Another Year Over

Well, together and apart, we made it through another year. I don't know anyone who isn't glad to put this year behind us.

Tonight, we'll order Chinese food, then I'll celebrate as I do pretty much every New Year's Eve - including the all the previous non-COVID ones: away from the crowds, and because it is just as unappealing to me (and pointless, besides) - away from watching the crowds, if there are any, on tv.

Instead, I'll sit in the sometimes comfort of my home, maybe read a little, maybe do nothing more than sit and listen as the clocks tick. I’ll think about those I love. I'll think about those I'm lucky enough to have in my life. I'll think about those I carry with me every day- whether they are physically near or not.

In other words, I’ll treat tonight pretty much like every other night.

I hope your News Year Eve is, or was, a happy, healthy and safe one. And I hope your New Year’s Day - and the days and months that follow - are happy, healthy and safe ones, as well. Here’s to the hope of a better year ahead.

 

Merry Christmas

 

Santa has just finished his handiwork and as soon as it's quite upstairs, Santa will leave candy under the mini-tree in the upstairs hall plus a few more pieces on Sam's nightstand, and on his Dad's nightstand, as well. Then, finally, it's off to bed for me...

Merry Christmas.

Another Christmas Eve...

 Another letter to Santa.

Here's a closer view (as always, you can click to enlarge)...

Normally, I would  post some commentary - but while it may not be very late for someone like Santa (who still needs to write a reply), it is indeed very late for me. 

So for now, I hope you have a merry Christmas and that Santa answers all your letters, too.

Early Morning Weather

Here's the view from my living room window. This photo taken at six this morning (it's now twelve past six). As you might be able to see, it's snowing outside. 

Originally, this snowstorm was predicted to be a coastal storm - and since I live nowhere near the coast, it was predicted that we would get as much as two inches of snow. That prediction was a few days ago. 

About a day and a half ago, the prediction started to change. Last I looked (about twenty minutes ago) we're now "predicted" to get somewhere around twelve to eighteen inches (kind of a wide range, if you ask me). 

This is just the kind of day I would pray for when I was in elementary school. An unplanned day of vacation. A reprieve from the monotony and slow torture of the school day. So, there's some distant comfort in that.

If I didn't have to shovel a long driveway, and if I didn't have to drive - or worry about other people driving, if everyone were home, sitting comfortably and safely together - I would find it kind of pretty - especially right before Christmas.

Still, Sam has talked about possibly building a snowman - so there's that.

Now it's six-twenty-seven. It's still snowing outside and the wind is blowing, making it hard to tell how much snow has already fallen. Judging by the snow on the fence, it looks to be about five to six inches. 

According to my calendar, winter is officially arrives in four days. 

The wind is blowing.

And it's still snowing outside. 

***

Late Update: 

About a foot of snow by 11:00.

Christmas Spirit

When I was a little kid, the Christmas season had officially arrived when the Captain Kangaroo album was pulled out of the record cabinet. I loved this album. I would play this record in the darkened living room, lit only by the lights from the Christmas tree - and I would lay on the living room floor, staring up at the ceiling, watching the shadows and kaleidoscope colors cast from the tree as the music played.

Sometimes, as I lay there, I would pretend I was riding in the back of a horse-drawn sleigh with the Captain and his side-kick, Mr. Green Jeans, sitting up front. I would tag along as they steered the sleigh under nighttime skies, through forests and snow covered fields - laying back while drinking in their sweet, sweet holiday tunes. Ahhh… the life.

Many years and many non-Captain Kangaroo Christmases went by before I eventually heard the album again. I remember that night well. It was an evening when I was visiting my sister, Sandy. We were sitting in her then nearby apartment, making small talk when, at one point, she pulled out this album and said, “Look what I have!”. I was thrilled. It must have been about twenty-five years since I had last sipped the sweet nectar from this treasured memory.

Then, she played the record.

In hindsight, I should have known something was up. As Sandy put the record on the record player, she kept glancing over at me. Then she sat down across from me - and kept watching me as the record began to play. It took a few seconds, and then… What was this I was hearing? Could this be the same record album I treasured as a little kid? 

I sat there, bewildered, struggling to let this sink in. I looked over at Sandy. She had a sour, sad expression on her face - the kind of expression someone makes when they watch you swallow something they know is unpleasant.

Yikes. This "music" was not as "polished" as I remembered.

What happened to the festive, high-quality, dynamic vocals from the front of the sleigh? This sounded as if the Captain and his friend were struggling to find and hang onto the melody. Their voices oscillated around the general vicinity of the tune and occasionally they even landed on it. But...wow. 

As I listened, I no longer felt as if I were riding in that sleigh from long ago. Rather, it felt more like we were all being dragged along by it.

Ahhh... Oh well. At least whatever the Captain and Mr. Green Jeans lacked in quality, they more than made up for in enthusiasm. 

Despite this traumatic experience, to this day, this record still holds fond memories for me. Admittedly, I don't listen to the music very much - but I sure enjoy looking at that cover.

To share this joy experience, every year I post one of these clips. This year, I present not one, but two THREE(!) clips for your listening pleasure. 

(Tip: It might enhance your listening experience if, while playing these clips, you lay on the living room floor and stare at the ceiling. Christmas tree lights are not required.)

A Brief Post Script

As a followup to the last post, I should mention that I called the Department of Health again and, after getting cut off after being on hold for about twenty minutes due to "technical difficulties" ("We thought we had that fixed," I was later told), I spoke to someone about my issue (or rather, Sam's issue) with the state health insurance. 

I relayed how I was told that Sam shouldn't even be a part of this program, not if he already has private health insurance (I don't think I bothered to tell her that I was told this by two separate people). Her response: "I don't know who told you that, but that's wrong." I was shocked.

I won't make a long story even longer but I'm sure everything has now been completely resolved and no more phone calls will ever be necessary again. Ever.

Things I'm not Looking Forward to

I hate making phone calls like this.

A couple of weeks back, I had to call the state's Department of Health. It was one of those phone calls that started out for one reason and ended up somewhere else entirely. 

A couple of years ago, when Sam applied for, and was accepted for, assistance through SSI, this acceptance automatically enrolled him in the state's healthcare plan. It's not that he needed the state's healthcare - he was and is covered by private insurance (and will be, hopefully, for another couple of years). But this, apparently, is the way the system works. 

At the time, I called and pointed this out and was told that, even so, he should stay on the state plan - if for no other reason than to have it as a backup. And also, when he does eventually age out of the private insurance, this will already be in place. Fine, that makes sense. Sounds easy enough. Then the paperwork showed up.

For what turned out to be this first packet of paperwork, we (and by "we" I mean "me") had to choose a plan. This involved selecting the right plan from buffet containing a myriad of mysterious codes and just as mysterious providers. Importantly (too us, at least), we had to find a plan that his current doctor accepted. (I won't go into the details on all of this because, first of all, I don't remember all of the details and second of all, of the details I do remember, I don't understand them.)

Anyway, Sam and I filled out the paperwork (well within the time frame, it is important to note) and trotted this packet off to the post office. Literally, the very next day, another packet arrived. This packet contained information about the provider and plan the state had gone ahead and assigned to Sam. Needless to say, this was a doctor in practice we weren't even remotely familiar with. (Given Sam's history, I'm really not interested in getting up to speed with someone who is unfamiliar with his lengthy history.)

This meant a phone call to the state- a call meant to switch Sam to a plan that was carried by his then (and still) current physician. The conversation went nowhere. The person on the other end couldn't even talk to me - at least not about anything specifically related to Sam - unless Sam gave his written permission. As I recall, this also meant they weren't interested in talking to me about any general issues, either. 

In any case, a waiver was faxed to me for Sam to fill out, giving the State permission to talk to me about Sam (and, I assume, to talk to me in general). This faxed-to-me waiver could not, for some reason, be faxed back. It could only be mailed back. So Sam and I filled out the faxed-to-us waiver and mailed it back to the state and after waiting what I assumed was the appropriate amount of time, I called the state again. I got nowhere. This time, they could talk to me - but ultimately, the plan didn't get switched. By the time we got confirmation, Sam was out of his annual re-enrollment period - so that was it for another year.

Rather than fight it (further) I decided to let it ride. We were several years away from having to worry about it and if the state insisted on assigning Sam a doctor that we were never gong to visit, that was up to them. As long as Sam could continue see his regular doctor, under our private health insurance, that was the important thing. Besides, I had more burning issues occupying my time (Hello IEPs! Hello transitioning out of school! Hello SSI and MRC and DDS - and finding Sam a job! Hello everyone and everything Sam related!).

So the years have rolled by and the clock continues to tick. Every year, his annual change of enrollment period comes around and we get a packet which, it says, we can ignore if we don't want to make any changes. At least once, if not twice, I called to make the changes and was met with the usual success - which is to say, none. And since those more immediate issues were still burning brightly, those are the issues that I, with my dwindling amount of sanity, focused on.

This year, I felt I had enough breathing room (Ha!) to try and tackle it again (Ha!). So when the annual notification for Sam's change of enrollment showed up, I made the call. This was the phone call of a couple of weeks ago - the one that started off in one place and ended up in another place entirely.

So, for the first time in what felt like years, I made the call to once again get Sam's plan switched. Somewhere along the line of talking to whomever it was I was talked to, it came out that Sam is also covered under private insurance(!). Why this is surprising, I don't know. It was, after all, not only brought up by me in the past, but also, it was noted somewhere in that original packet we had to fill out and mail back. Apparently though, they can't find that original packet(!) and shockingly, the state doesn't have detailed notes from any of my previous phone calls. But it's not a complete loss. Thankfully, they at least have Sam's mailed-in (not faxed-in) waiver.

In that most recent phone call, I ended up talking to at least three different people, each time being switched to the next person by the person before. At least two of those people told me that Sam shouldn't even be on the state health insurance if he already has private insurance. I was told that I (meaning "Sam") need to wait until Sam (meaning "Sam") ages out of the private insurance (in two years) and then, at that point, call and enroll him in a state plan (which, I was NOT told, I am sure will go smoothly). 

The thing is, this "not needing the state plan" contradicts not only what I was told multiple times previously but also, I know of at least one of his close-to-the-same-age/close-to-the same-situation friends that has both private and, weirdly, a state plan.

I asked both of those aforementioned "at least two of those people" several if this was correct, that he shouldn't be on a state plan - and both were very clear that, no, he shouldn't be - clear enough, anyway, where both of those nice people were getting not-quite-as-nice by my repeated, just-to-be-sure, questioning. Each of them assured me that, not only was this correct (and not simply their uninformed opinion, as it was implied, I think by me), but that I would get a letter in a couple of weeks, stating this to be the case. 

Ok, if you say so.

This letter came in Saturday's mail.

(Side note: Why do I always get these kinds of letters on Saturdays - when there is no one I can call and instead can only stew on it for the rest of the weekend? Coincidence? Or part of that vast right-wing conspiracy designed to make my life even more miserable than it already is (which, by the way, if this is the reason, it's working)?

Anyway, the letter does indeed confirm the private insurance, but down at the bottom, there's this paragraph (emphasis mine):

"When you obtain health care services from a doctor, hospital, pharmacy, dentist, or any other [State Healthcare] provider, you must show your other insurance card along with your [State Healthcare] card. [State Healthcare] requires that you use the other insurance first, and follow the other insurer's policies and authorization before using your [State Healthcare] benefits."

Maybe I'm reading this wrong but this strongly implies that a person who has private health insurance also has [State Healthcare] (emphasis  mine). 

So it's back on the phone for me. I hate making these kinds of phone calls. I have two years left to get this straightened out - and I'm beginning to think this won't be enough time.

Things I'm Looking Foward to in 2021

1) A (hopefully) less insane direction for this country (however slightly).

2) The end of the pandemic (also hopefully).

3) This... 

This Past Week

I didn't take any pictures of Thanksgiving - or of decorating the tree. Instead, here's a picture of a bird sitting in a tree.

 

Generally speaking, if I don't post, it's either because I've been too busy - or because I haven't been busy at all. I think the reason I haven't posted much this time is more to do with the former than the latter - but I'm not one hundred percent certain on that.

Thanksgiving came and went in it's usual blur - several weeks off planning a meal (well, two, at least), this year with a self-induced reduced grocery shopping schedule. Tuesday before Thanksgiving was spent driving down to pick up Rachael. Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving, was spent baking - four pies (two pumpkin and two chocolate pudding), four double batches of party mix (two spicy Chex mix, two ranch-style oyster cracker mix), preemptively baking several pounds of sweet potatoes - and maybe something else. I can't remember.

Thursday, Thanksgiving, was dedicated to stuffing and baking the turkey with my patented "It's getting done too quickly/ I don't think it's cooking fast enough" technique. This, combined with the aforementioned sweet potatoes, some mashed potatoes (of the 'white' variety), and, with the help of Sam, some green beans (cooked in the pressure cooker) and gravy with sliced mushroom (not cooked in the pressure cooker) made up our mid-day Thanksgiving meal. Oh, and crescent rolls. Plus cranberry sauce (which required me to open not one, but two cans). (As I write this, I just realized that I never opened up and put out the olives. I'll have to remember to send them home with Helaina next time she's over).

After our Thanksgiving feast, we managed to go for a long walk. Dinner consisted of eating the pies.

Friday was dedicated to getting our Christmas tree. Unlike in years past, the tree farm was VERY  crowded. Also unlike in years past, I think it took us all of five minutes to find the tree we wanted - a pre-cut tree, allegedly - or at least presumptively - grown at this very same tree farm. This specimen was standing not too far from the overcrowded entrance making it a fairly quick in-and-out. The rest of Friday was spent doing... something, I'm assuming. Most likely eating left-overs. Possibly even something else. It's kind of a blur.

On Saturday, we decorated the tree. Afterwards, we ate (again), I loaded Jake up with food before he headed back out (did I mention Jake made it up? Did I mention Helaina was home?) and then we, or at least me, collapsed.

Sunday morning was spent down the basement - first, trying to clear off the table buried somewhere under a bunch of "stuff", then finding and digging out the Christmas wrapping paper from somewhere else in the basement, and finally, finding and digging out the presents stashed in various places throughout the basement, cleverly hidden among all the crap treasures down there to fool any would-be burglars into thinking the place has already been ransacked and thus they would be wasting their time by trying to rob us. (This assumes that anyone breaking in isn't (criminally) insane enough to already notice that they are surrounded but nothing but piles of crap treasures). 

Anyway, it was at about this point where I realized that I had somehow thrown out my back (one of the few things we throw out). I lasted long enough to wrap a few presents - and then I gave up.

My back is still in less-than-ideal condition but I'm expecting it to feel better any minute now. Once it does, it'll be back down the basement for me, back to wrapping presents. Once that's done, I can start to think about what to make for Christmas dinner.

Tonight's Music Video

This Afternoon

 

Pretty flowers.

I just spent over two hours on the phone with the State Health Department, trying to get Sam's healthcare straightened out. This wasn't my first attempt. I talked to four different women in four different departments - and I'm still not sure that it's fixed. In fact, I can pretty much guarantee that it isn't. 

I won't bother to go on a(nother) rant right now. I have a headache and I'm too tired. Instead, feel free to go back and read any of my past "commentaries" dealing with either SSI, the Bus Company, the schools - or any of the other many, many places I whine about. It's all the same.

Back to the Market

For the second time in about eight months, Sam and I braved the wild and made a trip to Grocery Store Number Two. This was necessitated by the fact that Thanksgiving is in the not too distant future and, while we do the bulk of our shopping at Grocery Store Number One (being a bulk food store), there are some things we either can't get there or would have to buy way more than we need.

For this reason, Sam and I keep two lists (well, four actually. But that's another story). One list is our regular, somewhat weekly (or, "weakly" - both apply) visit to Grocery Store Number One. The other is for the less frequented Grocery Store Number Two. 

I was kind of dreading this trip. The last time we went to Grocery Store Number Two was close to three months ago - and it was not a pleasant experience (as mentioned here). But unless I wanted to give in and do without some of our Thanksgiving staples or, unless I wanted to buy, say, a case of six pumpkin pies at Grocery Store Number One, I was going to have to make the dreaded trip. 

So, immediately after Sam was done with his lunch and, with the grocery list (#2) in hand, Sam and I hustled out to the store. 

I was hoping that by going at this odd hour, the place would be nearly empty. It wasn't. But I told myself that it could probably be worse - which I guess is not a total lie since most things can almost always be worse - so we found a parking spot and, remembering for once to bring in our reusable bags, we headed inside.

I have to say that even though the place was more crowded than the last time we were there, our trip went more smoothly. I attribute a good part of this to me re-writing our list the night before the trip.

Last night, I got the brainstorm of taking the grocery list and rewriting it in the order of how and where I was going to find all of the things in the store- thus streamlining the entire venture, and therefore minimizing (relatively speaking) my aggravation. (As I'm writing this, it occurs to me that I'm putting way more effort and preparation into my grocery shopping than I ever did with my homework. Go figure.)

The preparation paid off (maybe there's a lesson to be learned in there somewhere). We were in and out in record time - less than an hour, anyway. 

My only comment about the trip was that there were way too many people going the wrong direction down the now-one-way aisles. There had to have been at least eight different offenders throughout the store. Why those store managers aren't equipped with tasers to enforce their own, clearly displayed, apparently indifferently enforced rules, I don't know. Maybe next time I'll drop a note in the suggestion box.

Even more aggravating was the fact that giving these borderline felons my patented evil-eye gazes accompanied by my under-my-breath/ behind my mask complaining, was having absolutely no affect - other than, perhaps, making me look like the one who's crazy. The irony is killing me.

To top it all off, uncharacteristically, these rule breakers didn't even phase Sam(!). Since our visit, every time I've brought it up, he's come back with, "At least everyone was wearing a mask." 

Jeez. It's almost not worth complaining about it if he's going to have some weird positive attitude.

Diminishing Options

 

Sam and I keep a list of fifteen possible locations for going on our evening walks. But now, due to the fact that we're well into fall, coupled with the recent time change, the now-rapidly diminishing afternoon sunshine has reduced our options considerably.

I typically work until about 3:30 or so, and the sun is currently setting around 4:30. This means that, even though we've shifted our after-dinner walks to before dinner, if we're going to go for a walk, it a) has to be nearby and b) we better get going. 

Since it has to be close by, this eliminates five, possibly six options on our list. Each of these are a drive of at least fifteen minutes away. This would eat up way too much precious daylight. 

Also out of the question are walks in the woods. At least the woods we go to. These places are difficult enough for us to navigate in the daylight. Navigating them at or near dusk, is inviting trouble - possibly getting lost-in-the-woods-type trouble, possibly resulting in an airlift rescue accompanied by the embarrassment of being in the local paper.  

Plus, neither Sam nor I wants to get mugged by any non-hibernating bears that might be wandering around the forests at this time of the barely-still day (not that we've ever seen any bears, hibernating or otherwise, but still). This eliminates another two or three options.

Two more options are affected by COVID so those are off our list - daylight or not - at least for now.

There are another three locations that close at dusk (or claim to). These places are, at best, borderline options for us. One place in particular might be fine when we first start out, but by the time we reach about our halfway point, the already rapidly fading light fades even more quickly with the sun dipping behind the not-so-distant hills. 

The photo above was taken last night at this one location. When this was taken, we were on the return leg of a two and three quarter mile loop. Five minutes later, when we reached the car, darkness had settled in. This time of year, when night falls, it falls with a thud.

This leaves us three options - all of which begin at our front door. There's nothing wrong with these three options but since we walk every day (or nearly night) and often go for walks twice on Saturdays and on Sundays, it quickly becomes a little repetitious. Options are good, even if we don't take them.

All of this is to say that, thanks to the shortened daylight, our walking possibilities are quickly being whittled down. And this doesn't even factor in the weather. 

So far, we've been lucky. With a few exceptions, the weather has been unseasonably, almost disconcertingly, mild. But before long, we'll have ice and snow to contend with. I'm not sure what we'll do at that point. 

I guess we'll just take it one day (or evening) at a time - as if we have any other choice. 

The beginning of winter is a month and a half away and I find I'm already looking forward to spring.

Today's Brief Comment

 Exhale.

Spotted at the Local CVS

Apparently, we now need to explain to people what "One Hour Photo Processing" means...

Click to enlarge

I wonder what prompted this. Were people complaining that their One Hour Photo Processing was taking pretty darn close to an hour (and damn it, this is America! We don't have to wait for anything! READ THE CONSTITUTION, COMMIE!)?

Of course, posting a sign like this assumes that these same people are able to read.

A Happy Halloween

Ok, so I didn't quite keep my promise. What else is new? I had told Sam we would drive around and look at lights for Halloween but no trick-or-treating. Well, we drove around and looked at lights (where there were any) but when it came to the trick-or treating, I made an exception. One exception.

There's a house we go to every year where an older woman lives ("older", meaning about my age). And every year this woman invites Sam inside and has him select a toy or more often, a stuffed animal. This woman is special to Sam so when we drove around looking at lights, we drove by this woman's house. Thankfully, her porch lights and decorations were on.

I pulled over to the side of the road ("Really??" Sam said) and had Sam put on a mask. I stepped out and helped him put on some rubber gloves, which I had stuck in my pocket before we left - and I gave him two instructions: First, no going inside, and second, don't touch your face until we take off your gloves. Oh, and third, whatever she gives you, we'll let it sit on the porch for a couple of days, just to be safe.

Sam went up to her door and I waited out by the tree in her front yard, like usual, and listened. After a few knocks, she came to the door and I can honestly say she was as happy to see Sam as he was to see her. 

For once, Sam wasn't invited inside, "Due to the  COVID," she said. Sam told it was ok, he wouldn't have been able to go inside anyway. She said she was wondering if he was going to show up this year and was getting ready to give up, that Sam was coming by later than usual. This was true. We were about a half hour later, letting it get nice and dark in hopes of seeing more lights.

They chatted for a few minutes and she gave Sam a goody bag containing a couple of  Hot Wheels and I think a candy bar or two (thoughtfully, no stuffed animals in these pandemic times)... and they chatted a few minutes more. 

Finally, they wished each other a goodnight, a happy Halloween and each said they hoped to see the other again next year.

Back at the car, Sam, all smiles, set down his goody bag, took off his gloves, and we drove off, looking for a few more lights on our way back home. 

 

First Frost

 A very chilly morning...

Better Than The Real Thing

I bring Sam to and from work everyday and almost everyday, when I pick him up, his supervisor, Teri, comes out and chats for a few minutes while we wait for Sam. Often times we talk about about how he did that day - if everything went well, if he had any struggles, etc. Sometimes it's just to touch base. 

During the course of a conversation earlier in the week, she asked what our plans were for trick-or-treating on Saturday night - what with the pandemic and the now-rising cases everywhere.

I told her that it was extremely unlikely that we would go out - at least not for trick-or-treating. I told her we'd probably drive around instead, and hope that people had a lot of lights and decorations lit up for us to look at. Not the same thing, I knew, but it was something.

Even though Sam was a little disappointed, he (sort-of) understood. It wasn't worth the risk. Walking around old neighborhoods, knocking on mostly stranger's doors, reaching into bowls of candy that other strangers have been reaching into, didn't seem like a great idea.

I mentioned to her how, for Sam, it's not really about the candy and how, as a matter of fact, his mostly filled bag of candy from last Halloween is still hanging from his dining room chair and how this year, like every year, I would have to empty it if we were going out.

I told her that I thought a part of Halloween is that he likes to see a few of the people on our route - but mostly, I think it's the adventure of it - or at the very least, the ritual of it all. We like rituals. 

Yesterday afternoon, I got a call from Teri. She wanted to know if on Friday (today), was I going to be bringing Sam to work and picking him up - or was he taking the bus? "No," I said, "I would be doing both, like usual." Then she asked if I could bring Sam to work a half hour later and could he stay a half hour later? I told her that it wouldn't be a problem. Finally, she asked if Sam could wear his costume to work. (Earlier, I had mentioned that he was going to dress up as a doctor, wearing a jacket and stethoscope which Rachael had bought for him. Apparently he didn't like my mummy, construction worker or vampire ideas - which was no surprise.) "I'll check with him but I'm sure he'd love to," I told her.

"Good," she said. Then she told me what she was planning.

She remembered what I had mentioned about the trick-or-treating and she decided to arrange it so Sam could trick-or-treat at work. By waiting that extra half hour, all his coworkers would be back from their various routes and everyone would be able to participate. She would have his coworkers scattered around different rooms in the building and Sam could knock on the various doors, say "trick-or-treat," and and get some candy or small prizes. "But don't tell him," she said. "We'll let it be a surprise."

I couldn't believe it. I had to ask her to repeat it a couple of times. 

After I hung up, I let Sam know that I would be bringing him to work a little late and picking him up a little late - and that he should wear his costume. Beyond a "Oh, that's a little different" there were no questions.

This morning, I reminded him to put on his costume, and brought him to work. 

When I went to pick Sam up, I drove down to the usual set of double doors, parked and waited for him to come out. Right when I pulled in, one of the double doors swung open and one of the ladies he works with, darted out, closed the door behind her and stood facing the doors, waiting in the thirty-six degree weather, wearing some crazy costume. 

After several minutes, there was a knock from inside the door. She opened it to hear Sam say, "Trick or treat!" and she made a big deal of it. 

While Sam finished up, Teri came out to talk to me and fill me in. She shared a photo she took from the elevator, taken as Sam was trick-or-treating (see below). And she told me about some of the things Sam got, including a little flashlight she bought for him - since he's not big on candy. I told her how touched I was. And I thanked her again, profusely.

When Sam came out, he was thrilled. He stammered through telling me about some of his day, including the fact that people kept calling him "Doctor Sam" all day. We talked about what a wonderful thing it was for them to do something like that, and how lucky he is to work with people who care so much about him - and about how they must feel he's pretty special.

I'm so happy and grateful that Sam is working with such thoughtful and caring people - and in such a safe environment. What a gift. 

I still can't get over it.

Doctor Sam. Photo by Teri

Leaf Season

There's a lot I like about the fall - the comfortable days, the cool nights, the (mostly) dry air. And even though I'm colorblind, I also love the colors of fall. But when it comes to the colors of fall, I like the it better when these colors are not all over my lawn. 

It's not that I'm picky about my lawn - not by a long shot. It's that I don't like raking leaves. Thankfully, my lawn is about the size of a living room rug. But even still, raking leaves is not one of my all-time favorite activities.

The weekend before last, Rachael and Sam raked the front lawn clean. This resulted in two, maybe three tarp-loads of leaves which the three of us hauled down the street, into the woods. When all was done, the lawn looked great... for about three days. Then, the remaining leaves fell. Here's what my lawn looked like by the following weekend...

Sam and I spent a good portion of Saturday raking up this Act II. It resulted in another four tarp-loads of leaves being hauled into the woods. Maybe it was five loads. I'm a little hazy from the physical exertion.

I have no one to blame but myself for this leaf problem on my front lawn. The tree these leaves fall from is, after all, mine. So as I might like to blame someone else, it's blatantly my own fault.

What I will complain about, freely and often, are all of the leaves in my backyard. I own no leaf-bearing trees in my backyard. Yet every year, I rake about twice as many leaves out back as I do out front.

This is largely due, maybe even exclusively due, to my neighbor's massive Norwegian maple tree which sits about five feet from our property line. 

I'm told this type of tree is invasive, which I can attest to - at least when it comes to the amount of leaves invading my yard. To make matters even worse, this tree (which doesn't even belong to me, as I think I mentioned) doesn't have to good sense to drop all it's leaves at the same time as the more considerate red maple out front. 

Instead, this tree waits until all the front yard leaves are raked and gone and then it starts letting go - thus prolonging my leaf-raking agony.  Because it waits so long, it often drops leaves right up to, and sometimes even after, the first snow. Here's a picture I took a few years ago...

Pretty, right? Now think about raking this wet, semi-frozen mess off my tiny back lawn. Even better, think about hauling multiple tarp-loads of these wet, semi-frozen, heavy bundles of nature to the woods at the end of my street.

Even though I more than slightly resent raking the profuse amount of leaves from a tree that doesn't even belong to me, I still like the fall. I just wish there was a little less of it all over my lawn.

A Quick Trip

I made a last minute, semi-unplanned, visit to see Jake yesterday. It was the first time I'd been at his place in probably over a year. And the last time he was able to be home (our real home, that is) was back on Father's Day. That was about four months ago.

Jake and I talk on the phone almost every day, often briefly, but it's not the same as being able to see someone face-to-face - even if those faces are responsibly covered with masks. 

He had a bumpy and lonely week last week - or more likely, it was just the accumulation of many, sometimes slightly bumpy, but mostly lonely, weeks - and since my state isn't currently allowing visitors from his state, I loaded up the car with various Jake-type food-type items and headed on my way to see him.

It was a relatively brief, four-hour visit - less time than the round trip of driving - but it was time well spent. He showed me around where he works, we walked the bike path (which, surprisingly, looks an awful lot like the bike paths we have around here), we had some lunch (outside of course - until it got too cold. Then we ate in my car), briefly walked the rocky beach looking for special, one-of-a-kind rocks -  and mostly, we talked. Or maybe, mostly listened.

I'm not sure how much good the visit did for him. But for me, it did a lot. I miss Jake, as I miss all my kids (though, thankfully, Sam occupies my time). But it's especially hard to not be around the people you love when you can't be around the people you love. 

I didn't take any pictures when I was there, but here's one from last year. Picture yesterday exactly like this, except colder...

The Weighting Game

I keep starting a post about nothing in particular and then either leaving it do die in the bottomless abyss along of all my other forgotten drafts - or just putting it out of it's misery and deleting it. 

I've had a little difficulty figuring out why this is even more of a problem than usual - and I've decided that the upcoming election is bothering me more than I care to admit. 

So, there you go. Admitting the problem is the first step towards a solution (I'm told) - but rather than wallow in it, or even waste my time and energy thinking about it, I'll only say that I'll be glad when it's all behind us. 

At least, I hope to god I'll be glad.

A Brief Recap

Boy, does time fly. We're well into fall, usually my favorite time of the year, and I just brought Rachael back to the Big City after having her home for about a week and a half. Like most good visits, it didn't seem long enough - but that's how these things go. Better to feel that way I guess, than feeling like, "Boy, that was a long visit." 

In between picking her up and bringing her back we managed to pack in a lot. We celebrated my birthday with the traditional apple picking adventure - slightly modified (as all things are this year) due to the ongoing COVID situation. 

We carved pumpkins (well, Helaina, Rachael and Sam did), and we did a lot of walking (surprise!). We even managed to make a single visit to the grocery store - an unusual event in these ever present COVID-tainted days (and nights).

Looking at what I just typed and it doesn't look like we really did a lot, but it filled our days nicely. I'll get around to posting some (more) photos (maybe) in the next few days, once I get over the hump of my somewhat-empty-nest, semi-depression.

Lunch Time

If nothing else, this pandemic has given me the opportunity to be at home for an extended period of time and with that, it's given me the chance to teach Sam how to make his own lunches. 

Like a lot of things, this has been kind of a slow, step-by-step process.

"Making Our Own Lunch 101" began in the early months of this semi-self-quarantine and over the months that followed, Sam and I covered different types of bread options, including toasted or not toasted. We covered wraps and bagels. We covered peanut butter sandwiches with various jelly and jam options. We covered sliced turkey sandwiches with various toppings, such as cheese, onions, Italian seasoning, spinach, tomatoes ... and more. 

Over these past few months, Sam has done a great job.

It gives me a a lot of satisfaction to see him get up at lunchtime and, with hardly a word, go into the kitchen to fix his own sandwich. I have no problem making a lunch for him but I like that he can be a little more independent - and I think he likes it, too.

The photo above is a sandwich Sam made for himself the other day. It's turkey on an onion bagel, with cheese, spinach, onions and tomatoes. A fairly typical representation of his lunches lately. And best of all, there was no input from me. 

Back to Work (Again)- Update

After a break of about a month, Sam was back to work at the school cafeteria today. The pandemic continues to affect where he works and what he's doing, just as it does for almost everyone everywhere (at least, those that pay attention and take it seriously) - but the bottom line is, for now, he still has a job.

It's a shortened schedule for Sam, at least compared to last year's schedule - only three, three hour days compared to last year's five, four hour days (which was reduced from five, five hour days), but it's more than his shorter two, three hour days which was his summer work schedule (got it?). 

This fall, all the cafeteria workers from all of the local schools are now working out of the one cafeteria at the middle school. They spend their days bagging breakfasts and lunches which are then distributed to drop points around town, all for the kids being schooled at home - which, for now, is every school-aged kid in town. I'm told this amounts to between 900 to 1000 meals per day. 

So it keeps him busy and keeps him productive. Sam's happy to be working. His supervisor seems to be happy with him (near as I can tell) and other than that, I don't have a lot to say about this - other than, thank god.

Today

 Happy birthday, Dad.

Changing Tide

Here are a few “before and after” photos (or possibly, “after and before” photos) of the canal by the bike path. Half were taken when it was recently drained for the annual(?) inspections and repairs, the other half, either before or after

This was the first time Sam and I had seen the canal empty at the south end. Of course, before this year, (and maybe a little bit of last year), walking this section of the bike path was not something we normally (or even, abnormally) did - certainly not on a regular (or even irregular) basis. Kind of neat to see, though.

I was hoping to be around whenever they filled the canal back up. The canal must be five or six miles long and I've wondered about the logistics of letting the water back in. When it was drained, there were some kids exploring the puddles down near the power plant (throwing mud and swearing, natch) and further up, there were people standing on the mudflats, fishing in a few of the larger puddles(!). (Not sure I understand the logic of this puddle-fishing but, whatever. I guess it gets them out of the house.)

So, when they fill the canal, what do they do to make sure the people are out of the canal? Do they station volunteers along the sides, maybe with some old-tyme-type megaphones (think Rudy Vallee- look it up kids) - hopefully yelling something like, “Head’s up! Water’s a-comin’!". 

If so, to complete my fantasy, I would (and do) imagine said volunteers wearing those 1920’s style bathing suits - the kind with striped tank-tops and maybe even bathing caps (look that up, as well). Maybe all the town-folk come down from the hills to watch what must be the biggest event in town since, well, since they did the same thing last year.

Or maybe whoever lets the water back in doesn't give a hoot* (*insert any word you prefer). Maybe they just go ahead and release the water and whoever wasn’t observant enough to notice the oncoming rush of a tidal wave gets washed into the turbines at the power plant on the far end. Either way, I wonder how you get a job like that.

Anyway, here are the photos...

Tonight's Music Video

You can watch tonight's debate or ignore it, as I choose to. (Actually, I'm lying (since that is now a thing).  I watched about fifteen minutes of it. That was plenty.) 

Instead, since this song has been, for some reason, going through my mind lately, I'll share it here (assuming I can get it to format correctly in this new and improved Blogger). Maybe that will get it out of my head.

Here you go (maybe)...

Stay well.

Another Piece Not Quite in Place

I was going to write a post about calling SSI, getting put on hold for about fifteen minutes while their tinny, repetitive hold "music" plays - interrupted every two minutes or so with a recording that thanks me for my patience and that my call is important to them - before finally getting cut off ... five times in a row. 

I'm pretty sure I've written something like this before, so I guess I won't bother.

Another Piece in Place

Last week, I called the transit company to see what was going on with Sam's ADA bus pass application. After leaving a message, I eventually got a call back from an actual human being. Apparently, they're on a reduced staffing level so things are a little behind. I was assured that I (or rather, Sam) would be receiving a letter of notification "soon". 

Yesterday, Sam got the letter approving his bus pass... for the next three years. It's beyond me why they only approve this for three years at a time, especially with all the documentation I gave them. But hey, it's approved. That's what matters (for now... and the next three years). 

I could ask the transit company about the three years thing, but I think trying to understand whatever their rules are, and whatever the "logic" is in their decision making process, will only fill my head with things that my head is probably better off without. (Plus, my head is currently full anyway.)

Next up is calling SSI.

Changing of Seasons

 

Today's Brief Comment

 Some days, it's easier to ignore the news than others.

Harvest Season

Here's a very familiar view of the farm fields by the rail yard...

Last I mentioned this field, Sam and I were wondering what they were growing here. Several years ago, it was strawberries. The following year, it was pumpkins. Same with the year following. Then it went back to strawberries, then back to pumpkins. This year, I guess they split the difference. The eastern half of the field (on the left) is all strawberries, the western half, all pumpkins.

In (pumpkin) years past, it seemed like they never picked the pumpkins. The pumpkins would still be in the fields long after the first frost - maybe even beyond. This year, for the first time, we saw a couple of trucks in the distance riding slowly through the fields. There were folks walking on either side of the truck tossing pumpkins to the guys riding in the back of the truck. They, in turn, loaded the pumpkins into large boxes on the flatbed, the kind of boxes you see on display in supermarkets this time of year. 

I don't know when these guys started picking the pumpkins but they were still at it when Sam and I were on our way back. Judging by their speed and the size of the field, I'm guessing they might be done some time around mid-February.

A while back, Sam and I were also walking past the farm fields over in Neighboring Town #2. Back then, we were wondering what the crop was in those fields, as well (way back here). Hard to believe that was three months ago.

Turns out it was a mixture of yellow squash and zucchini...

I don't know anything about farming but it seems to me they've picked everything except the yellow squash and zucchini. Not sure what the plan is here but at least the mystery of what the crop was has been solved.

Forest Photos

 From our walk through the conservation area on Monday...