On the advice of the doctor

I'm not sure where to start. OK, really I started about two weeks ago, maybe longer ago than that. Yes, once again it's about the children. Superman and I took both of them to the psychiatrist this afternoon. There was a lot to talk about. 

First Sproing. He has some significant behavior issues. We are adjusting some of his medication. The child hasn't been sleeping since the last medication change. We're returning to one of the meds he was on before, leaving the other unchanged. The boy, not too big to begin with, has lost 10 lbs in the last month. At 11 years old he now only weighs 79 lbs. He isn't eating, nor is he sleeping very much. And as has been chronicled here, his behavior has gone from bad to worse. The medication change includes one that helps calm him down and helps him sleep. The one we've discontinued had the possible side effect of suppressing appetite. He sees the doctor in a month, and we will assess from there. I really hope his behavior and appetite improve now. 

The doctor, Sproing, Superman and I all discussed some behavioral changes he needs to make, and how we can all work together to help him get control of himself and make better choices. I hope this makes a difference. 

And now on to Diva. The child concerns me. I've been watching her carefully over the last few weeks. Did I tell you about our trip to the beach? The one that only happened in her mind? Yes, last Friday I discovered that she has told some people at school that when she was suspended from school last week, I took her to Myrtle Beach (a 5 hour drive from here) so we could look for sand dollars. Yes, I mentioned that in my last post about her. The thing is I think she sort of believes it. I told that story to the doctor, along with a few more. Of course the obscene phone call to the school district official was news to the doctor. 

Superman and I spoke privately with the doctor without Diva about Diva. I am beginning to see some signs that look suspiciously pathological* in nature. We discussed some of my suspicions, and the doctor agrees that things are not right with that child. We have started the procedure to have her retested by the Behavior Health center at our local hospital. The head psychologist in that department is a genius and blessing to our town. She's very easy to work with, too. I feel so-so about Diva's child shrink. The doc at the hospital is great. 

The child shrink suspects that Diva's IQ score of 79 from her last psych testing 2 years ago is artificially high. She recognizes what I've noticed, that Diva has some serious mental disconnect issues in her cognitive ability. 

Ever since last Friday this has been bothering me. I started reflecting on a lot of Diva's behaviors and attitudes. I've looked at her strenths and weaknesses in light of her recent activities. I'm stringing together a long list of disturbing behaviors. As I said in a recent post, some of these things seem innocent enough if taken individually, but there is just too much evidence to indicate a significant problem. 

I have had reservations about the child psychiatrist, as I mentioned previously. We talked for a long time today, and I have a new appreciation of her expertise. Yes, she's still very young and doesn't have much experience, but she isn't stupid. Anyway, she has referred Diva for more psych testing with the doctor I really respect, and she will be leaving town this summer, so it's all good. 

Superman and I talked with the shrink about the possibility of residential care for Diva. The doc said that with her condition (if that's the best word to use) a very structured environment is good. She actually said that the structure and regimentation of prison is perfect for her. Hang on. Wait a sec here. OK, after further elaboration, the doc is NOT suggesting that Diva go to prison. But residential care, possibly. We'll do some research, watch the child carefully, and see in a year or two (or sooner if Diva presses the issue) if that might be the best option for her. 

Birdie has been very encouraging in her comments about this. She reminded me recently that all of this mess with Diva is not my fault. And you know what? I can see that better now. The more I see psychosis in Diva's behavior, the less responsible I feel. Actually, I'm pretty impressed with how well Diva is doing, considering the pathological perspective. I suspect she'd be in a whole lot worse condition if she was in most any other environment. 

It is late, I'm rambling, and I still have some reading to do for class tomorrow. I'll post this now, then in the next day or two I'll look over it and see if it makes any sense. Until then, go about your lives, citizens. Nothing to see here. These aren't the droids you're looking for. 

* 

path⋅o⋅log⋅i⋅cal

 [path-uh-loj-i-kuhl]

–adjective

1.	of or pertaining to pathology.

2.	caused by or involving disease; morbid.

3.	caused by or evidencing a mentally disturbed condition: a pathological liar.

Botany Photo of the Day

This is today's photo from botany photo of the day. It looked interesting enough to share, so here you are. Botany Photo of the day is a daily email with a link to, duh, the daily botany photo. It's from University of British Columbia, I think. Kinda fun, if you enjoy that sort of thing.

Ruth has assembled today's entry. Ruth writes:

Thanks once again to Jim aka J.G. in S.F.@Flickr for sharing a photograph (original) with us via the Botany Photo of the Day Flickr Pool.

Ferraria crispa enjoys sandy soils, warm weather and walks on the beach (a perfect companion). Although this species is from South Africa, it has also found its way to Australia, where it has become naturalized. In both Australia and Africa it is predominantly a coastal plant. In Africa, it can be found from "Namaqualand and the northwest Cape to the southwest Cape, the southern Cape and the Little Karoo". In Australia, it is found from Perth to Cape Riche in "coastal heath, Agonis, tuart and Banksia woodland".

It is often referred to as black flag or flag lily. Flowers resemble arachnids (spiders and ilk) with their fringed edges and mottled petals. The succulent foliage is an identifying characteristic. Individual flowers don't last more than a few days each, and are noted for their ill scent -- they are fly pollinated.

trees

I took all the above pictures on campus in February. Yes, those pretty pink flowers bloomed in February. By the end of the month they were frozen dead. But they sure were pretty while they lasted.
This is the Bradford Pear in our front yard as it was beginning to bud. The tree has little light green leaves on it now. Perhaps I'll take another shot of it and post it soon.
This is my current desktop photo. Twitch took this picture on one of his scout camping trips recently. I think it's north Florida, but I'm not entirely sure.

My life this week - the good parts

This week has been full of ups and downs, and not moderate fluctuations. No, these have been high amplitude fluctuations. I'm grateful for the highs. Frankly, I haven't had many highs recently. 

So should I start with the wonderful things, or save them for last? Oh, lets start now. 

On Thursday after classes were over I took my beloved truck and drove into the mountains of North Carolina. This is the thing I need to do whenever I need a thrilling rush. I love driving my truck in the mountains! I love seeing how fast I can take those tight curves. The road I was on has a speed limit of 45 miles an hour along most of the stretch between towns. Of course as curvy as it is, one rarely can reach 45 mph, but I did as much as I was able. I discovered that most of the curves marked 25mph can be successfully navigated in 3rd gear at 35 mph. The ones marked 35mph I was often able to take at 45mph in 4th gear. I didn't spend much time in 5th gear until I got to the straight stretches. 

I forget how much I love driving in the mountains. Before long I found myself spontaneously whooping on the tight curves. Whooping, you know, as in "Yee-ha!" I laughed loud and strong. FUN. I rarely have real fun. I should do it more often. It's good for the soul. 

I went to North Carolina for a specific reason, not just for the drive. I allowed myself to experience a fulfilling cultural event and meet with a dear friend. Chanticleer performed at Brevard College Thursday night. Every time I hear those guys my soul is enriched. They are nice to look at, too. The main reason I went all the way to Brevard, though, was to see Gregory. He blogged for a while as the Ubiquitous Hobbit, but had to close the blog when he became a public figure. He is one of my first online friends. We spent a couple of hours together after the show just chatting and eating fattening food in a diner. It was fun.  

Then I got to drive the 2.5 hours back across the mountain and into the guts of South Carolina. It was 3:00 a.m. when I got back to town. Since I was still awake anyway, and needed some stuff, I went to Wal-Mart. I like shopping at 3:00 a.m. There are so few customers in the store then. The last few times I've been in that store I've gotten cranky about how many people were there. 

I had a nice 3 hour nap when I got home, and was in my 8:00 class Friday morning. I can do that occasionally. It actually thrills me to do that occasionally. If it happens too often, though, I get sick. I knew I had no tests or assignments due Friday which is why I allowed myself to indulge in the trip to Brevard Thursday night. It was the right thing to do. 

Today is a fun weather day. We've got real rain, not just little drizzly sprinkles here and there. And thunder!! I like thunder. The windows shook a couple of time earlier this morning. As long as I don't have to be out and about in weather like this, I really like it. Really. A lot. 

Light is home for her Spring Break. It is so good to hear her voice in the house again! She is a bright spot in my life. I think one of the reasons I enjoy her being here is that she's not here all the time. It's a pleasant break from normal for her to be here. I like talking with her, sharing our various experiences with each other. This is her home, but I'm really glad she has a college home too. I'm proud of myself for being so emotionally healthy about my young adult daughter striking out on her own. I like the way the college experience works for young people. They are quasi-independent, but have a home to come to and work from. I think it helps the growing up process. 

Those are my happy things. It goes downhill from here. This post is long enough as it is, so I'll write another one about the down side of my week. It follows this one. Read it if you want, don't if you'd rather not. I must write it, for that is the therapeutic nature of blogging for me.

My life this week - the not-so-good parts

Here follows the muck of my week - a therapeutic purge if ever there was one.

Yes, of course, it's the children. The young ones. Sproing was in trouble at school again Friday. He was in the school lock-up (in-school suspension) from fairly early in the day until I brought him home. I stopped by the school "just for a second" to put some money in the kids' lunch accounts. I didn't know about Sproing until I got there. I talked to his teacher, the school case worker, and the principal. 

I have decided that I like the principal. I've known him for a while because he used to work at one of the schools on my old bus route. This is his first year at this school, and I've had reservations about him as my kids' principal. I always had a good working relationship with him, but it is different as a parent and when my own children are involved. After our encounter yesterday, though, I've decided that he's OK. I'm sure he'll sleep better at night now that I approve of him. (and no, I didn't tell him any of this.)

It was about 1.5 hours before dismissal time and the principal asked if I wanted to go ahead and take Sproing home. I said "no, not really, but I will." He appreciated my honesty. So I brought Sproing home early. I am so exhausted from dealing with him. Do I know what to do with him? Well, maybe. Sort of. Do I have the energy to do it? Not today. And there's a difference between what to do with him on a daily basis and what to do with him in the larger scale, long term. I'll get to that in a minute. 

But first let's touch on Diva. One of the women at school asked me if I had taken Diva to the beach this week. Huh? No, of course not. I haven't been to the beach since before she was born. (I'm don't like the beach much.) Diva told her that we'd been to the beach earlier this week when she was on suspension from school. A simple fantasy? Or a sign of serious mental illness? Under ordinary circumstances I would say the average child saying this would be teasing, or engaging in a fantasy and it's no big deal. Diva is not an average child and this is not an ordinary circumstance. This is yet another clue that there may be something seriously wrong with her mental health. I don't know enough about abnormal psychology to have a clue what might be off. She has an appointment with her child psychiatrist on Tuesday. The woman who's filling that position in our psych practice is, well, um, I don't think much of her. I really need to take the initiative and find some quality psych care for this girl. I know a couple of steps I can take to find information, at least. I just need to get off my ass and DO it.

I am extremely cranky today. I know that hormones are partly to blame, but I doubt that's the only cause. I can't stand the presence of any of my kids, and have only a short tolerance for Superman. I'm emotional. I watched the last half-hour of "Fiddler on the Roof" this morning. Sproing and Diva currently have a thing for that movie, and it was on the TV as I ate breakfast. I cried. A lot. And Sproing was worried because I was crying, but it was just an emotional reaction to the sad movie. But I felt bad that he worried about me crying. And I feel bad for feeling bad. Yep, it's one of those days. I'll get over it. Be advised, though, that anything I write today is influenced by an overemotional cranky mood. In other words, don't take my whining too seriously. 

The kids' principal brought up an interesting idea. With the caveat that it's none of his business, he wondered if we had ever considered placing the kids (or he may have just been referring to Sproing) in the community children's home for a little while. There's a "home" for children here in town. It was established many many many years ago and has a good reputation as a place for children who for one reason or another cannot be with their families. It has only been very recently that, yes, I have flirted with the idea of sending them away. And I hate that I have thought of it. 

If you've read this blog for any length of time, you know that I love my children very very much. You also know that they are extremely challenging. I don't know what to do with them. I don't know if I have the strength, energy, good judgement to care for them. But I don't want to abandon them!! As it is, being adopted, they feel on some level that their birth mothers/families abandoned them. If this happens again to them, it would be bad. This is one of those decisions that needs lots of time, investigation, and input from people much wiser than I am. Right now I'm pretty conflicted about the whole idea.

I think that covers most of what's been bothering me this week. It's enough for now, anyway. Now go read something happy. 

blah blah blah blah

School is going well for me this week (so far), grade-wise. I got my scores from the developmental psych test I took Monday and the sociology exam from last Thursday. I suspect it may not be appropriate to mention in this quasi-public forum what the scores were, exactly. If you're that curious, email me. 

Diva. Did I ever go into any detail at all about Diva's indiscretions from last week? Do you really want to know? If not, don't read the rest of this paragraph. As I reread the post, that about says it all. Diva tried out for a spot in the Arts Magnet School program for middle school. She did not get in (there are lots of reasons, and I support that decision). However, Diva darling was very angry when she received the letter informing her that she didn't make the cut. So she made an obscene phone call to the woman in charge of the Arts Magnet program for our school district. Since the woman wasn't in to take the call, Diva left her message on the voice mail, and included her name (First Middle Last) and our home telephone number. Then she added "Don't call me!" Not the brightest bulb in the chandelier, obviously, and one of the reasons she didn't get into the program. So she was suspended from school for 3 days, beginning last Friday. Tomorrow will be her first day back. Superman and I have tried to make her life pretty miserable since then. She's done school work and a lot of scrubbing and cleaning. I fear she may have enjoyed herself too much anyway. She has been grounded this whole time, not allowed to play with anyone (besides Sproing) and not able to talk on the phone. Will this make a difference in her behavior? I don't know for sure, but I doubt it. If history is any indication, it won't make a hill of beans worth of difference in her behavior. 

The next paragraph is about Sproing and the trouble he got into in school today. I'm warning you now so you can avoid it, too, if you so desire. 

I have decided to stop checking my phone messages between classes. Right before sociology class today I checked my voicemail. I had a message from the case worker at the elementary school telling me that Sproing had misbehaved in class to the point that he was removed from class and sent to the in-school suspension room for the last 3 hours of school. In the message she asked if he is taking his medication. Oy. I talked to Superman, asked if he'd given the boy his meds this morning. (I got to sleep in a little bit this morning!) Yes, Superman watched Sproing take his meds today before school. After I got out of class I went to the school to ... To what? Investigate maybe? See what damage he'd done this time? I don't know. But there I was, and I gathered incriminating information. He'd started acting out oppositionally in his music class, and was sent to the office. Afterward he was sent back to class on the condition that he could get himself under control. He assured the case worker that he was OK now. Half an hour later his classroom teacher sent him back to the office, which is of course when they put him in lock-up and called me. I had to get Twitch from school so wasn't home when Sproing came home. I left a note on the whiteboard in the kitchen for him to stay home, to not go out with his friends. Diva was instructed to point out the message. She asked what to do if he didn't stay, and I told her that if she makes sure he sees the message, then she has done her part. If he doesn't stay, that's his decision and he will reap the whirlwind for it. Guess who was not home when Twitch and I returned? I've called his friend's house but get no answer. Somebody is in deep weeds right now. 

In a bitter twist of irony, the sociology professor lectured today on deviance and conformity. 

My mind is full of so many things. I want to write about the exciting things I'm learning in school. I want to write about some of the self discoveries blooming in my life. I want to express my excitement about an interesting symposium I may get a chance to attend in Washington, DC next month. These children take a lot of effort (duh) and distract me from other things. 

Let's take a look at that for a moment. (The rest of this post is skippable, too. It's going to be filled with navel gazing on the topic of parenting vs. the rest of my life.) What is my responsibility to these children? How far does it go? Must or should I devote all of my energies to caring for them? Is it alright for me to have interests outside my family? 

Here's the deal. Theoretically at some time in the future my children will leave this home and build lives for themselves outside of our immediate family structure. (I say "theoretically" because today I can't see that happening.) Or they will leave this home to take up residence in a penal institution. Whatever path they take, it will be away from me. That is how it should be (The becoming independent from the parent part. Not the jail part, necessarily). Assuming that day comes and I am still alive, I will need a life of my own. Now is a good time to prepare for my future, and that's what I'm trying to do. 

I do have other interests. If you have read just about anything else in this whole blog you will know that the GLBT community, issues, rights, etc. are a passion for me. I feel something akin to a divine calling to be involved in some way in helping and supporting the homosexual community. 

It just seems to me that I should be able to attend school and parent my children. On one hand, one could argue that having outside interests and being involved in something I find fulfilling (school, in this case) is generally good for me and by extension good for the family, including Diva and Sproing. And Twitch and Light, as well, of course. Superman thinks it's a very good idea. He likes me to be interested and excited about life. That's one reason I call him Superman. 

On the other hand, perhaps I am neglecting the needs of my special-needs young adolescent children. Perhaps, one could argue, I should be at home to deal with issues that come up with them during the day, and be prepared to tend to them when they get home from school. As it is, I'm frequently busy studying (or pretending to study but writing blog posts instead) when they are home in the afternoon. 

I feel very weak today. I'm emotionally fragile and unsure of myself. Then those messages start playing in my head, the ones that go something like "if you were really a good mother, you would...," "You are selfish for...," "You don't deserve...." I know I'm not supposed to listen to those messages, rather I am supposed to focus on positive and encouraging messages. And here's a hint about how depression works: I don't deserve to hear positive messages, and I feel guilty for holding that opinion. No of course that doesn't make sense! That's why depression is considered a disorder. 

A neat and tidy summary would look really good here. But this is my life, or something like it, and there are very few neat, tidy summaries here. So this is all you get. 

But we're the Queens!

From Scotland:

Published Date: 24 March 2009

By Stephen McGinty

TRUSTEES of the Castle of Mey, the Queen Mother's former Scottish home, are at the centre of a row after insisting only religious marriages will be permitted on the property, pulling up the drawbridge to civil ceremonies or gay partnerships.

Management thought they could earn extra funds during the quiet winter months by promoting the late Queen Mother's beloved castle as "Scotland's latest romantic wedding venue". 

But the move has led to gay groups alleging discrimination and insisting the venue should be open to all.

They aren't allowing the queens to get hitched in the Queen's castle. So not right. 

She's granting me perspective on the boy who goes out with a hole in his shirt

A hole in his shirt. Not so big a deal compared to an 11 year old girl who makes an obscene phone call to the school district-wide director of the arts program. 

And leaves the message in a voice mail.

With lots of foul words and insults. 

And gives her name and phone number in the message.

She's suspended from school for 3 days. She's in a lot bigger trouble than that, too. We're still working on the scope of the consequences for her. 

I'm not doing well.

In the meantime...

I owe you a great blog post. This isn't it. 

Twitch is conversating with me. That's the best way to describe it. Let me see if I can capture the essence of these conversations. First the set-up: he has a black t-shirt that he wears often. It has a hole the size of kiwi fruit positioned about 5 inches below his left nipple. There are two or three smaller satellite holes  in orbit around it. He wears it to school at least once a week, I'd estimate. I don't like the shirt simply because it has holes in it. I've told him I think he should not wear that shirt to school, or anywhere else outside the house for that matter. 

The conversation is already on the path to Sheol. There is no redemption. 

T: Why shouldn't I wear it?

J: Because it has a big hole in it!

T: So?

J: It doesn't look good. 

T: What do you care?

J: It reflects poorly on you and your family. 

I hate this conversation in part because it's a revival of the old show-down between me and my mother. How embarassing! Of course I said to myself I'd never do such horrid things to my children. N.B. NEVER say never, especially when it involves parenting. 

But wait! There's more!

T: You tell me not to wear the shirt. We live paycheck to paycheck but you don't want me to wear it because you don't want people to think we're poor. And you won't get me different shirts to wear.

J: Didn't you tell me you have fourty-seven shirts?

T: Fourty-two.

J: ("the look")

He goes to Superman seeking support. 

T: Dad, do you think it's OK for me to wear a shirt with a hole in it to school?

S: I don't know that it matters. The other kids do.

T: (to me) See! 

J: (to Superman) On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being you don't give a _____ [the young ones are in the room. They have enough problems in school already] and 10 being mortifying.

S: 3

T: (to me) See!

I left the room. There is nothing further to say. I should have shut up a long time ago. 

Procrastination and possibly interesting stuff

I am SO procrastinating right now. There's a report due tomorrow morning and a big exam Thursday that I MUST study for beginning yesterday. But I just had to show you these things, because I must. That's all. 

Here's the big kitty, Samhain. He sat down on my computer as I was booting up yesterday. I love that look he's giving me. It's his standard look. He's one of those cats who has not forgotten that cats have been worshiped as gods. 

I saw this note on Twitch's door this evening. The cats love his room, and have been making a mess of his stuff recently.
It says "I don't care if you're the Pope, if you let any of the cats or any/all of your person into this room, I'll see to it that you'll be eating and breathing through a series of tubes for the rest of your meaningless life. (However long that may be)"

Superman has been building beds for the two younger kidlets. They had an interesting bunk arrangement when they shared this room, but since C and S moved out they've each gotten their own room. Superman had to disassemble the big bunk contraption and has spent this past weekend putting legs on the platforms for the kids' mattresses.
This is the underside of Diva's bed as Superman is putting on the legs. The walls in that room are in a sad state. I began to prime them nearly a year ago and didn't get very far. Maybe after this school term is over I'll get back in there and finish up. Diva has some wild ideas about color for that room. Her color selection changes frequently, so we shall see what actually happens when it happens. 

He's about to drill a really deep hole so he can put a long screw through the wood to connect the leg pieces. The man has tools. It's exciting. 

I took the picture above just because I like being that close to him. Did I mention that Tuesday is our 26th wedding anniversary? I'm really glad I married this man. 

This is what Diva has done with her bed now. All her favorite critters are lined up on her "new" bed. 

This shot shows how high off the floor the bed is. She can store all manner of things under the bed and they will hopefully be fairly easy to access. 

And here's a look at Sproing's new bed frame. That's Diva being Diva-licious on the bed. The walls in this room were painted by Light, as it used to be her room. 

Here's the boy being all cool and shit on his new bed. He really likes it. It was SO cute, last night Superman went in to tuck him in and Sproing said "Thanks, Dad, for building my bed. I really like it." Awwwwww!
Sproing spent most of the day yesterday being an absolute pain in the ass. The more annoying he is, the more love he needs, and the harder it is to give him that love and acceptance. Building him a bed is one of those things that speaks his love language. So for a day or two he will feel loved. Then he'll forget that feeling and find something else about his life here with this family that sucks out loud and is evidence of the failure of the universe to meet his every whim. 

Puberty sucks. 

OK, I'm going to post this then get to work on my report. I'll let you know how it goes after the presentation tomorrow (Tuesday).

stuff on Saturday

• Our temperatures have returned to seasonally appropriate levels. We've got rain at 41F (5C) all day today, tonight, and most of tomorrow. I waited outside the campus library yesterday afternoon for Superman to get me. It was overcast, though still dry, with a steady brisk breeze. I'm not exactly sure what the wind chill was at the time, but I was uncomfortably cool in jeans and a short-sleeved t-shirt. 
• Manny came home from the repair shop yesterday! My mechanic, Ron, who loves me, talked to me earlier in the week to tell me my rear end had come in, but wasn't yet installed. (This is so fun.) They got it installed Thursday and he drove it around some. My rear end has been upgraded! I now have a limited-slip differential with a better gear ratio than the old one had. That means it has more power!!! It does, too. I can feel it in the way it drives and the way the gears shift. Ron says if I use 5th gear when I need to, the mileage should improve a little bit over what I was getting before. 
• I think I mentioned that the old differential was really torn up. Yes, I posted a picture taken with my cell phone camera of the ripped up differential case cover. I asked Ron if he still had the differential, but he'd already sold it for scrap to the salvage yard. He did still have the cover, however. I have it. I'm going to mount it on a plaque. If I weren't so lazy I'd go out to the garage and take a picture of it now, but I'll do that later. You need to see this thing. James, the other fella in the shop, says he's never seen a differential do that. And he's been working on cars for a long time. 
• My English class is studying Oedipus Rex now. Class met in the library yesterday to learn how to use the library's databases to research literature and literary stuff. I ended up staying there for 3 hours just looking up things that interest me. I'm curious about the role of the chorus in Greek drama. I found some interesting things. I hope to have time this weekend to write a brief paper on what I discovered, because the prof doesn't know this stuff either. We discussed it while reading over the play on Wednesday. The chorus has a chorus or choir leader, who in the translation we're reading is called the Choragos. He actually has a speaking part in which he interacts with Oedipus, though he is not listed in the dramatis personae. This had us confused. But I learned that he isn't a character within the play, therefore he's not listed with the other characters. Neither is the chorus itself. Evidently the Greeks just knew all this stuff. 
• I am debating about telling my English prof about this blog. On the one hand I'd like to. On the other hand, I may not want her to know some of the things I write about. Like stuff about her! Actually, if I can figure out how to do a protected post on Blogger I'd like to say some not-for-general-readership stuff about her. It's not anything negative, either, so don't go assuming things. 
• Superman and I got our taxes finished today. Well, actually our tax preparer got our taxes finished. We signed the papers. This is the nice lady, long-time friend of ours, with whom I had an interesting discussion about homosexuality last year at tax time. The topic did not come up today. Our tax refund is lookin' pretty sweet, though. Superman wants to buy a small used car with that money. 
• Back to Ron the Mechanic. Did I ever tell you that he is kinda sexy? He's short, probably a little shorter than I am, though not quite hobbit short. ;) He has put on a little bit of weight over the last couple of years, though he's not really heavy by any means. His most distinguishing characteristic is his eyes. He has the most gorgeous light blue eyes. OMG gorgeous! He often has the scruffy hasn't-shaved-in-a-few-days beard, too. That, to me, is getting sexier as I get older. Perhaps, though, that's been influenced by you. I've seen a lot of eye candy on other blogs; guys with that scruffy not-quite-a-beard. I don't really like that look so much on Superman, though, maybe because his whiskers are very coarse and uncomfortable to get too close to. 
• Twitch!! Let me tell you about how proud I am of that boy! He had his final Boy Scout council meeting this week and has now been promoted to the rank of Eagle Scout! This is a big deal, y'all. He has worked hard for many years for this. It's quite an accomplishment, and I'm very proud of him. I think I said that already. He needs to have his Eagle Scout ceremony now, when the rank will officially be awarded. We don't know yet how, when, or where that will be. I think he has to plan it, though. A lot of boys have the ceremony in their churches, but since we aren't exactly regulars at any church now, that probably won't be the case with him. Whatever, it'll happen sometime soon-ish. 
• My oral report for sociology on some aspect of homosexuality is due Tuesday. I have the article I will use. It's from the NY Times, December 10th edition, on the wave of new activists that came out of the Proposition 8 vote in California. The article begins with a reference to the Stonewall demonstrations in 1969. There are a few things I want to include in my presentation that aren't mentioned in the article, like the fact that homosexuality is not a choice. I corrected the prof in class on that point on Thursday. Yep, out loud, in class, right after he said it. I also explained that most recent studies (of which I am aware, anyway) indicate that the genetic factors come from a complex variety of gene markers. He had said something about scientists not finding "the gay gene." I said that the hormonal environment in the womb seems to have an impact on sexual orientation, and that as a woman has boys, the later boys born to her are more likely to be gay. I know I've read this stuff various places. I should probably write a paper with references for him. It would take a while to find all this stuff. Whatever. I'm not going to write that paper this weekend. I have the oral report to do, plus study for Thursday's exam in that class. Plus lots of other stuff...

That's about all I know now. I've got lots of studying to do, so I'm going to pretend to do that now. Have a lovely weekend, all and sundry. 

uh

What is it, Tuesday already? If it weren't for garbage pick-up I couldn't keep track some weeks. 

Let's start with a cute Scheherazade picture. She's hiding in the bookshelf and having a bit of a wash-up.

This afternoon she's been walking across my desk, but when the door opens she darts into the shelf to hide from any would-be cat nappers. This means specifically Sproing, and a bit less specifically Diva. They like to play with her, but on their terms, not hers. Sometimes she's willing, often she hides. 

Do you remember a couple of months ago I said I'd gotten some new dish washing liquid, and it smelled like fresh fish? I'm too lazy to look it up and link to it, so hunt the archives yourself if you're that interested. At any rate, many of the commenters suggested I toss the stuff and get something else, since it smelled so bad. 

I didn't. 

We finally used it up. Everyone disliked the smell, but we used it until it was gone. See how pretty the bottle is?
Just goes to show you can't judge a detergent by its bottle.
Even if the bottle is so pretty that I took lots of pictures of it. 

You'd think I had nothing better to do, huh?

OK, moving right along, let's talk about the weather. Now I know some of you live in more northern climes where winter stretches out long and lazy over the landscape. Here in South Carolina we don't get significant coldness. Rather, we get significant hotness and very short winters, comparatively. Spring is exercising her options already. It's a bit early, and I know we aren't finished with cool weather entirely, but it's warm. 77F warm. That's 25C. It isn't too bad in the shade with a slight breeze, but this sun is intense already. We haven't even gotten to the solstice yet, and already the sun is blazing. 

For those of you who may be joining our story in progress, let me just explain that I don't do heat well. I don't do heat with any grace, that's for sure. One might wonder why the hell I live in South Carolina! I've been wondering that myself, more and more over the last three years. 

And speaking of three years, that's how long it's been since I started my homophile transformation. Three years ago this month C moved into our house. A lot has happened since then! He and S have their own place now. They moved out of our house in December. The room they lived in is now my office and Light's bedroom when she's home from college. I'm in college now myself, working toward a degree in psychology with an eye toward grad school. My eventual (though still ephemeral) goal is to work in some capacity with the GLBT community, possibly in a counseling setting. 

I think that's about all I have to say today. I know there was more, as there usually is, but I've been so distracted that I've forgotten. If it's that important, I'll post it later. I doubt it's that important. 

OH!! Wait!! I remember now! My semester is half over now, so mid-term grades (or grade estimates for those less-organized professors) are posted. I have an A in each of my classses except the one that is graded Pass/Fail. I'm passing that one. So far so good!

Spring Break - the finale

This has been an interesting week. We got a couple of inches of snow last Sunday night and the public schools were closed Monday. The low temperatures at the beginning of the week were in the low-mid 20s here in the upper-left chamber of the heart of South Carolina. Last night's low temperature was warmer than the high temperature for Tuesday. Today's forecast shows a high of 76F (24C). So it appears that my spring break was spent bringing spring to Greenwood. I can't take full credit for that, though, so don't get too excited. 

This is what the Bradford Pear tree in our front yard looks like today. 

I was afraid we wouldn't have viable blooms, since it started blooming a couple of weeks ago and, as I mentioned, we've had some very cold temps since then. Evidently these pear blossoms (ornamental only) are pretty hearty. I hope the state's peach trees haven't bloomed yet. South Carolina and Georgia are two very big peach producing areas. 'Twould be a shame to have our peach crops damaged yet again. 

There were many things I had in mind to accomplish during my week of spring break. Alas, I didn't do many of them. Does that upset me? Only a little bit. Mostly I rested, and that is very important. I did not read all the chapters in the various textbooks that I intended to read, did not write up the few paragraphs of response from the chapters in my Careers on Psych book. I did check the syllabus for that course earlier in the week, and discovered that I have a 2+ page paper due tomorrow, in addition to the chapter response thing. I actually did some research for it, and I think I've found the info I need to write the thing. But I didn't write it like I intended to on Friday. Or yesterday. Guess what I'm going to do this afternoon? Write a paper or two. And read a couple of chapters in this book and that, and read a story for my English class. That should keep me busy until bedtime. 

But what am I doing now? I look busy. Sometimes I think I can fool myself into thinking I am busy if I get busy with this sort of thing. The truth always intrudes, though, and I can't deny that I need to get started with my actual work. 

That is all. 

Scheherazade kitty update

Scheherazade is growing, as kittens are wont to do. She is an endless source of amusement. She likes to curl up on my breast/stomach while I'm on the computer, and that is so soothing! Her purr is very loud. She likes me to rub her neck. 

Samhain is our other cat. I may have mentioned him before. He's a solid black cat with short silky fur. We got him as a kitten a couple of years ago. He's just old enough to not exactly be a kitten, but still have some playful tendencies. He is far enough away from kittenhood, though, to be really annoyed by Scheherazade. And she's a mean little sister! She loves to pick at him. Sometimes she'll stick her nose in his face when he's trying to sleep, but she usually jumps on him in a full out attack. He gets her back, too. It was a bit frightening at first to watch them wrestle, as she is so small and I was afraid she'd get hurt. She starts it every time though, so I figure she deserves what she gets, and she hasn't been injured yet. She certainly does put up a fuss, though. Whenever he grabs her she hisses, growls, and bares her teeth at him. He doesn't say a thing. He's too busy fighting. 

Scheherazade makes some interesting noises. My favorite is the trill she sings when she is about to eat. It sounds like a combination meow and purr. Very cute.  This afternoon I locked her out of the bedroom so I could sleep undisturbed. When I let her back in she walked toward her food bowl but was not singing her food trill. She was meowing firmly, if that makes sense. Not loudly, exactly, but with emotion. She then turned to look at me over her shoulder and meowed directly at me. I got that message. Who knew cats could cuss?

Samhain has his spot at the foot of the bed on my side. I suspect he prefers my side because my feet aren't as big nor my legs as long as Superman's so Samhain has a little more room to sleep. He spends the mornings there when he can, and sometimes he'll sleep there at night. Scheherazade usually sleeps with us, also, though she moves around a lot. I sleep on my side, and she likes to climb on my ribs and curl up against my arm as it rests on my hip. Or she sleeps on my hip. Sometimes she's on Superman's chest. It usually works out pretty well until around 4 in the morning. That must be the catting hour or something. When she's the only one sleeping with us she'll climb on top of the headboard and knock things off the shelf onto our heads, or pounce on our fingers or our feet. If Samhain is in the room she attacks him. We woke up earlier this week to both of them having a royal wrestling match between us on the bed, and chasing each other under, then over, then back under the bed. He's bigger than she is, and if they aren't too fast or I'm not too asleep I can tell which one is jumping on my ribs. 

She helps me study.

She makes a beautiful bookend, but isn't very efficient at it.

Superman built a hutch for my desk. He also, as you can see from the picture above, sanded the old paint and varnish off the top of the desk. It actually looks nice under all that paint. 

She likes to climb on the shelf and look over the edge of the hutch.

I got many comments when we first named her about what sort of nickname she'd end up with. Well, she's been around for nearly four months and rarely is she called Scheherazade. Superman was the first one to come up with a good nickname for her. She's small and fuzzy and black, and when she hunkers down on the floor lying in wait to attack the Toes of Doom she looks like a smudge on the floor. So he calls her Smudge. Especially when it's dark she really does look like a spot of something smeared on the floor, though less so now that she's getting bigger. 

I frequently refer to her as the small cat, and Samhain as the big kitty. 

Twitch is our primary name-giver. He has a gift for it, actually. He named our (late) dog Ruby. He has named almost all the cats who have ever wandered into our lives. He is particularly fond of cats, and uses many pet names for our two. I've been surreptitiously making a list of the different things he calls Scheherazade. You know "Scheherazade" isn't one of them! I present to you The Names of the Cat:

kitty-boo

mao-mao

mew-mew

adorable

fuzzy

fuzzy-butt

ki' ki'

pookums

boo

floof-butt

goof

(and my favorites)

Smudgemous

ScheheraSmudge 

With the light of the camera's flash it is easy to see the black cat on the black seat of the black chair. 

My chair is between the desk and a rather dark corner of the room, and without a spotlight on the chair it's difficult to tell if there's an extra cat-cushion on it. The silly kitten doesn't voluntarily move, even when it becomes apparent that she is in danger of being squished. 

She's giving me "the look"

Even fuzzier out of focus. She likes to crawl into nooks like this shelf beside my desk. 

High is good. Her balance here is noteworthy.

Basket Kitty!!

She was not amused that my photography interrupted her nap.

And that's my kitten update. I will try to update more frequently so as not to have so much to cover in one post next time. 

Let me just say this about that - Spring Break edition

I feel as though I've been gypped. (No racial slur intended) We had half an inch of snow yesterday and a predicted low of 23F (-5C) so the public school district announced there would be no school for students today. Last night's low was no where near 23F. When I went to sleep at 5:00 this morning (oh, shut up) the temp was only 31F. It's sunny and beautiful, the sun melted almost all the ice and snow by 10:00 this morning, and I'm stuck here with three noisy obnoxious children. The level of obnoxious varies from child to child, with the young boy bring in the lead by many lengths. 

The main thing I anticipated about being on Spring Break this week was having the house to myself, all nice and quiet until 2:45 every afternoon. Nope, not today. 

Sproing has an appointment with his therapist/counselor in half an hour. I wonder, wonder, wonder if she'll be able to make any difference in his behavior. I have very little hope. 

In psych 101 we just started the chapter on behaviorism, studying classical conditioning and operant conditioning. I have only skimmed the chapter, but from what I see so far I think we might be able to use some of this stuff to help manage Sproing's behavior. It's more about rewarding desired behavior than punishing undesired behavior. Superman and I have been in more of a punishment mode recently. Frankly, my attitude sucks. This might be what we need to shake things up and put a positive spin on it all. 

But right now I'm in a pissy mood and I don't want to think about it. I'm going to take Sproing to his therapist right now. I might just drop him off and not go back for him! (wishful thinking)

Nostalgia

This is pretty cool. Tornwordo over at Sticky Crows has Googled his childhood home and challenged others to do the same. This is the house I lived in from the time I was 5 years old until after my parents divorced and Mama moved us away from Gainesville. I was 9, I think, when we left here. It's the first address I learned, and I'll probably be able to recite the address when I'm 99 years old. 

View Larger Map

It looks very different now from the way I remember it. Evidently the neighborhood was relatively young when we lived there. These trees are huge! They were nowhere near this big when I lived there. It's very weird to look at this neighborhood now. Very weird. 

After doing a bit of a search remembering what little I know, I found this:

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This is the house I lived in before moving to the one in Gainesville. This place looks so depressing! It's in St. Petersburg. We had no air conditioning. My baby brother was born here in March of 1966. Just looking at this house depresses me. Does that mean I was even depressed when I was 4 years old?? I blame my father. Not because he was a bad father, necessarily. He wasn't, really. No, he's the one who passed down the genetic predisposition to depression. I also inherited my allergies from him. What a legacy! 

This is the house I lived in when I graduated from high school. It's in Orlando, the Pine Hills area. That neighborhood is now known as a very dangerous place to live, but it wasn't quite so bad when we lived there. It was just beginning to get ugly.

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Odd, whereas the trees are huge at the house I lived in when I started kindergarten, the trees at this address (where I lived when I graduated high school) have been removed. There was a very large juniper tree right there where that little thing is peeking over the garbage cans. My room was the last window on the right, and there was a large citrus tree in front of it. There were two very nice trees about where that flower bed thing is in the middle of the yard. Even when we lived there those trees had a lot of damage. Bugs or something, I think. I'm not surprised they are gone. 

This is the first nice-ish place Superman and I lived. We moved here shortly after I graduated from college (the first time). 

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This isn't the exact unit we lived in, but ours looked pretty much like this. We lived in the 2 story unit to the left. Those little one story units were very nice one bedroom apartments. The 2 story ones had 2 bedrooms and a bath upstairs, and a large living room, dining room, and small kitchen downstairs. These apartments were built during the post war housing boom in the late 40s. They were pretty old but very well built. It was a nice place to live. I'd love to see them now. I wonder if they've done any significant updating. When we lived there the whole unit was carpeted except the bathroom and kitchen, even though the floors under the carpet were hardwood. The carpet was nasty, too. Just this side of shag. And very brown. 

What about you? I challenge you to Google your childhood home and see if the street view is available. Then show it on your blog and tell a little bit about your memories of the place. 

Festive in unexpected places

Yew no how it iz. Rainy dai, nothin' to dew but surf teh lolcats.

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