SQUEAKY 's SURPRISE

Before I knew that Squeaky was coming for a visit,

we had made plans to go to a Duck away game party.

My MIL also informed us that she had met a wood carver that she

wanted me to meet and had arranged to go to his home/ work shop

on Sunday.

Squeaky is not what you would call a social animal.

He's more of the modern computer nerd version of a hermit.

Since he left school a couple of years ago,

his social life changed greatly.

Most of his contacts are online as the kids in DPH tend to get out of town as fast as they can after graduation to begin adult lives or go to school.

If he sees humans, its mostly family.

Upon his arrival I asked if he would be comfortable with going to the game party.

He gave the expected response.

Not really.

This surprised the man who thought that food, if nothing else would draw a kid to a party.

But Squeaky has food issues and rules and none of those that would be offered are foods that he can eat.

He's also not a people person and shy.

But he said he would be fine alone in the house.

=:[

I called my MIL and asked if we could postpone the visit to the wood carver's.

She saw no reason for this at all... there was enough room in the car and

the boy would enjoy seeing the guy's work... 

so no, she would not call and try to arrange another day.

She is under the delusion that I will become a successful... as in money making... wood carver.

Its what she would like me to do.

I would like to carve for the pleasure of carving.

Once money is involved, it ceases to be fun and becomes work.

I do not share the delusion.

I was a bit frustrated here.

This is my youngest son, who I no longer see very often.

I was only going to have him for two days and both days

had events that I felt were not as important as visiting with my son.

He did not take a bus all the way here to go to other people's homes where he would feel uncomfortable.

He came to visit me.

Sheesh!

So I opted out of the game party.

That gave me an evening alone with my son to visit and enjoy.

Besides, I knew that Todd would understand.

Family is at the top of his list too.

Off the man went to enjoy the party.

Squeaky and I had a fabulous time.

He loves a particular Quiznos sandwich, so we got those for our meal.

I was just about to bite into mine, when he said he had something that he wanted me to see and give my opinion on.

Ok.

He pulled a folded piece of paper from his wallet and handed it to me.

It was a prolog.

Squeaky is writing a book!

I read it and then the first chapter of his book.

Squeaky was good in language arts in school.

Very good.

He wrote his first chapter book in 4th grade.

His teacher took me aside at the time and told me that he had 

what she considered a real talent for writing that should be developed.

That was the path his education took.

But about a year before graduation, he stopped talking about writing for a living and began to worry about a real career.

He didn't want to go into technical writing or journalism.

Its his life.

I assumed that he had moved on from that dream.

I won't tell you what the book is about or give quotes.

That's his baby.

But I will tell you this.

I was impressed by his writing...

far and away much better than my drivel, well paced, well thought out.

His wording is clever and often surprising.

We discussed his work.

I made some minor suggestions... because I am not the writer that he is.

Then we talked about a plot issue he had concerning the second chapter.

We talked about characters traits and habits.

We bounced ideas off each other.

I think it is one of the most sublime times I have ever spent with this boy.

I'm so glad that I stayed home and did not miss it.

Its funny how we make assumptions about our children...

who or what they will be.

Squeaky has said from kindergarten that he wanted to be a writer.

I even have a paper he did where he wrote that then.

I don't know why the idea that he would write left my head,

but it did.

I should have had a clue when I saw his college classes.

All are language arts classes that will involve much writing in various forms.

But it did not ring a bell in my dull brain.

This came to me as a very happy surprise.

I know... we all think our kids are special and talented.

I write for fun and am no great writer.

But I am an avid reader and I have seen good, bad and wonderful

writing.

Squeaky's 4th grade teacher was right.

The boy has talent.

I am thrilled that he is going to do this.

I think he has a real chance at going somewhere with it.

And I had one of the best nights of my life 

sharing his work and thoughts with him.

Now how cool is that?

STABBY JOE

Squeaky called and said he wanted to come and visit.

This was in response to an open invitation to him from the man who promised to pay for bus tickets if he or Max should want to visit.

I was excited to say the least and immediately set about arranging

a will call ticket for him on line.

Now when I was dating the man,

I made that bus trip several times.

One would assume that since I had that experience,

that I should be able to find my way there.

But you should know me by now...

and if not, at least I know my knack for getting lost.

I would make a dry run... just to be sure.

The man gave me clear directions.

I am much more familiar with the streets now but this was

a journey into the Emerald City, which I do not know as well.

Still, after listening to the man's directions

I was sure that I could find my way

and confident that places would jog my memory

of the area.

For instance, I recalled very clearly a soup kitchen on the corner

and a bar down the street from the station.

(The soup kitchen as it turns out is next to the station in P'land.

So much for my ability to recall.)

Off I set in the clown car... which I had freshly washed for the occasion.

I made the first two turns easily.

The third one threw me a loop... and I went left instead of right.

Well crap.

But I caught my error quickly and made adjustments.

Too bad they were the wrong ones.

I ended up under the bridge instead of on it.

I have made this same error before.  Sigh.

Okay... made a loop and found my way on top of the bridge actually going in the correct direction... I was back on track!

I made my next two turns perfectly.

Ha ha!  I had it now.

Not.

I am directionally challenged.

By this I mean that my head has no sense at all of 

where north, south, east or west are at any given time.

(Later the man would tell me...

numbered streets go east and west

and the named streets run north and south.

That would have helped.)

It also would have helped if I had looked to see the name of the street

where the bus station hunkers down.

But I did not.

At this point, I was actually on the street...

so when I took one left turn too many...

I left it.

No matter... in the spirit of happy reunion...

I decided that I was indeed in a familiar looking area...

so I was close.

All I had to do was circle around and go up and down the streets 

in a small radius.

It is unfortunate that I had decided that the right street was

the wrong one... and circled everywhere but on that street.

It was hot and humid.

Frustration set in quickly and soon I found myself

in a snit.

Off I drove home, because I can always find my way home...

by retracing my recent travels.

I entered the house feeling rankled that once again I had gotten lost.

But the man was smart enough to see my frustration.

He didn't stop me from printing a Google Map...

which told me that I needed Pearl Street, if nothing else.

He looked at the driving directions and said it would take me longer to go that way, but whatever.

He needed to go to the store.

I followed him to the truck in a sullen and sour mood...

which he wisely acted as if he did not notice.

Does nothing rattle this man's cage?

I haven't found it yet, if the annoyance exists that can.

I began to smile when he turned onto the freeway

on our return trip home.

I knew he was going to drive me to the station.

Getting cigars had been a ruse.

And I would have refused if he had offered.

It truly does bother me when I get lost.

It becomes a point of honor to find my way.

But this time, his just doing it without warning pleased me.

My ego could stay in tact.

Yes, I am aware that this reasoning is weird.

So it was that I saw my error with the extra left turn

and saw how simple and easy his instructions truly were.

How close I had been to it if I had not made that one crucial mistake.

Oh well.  Now I knew the way.

My drive to collect my youngest son would be easy and successful

the following evening.

Friday afternoon Squeaky and Bear went to buy books for college...

in P'land.

There was a four hour wait just to get into the book store,

and it was set to close in an hour.

A quick decision was made to buy online instead.

Bear dropped him at the bus station as she left town...

two hours early.

Not a big deal since he was supposed to be there an hour early anyway.

He texted me to tell me he was there.

Yay!

An hour later I get another text...

"Been here an hour.  Already offered drugs.

Am watching a homeless guy's bag."

And so it went for nearly five hours of bus delays,

unscheduled stops for last minute riders,

and actual trip time.

Meanwhile I was at home, tracking him through texts.

Time passed slowly, but finally after all the delays

I got his text that he thought that he was near.

Off I set in the clown car... and drove straight there.

Yay!

That's when the waiting began.

The first problem was that the bus station was closed.

This meant that there I was in a fairly seedy part of a strange town

after dark.

But luck was with me and I found a parking space right in front of the bus station doors.

Cool beans!

Outside it a variety of shady characters loitered...

and one fresh faced nervous college kid.

But not my college kid.

A loud burst of laughter from the punk bar down the street

startled both of us.

He moved closer to my car,

where I sat, doors locked.

Better to be closer to the grandma looking lady with the cell phone.

I smiled at him and rolled my window down... about half way.

We began a conversation about the delay.

He informed me that they told him before tossing him out of the station

when it closed that he had another hour to wait.

I said my son was on that bus and gave him the news that they were almost here.

That was how it went for a bit...

me getting texts from Squeaky about what he saw

in hopes that I would know where the bus was.

Up walks Stabby Joe...

many of his cousins were lingering about

and I had to force myself not to roll my window back up.

Oily and obviously living out of his grimy back pack.

He asked me about the bus delay.

He confessed that he 

"Have to get out of this town quick".

Okay... I don't want to know this story.

I told him what I knew and suggested that he wait 

in the alley the bus pulls into in an alcove that is there

where he can't be seen from the street.

He nodded and shuffled off.

The fresh faced kid came over to stand by my window.

Stabby Joe had made him nervous too.

I almost offered to let him sit in my car...

but you know not all of Stabby Joe's cousins look smarmy.

I get a text telling me the exit number Squeaky just passed.

His exit was the very next one...

in ten minutes they would arrive.

I passed that on to fresh face, who looked relieved.

I thought again briefly of offering to let him sit in the car

and then thought how creepy that might seem.

Some old pervy grandma who trolls the bus station late at night for victims...

Stabby Joe's grandma perhaps.

We continued our conversation through my half closed window

until the bus arrived and we said our good-byes.

I texted Squeaky that I was parked directly in front of the bus station doors.

I saw him walk out of the alley with his back pack on his back.

I waved and he walked the opposite direction.

Proof that being directionally challenged is genetic.

I can see him texting.

"Where are you?"

I hopped out of the car and flagged him down, 

and hopped back in to lock my door again.

He got in with his back pack still on and locked his door...

sitting like a hunchback, almost doubled over.

He says

"Oh my god! The ride itself wasn't so bad once we got going but everyone on that bus was related to Stabby Joe. WTF?"

Yep. 

That was my son.

On the ride home I only made one mistake.

It didn't really matter.

Eventually I saw a sign that pointed to my freeway.

Once I was on it, I knew how to get home.

Pizza and fresh baked cookies were waiting.

My boy was here safe and the conversation was excellent.

Stabby Joe and his cousins left our minds.

MELTING

When its hot around here...

the laptop I work on sort of melts down.

Its old, sits on the patio where the heat is present and we all know that computers do not like heat.

I don't like heat!

But the fact of the matter is that here is where we are

and when the weather is warm, 

it refuses to cooperate.

It suddenly shuts down.

I suppose its better than blowing up.

But it makes blogging a bit dicey.

I never know if I will get to finish a piece or not before it clicks off...

let alone visit blogs that I want to read.

Sheesh.

 

So not much is going on here.

There was one tiny thing worth a giggle though...

When Turkey was here visiting us

one of his favorite things to do is take a bubble bath.

Being the good mommy she is, Bear sat on the closed toilet

while he played in the tub.

The man and I were in the kitchen.

Roxy wanted a "cookie".

She knows the rules for getting one;

sit and take the cookie very gently...

then take the cookie outside to eat... not on the rug.

She sat, she delicately accepted her cookie and ran for the rug.

The man shouts at her

"Hey! You get outside!"

In the bathroom Turkey turns to his mom and says

"Ut-oh, grandma's in trouble!"

I miss that kid.

He makes me laugh.

Fall is suppose to fall on Friday.

Unfortunately, 

here it looks like an extended summer instead.

Meh.

I'm ready for the smell of wood smoke

and burning leaves... though they don't allow you to burn leaves here.

I'm ready for crisp morning walks that get you moving to stay warm.

I've been seeing pumpkins on vines.

Soon we'll be waiting for the ring of the door bell...

and the giggles of trick or treaters.

They do still do that here.

Yay!

I just hope that Roxy doesn't scare them too badly.

She loves to bark at the door.

Otherwise the only other thing going on here are more 

dumpster funerals.

The mouse count is up to eleven.

So it goes.

EARTH SSS

Welcome to another edition of SSS...

our word today is 

EARTH!

 As you know...

silly rabbits live in holes in the EARTH.

This pic found here:

http://ed101.bu.edu/StudentDoc/current/ED101fa10/jdore/Content%203.html

at a very cute site made by 

Mr. Dagley's 1st grade class.

Unlike Peter Rabbit...

I don't want to risk stealing from 

Mr. McGreggor.

I prefer to do till my own 

EARTH.

 As you can see, its very stoney...

good thing silly rabbits know how to dig!

That is it for photos for me today.

But I would like to mention the obvious...

Everyone, all the silly rabbits, etc.

live here on Mother EARTH...

though, speaking as a creature who is "prey" and does not attack other creatures,

not always in harmony.

Currently my EARTH revolves around

college football on Saturdays...

so I'm off to sit back,

nibble veggies,

and watch the games!

I hope you are doing something enjoyable today.

=:]

 

FAMILY STYLE

My visitors have gone after four days of riot and chaos...

of the happy kind.

I miss the sound and sights of children,

especially this time of year when school begins.

It was a real treat for me to have Turkey and Bear here.

Grandpa Fuzzy survived, 

though with less enthusiasm.

He is used to a quiet life.

Children are not quiet when excited and happy.

Not that he was unhappy to see them,

just ready to have his quiet life back once they had gone.

So this morning I sat in my quiet on the patio,

sipping my coffee and reflecting on the past few days.

The man and I often talk about our families and how we were raised and how we raised our own mobs.

The man came from a fairly strict old school type family...

dad came home from work tired and ready to relax...

so mom shooed the kids aside and out of his hair.

Dad time for them came on weekends and vacations.

Unless someone was in big trouble and dad came on duty as the 

dreaded enforcer.

Children were supposed to be quiet unless spoken to.

They played in their rooms where childish noises were not overheard.

My home as a child was riot central.

My dad walked into the door each day and was met by

five balls of chaos...

all chattering at the same time...

all thrilled that dad had come home.

We were caught up in the excitement of dad!

He was equally happy to see us and tired his best to hear every word flying out of our mouths and to comment on them.

There were hugs and tickle fights...

and odd thing we called "fanny pats" when we had done something particularly good... like a good grade or something we had figured out.

Okay... break for explanation.

A fanny pat is where dad stands facing one way...

kid faces the other way...

hip to his tall leg.

Then you pat each other rapidly on the fanny...

much in the manor of birthday swats.

Believe it or not, it was a reward we all sought.

The point is that my dad came through the door 

wanting to see and enjoy his kids.

Both he and my mother were children people.

I recall clearly going to other children's homes and coming face to face with the "Ssshhhh.... daddy's home!"

attitude and being confused.

Why did anyone have to be quiet around a dad?

They were fun people!

They were the center of a kid's universe.

Duh!

But I digress.

The point here is that I see a real difference between my upbringing and the man's and the affect it has on his kids and mine.

The man has a great family.

They all get together fairly often.

However, they are more serious and sedate.

They are less affectionate toward each other.

Hugs are quick and happen on leaving.

Sort of like that French fashion of  quick kiss on the cheeks.

My family is just as chaotic as the one I grew up in.

We are random huggers caught up in the joy of being together.

The man actually likes this about my kids.

Chatter begins as soon as we are in ear shot of each other 

and we are still calling things to each other as they leave.

So as I sat here reflecting...

I thought perhaps it is a good thing that the man and I met later in life.

I could not have parented any differently than I did.

I can see how our parenting styles would have come into conflict...

had we raised children together.

Fortunately we don't have that issue to worry about now.

I'm not saying that either style of parenting is right or wrong.

Just different.

We are what we are... and we get it where we came from.

I still parent the same,

be it my grand kids or his.

I happily take on his grand kids for the most part

while he seeks shelter when he needs it in his shop...

coming and going as his nerves can take kid exuberance.

I don't mind a bit.

I like the noise, the joy and the random thoughts

of small people untarnished.

We had a wonderful visit.

Bear said that Turkey cried himself to sleep on the ride home...

saying "I miss grandma."

I shed a few tears myself once they were out of view.

But they will be back.

And we are always in some way

"together".

VISITORS

I've got company!

The Bear and Turkey have come to visit for a few days...

So I'll be busy with that.

Pardon my absence...

I'll be back soon.

I gotta make the most of these moments.

=:]