Poetry and a bit of rambling

This needs to be said:

Scintillate, scintillate, globule vivific,
Fain would I fathom thy nature specific.
Loftily poised in the ether capacious,
Strongly resembling a gem carbonaceous.

The internet tells me this poem is by John Raymond Carson

I saw the word "fain" in my A.Word.A.Day daily vocabulary email and recalled this poem. I had to look it up to get all the words right. Then of course I had to share it with you.

If you'd like a word every weekday in your mailbox, and I recommend it, subscribe at https://wordsmith.org/awad/subscribe.html 

One of my favorite parts of the Word.A.Day email is the "thought for today" which is a quote, usually from someone famous, sometimes having to do with world events, most frequently from someone who was born on said day. From last Thursday: 

We should not be simply fighting evil in the name of good, but struggling against the certainties of people who claim always to know where good and evil are to be found. -Tzvetan Todorov, philosopher (b. 1 Mar 1939) 

My goodness I sound like a commercial. Don't mean to! Honestly! 

I spent most of last week in western Pennsylvania with Light and her fiance. I sewed the sample dress to take up there for the fitting. So glad I did, too, because it is all wrong. I learned a lot about how NOT to put together this dress. Useful information, though somewhat frustrating.  I have all the materials I need to make a third sample dress, and that's my project for this week. I've barely begun, and right now I'm extremely tired. 

My lungs started feeling tight yesterday. I've been using my inhaler, so yay me. I have a bit of a cough; it's rough and unproductive. And oh lordy I'm so tired. When I finish this post I plan to take a nap. 

And since anything else I can think to tell you is too complicated to jot down quickly, I believe I'm finished. 

nighty-night

I try to live a relatively low drama life. Doesn't always work out that way.

So Valentine's Day has been fraught with angst many times over my lifetime. Sometimes it's good, sometimes not. Honestly I wonder if somehow the date is cursed. Wasn't there a huge Valentine's Day Massacre in Chicago perpetrated by the mob 100 years ago? Yeah, 1929, so not quite 100 years. This year we get another massacre. There's a lot going on about that. I'm super proud of the students for speaking out, and have real hope for the first time in a while that perhaps the legislators will make significant changes. Dan Savage had an interesting proposal on his Lovecast podcast this week. Suspend all gun sales for 30 days after a mass shooting. There's more to what he said and I can't articulate it well right now and I've come to talk about a more personal Valentine's Day kerfuffle.

Twitch was born on Valentine's Day in 1991. As much as I love my son and am proud of the man he's become, I did not want to have a baby on Valentine's Day. Wasn't my choice, though, was it.

This year I was chillin' at home, enjoying the peace. I'd made some crispy rice treats for Twitch, planned to deliver them (big double batch) to the restaurant where he works to celebrate his birthday and so he could share the goodies with his coworkers. I also wanted to make nice with the crew at the restaurant. It's my favorite place in town. I've mentioned it before. Beer and brick oven pizza. Yum.

I was waiting for Twitch's shift to start, was going to deliver the goodies around 5. At 4:30 I got a call from, of all places, Turbeville, SC, from the prison where Sproing has been incarcerated. This woman was calling to tell me that Sproing was being released. Today. Right now. Can I come pick him up?

Immediate anxiety "episode". I hesitate to call it an attack, because I can still breathe, my heart rate only elevates a little bit. I dunno. I wasn't comfortable. Shit.

First thing I told her was "Do you know where I live?" I assume she looks at her paperwork there, says Greenwood. Yep. Do you know how far away Greenwood is from Turbeville? No, I can't drive all that way right now. She says we can meet in Columbia, which is a good halfway distance from both locations. Well shit. I do NOT WANT TO DO THIS!

We agreed on a location in Columbia to meet. I got off the phone and pitched a fit. Lots of cussing. Lots of I don't want to do this. But it needs to be done, and I do what needs to be done. Adulting sucks sometimes. So after giving myself a pep-talk I took the treats to Twitch, told him I had to get his brother, and went to get his brother.

I won't bore you with the details. They're tedious anyway. After a few calls back and forth on the cell phone of his driver, we met at the agreed location. It was easy. He got out of the other car, said goodbye, got into my car, and OH SHIT SPROING  IS HERE, GOING HOME WITH ME, SHIT I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS. Breathe. Breathe. I breathed a lot last Wednesday.

This came totally out of the blue. I thought he would be in prison for another year, year and a half. Surprise!

Shit. So he's home. It's gone well so far, but he's still on his best behavior. He needs to get the FUCK out of my house. I keep dropping hints. hee hee.

But I'm not home right now. I'm at the most bestest coffee shop in all of western Pennsylvania. I'm visiting Light in Indiana, PA. Indianapa. She's getting married in less than two months, and I have the sample dress for her to try on. Did I mention I'm making her wedding dress? Well, trying to, anyway. It's light lavender satin with a white lace overlay. I've not sewn these fabrics before. I got a length of satin and some lace with which to practice. I got most of the dress constructed before I left home, but there's a little bit left to do. It's been a royal pain in the ass, especially the lace overlay.

I need to go do other things right now, and I'm pretty sure the time on my parking meter has expired. Perhaps I'll post again soon, maybe with photos of the sample practice dress.

Update on All My Children (mine, not the daytime drama)

Some of you have asked for updates on my children. Ready? GO!

Light
Light is 28 years old now. She finally graduated with her Masters of Fine Arts about a year ago. She still lives in western Pennsylvania (where it gets seriously cold) about an hour east of Pittsburgh. The barista job was a good one, but she outgrew it. She's now a baker in a bakery two blocks from her apartment. I got a call from her last week: "Mom! It was 60° yesterday and today I'm walking to work in 4 inches of SNOW!" From all accounts, she loves her job. One of her bosses is a French man who loves me. I know this because he speaks with a French accent and he gives me sweet baked goods every time I visit.

And she's getting married!! In April. In Pennsylvania. To a transgender man. It's fitting, since Light is bisexual or possibly pansexual, I'm not sure if it matters, but marrying a trans man, kinda getting a bit of both? Anyway, he's a lovely young fellow, a couple of years younger than Light, named J. He graduated with a BA in religious studies and some kind of English composition thing the same semester Light graduated. He wants to go to grad school for to be a writer of poems or maybe fiction I think. The grad school he most wants to go to is in Nebraska. I'm not crazy about the idea of Nebraska. Not that there's anything wrong with Nebraska, necessarily, but it's far far away from South Carolina.  J has some health issues, possibly Rheumatoid Arthritis though that hasn't been diagnosed. I worry about him. He says I worry too much.

So I'm focused on the wedding. I will be making her wedding dress. We have the fabric, the pattern, and I made a "muslin", a trial run with the pattern in some unimportant fabric. It needs tweaking. And it's time to start seriously working on it. Yeah, as soon as I can move again. (Creak, Groan, Other Old Lady Noises)

Twitch
Twitch will turn 27 years old on Valentine's Day. He's doing so well! I'm proud of him. He's always been a bit behind the curve socially. I'm sure he's on the Autism Spectrum, though high functioning. He also has Tourette's Syndrome; thankfully he has grown out of a lot of his more obvious tics. He's got a great job now. He worked at Arby's for a few years after he graduated from college (with a degree in graphic design, a profession he's never worked in). Last year he achieved employment at our favorite brick oven pizzeria and beer micro brewery. By all accounts it's a fantastic place to work and he does good work. He's in the kitchen making sandwiches and other entree stuff. The pizza station is behind the bar, very public, everybody watches. Twitch, his mother's son, doesn't like being on stage like that. He can make the pizzas but prefers being in the kitchen.

The crew there has a family style closeness. Employee turnover is rare, slow, whatever ya' call it. Twitch seems to fit in well. He's a unique guy, kind of an acquired taste, and I think the crew accepts him well, uniqueness and all.

Twitch has the adulting thing under control. Yes, he's young and makes choices I think aren't as wise as perhaps they should be, but overall he's truckin' along. Pays his bills, fulfills his obligations, helps out his mom and dad occasionally. It's good.

Diva
Oh boy. The Diva lives in Greenville now, in her own apartment I think. That's what she tells me anyway. OMG she showed up on our doorstep one afternoon last spring. I opened the door and stood there staring at her, stuttering, opening and closing my mouth in goldfish fashion. She laughed at me (kindly, not cruelly) and said "you're speechless!" I'm rarely speechless. We hadn't seen nor heard from her in maybe 18 months. I kinda freaked out. Ended up taking her out to IHOP for late lunch. We made friendly conversation.

I haven't seen her since, though we have communicated by email a few times. Her birthday is December 4th, and I sent an electronic birthday greeting. She wrote back, mentioned a book she was reading (reading a book?! Oh wow!) and wanted the next book in the series, so I ordered it from Amazon and had it sent to her. In doing so I learned her address. Looked it up on Google street view. It ain't fancy, but isn't gross either. She's working in fast food still, perhaps two jobs, I'm unclear about details. She also said something about being a manager. I think she means assistant manager, but I could be wrong. The girl has moxie, chutzpah, and a tenuous grasp of reality so she's likely to try things that I doubt she has aptitude for. Perhaps I'm underestimating her and she can do more than I believe of her. Her book smarts are weak, but she's got a particular social intelligence that takes her places.

Superman wants nothing to do with her. A brief synopsis: when she left home at 17-and-three-quarters, he helped her get into an apartment very close to the store where she worked. The deal was she would pay two thirds to three quarters of her rent, he'd pitch in the rest. They had specific monetary amounts in this deal. Since she wasn't 18 yet, she couldn't sign the lease, so of course Superman did. Then, surprising no one, she reneged on her responsibilities. Actually didn't pay a cent if I understand the situation. Ended up, after rent payments and penalties and fees, he was out over $3000. Even worse was the betrayal. She seemed to be so capable, was acting all responsible for a minute, and he had great hope. But true to form, she broke the faith. She broke him, a little bit. Definitely broke that relationship.

I now approach her with caution. I want to remain in contact with her, to check up, see how she's doing. I care about her well-being. But I know from sad experience how much she can hurt me, how she's turned on me every time in the past. I don't want her all up in my bid'ness, do NOT want the drama that constantly surrounds her! Pretty sure she doesn't want me in her business either. But it's good (bittersweet?) to know where she is and how she's doing.

Sproing
Sproing. Now there's a topic. Cut to the chase: he's in prison. Big boy prison. The real deal. Projected release date August of 2019. He'll be 21 years old then. Now, there's a possibility he'll get out earlier, but I don't know and neither does he. He's incarcerated in the Turbeville, South Carolina facility. Before he went there I didn't know that Turbeville, SC existed. I don't think there's much there except the prison. Florence, SC is the closest city.

He's in prison now because he violated probation. This is for his 2nd degree burglary charge he got in August of 2016? I think. He's been on probation for two years and hasn't fulfilled his obligations, but did fail a drug test. He smokin' da weed, mon. Not that I care about it, but this state does. His probation officer does. I'm not sure if it was the drug test or failure to pay any restitution that put him in prison. But there he is. He had a court appearance in mid September to review his probation and the judge said "Nope. Do not pass go, do not collect jack shit, go to jail." Prison, actually.

I was in Florida at the time helping my Mama move from the Orlando area to Merritt Island. And avoiding hurricane Irma. Can't remember where Superman was, but iirc he was out of town, too, for a couple of days. Anyway the dog and cat needed tending and Sproing was gone. Think I called Twitch to come do pet duty until his dad got home.

I don't even know what to say about Sproing. I'm disappointed, nay heartbroken that he has gotten himself into this situation. I strongly suspect racial profiling plays a part in how he got to this point, but he did in fact commit burglary in the 2nd degree. The young'un has aligned himself with criminal peers, gone to places where he would look suspicious, and blatantly broken the law a number of times since he was still a juvenile.

Sproing talks about wanting to get his GED, go to college, play college baseball then try the pro's. That baseball talk sounds implausible to me. He could probably get his GED if he concentrated and applied himself. I know he could get into college with a GED, but whether he'd succeed there is another matter. He's smart enough, but unless many things change, he's not disciplined enough. He also talks about wanting to help out around the house, help take care of Superman and me.* But when he's here he's rude and disrespectful, reluctant (or blatantly refuses) to do any kind of chore we ask of him.

In conclusion
Superman and I now have the house to ourselves! Well, plus the cat. Did I tell you the dog died? It was very sad. He was only four years old when he got sick last November (October?). We didn't notice anything amiss until he was very sick. No, it was in September when I was still in Florida. I spent most of September in Florida. Superman took him (Oreo the dog) to the vet, who ran blood tests the results of which came back with weird numbers. Like, the leukocytes outnumbered everything else so that they couldn't find the other blood component they were looking for. iirc. Honestly, the details escape me now. Oreo had Leukemia with complications, like some kind of serious infection that couldn't heal. Oh, he was bad. Superman and I took him to the vet to be euthanized. It was sad. Hard. He had been such a good dog, Sproing's dog, and Sproing hadn't taken good care of him. Of course we took up the slack providing for him, but he didn't get the kind of attention and exercise he needed.

So, to get back to my story, see, we're left with just the cat, who is right now sitting on my forearms as I attempt to type this. She's kinda heavy. Although successful, it isn't easy. Black Fuzzy Cat don't give a shit.

But let me tell you, we LOVE the empty nest! We do not at all miss having young people live in our house. When Sproing gets out of prison he will NOT be moving back in. (Dunno what he's gonna do; we'll worry about that as time approaches.)

Oh! P.S. Diva is 20 now, and Sproing turns 20 this Wednesday, January 24th.

*It's Superman and me because if I left off the first person mentioned, the sentence would be "... help take care of me." It's not difficult to figure out. "Help take care of I" is obviously, painfully wrong. So, simple check, if you were to only mention yourself, would you say "I" or "me"? Whichever fits there is also the word to use when saying "(the other person) and I/me". Thus ends the grammar lesson.