Apparently, some forty-watt bulb thought was pretty clever.
For god's sake, put some effort into it!
Items of no interest, poorly written.
Apparently, some forty-watt bulb thought was pretty clever.
For god's sake, put some effort into it!
After a two year, COVID-induced hiatus, Helaina is finally having another tag sale.
Goodbye, Lifetime Collection of Junk! It was fun while it lasted!
We made two trips over there - three, if you count the time we first noticed the tent. But on that initial trip, we were only going to the College to go on a walk and we were unprepared for this tent situation. We were therefore metal detector-less and ended up only going for our walk.
We returned a few days later, this time armed with Sam's metal detector, but the tent, unfortunately (as we soon found out) was (still) packed with unfolded metal folding chairs. It turns out, it's pretty much an exercise in frustration trying to look for metal coins around metal chair legs. The metal detector never stopped beeping.
We gave up, again went on our walk, then headed home. Sam and I re-grouped and a day or two later, we made another attempt. This time, thankfully, all of the metal folding chairs were gone to wherever it is they go and there was nothing but wide open spaces under the tent.
On this second trip, "we" were way more successful - two dollars and eighty-six cents more successful.
But the funny thing is, when Sam finds change on our other walks, it's almost always around benches or picnic tables or the like. Our theory has always been, this is because some rube (my word, not Sam's) is sitting down, enjoying some probably undeserved relaxation time and all the while, unbeknownst to them, change is spilling out of their pockets.
This carelessness always seems to work in our favor (Formula: Rube minus coins = Sam plus coins.)
However, this time, under the Big Tent, where all those metal chairs once were, almost no change was found! All the coins Sam found were at the perimeter of the tent! (You: "Weird!").
Now, some might say that maybe this is because the aforementioned rube (or some rube like him) may be locating a landmark so that if they were dropping some coins, they would have a general idea of where to go back and look for these coins.
But this makes no sense at all. Only a fool would purposely be dropping coins only to go back later to try and find them.
Whatever is going on, in the end, I guess it really doesn't matter.
Either way, the bottom line is, the formula still holds - and this time, at least, Sam is two dollars and eighty-six cents richer.
So glad the most important people in my life could be here today.
I'll sign off today as I do every Father's Day. Always thinking of you, Dad...
Figuring out how Sam feels about something can be complicated. For one thing, he's often excellent at reading people’s reactions (even though he doesn’t understand the reasons for those reactions). So when you ask him a question, especially if the subject is deep or vague or confusing to him, as he answers, he’ll study your face and if he detects changes in your expression, he’ll modify his response, trying to give you what he thinks is the ‘right’ answer.
This comes up because this has been a week interspersed with some new challenges for Sam. And this means that our walks have been filled with more conversation than usual - conversations about relationships and emotions and all those intangible and abstract things that go along with it.
Topics like these are difficult for anyone to navigate. As with most things, these challenges are heightened for Sam. Nothing here is concrete. Nothing here is black and white.
On any of our walks, but particularly this week, it’s not unusual to drop comments here and there about how different people can feel differently about the same things - and how it's all ok. And ‘we'll’ talk about how, no matter how anyone else feels about something, how he feels about something is what’s right for him.
And particularly this week, we talked about how it’s also ok to not know how you feel - and if someone needs to know how you’re feeling, how, if you’re not sure yourself, it’s ok to give yourself some space and to say you don't know, that you need time to think about it.
We take conversations like these in baby steps, snippets really, with more breaks and pauses than conversation. This all takes time.
But as our conversations continue and things come into focus, I try to comfort him, usually by relating to him, and I try to encourage him. Then I may make a suggestion.
That was the case this week.
We walked and talked and when we finally got to the heart of the matter, when it became clearer how he felt about a situation and what his frustrations and fears were, we found a place to sit for a minute and I made a suggestion, saying to Sam, “Maybe you could think about saying something like…” and I explained it to him.
Sam thought for a second, smiled and gave a quick clap and pointed, as he often does, at nothing in particular. You could instantly feel the relief.
Back at home, we talked just a little bit more about these things -- mostly to see how he was feeling. And he asked again what that response was. And again, he gave a clap and pointed when I repeated it.
And I told him again how I didn’t want anything I said to be taken as if I’m telling him how he should feel. And I said again that however he feels - about anything- matters. And I told him that I worry about putting words in his mouth.
Sam listened, then said, “I understand that. I appreciate you helping me find the words.”
"I'm glad to be able to help," I said. And I managed not to cry.
Every year there's been a break between when his job wraps up at the end of the regular school year and when the summer meals program begins. This year though, things have been a little more in limbo.
This year the school system has not only a new Superintendent but also a new head of the Food Services Department. Between the two of them, someone came up with the bright idea of having every single one of the food service workers re-apply for their current positions.
I won't bother comment on how this completely undermines any loyalty on the part of a long-term, highly productive, cohesive and skilled workforce - and how a move like this completely undercuts all the things most managers strive for.
What I will say, which should also obvious, is that it does little but induce anxiety in certain people who may be genetically (or otherwise) predisposed to worry about what can, what possibly will, and what most certainly will - become a problem. I am, of course, talking not only about Sam, but also his treasured co-workers - and any dads he or those co-workers may or may not have.
But today, for the first time in what feels like forever (though it's probably been more like a week and a half), I talked to Sam's Supervisor. She let me know that Sam will be working this summer - for three days a week, beginning July 5th.
I don't have this commitment down on paper - and I didn't think to record her for the possible court case should this fall through - but she's always been beyond great with Sam. I'm just unsure about this new Superintendent, as well as the new head of Food Services.
So until Sam actually goes back to work on the 5th, anything can go wrong. In the meantime, I just need to keep it light and play it cool around Sam - for another twenty-four days and fourteen hours.
When it comes to cooking - or just about anything around the house - Sam loves to help. Take grilling, for example. Sam likes to help out by making hamburger patties - which is kind of amazing considering his heightened tactile issues. And he (kind of) likes dropping the hamburgers onto the grill. After that, his involvement pretty much begins and ends with sometimes helping me flip the burgers.
In between the dropping the patties onto the grill and the sometimes flipping of those burgers, grilling with Sam usually consists of me manning the grill while he spends his time wandering around the yard taking pictures of flowers and bugs or poking little twigs into the knotholes of the neighbor's fence.
I'm glad for his help and that he wants to help, and I'm especially glad for his company. Here's a few photos of Sam helping me grill...
He's got the required two American flags - one taped to the front antenna, one planted firmly in the wound in the back. He's got the official American flag decal in his rear window. He's got the 'Jesus is Lord' bumper sticker securely duct taped to his trunk. And he's even got the deluxe Jesus fish with the America flag fish body (just as Jesus intended) stuck to his bumper.
Maybe all this damage has something to do with the fact that, judging from the fact that his head apparently doesn't reach the top of his headrest, this guy must be about three feet tall.
This is a photo taken a week or so ago of a couple of the blooms on the kerria bush in the front yard.
I love this bush for a number of reasons.
First, I like it because it's pretty. The blooms add color to an otherwise semi-dark corner of the yard.
Secondly, it requires pretty much zero gardening skills - which makes it ideal for someone like me.
Third, it blooms twice throughout the year. It first blooms in the late spring, greeting the earliest days of warmer weather. And it blooms again in the waning days of summer, signaling the near-end of those seasonal days.
But what I like best about it is, I bought this long ago - when my three oldest kids were small - back in the days when we would spend much of our Saturdays and Sundays doing errands and going on "adventures" together.
Other people, if they notice it at all, see a pretty flowering shrub. When I look at it, I see memories of weekends - where simple things like running errands or finding, buying and planting a shrub together was an adventure.
Then again, I tend to see those things whether the kerria is blooming or not.