.
" 

It's sad, but true.   Maggie is going on 15, which makes her like, totally ancient in dog years. She IS getting quite old to be living here.  I even buy prescription drugs for her now, which I swore I would never do.  But the only thing really wrong with her is arthritis, and I can't stand for her to be in pain.  So we buy the pills and worry about that big old lump on her tail that doesn't bother her, but that gets bigger every day, and wait to see what happens next.  I think she WILL be moving on to a new place before too very much longer.  She will be ready.  I don't think the rest of us will be.

Inverted

We are stuck in a winter inversion, also known as weather that sucks all the warmth, life and hope right out of you, and makes you cough a lot.  It is freezing, bitter cold, all the time. It's supposed to last another week at least.  And I don't think that I can take it. (cuz it took so long to bake it....Whatever that means. Weirdest song ever.)

We are one month into our unemployed status and there has not been even a hint or a shadow of a job offer on the horizon. 

Meanwhile, somebody named Jose is living in  sunny Florida pulling down $5000 per month picking fruit, and collecting his wages using Dan's social security number.  We found this out when Dan applied for unemployment, and was turned down.

Somebody else in sunny (I think) Durban South Africa has a chunk of our hard earned change that they helped themselves to using  Dan's credit card number.

A collection agency is demanding payment on an insurance policy that we never took out.  Mitch needs a crown, and is probably going to have to move back in with us until he can find a better job. Olivia almost burned the house down yesterday, and my kitchen still reeks of smoke.  Oh, and her elementary school just announced that they are moving to a year-round schedule next year.  Oh goody.  School in July, and paying day care costs in October. Can't wait.  All the more reason to move to Florida, and hunt down that Jose guy.  Maybe we can steal our lives back. At the very least, we might see the sun.

So far, 2013 sucks.  I  have no desire to see what else this year holds for us.  It has already beaten us up pretty good, and most nights I lay awake and think of all the other, more terrible things that could be waiting for us this year.  I am sick and tired of people whose hopes for this year are so high,  who are resolving to lose weight, get out of debt, and go to Hawaii.  I try not to rub my sucky attitude in their faces.  Why do have to shove their cheerfulness into mine?

Fifteen

 January 13 has rolled around again, which means that William is now 15.

FIFTEEN.

This is getting ridiculous.  He was a BABY last week.  A fat bald adorable happy easy baby who smiled a lot and made us smile more.  

These days, Will is funny.  Will is artistic.  He will combine those two talents to make you into a cartoon character, or to make you a birthday card.

Will is insightful.  He can look at a set of facts and see the big picture right away. He knows when I am having a crappy day, and he never fails to make me smile.  He can always talk me out of a bad mood.

Will cannot refrain from teasing Olivia.  He loves to hear her scream, and he is really good at making it happen.

He loves music.  He plays the violin. He gets good grades. He never wears a coat voluntarily, even when it's four degrees outside.

Will is a morning person.  He wakes up in a good mood.   He is also a night owl.  He loves to stay up all night playing video games. Or reading.  He reads deep stuff.  Tolkien.  Twain. Scripture.

He loves pecan pie. Hates lasagna. He is a little bit shy.  But he is easy to talk to, and can carry on a conversation about nearly anything. He is not, however,  one for big parties or big crowds.  

Will is flexible, a roll with the flow kind of person, that takes what comes and makes the best of it.

Will is taller than me.

I like him.

I think I'll keep him.

Halfway There

Duncan, when you arrived into our lives 18 years ago today, not a one of us were prepared for what you would do to our little family and our little world.  You have been full of surprises your whole life, starting with your birth, which was five days early, and for which we were completely unprepared.  Not that I am complaining about that. After two week-late babies, your timing was my first favorite thing about you. Not to mention that you were incredibly wide eyed and beautiful.

You gave us two good scares the first eight weeks of your life.  Nearly as soon as you came home, you started throwing up- a lot.  And powerfully.  I remember one night when you projectile-vomited clear across my bedroom.  I was sitting on the edge of the bed with you, and you cleared the bed and hit the wall on the other side of the room.  I was terrified, and sure that your head was about to start spinning as well.  First thing next morning, we headed into the doctor's office. When they found out your weight was down instead of up, they herded us right up to PCMC, and  after a few tests but before any of us knew what was happening, you were going under the knife to fix something called pyloric stenosis. Being your awesome strong self, you bounced back from that just in time to wind up back in the hospital only  a few weeks later with RSV.  After that fun week, you came home on oxygen for another month.

In spite of those early setbacks, you were a champion sleeper.  You slept through the night consistently from the time you were five weeks old.  By the time you were eight months old, you were tucking yourself in.  We would come to check on you after you had fallen asleep, and you would have the blankets spread out smoothly over your whole little body, and up to your chin.  It was the cutest thing I've ever seen, and we were sure we were raising a genius. Then, also at eight months old, you fell out of  a shopping cart and hit your head on a cement floor.  We all yelled at Mitch, because he sort of caused it to happen, but really it was my fault and I felt incredibly guilty.  You came out of that episode with not even a bruise to show for it.

For your first birthday we bought you a pillow, and your love for your bed only grew.  I don't remember you ever resisting bedtime, or fighting about going to bed or being afraid of the dark. For most of your childhood you slept in a sleeping bag. You liked that enclosed feeling. 

About eighteen months, you discovered Toy Story.  Your first real word was "Woody."  I think we watched Toy Story about three times a day for the next three years.  Then you found Batman and he became your second great love.  We kept you entertained in church by drawing Batman, Robin, the bat mobile.  I got very good at drawing the bat mobile and the bat signal.  I wish we would have saved some of those drawings.

When you were three and a half, you played sandwich shop with me once.  I would order the sandwich, and you would use some play food to make the sandwich then you would bring it to me to eat.  It's the only time I remember you playing with me in a "normal" kid way.  Soon after that, the doctor started saying words like autism spectrum and pervasive developmental disorder.  I didn't hear them. I went into denial big time.  You were so smart and charming.  How could you have autism?

Every temper tantrum I remember you having had to do with either something you were wearing that you didn't want to be wearing, getting your hair cut or combed, or brushing your teeth.  Why those things were such trauma-inducing incidents to you was a mystery to me.  Now, that we know you better, it makes perfect sense to me.

You started swimming at four years old- real underwater swimming.  You had no fear of the water.  You loved it.    We would spend hours and hours at the pool, and you would never leave the water.  I should have put you in swimming lessons.  I finally did, when you were older.  You still liked it, but I should have started earlier.

In kindergarten, we finally got the official diagnosis of autism and we had to come to terms with the fact that you were going to take a different road through life than the one we had laid out for you.  We did our best to get you what you needed to help you get as far down your road as you could.  I don't know that we did that great of a job of it.  We didn't know where were going, and nobody else seemed to know either.

 In the end though, nothing we did was going to "cure" you,  because there is nothing about you that needs to be cured.  You bring us a new way of looking at and thinking about everything.  Sure, I wish that you would talk more, and that I could figure out a way to help you more easily relate to people, but if I had to trade the unique things about you in order to make that happen, I don't know if I would or not.  You have more common sense and clear thinking than most people I know.  You are generous and loyal.  You are funny.  You are faithful and loving.  You have your priorities in line. You are honest and guileless, and in all the important ways, you are a much better person than me.

You play way too many video games though.  From the very first time you set your eyes on Mitch's Nintendo 64, you were hooked.  I have worried my whole life about how much time you spend playing video games.  If I was going to change one thing about what we did with you, I would have not let you have video games.  For some reason, they are an easy fix for you.  Then again, they are an easy fix for lots of  "typical" people too, so why should you be so different?  Still, you play too much.  How many years in a row were you Link for Halloween?  And if it wasn't Link, it was Mario.

Now you are 18 and we have to figure out what the rest of your life is going to look like.  I hope that you can achieve everything you say you want- a mission, a career, your own house....who knows, maybe you'll even get married someday.  If you could stand it, you would be a great husband.  Whatever it is you want, I'll be right behind you, helping as much as  I can.  But just remember that I am learning to walk this road right along with you.  Whatever you do, just remember that I love you more than you will ever know, and that you have blessed and enriched my life more than I ever dreamed you could.  Happy Birthday!

Workless

Yesterday, as I was scurrying around getting things ready for dinner, and chatting with Olivia, she told me she was "workless".  At first I thought she said "worthless".  My mommy worry  button went instantly into overdrive, and I had my "you are wonderful and precious" talk all ready to go, but then, before I launched in, I asked her again what she had said.   The second time, I heard it clearly- "I am WORKLESS.  I don't do enough chores, and I don't do any work.  I need to do more work!"

Hello, Olivia, have you met your room?  See those naked barbies that have taken over in there?  See those little hills all over the floor? Those are your clothes.  Picking them up would constitute work! There is  no need to be workless any longer my dear girl.  But unfortunately, THAT kind of work was not what she had in mind. Cleaning your room is not real work. Cleaning your room is only a chore.  She is looking for REAL work.    Like  milking cows  or writing a novel or something glamorous like that.

Anybody looking for  a farmhand?  Maybe she can earn enough to pay for a maid.

Hello, Reality Calling

Sitting in the glow of the Christmas tree on the 4th of January, eating red licorice and wondering how long is too long to leave our tree up.  As if the dumb tree is the only thing I have to worry about. But it's our first real tree in 5 years, and it's still fresh.  It seems like a waste to throw it out on the curb to freeze and die.   Plus I think I missed the garbage day where the city collects trees.  Dumb city,  don't they know Christmas doesn't officially end until January 6 ?  Day of Epiphany and all that? And plus, now that we have survived the first week of post- Christmas vacation,  I might finally have a moment to sit down and relax and actually enjoy my tree... PLUS, I can't find the motivation to even  put my shoes away, let alone tackle a huge project like the tree.

Speaking of huge projects, we have a few  of them going on right now.  There is the job project of course. That is mostly Dan's project, and I don't envy him.  I think my part in the job project is to worry.  Stew. Fret.  What else can I do? I try not to think about it that much, because it only makes my stomach hurt.  Most nights I wake up at 2 in the morning and the thoughts start zooming around in my head, and won't stop, and then I lay awake for four more hours conjuring up new and different ways that we could come to our doom in the next few months. I have found it's much better to just stay awake until 2 in the morning.  Because then I fall asleep and usually stay that way til the alarm rings. That way, I avoid the whole waking up thing, AND I get four hours of mostly uninterrupted sleep.

Then there is the Duncan project.  Duncan is turning 18 in 5 days.  How that is a possibility is beyond me, but here we are.  Once he turns 18, he qualifies for SSI, IF we can get him approved.  Getting him approved means alll kinds of paper work, and all kinds of digging up old records and test results and remembering all the doctors he has seen through the years.  On top of that, we have to decide what to do with him next year, post high school.  There are a few different options, and we have to pick which one we want now, because, as odd as it sounds, if he graduates from high school, he won't qualify for one of them.  He is borderline right now on being able to graduate.  We can push him through, or we can let  him slide, and whichever we pick will kind of determine what kind of program he will be in next year.  So I have to go investigate these different programs, and see which one I think is best for Duncan. And I have to do this by last October.  I am just a little behind.  There is also the whole cap and gown package we were supposed to have paid for last October.  I need to do that too.

January was supposed to be the month where I laid around watching TV and eating bonbons.  See, I spent the summer working my butt off at the Logan house, getting it cleaned up and ready for renters.  In September we went to Disneyland and while that was fun, it was also a ton of back breaking labor and anxiety-induced nausea over whether the car would make it, and how much money to spend, and what we were going to eat, and all that   Then in October I spent the whole month worrying and packing and working towards Haiti.  I got back the first part of November, just in time to put on Thanksgiving and Christmas, but I figured by January there would be no big projects in my life.  Hah. Go figure.

Coming Soon

EVERY BODY in Utah is sick.  And I think every one of them came to my pharmacy today.  Half of them have lost their insurance, half of them changed insurances, and half of them have no clue.  And after 10 hours of dealing with all of those sickos, I'm pooped, and I have to go back again tomorrow, and the next day.

All of that is my way of saying that this new blog is  under construction.  So come back tomorrow, and maybe by then there will be something worth looking at.

Oh, and New Years was fun.  We went sledding.  Olivia is a fan.  We will go again soon, and next time, I'm going to make sure my camera has batteries.