Waiting for the shoe

Oh, I had such big plans for this summer. I was going to be a pro-active, advocating parent. I would single-handedly fix Young Son's dyslexia! He would be tested and evaluated and diagnosed, and I would work with him on this remedial reading/phonics tutoring program I bought, and it would make everything all better so he would be ready to attack fourth grade with confidence and mad skills. Problem solved.

But first I had to find a tester. It took me a few weeks to locate the lone clinical psychologist in town who could do it. I was able to get an appointment for a few weeks out. Step one: Check!

I was relieved, yeah, but also really nervous -- what if he told me there were other issues? What if he tried to tell me Young Son has ADD or whatever and needed medication? I knew in my heart that wasn't the case, but I'd heard a rumor that all the kids in school who are on meds go to this guy. He's pretty much the only game in town, and what if we didn't like him? What if he was a dick? I couldn't trust this diagnosis, which would affect my son's entire academic career, to a dick. But how would I find someone else who could give us a diagnosis before school starts? Pleaseohpleaseohplease let him not be a dick....

The Ex and I showed up at the appointed time and felt immediately at ease. The doc was not a dick; rather, he was a really nice guy who asked all the right questions. I knew they were the right questions because I had spent several days Googling dyslexia and was now an authority, just as a pro-active, advocating parent should be.

The doc interviewed us extensively about Young Son's entire life. I was horrified to realize that I could not recall the vital stats of my son's early life. When did he start to talk? To walk? Did he hit the normal developmental milestones on time? I didn't know there would be a test -- I hadn't studied! What kind of mom doesn't recall that stuff? A sub-standard one, obviously; not a pro-active, advocating parent. Despite my failings, we felt it was successful interview. My main criteria were satisfied: The doc was not a dick and he asked all the right questions. I could only hope that my answers had contained some kernel of reality and I hadn't just been making stuff up*.

The first testing session available wasn't until mid-July. So far away! I asked the doc if I could go ahead and start the magical tutoring program that would fix Young Son's dyslexia. No, he thought it would be better to wait until we had a diagnosis, since the program might turn out to be inappropriate for whatever issues the testing turns up.

Crap.

Weeks passed. It was time for the first two hours of testing in mid-July. Young Son liked his 'teacher'. I was afraid he would be frustrated by the testing but he seemed to enjoy it well enough. Two more hours of testing in late July. Didn't quite get through it all, so he needed one more hour, which was scheduled for early August. That's OK, we still had time to get a diagnosis in hand before school starts.

But oh noes, early August came and the doc was out sick. Soonest we could reschedule was the day after school starts. Then, of course, it would take a while for the doc to compile the results and give us the report.

Crap is officially upgraded to shit.

So we will start fourth grade with no diagnosis. No answers. We won't have a report in hand in time for the meeting I'd scheduled, like a pro-active and advocating parent, with his old and new teachers for the week before school The $200 tutoring program is sitting, untouched, in its box in the corner. Young Son's dyslexia remains unfixed.

And don't tell anyone, but I'm still kind of afraid that the diagnosis will be more complicated than I'd hoped, and that there won't be one magical tutoring program I can use to single-handedly 'fix' it.

You know, I'm starting to think this might turn out to be more complicated than I thought.

* Yeah, I do that sometimes. I know you're shocked.
 

Desktop Therapy #1

   Sticky notes
+ Tape
+ Paper clips
+ Internet access
--------------------------------------
A few minutes of entertainment and a kusudama flower.
Note to self: Get a glue stick.

Mesmerizing

Wow, after temps in the 100s, we're banished back to the land of 60s and drizzle, which is substandard August weather even by Seattle standards.

But no worries, my pigeons, even cold, damp Fridays shall not pass un-Rocked!

First, watch the ultimate YouTube mashup.



Then learn about the project from the composer/artist himself.



Awe-freakin'-some.

He made seven music videos, each a composition of different clips from YouTube videos. He even lists the links to the clips he used. You can watch his creations on YouTube or visit Kutiman's website.

Just remember to blink once in awhile.
 

Krafty Korner

You guys have been pretty lucky. I haven't done any crafty posts since the Great Plarn Fixation of early 2008, so I feel slightly less guilty dropping this deuce on you.

So to speak.

I try not to blatantly steal stuff from the blogs I read, but this is too good not to recycle. Jessica at Rose-Kim Knits has a weekly feature she calls "Thursdays are for What the Hell is This?", showcasing the most ridiculous knitted and crocheted items she can find on the interwebs. Usually it's guaranteed to be a head-shaking, JFCWTF-worthy good time, but today's featured item had me clapping and squeeing like a little girl.

Behold the ultimate toilet roll cover:


I smell Christmas gifts!

A quick search revealed this is a creation of AuntieElle*. She's promised the pattern is forthcoming. I can't wait! I'll have to cruise through the Goodwill to score some abandoned Barbies. Actually, any action figure would work, but there's something about seeing Barbie pinching a loaf that really makes it, IYKWIM.

Evil Twin has already requested hers in sage green.

* You can see more pix there.
 

A matter of priorities

Yesterday I was reminded that I do not always have all my ducks in a row, priority-wise.

It's been about five months since I started physical therapy for my shoulder. After my last whiny update* in June, things started progressing and I gained a lot of mobility in pretty short order, even though I had cut back to two appointments per week and didn't do any of my exercises at home.

Things were going along pretty well, up to a point. There is still something that just won't let me do certain things. Running down the middle of the side of my upper arm is this pain. It's been with me from the beginning, but now that almost all the other pain is gone, it has taken center stage.

I was re-evaluated yesterday and given the verdict that I need to go see the orthopods in the orthopedics clinic. There may be a tear in there somewhere, and I guess those things just don't go away by themselves. There may be another MRI in my future, and there may be a little arthroscopic surgery required.

As you might expect, I immediately started to worry.

Did I worry about the fact that I lose access to this medical facility when I marry -- in approximately 90 days -- and if I wait to have MRI/surgery done after the wedding it could cost me thousands of dollars, even with insurance?

Oh, but no.

My first concern was about the nose piercing I was going to get this week so it would be mostly healed for the wedding. If I have an MRI or surgery, they will make me take out the nose screw (lovely name, that) and that is something you just don't want to do to a new piercing.

The real issue popped to the forefront of my consciousness when I was told the soonest I could get in to see the orthopod is in about five weeks.

Let's see... three months less five weeks leaves... about eight weeks to get a diagnosis and treatment.

Oh yeah, that could totally happen.

* Then again, I guess all my updates are whiny.
 

How did you celebrate it?

Damn, I can't believe I missed Coast Guard Day this past Tuesday.

I happen to have a particular fondness for the Coast Guard. I worked at the same CG facility in three different jobs over the course of 14 years. Evil Twin, Mr. B, and I met there, when I was about the same age Lovely Daughter is now and Mr. B was a shiny new LTJG.

In belated celebration, I think we'll do a little Friday ROFLMAO and enjoy some Coast Guard humor. Well, OK, maybe not all of you will enjoy it, but the two or three of you who know what the term 'non-rate' means will get a kick out of it.

The rest of you are dismissed to begin your weekend. Or you can watch, too. It's pretty cute. Really.



So here's an enthusiastic yet sloppy civilian salute to the USCG and the civilians who keep them running smooth. Thanks, and BZ!
 

Internets 101

Those of us so outside the flow* have no idea what most of those weird catch phrases scattered around the internets (aka memes) are all about. Like, you may be thinking, "what's that 'all your base' crap about, anyway?"

Well, the staff at Know Your Meme has us covered.



Aha, I get it. I feel ever so much hipper now. How 'bout you?

* (read: old)
 

Let's get this party started already!

So you say you're engaged and planning your big day, but you're feeling a little stressed and blue over the whole to-do? Well, gather around kiddos, 'cause I got a foolproof way of jolting you out of your funk right here.

It's simple as pie -- just move your wedding date up by four months! There's 120 fewer days of agony right there.

And instead of having a carefully-crafted quiet little wedding at home, where you gotta figure out food and decorations and how to entertain your guests so they don't turn on Spongebob during your painfully overwrought ceremony?

Why, you pick the whole deal up, wad it in a ball, and drop it in the hands of the professionals, of course.

Yeah, uh-huh, that's right, we're going to Vegas, baby!

Just over three months from now, a handful of us will converge on The Strip for a whirlwind celebration culminating in me & Mr. B making mawage in some tooth-achingly-sweet wedding chapel across the street from some obnoxiously garish casino/hotel complex.

No cleaning house, or wondering whether I should buy new curtains and replace the kitchen flooring, or what to do with three dozen leftover egg salad tea sandwiches. All we gotta do is throw our panties, toothbrushes, and a credit card in a suitcase and hop on a plane. No muss, no fuss.

Suddenly this whole deal is sounding like a lot more fun.
 

Magnetic personality

File this under WTF.

Although the 100 degree temps were behind us, it was still in the mid-90s over the weekend. At bedtime it was hitting 85 deg upstairs. Young Son's room was way too hot to sleep in, so I set him up in the guest room in the basement where it was at least a good 10 degrees cooler.

I headed back up two flights of stairs into the inferno and sprawled out on my bed to read, trying to pretend I wasn't sweating from every square inch of skin.

After about an hour, Young Son appears in my door.

M: "Hey, what's the matter?"

YS: "I can't sleep down there"

M: "Why not? Is it too hot?"

YS: "No, it just..." (pauses, thinking) "You know how when I lay on your bed, my head goes this way?" (points to the north wall)

M: "Yeah?" (not getting it...)

YS: "When I sleep downstairs, my head goes that way" (points to the west wall) "and I can't sleep that way."

WTF?

I had to stop and nuke it out for a minute or so, and I realized he was right. The head of the guest bed, two floors below, is indeed on the west wall of the house.

M: "What about your room?" (trying to figure out if he was bullshitting.)

YS: "Oh, it's the same as yours, this way." (points north)

Yes, in fact, it is. I was officially weirded out.

I emailed Evil Twin about this and she let me know that not only was is not weird, but that she also has a built-in compass and sent me links to some articles explaining the phenomenon.

I need to confirm this, but I think the head of his bed at the Ex's house is on a northerly wall as well.

And here I was thinking that young boys were non-migra'ory*.

I'm already thinking up little tests for him. Is that wrong?

* Ten points for the reference.
 

Should I stay or should I go now?

Uh-oh, it's coming. I'm seeing the early warning signs, those cheerful, encouraging emails popping up every other week or so.

NaNoWriMo is a scant three months away. What should I do?

About this time last year I came up with an idea for a novel. I spent a couple of months writing brief character sketches and a rough (oh, so rough) storyline. Much fun was had writing random stuff to post here on the blog, to see if I could get my head into 'story space'. November finally came, and I was thrilled to find that once I officially put fingers to keys, words came out. It wasn't pretty, but I was astonished to find that sometimes I could almost see the scene in my head and get lost in it, like I was simply recording what was really happening. At the end of the month I had a 75K word first draft that I promptly put away and haven't touched since.

Because, I decided, I had to Learn to Write before I would be qualified to edit my draft into something readable. I launched into a frenzy of self-education, working through a couple of short online fiction writing courses and joining some forums that offered workshops. One forum even promised to walk me through the process of writing and editing a whole novel in two years!

I'd written one draft, so surely I could do this. Game on! I found another idea, found a few characters, and followed the weekly exercises, examining the setting of the story and the cultures and the personal likes and dislikes of the characters. I wrote some short scenes (OK, mostly I rewrote the same scene several times) for assignments. But I felt like I was tap-dancing around the thing, and no matter how hard I tapped, I couldn't get the story to reveal itself. I had a rough idea of who the main character was and what her problem was, but I couldn't figure out what had to happen.

Meanwhile, I learned there were all sorts of things I was supposed to be paying attention to. The story arc had to be divided into thee acts, with the proper amount of major cliffhangers must be placed just so to keep the reader moving forward. Keep the reader wanting more, every single second! Nothing can be wasted, or I'd lose the reader! The first page has to be flawless or the reader will throw the book aside in disgust. Characters must have internal and external conflicts and goals. Dialog can't really be like real speech, but has to read like real speech. And oh, how to weave in just the perfect amount of backstory? Certainly none of this "Well, as you know, Bob, when I first came to this planet..."

And then what? Well, according to the ever-growing list of blogs by agents and editors and publishers and writers in my Google Reader, I had to craft the perfect query letter and find the perfect agent and get published. But, as they were so quick to point out, publication of a first novel is practically impossible. It was going to be a long, hard, grueling road. I would have to write ten books before I would have learned enough craft to even think about it.

Dag. That's a lot of typing.

I would have to write EVERY DAY, and I would have to write thousands and thousands of words. It was the only way. Writing got more and more complicated. I didn't want to write every day. I couldn't get words down without desperately trying to recall all the rules so that I didn't make any of those laughably foolish newbie mistakes. I rewrote and edited the piddly pile of stuff I did write down to dry bones. The words stopped flowing. And ideas?

<crickets>Uh... hello? Is this thing on?</crickets>

I beat my head against the wall for a month or so, then it got just too fucking hard. In a fit of pique I unsubbed from all the workshop forums and writing/publishing blogs. If I didn't love it enough to hack away at it every day, if I wasn't obsessed enough to carry a notebook around 24/7 to record every snip of inspiration that crossed my path, then obviously I shouldn't even bother. I crossed fiction writing off the list of Shiny.

But the other day I get this email from the NaNo folks, and just for a second I felt that thrill, that sense that the story is already sitting out there, complete, in the Shadow World and all I have to do is find it and record it. And I remembered something I had forgotten: I loved doing NaNo. Abso-friggin'-lutely loved it.

Maybe I could do it again this year, even if I haven't actually Learned to Write. I have some characters already, and maybe I could ditch my old story line and start anew. Can I just write a damned story without fretting over whether it's good enough to become the Next Big Thing? Can I allow myself to so something I'm not competent at, just for fun?

Dunno. But I've got three months to agonize over it.