tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42220855769802907212024-02-18T18:35:07.856-08:00FROM THE HEARTItems I've written to preserve the memory of the events.Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12697958823444609112noreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4222085576980290721.post-34774032551251094282010-07-10T11:43:00.000-07:002014-10-22T17:05:44.643-07:00WHERE'S THE .... WHAT?<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I just came across this while cleaning up the files on my computer. Nearly three years after writing it, I laughed again as I read it.....</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Matt was at the house for a few minutes this afternoon and called Dawn, who had watched a movie with me while a realtor showed their house, to ask a question. Their telephone exchange went like this:</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Matt asked, "Where's the mayo?"</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"In the refrigerator."</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Where in the refrigerator?!"</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"On the shelf...."</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>"Why</i><i> </i>is it in the refrigerator?!?!?<i>"</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Dawn looked at me with a puzzled look on her face and replied, "Because that's where the mayo is kept."</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Silence.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Then, "I said <i>mail</i>. Where's the <i>mail</i>?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Oh. I thought you said mayo. The mail is still in the mailbox. I didn't bring it in yesterday."</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Click.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Dawn and I laughed so hard I had to pause the movie. We could see Matt, a puzzled expression on his face as he looked at the phone, wondering <i>why</i> the mail was in the fridge, then shaking his head in exasperation as he walked out to the mailbox.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Dawn said she's going to put the mail in the fridge tomorrow.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12697958823444609112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4222085576980290721.post-81408307376350230142007-06-20T07:10:00.000-07:002014-10-22T16:52:38.140-07:00IT'S GOING TO BE A LONG SUMMER (June 2007)<h3 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</h3>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
This is Sophia’s first week out of school
for the summer. Dawn now drops her off here at 9:00 on her way to
work. Brandon will be out on the 7th. It's going to be a long
summer.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Sophia arrived as expected this
morning. It seems that she prefers to eat breakfast here. Apparently
my Pop-Tarts taste better than the ones at their house.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Sophia and Kelsi finally got
together around 10:30. They played together very well. An occasional
she-did-this or she-won't-let-me-play-with-that, but way better than a
year ago.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Sherry fixed them lunch and when
they were finished, we put water in their little wading pool. Of
course, after a few minutes of sitting and playing with the water toys,
their imaginations went to work. While Sherry and I sat nearby, the
girls suddenly disappeared from eyesight. Then they were back at the
pool. And then they were gone. Sherry saw them go into her garage.
When Sherry asked what they were doing with the water, Sophia replied
that they were drinking it. (Sure they were!) Instead they were
filling glasses with water and dumping the contents on the potted
flowers in the cozy seating area in the garage. An area covered with
several rugs. Wet rugs now.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Once they tired of the water, the
girls went into Sherry's condo. When they didn't reappear quickly,
Sherry went to check on them. She was speechless at what she found.
The girls had taken a dining room chair, moved it to the kitchen and
climbed up on the counter where they could now reach the kids' suntan
lotion. Sherry found white hand prints on the chair's wooden back and
Kelsi was on the kitchen counter handing napkins to Sophia so she could
wipe the lotion off the carpet, tile floor and chair. We promised
ourselves then that *if* we gave them permission to go in the house
again, we'd check on them every two minutes.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
When Brandon came home from school,
Christian was already here and the boys played catch outdoors. Then
Brandon asked if they could play with the beanbag game. Given
permission, the boys took it into my unit to play.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
I gave them a couple minutes and
then went to check on their behavior. Good boys! They were in the
kitchen and throwing the beanbags through the target which they'd placed
in the laundry area. So I went back to sit with Sherry while we
watched the girls playing outdoors. Then the girls asked permission to
come in to get a toy to bring outdoors. Good girls! But almost
immediately they came back out to say the boys were throwing the bean
bags at the ceiling fan in the living room (which I'd set on high) and
one had hit the fan blades. And, well, you know what happened.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Sherry and I rushed in to find
itsy-bitsy plastic balls the size of BBs scattered throughout the living
room -- under chairs, on table tops and behind furniture. Brandon was
given the job of vacuuming them up. *He* thought that was great fun
and had a hard time not smiling. Christian just tried to make himself
very small.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
It's a good thing the kids are
still young. We can forgive their lack of good judgment. But they're
not *stupid*. Certainly the girls (especially Sophia) knew that
climbing up on the kitchen counter to get the lotion was wrong. And
most definitely the boys (especially Brandon) knew that he was not
playing with the toy in the way it was to be used.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Now Sherry and I will retrain the
four of them in appropriate, acceptable behavior As I said, I envision
this is going to be a long summer.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><br />
</span><br />
<table cellpadding="20" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; width: 600px;">
</table>
<h5 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Copyright ©2007 Kitty Park</h5>
Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12697958823444609112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4222085576980290721.post-21600155481710043352007-06-10T07:11:00.000-07:002014-10-22T16:52:05.456-07:00SUMMER SWIM (June 2007)<h3 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</h3>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Summer days are often uncomfortably hot
and the kids like to play in the small inflatable 2-ring wading pool I
have for them. It doesn’t hold much water, but they can splash each
other and cool off.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHGJQ4_aSBnqd2jLZVt2ectXQbFs1YR3ZFuKBbRXOO09fjzKX1GWtUkZA6DT1x8rn74obj2V9Wpqv7JNOktzAZf5SpFiVKKIF-cd5OVxJuCq9f7AOhz9fQEivY9ztixKFPMFUfBff1xxE/s1600/tn_06072006_008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHGJQ4_aSBnqd2jLZVt2ectXQbFs1YR3ZFuKBbRXOO09fjzKX1GWtUkZA6DT1x8rn74obj2V9Wpqv7JNOktzAZf5SpFiVKKIF-cd5OVxJuCq9f7AOhz9fQEivY9ztixKFPMFUfBff1xxE/s320/tn_06072006_008.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>One day last summer while Kelsi was
taking her nap, Sophia had the pool all to herself. She laid down and
put her head on the pillow-soft top ring which allowed just enough room
for her legs to stretch to the other side. After a few minutes of
hearing no chatter and no splashing, I looked up to see her totally
relaxed, her eyes closed and arms floating at her sides. I got out of
my chair and upon closer inspection, I realized she was asleep.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
I didn’t want to wake her (she was finally
quiet, for heaven’s sake!), but I wanted her protected from the sun. I
asked Sherry to help me place the lawn chaise over the pool to put
Sophia in shade. The task was accomplished and Sophia slept on.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPoEFeDOse124fyw4uFmZuIxflWkyUbvvHqN7E7CQfsZN06c3cfagZmfkPSYekzgPXCtouHELmD1x8iTbuXmQOH34ASwOMwtxvBRL19mp_beNHFzJVhqWaXkp7TbELK5Wb2Vy-yR44dLk/s1600/tn_06072006_011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPoEFeDOse124fyw4uFmZuIxflWkyUbvvHqN7E7CQfsZN06c3cfagZmfkPSYekzgPXCtouHELmD1x8iTbuXmQOH34ASwOMwtxvBRL19mp_beNHFzJVhqWaXkp7TbELK5Wb2Vy-yR44dLk/s320/tn_06072006_011.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>Several minutes later, the lawn
service crew came by. They cordially greeted me and I signaled with a
finger to my lips that they should be quiet. I received a quizzical
look, so I pointed at what was in the pool under the chair. They
slowly lifted the chaise and with gentle smiles on their faces, shook
their heads in amazement when they saw Sophia asleep in the water.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSc1ySUrJUWbmTIC_tt7kgCRopQN_SUapyCX60ICC7w3uFb0UqoUaUVOd3-_x2h490unCCsc09mAmgGLRlsbMcpWDk4NtvJb0Gs-vqNhgFqmBsnQE5snmHb00JTZzxHoxMUhg0GXBMq4g/s1600/tn_06072006_014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSc1ySUrJUWbmTIC_tt7kgCRopQN_SUapyCX60ICC7w3uFb0UqoUaUVOd3-_x2h490unCCsc09mAmgGLRlsbMcpWDk4NtvJb0Gs-vqNhgFqmBsnQE5snmHb00JTZzxHoxMUhg0GXBMq4g/s320/tn_06072006_014.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
In order to get on with their work, the men moved the chaise into the shade of the garage and Sherry and I lifted Sophia onto it. Once the fellows moved the pool to the driveway, they continued to mow.<br />
<br />
And Sophia continued to sleep.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="20" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; width: 600px;"></table>
<h5 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Copyright ©2007 Kitty Park</h5>
Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12697958823444609112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4222085576980290721.post-84505328597259651562007-02-10T07:10:00.000-08:002014-10-22T16:53:08.841-07:00SPARKY (February 2007)<h3 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</h3>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
The By-Laws of this condo association
specify that each owner is responsible for maintaining the yard light in
front of his unit. These lights are not only decorative but
functional in that they light the path from the driveway to the front
door. A sensor turns it on and off. Visitors who arrive after dark
should find the pathway lighted for their safety. Because of insurance
liability concerns, it is mandatory that those lights work.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdh3dzXIGWR2txsbcudGvIAS214IzBNWdmeAnz1F5PXrzki3ene57BN4wd5kOebezWNkLjevQ-RpQbrIAJa0nhKh1P-JB2ip9llbUE2g9xrRsDMsBF32oMLIuNhZQ04tjbd9H7EYC47ZU/s1600/02182007_002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdh3dzXIGWR2txsbcudGvIAS214IzBNWdmeAnz1F5PXrzki3ene57BN4wd5kOebezWNkLjevQ-RpQbrIAJa0nhKh1P-JB2ip9llbUE2g9xrRsDMsBF32oMLIuNhZQ04tjbd9H7EYC47ZU/s320/02182007_002.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a>It seems that residents living here
have had to replace those bulbs on the average of every six months. I
am an exception. I have been here for nearly two years and that
little bulb burned faithfully from that point and before. I was
thinking about naming that bulb. Sparky perhaps.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Tuesday we suffered through miserable snow
squalls. When I went to bed Tuesday night, it burned brightly -- I
could see its reflection on the bedroom ceiling. But Wednesday night,
oh, no -- *no* reflection! In the morning, with temperatures in the
teens, I wasn't about tackle the task, rules or no rules. But
yesterday, Saturday, I decided to get the job done, knowing today would
be colder and the forecast for the next several days included a
combination of rain and snow.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
One of my neighbors who has
replaced her bulb four times had told me, "The screws that are the
obvious ones to get to the bulb aren't the ones you use." I <i>remember</i>
her saying that; I don't remember what followed. When I looked at the
lamp, I recognized the screws that obviously held the top on. When I
removed them, the top should lift off and I could change the bulb.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
So I unscrewed all three and in the process dropped two in the foot of snow beneath the lamp post. Then I discovered that <i>these</i>
were the screws I wasn't supposed to remove. So I replaced them
(after using the snow shovel to dig for the two I'd dropped). I
cleared a place in the snow for the ladder and after climbing it, I
found two fasteners on the top of the light. After removing them and
lifting the top, I was able to extract Sparky who was very dirty and
sitting in the middle of the dried carcasses of dead bugs. And look
here -- Sparky was a <i>100</i> watt bulb!!! The replacement will be a
mere 40 watts. I replaced the screws in the top, climbed down the
ladder, gathered tools and moved them back into the garage.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Dusk came, but the light that should have come on failed to do so. Crap. I <i>knew</i> I should have checked the bulb before putting it in the lamp. Come morning, I'd have to go through the process again.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
While lying in bed this morning,
knowing that it's still cold and probably snowing again, I remembered
that some people had turned off their yard lights challenging the
must-be-on rule. There is a switch for this somewhere in the garage.
With fingers crossed, I went out and found a plug, one with a "reset"
button. I noticed that the display of the clock radio plugged into the
outlet was dark. So I pushed the reset button and the clock's green
display began blinking 12:00 at me. Somehow the night of the big snow
the circuit breaker must have kicked off, killing Sparky’s glow!
Tonight I should have light at the lamp post.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
So poor Sparky wasn't dead, isn't dead.
Now I'm pondering going to the trash can and pulling Sparky out, dusting
it off, and perhaps displaying it in the china cabinet in honor of its
long service. I am confident that if I return it to the lamp post, it <i>will</i> burn out in a matter of days if not hours, and I'll have to climb that ladder again and way too soon.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><br />
</span><br />
<table cellpadding="20" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; width: 600px;">
</table>
<h5 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Copyright ©2007 Kitty Park</h5>
Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12697958823444609112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4222085576980290721.post-50491890066133488172007-01-10T07:10:00.000-08:002014-10-22T16:53:56.404-07:00HAPPY DANCE (January 2007)<h3 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</h3>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"> </span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
The other day Sophia and Kelsi were doing "gymnastics" -- their versions of
pushups, sommersaulting, and splits. Sophia began rapidly
side-shuffling through the room and I had the brilliant idea to show her how
to skip.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
I found that although I can walk well, this large backside I carry has me
anchored firmly to the ground. To skip, I need a spring in my hop and
folks, it's <i>gone</i>. I darned near fell flat on my face when I
tried to skip on the second foot before the first lifted off the
floor. The girls looked at me with quizzical expressions on their
faces and I mumbled something about not being as agile as I once was.
Sherry (Kelsi's grandmother) was laughing so hard she nearly had to go
home to change underwear.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Then Sophia's eyes lit up and she said, "Grandma, do it this way," and
merrily took off skipping through the living room. Later Dawn said she's
been able to skip for a long, long time. Humph. </div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><br /><br />
</span><br />
<h5 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Copyright ©2007 Kitty Park</h5>
Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12697958823444609112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4222085576980290721.post-87296918876677969752005-06-10T07:10:00.000-07:002014-10-22T16:54:20.215-07:00GOD LOVE HER (June 2005)<h3 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</h3>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Like many (most?) kids, they are normally adorable -- how they do what
they do, the expressions on their little faces, their uninhibited
display of affection.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
As we did for Brandon, there is a list of naughty words whose use will
result in punishment.
Calling someone "stupid" for example. Then of course, there are the
distasteful adult words -- damn, shit -- well, you get the idea.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
When Sophia's disgruntled, usually with a person (parent or
grandparent), she'll strike out with her hands, often resulting in
scratches to her offender. And the <i>look</i> she gives -- remind me
not to cross her when she's older!</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
So picture a 2-1/2 year old who's been denied what she wants. Her hands
are being held so she can't hit or scratch. Nailing you with venom in
her eyes, she says with clipped words, "Stupid shit!" Disciplined for
her disrespect, she sits on the floor with her back against the wall,
crying. She looks at you, tears running down her face, and says, "My
sorry, Mommy/Daddy/Grandma." (We've all had a turn or two.) Allowed to
get up, she comes for a hug, then pulls away, looks at you very
seriously and says, "Stupid shit!" And then she smiles.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
God love her..............</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><br /><br />
</span><br />
<h5 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Copyright ©2005 Kitty Park</h5>
Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12697958823444609112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4222085576980290721.post-31013886728411133402004-12-10T07:10:00.000-08:002014-10-22T16:55:15.010-07:00GOOD THINGS COME IN SMALL PACKAGES (December 2004)<h3 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</h3>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Brett moved to San Diego in August and he's loving California living. The
challenges of his new job with the landscape design firm have enabled him to travel
to many places, the most exotic being Hong Kong.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
In the last few years, probably since Brandon was born in 2000, Brett has
flown home to be with Dawn's family and me for either Thanksgiving or
Christmas. Brett said he wanted to come back this year, too, but being the
person with the least seniority, he expected that he'd need to be available
if any problems arose. A week or so ago, he confirmed that he wouldn't be
coming. And frankly, I didn't expect him because any seats on holiday
flights would have already been taken days/weeks earlier.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
We talk frequently and this past Tuesday he asked if I'd be home Wednesday,
December 22,
because he wanted to have a three-way conversation on the phone. When I asked
who the third party was, he said it was a secret. He said to expect the
call around 11:00 PM. But at 9:30 Wednesday evening he called to say it
wasn't going to work and perhaps they'd try again today, the 23rd.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
At 6:00 this morning the phone rang and I answered from the extension in my
bedroom. It was Brett, and it was 3:00 AM California time. He didn't sound
like he'd been partying. Brett asked why I was still in bed. Didn't I have
to go to work?</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Yes, I told him, I do have to work, but not until 1:00. "So, why are you
calling me this early?"</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
"Here," he said, "talk to this person." I listened, but there was no voice.
In the background, I could hear a doorbell. A few seconds, and I heard it
again. And then again.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
"Brett, are you ringing my doorbell?!!"</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Snicker...... Soft laugh...... The doorbell again.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
I uttered some four-letter expletive, hung up the phone and scurried to the
door. There he was, damp with melting snow, grinning at me.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
His plan had been to fly into Canton, but weather grounded planes in
Detroit. After standing in line to book a later flight (which wouldn't have
gotten him here until Christmas Eve day, <i>maybe</i>), he and three other stranded passengers
rented a car and drove to town. The three-hour drive took six hours, but
he's here now, sound asleep in my bed. And Dawn didn't know he was coming,
so later today we'll spring the surprise on her and Matt, and the party will begin!</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Sometimes the best gift comes in no package at all.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><br />
</span><br />
<h5 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Copyright ©2004 Kitty Park</h5>
Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12697958823444609112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4222085576980290721.post-27767308232965743892004-03-10T07:09:00.000-08:002014-10-22T16:54:45.233-07:00HER NAME IS BABY (March 2004)<h3 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<i><br /></i></h3>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
She’s putting two words together now.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieqM6QuqkxNZR01ApFnurmNC1valSAAWnf4wFF4puu-X0wIMm9OGe7dhtvctzIRinvLt3Ap_l9Fc9kESxqDNOGCQGBkTvAGhg73589yDYD860wFA1NyCtkwmlLT9yoV26AT-nRclbv4A0/s1600/tn_P3290045.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieqM6QuqkxNZR01ApFnurmNC1valSAAWnf4wFF4puu-X0wIMm9OGe7dhtvctzIRinvLt3Ap_l9Fc9kESxqDNOGCQGBkTvAGhg73589yDYD860wFA1NyCtkwmlLT9yoV26AT-nRclbv4A0/s1600/tn_P3290045.jpg" /></a>At seventeen months old, Sophia’s vocabulary is rapidly
expanding. I’m convinced learning to sign (capturing the
concept visually first) is the reason. As with Brandon,
we started with "eat" and "more." "Done" is Mommy's
creation. To eliminate the ear-splitting screech Sophia voiced
to escape mealtime confinement, Dawn taught Sophia to slam her hands down onto
the highchair tray when she's finished a meal.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
She signs "eat" a lot. And "more" as well. She eats a
variety of things but prefers fruits and vegetables. And
cookies. Although she recognizes the sign for cookie, she never
signed it. She went right
to the word. And she says it perfectly.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
She has a book with a soft ball on it. Ball was one of
her next words. Now anything circular in shape is a ball --
the smoke protector, O’s, light bulbs.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
She has spent some weekends with her paternal grandparents.
Their household consists of Nana, Pappap and Hunter, the dog.
We were looking at pictures the other day and she pointed at
Hunter and said "Pap." Seeing Nana, she voiced something
sounding like "unner." She knows they belong together,
but she doesn’t yet know who’s who.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Sophia says juice, signs water and knows the difference.
She identifies her ear, hair, nose, mouth and eyes.
It’s difficult to rock her to sleep (which I occasionally
like to do), because she lies in my arms, one thumb in her
mouth and the finger of her other hand tapping the lens
of my glasses, saying "eye." Then she moves to my ear,
pulls on the earring, says "ear," and then touches her own.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
The inflection in her voice often gives a clue to what she’s
trying to say. Most recently there are three syllables strung
out in a sing-song voice as she tries to say, "Where are you?"</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Two-syllable words often repeat the consonant: Elmo is Memo,
Gramma is Maama, Bunny (her blanket with long-eared rabbit head
at the center) is Bucky.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Foot is toof. Sock is cox.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Two words together? "More cookie."</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
And just yesterday, "Where are you, Bucky?"</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><br />
</span><br />
<h5 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Copyright ©2004 Kitty Park</h5>
Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12697958823444609112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4222085576980290721.post-22150992436541586792004-01-20T07:09:00.000-08:002014-10-22T16:55:40.384-07:00LEARNING MACHINE (January 2004)<h3 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</h3>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
As a baby, in the days her routine consisted of sleeping, eating
and pooping, Sophia mirrored Brandon’s behavior. However,
she’s now a year old and developing a personality and intelligence
of her own.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
In “Second Chance” I wrote about our use of signing and
speaking when communicating with Brandon (and now Sophia).
Brandon seemed to grasp the concept and use it much earlier than
Sophia has. But now Sophia’s on board. And she’s even
developing her own signs.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzOCRor5oj-Fp-b2x7YQ85lr8KxSCnxnpBIQ3mseRNgr5XgtiF3Mct_3-j-GTaqyxTwYMj_cfO3AJsr-cWD7yzuKrbkKLC7mn2Yw_h_ybfBTExtej4fU0WNN6Xw-TW2smNyHS4A5fp_cU/s1600/tn_01162004_003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzOCRor5oj-Fp-b2x7YQ85lr8KxSCnxnpBIQ3mseRNgr5XgtiF3Mct_3-j-GTaqyxTwYMj_cfO3AJsr-cWD7yzuKrbkKLC7mn2Yw_h_ybfBTExtej4fU0WNN6Xw-TW2smNyHS4A5fp_cU/s320/tn_01162004_003.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>She recognizes the sign for “drink” but doesn’t use it.
Instead she says “juice” (soos) or “milk” (mik) and, once she
catches the eye of an adult, moves toward the kitchen to get a cup of
her beverage of choice. She does sign “eat”
(tapping the fingers of one hand against her lips). The sign
for “more” is tapping the fingertips of both hands together.
Because she’s evidently going through a growth spurt, she
frequently wants to eat -- and <i>her</i> sign combines eat and
more: the fingertips of one hand against the palm of the other.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
I have two cats and her family has a dog, so she’s learned
the sign for cat (flick of fingers against cheek indicating
whiskers) and dog (snapping of finger/thumb as if calling a dog
to heel). She is a book lover and will turns pages in one
book signing “eat” to identify pages of food items.
There are pages of animals -- a cow, horse, pig, elephant,
giraffe – and we’re working with her on these. Brandon
hasn’t forgotten the signs, so he, too, tries to teach her.
In fact, even though he knows their proper name is “giraffe,”
he continues to refer to them as “long necks,” the sign for
giraffe.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Daddy was her first intelligible word. “Daddy” to come get
her first thing in the morning. “Daddy” to come get her
after a nap. Then she learned “Mommy.” If Daddy
doesn’t come get her quickly enough when summoned, she moves
on to Mommy, calling louder and more often until she’s finally
rescued from the confinement of her crib.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Sophia is easily frustrated and issues a deep-throated “arrrrghh!”
when she can’t accomplish some task she’s undertaken. She’s
also been known to bonk herself on the head with her palm, as
if asking, “<i>What</i> am I going to do?!”</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
All little people must like music. She’ll stop whatever
she’s doing when she hears a catchy tune. Her response to
the music will be to stamp her foot or turn in circles or hunch
her shoulders and flex her knees in her interpretation of the
beat. And she grins as she moves.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Sophia’s now cutting back from two naps a day to one.
Once she picks up a fuzzy stuffed animal and puts her thumb in
her mouth, it’s a subtle indication she’s ready for sleep.
We ask, “Are you ready for night-night?” and she races us to the
bedroom. Yes, sometimes it’s a false positive, and it
appears she merely wanted to run, <i>not</i> go to bed.
Other times we get lucky. Toy cuddled in her arm and held
close to her cheek, thumb in her mouth, she’s quiet for a short
time. A respite for the latest high-intensity learning
machine.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<h5 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Copyright ©2004 Kitty Park</h5>
Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12697958823444609112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4222085576980290721.post-20035060529143155812003-05-10T07:09:00.000-07:002014-10-22T16:56:02.026-07:00THE NEGOTIATOR (May 2003)<h3 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</h3>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
A friend mentioned last week her sadness about disciplining her two-year-old granddaughter Jessica. Been there myself. <i>You're</i> beating yourself up for disciplining the
tot and <i>s/he's</i> off in a corner figuring out another way to get to what s/he's been told numerous times in just as many ways s/he's not
to touch.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Brandon's a button pusher. He learned the
phrasing and practice at home. Dawn's said it many times, initially of
Matt who knows what will irritate her and persists until she loses
patience. Now Matt and Brandon push one another's buttons, and
Brandon's learned the lesson well.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Brandon may begin by asking. Refused, he
moves to pleading, inserting several 'pleases' with his request. He
even negotiates when he suspects a remaining chink in the adult's
naysaying. Somewhere along the line, when he realizes he's getting to
my last nerve, Brandon grins (damn him!) and affirms, "I'm just pushing
your buttons, Grandma."</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
If he's really <i>serious</i> about having/getting/doing something he's been denied, he will be dogged, going so far as to challenge
authority. Last week I stooped to corporal punishment. He
persisted in jumping with his feet and landing on his bottom in my
easy chair even after repeated requests that he <i>sit</i> and not use
it as a trampoline. I convinced him of my resolution when I fulfilled
the threat to smack his bare bottom (once I caught him).</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
When released and out of arm's reach, he
turned and said,
"That didn't hurt," to which I replied, "But it could have." Either
the logic of what I said made sense or, more likely, he lost interest in
the challenge. I don't care why, at least he didn't jump on the
furniture again.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
I'm sure the veterans of the Grandparents' Club are smirking at the
problems yet to be faced. I know: The problems won't end, they'll just change.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
I'm going to go take a nap. Just thinking of what's ahead has worn me out.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><br /><br />
</span><br />
<h5 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Copyright ©2003 Kitty Park</h5>
Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12697958823444609112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4222085576980290721.post-85236664714152139652003-01-10T07:08:00.000-08:002014-10-22T16:56:33.148-07:00BLACK-EYED PEAS (January 2003)<h3 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</h3>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Northern and southern New Year's Day
traditions were blended when Roy and I were married over 35 years ago.
We ate my sauerkraut and pork with his black-eyed peas. (The greens,
to be eaten for monetary success, morphed into a lime Jell-O and pear
concoction.)</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Matt, Dawn's husband, is a man with
distinct tastes. He refuses to sample the sauerkraut (or pork since it
cooks with the 'kraut) or black-eyed peas. On New Year's Day he eats
something else.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Unlike his dad, Brandon, now nearly three
years old, wants to try everything. Yesterday, while eating a bowl of
black-eyed peas, Brandon said to me, "Grandma, you make good food." I
smiled at his praise. That was right before he put a forkful of
sauerkraut into his mouth. And immediately spit it out on the
tablecloth.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><br /><br />
</span><br />
<h5 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Copyright ©2003 Kitty Park</h5>
Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12697958823444609112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4222085576980290721.post-16360584747820977342002-04-10T07:08:00.000-07:002014-10-22T16:56:55.694-07:00ON BEING TWO (April 2002)<h3 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</h3>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Brandon's now two. Not the terrible twos. Rather, the curious twos.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
He will still take an afternoon
nap, but unless he's rocked to sleep, he'll entertain himself on the
bed, fighting to stay awake. One day he took his diaper off. Last
Monday he stood on the cabinet at the head of my bed, unscrewed a bulb
in the light bridge and used it to smash the other. I was close enough
to hear the <i>pop</i> and him say, "Oh oh. Grandma!" as I rushed in.
He innocently looked at me and said, "I broked it." After putting him
in the rocker ("I rock myself, Grandma") while I vacuumed the shards, I
reminded myself he can't be trusted to be out of sight.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Yesterday when I put him down and
his thumb went into his mouth, I breathed a sigh since I knew he'd be
asleep in moments. Minutes later I heard him carrying on a whispering
conversation with himself, and peeked into the room to see what he was
doing. Brandon was sitting in the bed, lotion everywhere. The travel
size container had been emptied onto his legs, hands and diaper. The
overflow was on the sheets and blanket. When he saw me, he casually
asked for a towel. He was unashamed and eagerly set about cleaning up
the mess. When finished, Brandon announced "All done!" and held up his
arms, indicating he was ready to be carried to the rocker where we went
back and forth until he fell asleep.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><br /><br />
</span><br />
<h5 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Copyright ©2002 Kitty Park</h5>
Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12697958823444609112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4222085576980290721.post-49494804232326651512001-10-10T07:08:00.000-07:002014-10-22T16:57:28.265-07:00THUM AND THUMBS (October 2001)<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Brandon was denied a pacifier as an infant
... something about confusing it with the breast. Eventually he
adopted his thumb. Well, in his case, BOTH thumbs. He prefers the
right, but will switch to the left if his right hand is otherwise
occupied. He isn't overly attentive to thumbsucking, but over a period
of months, the right thumb is showing wear and the skin is cracking.
He'll hold it up and say, "Thumb hurts."</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Dawn was told that <i>Thum</i> (available in our
drug store right next to teething medications) is a deterrent. So she
got a bottle this week. Contents: a solution containing cayenne pepper.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
This morning Brandon again told Dawn his
thumb hurts. So she dabbed a bit of Thum on it, advising him that it
was medicine and he should not put it in his mouth. Without tasting it,
Brandon asked to have a bit on his left thumb as well. Then he put the
sore thumb in his mouth, pulled it out, and with a puzzled look on his
face followed by a smile, said, "Good!" And asked for more. Dawn
obliged. Sampled again, he offered his thumb to Matt and laughing,
said, "Here, Daddy, taste!"</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
As a deterrent, obviously this isn't going
to work. Perhaps <i>Thum</i> should be used as a reward. Put it on his left
thumb. In no time at all the right thumb will be healed.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><br />
</span><br />
<h5 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Copyright ©2002 Kitty Park</h5>
Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12697958823444609112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4222085576980290721.post-13712429524793320232001-09-20T07:08:00.000-07:002014-10-22T16:58:31.585-07:00PICKING YOUR BATTLES (September 2001)<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Why does a raised voice merely warrant a
sideways glance before the
imp continues with the taboo act? Even when his hand is pulled away,
which does no more than interrupt his forward motion, even when his hand
is then swatted and finally his bottom, what compels that child to
insist on doing what has been forbidden?</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Brandon's not allowed to climb on the room
divider. Nor is he
permitted to purposely drop his fork or spoon on the floor or pitch
food off the plate when he's eaten his fill. The first time he leaped
from the sofa to the coffee table was his last. Or it was supposed to
be. Purses weren't exactly off limits, but items in them were. I
thought zippered containers were safe. Not any more. Since his agenda
requires that anything in his hand must pass into his mouth for
sampling, Brandon had lipstick in his teeth before he experimented with
graphic designs on his shorts. His reaction when he spied his face in
the mirror as I washed the red from in and around his mouth was
priceless in its ecstatic reflection.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
At twenty months, he's gained mobility,
ability and the mental
fortitude to satisfy his curiosity. He's learned that rocks have no
taste and that when they've sat in the sun, they may be hot. He's found
that mud puddles are more interesting than bath water and
stomping in them is necessary. If Maw stands too close and gets wet as a
result, even better. On our most recent walk, Brandon decided that we
should both run. He crowed at my effort to keep up with his toddler's
stiff-legged run, pausing occasionally so I could rest and then urging,
"Maw run; Brandon run." We both took a nap that day.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
He consents to hold my hand when we leave
the car and move toward the grocery store. I've explained that I need
help walking in the street and it would be helpful if he'd hold my hand
until we get to the curb. Once there, he lets go of my finger, strolls
to the carts and announces he'll "push buggy." Bending at the waist and
putting his hands on the crossbar, with me steering from behind, we
amble along.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
After we pass through the produce section, we enter the bakery area
where free samples are provided. Brandon releases his hold on the
cart, turns and raises his arms, signifying that he's ready to be
lifted to the basket's seat to have a snack. There's nothing so
endearing as his grin while he eats the fragment of angel food cake
squished between his fingers or daintily nibbles a crumbled sugar
cookie, rubbing his tummy, smiling and nodding his pleasure.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Yes, I'll let him splash in the mud
puddles and wash the lipstick from his face and shorts. Because I
always win the shopping battle at the bakery.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<h5 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Copyright ©2002 Kitty Park</h5>
Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12697958823444609112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4222085576980290721.post-6634963171255903312001-09-10T07:08:00.000-07:002014-10-22T16:57:52.043-07:00CUSS WORDS (September 2001)<h3 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</h3>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Brandon has reached the sponge stage of
vocabulary development. Those of you who've been parents can recall
your failure to be judicious in your venting. It is indeed amazing to
observe how quickly, indeed expertly and spontaneously, those who are
barely walking can use the cuss words in the proper context with
absolutely no coaching.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
There are also times when they voice
socially undesirable words all on their own. Brandon's having a little
trouble putting different sounds together. He went through the house
helping Dawn pick up the other day and found his dad's socks. Bringing
them to her one by one he announced with each delivery, "Daddy's cock."
I do believe Matt will pick up his own socks for some time to come, but
definitely until Brandon is able to say "sock" quite clearly.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<h5 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Copyright ©2002 Kitty Park</h5>
Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12697958823444609112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4222085576980290721.post-42009033184460371352001-08-20T07:07:00.000-07:002014-10-22T16:59:23.980-07:00FORETHOUGHT (August 2001)<h3 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</h3>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Preface: Often a particular expression on
Brandon's face reminds us of the so-called "chickenshit" grin his
grandfather, Roy, often displayed. Pulling one corner of his mouth
tighter than the other, the look is short of all-out smile and includes a
hint of bravado. I recall a particular time when, as he explained how
he'd gotten into a predicament, Roy displayed this special look.</div>
<br />
<center style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
************** </center>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
I've done it and perhaps you've done it.
Who hasn't? But once is enough. More than that, the absent-minded
should take preventive measures. I refer to locking the car, leaving
the keys inside.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Being locked out of your car at home is
inconvenient. Being away from home in similar circumstances can really
trash the holiday spirit. With this in mind, Roy and I agreed that we'd
take both sets of car keys with us when we traveled. He'd have one
set; I'd have the other.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
On one of our trips, with two sets of keys
in our possession, we set out for Niagara Falls with Roy's sister Gwen
and her husband, Hank, for a weekend visit. It was our intention to do a
lot of sightseeing. Walking long distances is difficult for Hank, so
Roy dropped us off at an overlook and continued on to the parking lot.
We sauntered along the footpaths while we waited for Roy to join us.
When he hadn't appeared after several minutes, I suggested Gwen and Hank
sit in a shady area while I backtracked to find Roy.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Finally back to the parking lot, I
was relieved to see that there were very few cars and easily spotted
ours. Roy was standing beside it. When I reached him, I asked why he
hadn't come to meet us.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
"I'm waiting for a tow truck," he replied.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
The car was sitting there in the middle of
an almost-empty lot. I saw no indication that he'd hit anything or
been hit. In fact, the motor was running. I asked why he was waiting
for a service vehicle.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
His crooked grin began to develop.
"Well-l-l-l, see, this good-looking girl pulled in, and I got out of the
car to see her better."</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
I nodded my head, indicating I was ready for more of the story.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
"She had on these short shorts and a tight top and I just forgot, just for a moment, to turn the car off when I got out."</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
To which I replied, "An-n-n-d????"</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
"I locked the door just before I slammed it shut."</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
I reminded Roy that I had the second set of keys in my purse.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
"Yes, you do," he agreed, nodding. "And where is it?"</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
I looked down and then recalled that since
I hadn't expected to need my handbag on this short walk, I'd left it,
with my keys, locked in the car trunk. </div>
<br />
<center style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
________________</center>
<center style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</center>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Owning multiple sets of keys isn't helpful
if none is available when needed. Consequently, following this trip I
invested in a plastic coil to which I attached my car keys. Now if I
don't want to carry a handbag and have no pockets, I put the coil around
my wrist. As with most insurance, once this second precaution was
taken, the car's never been locked with the keys inside. But now I'm
ready, just in case.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><br /><br />
</span><br />
<h5 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Copyright ©2002 Kitty Park</h5>
Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12697958823444609112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4222085576980290721.post-66350000548209601442001-08-10T07:07:00.000-07:002014-10-22T16:59:01.412-07:00LIFELINES (August 2001)<h3 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</h3>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Time goes on. I continue to discover life by observing someone else's exploration.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Grand boy Brandon is nearly nineteen
months old. He walks, he runs. He skins his knees. He cries and,
repeating words he's often heard, says, "Hold you" when he needs a hug.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
He continues to learn sign
language, although for some reason he insists on signing "rhinoceros"
for "horse." He saw a real horse for the first time last week. He was
more impressed with the fence that separated them than by the animal on
the other side.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
There have been times when he's
said a word that I couldn't understand, so he signed it. For example,
he said "gaga" and I was without a clue. So he signed "water." When
we're driving in the car he entertains himself saying words he's
learned, copying the inflection of some phrase used previously: "Mommy
bye-bye, Daddy bye-bye, Nana bye-bye...." until he puts you, or himself,
to sleep with the monotonous repetition.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Others asked, "What will he call you?" I
called both my grandmothers Gramma, even though it appears that's now
old fashioned. Today's monikers have more flair: Brandon's other
grandmother is Nana. And a friend decided to be Mimi to her grandson.
I, on the other hand, elected to allow the child to pick something
meaningful to him.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
And one day he looked at me, pointed, and said, "Maw." Not Ma, not Moi, but Maw.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
To my ears, the sound of "Maw" was
like fingernails on a blackboard. </div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Undoubtedly this is shortened version
of the word yet too difficult for him to say. To my ears it lacks
charm, wit, sophistication. But truth be told, so do I! I am what I
am, and this child led me to see that it's okay!</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
I've adjusted to Maw and now accept
it with pride. I like hearing my new name best after he's awakened
from a nap. I can hear him stir in his bed as he talks to himself or
Elmo, his sleep companion. When he tires of the solitude, I am summoned
to his rescue as he loudly calls, "M-A-A-W-W-W!" As I stop in the
doorway, I see this teacher, standing at the rail, grinning his
greeting, arms raised to be lifted from the crib.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
And our next few hours together begin as he shows me life outside the lines.</div>
<h4 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</h4>
<h5 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Copyright ©2002 Kitty Park</h5>
Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12697958823444609112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4222085576980290721.post-6678374872735574432001-04-10T07:07:00.000-07:002014-10-22T16:59:44.551-07:00SECOND CHANCE (April 2001)<h3 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</h3>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
The little boy is now 15 months old. He's
learned to crawl and walk, and with each physical achievement, there
are parallel advances in his mental prowess.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Were my children as clever, perceptive,
bold, or curious as this little one is? Why do I not recall the moments
of their childhood accomplishments?</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
First he crawled and then he walked. Each milestone predictable. But I am awed as I have watched Brandon's face when <i>he</i> realizes what he's accomplished. His eyes grow big and his little mouth forms a tight O. And then he seems to <i>think</i>
and he does it again. And again. Over a period of time he perfected
crawling forward and suddenly crawled backward, giggling at the
experience. After weeks of struggling to walk forward, he discovered he
could walk backward, not yet knowing that he must look over his
shoulder to see where he was going. Once again, big eyes and tight O as
he bumped into the wall. Now he's learning to march, but it's really
more of a foot stomp, for he raises only his left knee.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Until this past week our northern winter
has kept us isolated indoors. Recently on a sunny day we went outdoors
for a walk. Almost running as toddlers do, he refused my hand. I
wanted to go <i>this</i> way; he wanted to go <i>that</i>. And so we
did. Brandon spied his shadow and squatted to touch it, a puzzled
expression on his face when he couldn't pick it up. He found a sloping
driveway and insisted on walking up it. Half way, he turned around and,
with his little feet struggling to keep him upright, Brandon discovered
the sensation of coming down a hill. Repeatedly, he went up the
pavement, turned round, and came down, chortling each time. But for my
eventual boredom, we could still be there.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
There was a breeze that day and we faced
into it. Suddenly Brandon threw back his head, mouth agape. Pausing a
moment, he laughed as he felt the cool breeze rush into his warm little
mouth. We walked a few steps that way, his head tilted back while he
sampled the air.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Dawn, his mom, and I had read that the use
of sign language helps a child communicate before he's able to do so
verbally. Therefore, when he was about six months old and began eating
baby food, we began simultaneously signing and saying "drink," "eat" and
"more." Now he signs if he's thirsty or hungry. If we think he's
eaten enough but he disagrees, he signs "more." He's even begun signing
and speaking simultaneously as we do.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
I'm beginning to feel as though we adults
are now walking in place and Brandon's running ahead. A few weeks ago,
he was sitting in the child's seat of the shopping cart as Dawn pushed
it down the aisle. When she looked away from the merchandise and down
at Brandon, he was rapping his fists together. Dawn thought this was
odd behavior until she realized they were passing the shoe department.
Brandon was signing "shoe."</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Brandon signs and says Mommy and Daddy,
and he identifies Matt's parents, Pappap and Nana, saying their names
and signing (simplified by us to double "p" and double "n") at the same
time.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
We've taught him to sign and say
"Kitty." However, I think he associates this with the two cats that
share this condo with me. It's likely that when Dawn tells Brandon
they're going to Grandma Kitty's, Brandon believes he's coming to see
the cats. He's gleeful when he spies them and he'll point, flick his
cheek with the sign for cat and say "key" (his spoken t's are silent!).
I look forward to the time when he understands there are THREE kitties
here. Oh well, at least he smiles when he sees me.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
I logged in my children's baby books the
first day each sat up, rolled over, stood and walked. But I don't
recall an emotional reaction, merely the mechanical notation. I find
such joy in watching this little one grasp concepts and explore new
challenges. I am amazed and amused whenever we're together. Thank
heaven for a second chance.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><br /><br />
</span><br />
<h5 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Copyright ©2002 Kitty Park</h5>
Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12697958823444609112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4222085576980290721.post-68699072006000377262000-11-10T07:07:00.000-08:002014-10-22T17:00:08.698-07:00MAKING TIME (November 2000)<h3 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</h3>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Here we are again ... another notable
change of weather conditions. Seasons change gradually, usually, but
for me, the turnover takes about 12 hours. I have said, "This task
having been accomplished, fall has now begun." On the calendar fall
began six weeks ago. At my house its arrival started yesterday morning
and was in place emotionally at the day's end.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Here on the lake there are two seasons. Spring, when the boats go into the water and fall, when the boats come out.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Spring is a beginning: the boat is moored
at the dock, the deck furniture is hauled in from the garage and the
cushions are brought out of the closet. The awning is rehung to shade
the interior from the bold summer sun. The warming breezes off the
water encourage us to sit on our decks and chat with neighbors who have
also vacated the confines imposed by winter.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Fall is marked with the jewel-colored
leaves of the trees around the lake. There is the need to pull the
boats out of the water for winter land storage. The baskets and
half-barrels filled with happy colors of summer are now mere containers
of plants too cold and weary to stand. Outdoor furniture is returned to
the garage, cushions to the closet. Finally, the awning is taken down
and stored for six months.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Those tasks of fall have now been
completed. I feel relieved to have beaten winter's arrival. No sadness
that the flowers are gone. Their leaving gives me reason to look
forward to next spring when the cycle begins again.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><br /><br />
</span><br />
<h5 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Copyright ©2002 Kitty Park</h5>
Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12697958823444609112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4222085576980290721.post-33010722915433571792000-07-10T07:07:00.000-07:002014-10-22T17:00:31.391-07:00HAPPINESS IS A COMFORTABLE PAIR OF SHOES (July 2000)<h3 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</h3>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
I've been flipping through the pages of my
life, wondering how I got to the place I am today, stopping short of
wishing to start over.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
I have chosen a simple life. My daughter
is my best friend. I live alone, but I'm not lonely. When part of a
group activity, I know I'd be more comfortable in the company of only
two or three people. The busy-ness of many, and the noise they create,
even in happiness, are incentives to look for a quiet space away from
them.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
I have acquaintances who cannot sit still,
who cannot tolerate being alone. Their schedule of places to be and
social events to attend takes my breath away. And I thank God it's
their agenda, not mine.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
I remember that it's only in my shoes that I'm comfortable.</div>
<h5 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</h5>
<h5 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Copyright ©2002 Kitty Park</h5>
Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12697958823444609112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4222085576980290721.post-31515858584520587662000-06-10T07:06:00.000-07:002014-10-22T17:01:09.315-07:00IDLING AWAY A SUMMER EVENING (June 2000)<h3 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</h3>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Brett mentioned several weeks ago that he'd been to the chiropractor because his back was acting up again.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
"Again?" I asked, not aware that there'd been a first time.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
"Yeah," Brett replied. "It's bothered me ever since ........"</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
And then he told me the story.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<center style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
************** </center>
<center style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</center>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Brett was a typical boy child. Anxious to
be outdoors, involved in digging holes and filling them with water,
playing with his Matchbox cars, practicing wheelies on his 20" bike.
Like I said, boy stuff.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
We had black lab, Trixie, who needed to be
exercised, and when Dawn and Brett reached their teens, I'd often
cajole one or the other to give me a break and take her for a before-bed
jaunt. One summer evening a friend of Brett's came by and to have
something to do, they agreed to walk the dog down the street to the
schoolyard.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Once there, it was our practice to let the
dog off her leash so she could run, chasing the scent of 'possums,
squirrels and other suburban wildlife. When I walked her and had set
her free, I'd sit on one of the team benches at the ballfield and wait
for her to wear herself out.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
The boys, being boys, spent their time
staying as busy as Trixie was. They might hop the length of a team
bench on one foot. To make the task more challenging, they might try
jumping the length backwards, perhaps with their eyes closed.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
I believe they climbed the backstop only
once, ever. Obviously it was built to stop balls, not to provide
supplementary seating. The night of this story, the weight of the two
boys cavorting 18 feet or so off the ground resulted in the top section
collapsing backwards, swinging down (in slow motion, Brett said) to
deposit the two teens on their backs in the dirt.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Brett doesn't remember how long they lay
there. His friend Todd was knocked out. Not for long, Brett said, but
it did take a few moments for him to come to. Brett had the wind
knocked out of him. He recalls carefully sitting up, grateful to
discover that he could.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
When Todd opened his eyes, he immediately
wanted to go tell his mother. Brett told him he couldn't: They'd have
to pay to fix the backstop, they'd probably be grounded and maybe they'd
never be allowed together again without supervision. He swore Todd to
secrecy. And nothing was ever said by either of them. Until now, 15
years later.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Dawn and Brett have told me other horror
stories as they've put time between the event and the telling. And I
know there are more, because one will interrupt the other who's relating
something from their childhood to say something like, "Have you noticed
the price of apples lately?...."</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
I hope they'll tell me when the stories have all been told. And I hope it's soon.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><br /><br />
</span><br />
<h5 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Copyright ©2002 Kitty Park</h5>
Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12697958823444609112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4222085576980290721.post-37829014220958633762000-05-10T07:06:00.000-07:002014-10-22T17:01:41.300-07:00AND PUPPY DOG TAILS... (May 2000)<h3>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"></span></h3>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
I live (well, <i>I</i> call it that!) and
breathe just like you, but there doesn't seem to be a newsworthiness in
relating such details. But my son (aka The Passionate Cyclist) has a
tale worth passing along.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Part of Brett's training routine is to
ride two or three times a week with other Orlando-area cyclists. Such a
time was a Wednesday night a few weeks ago.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
In e-mail he sent to teammates and me he said:</div>
<blockquote style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Wednesday night as I headed
out for my weekly ride I had an accident. I found myself unconscious at
the bottom of my apartment stairs. It seems that if you decide to
descend a flight of stairs it's best to use every step on the way down. I
must have missed the most important one (the first) and proceeded to
hit every vertebra in my back on the way down.</blockquote>
<br />
<blockquote style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
I was taken to the hospital and they said
I'm going to be at 50%
mobility for a while. Against all doctors orders I've been on the bike
to see what would happen. It seems that being bent over is the most
comfortable position. In fact, being on the bike is the most comfortable
thing I've done since the accident. Standing upright is virtually
impossible, and sleep is done in 10 minute intervals. My weekend will be
spent in bed allowing my back to heal.</blockquote>
<br />
<br />
<center style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
************** </center>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
As I said, I learned of his accident <i>and</i>
visit to the hospital two days after it happened. Casual notification
by e-mail. Sent by Brett from work. So I called him there.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
"Yes, Mom, I'm fine. I just thought you'd get a kick out of reading
what happened."</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
"Yeah, right. So you fell down two flights of stairs?"</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
"No, just down the first seven or so steps to the landing."</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Continuing, I asked, "Who called the ambulance?"</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
"I woke up and crawled back up the stairs and called myself."</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
"So your back's messed up." Then, thinking about the concrete steps, I went on. "What about your head?"</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
I could hear the shoulder shrug in his voice as he said, "Oh, it's
okay. I was wearing my helmet."</div>
<br />
<br />
<center style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</center>
<center style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
************** </center>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">In follow up:
</span><br />
<ul style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">There were probably two reasons he fell:
<ol>He descends steps two at a time, just like he goes up them.<br />
He was wearing his cleated bike shoes.</ol>
He rode four hours the night after the accident.<br />
I don't believe he spent the weekend in bed allowing his back to heal.
<ol>If he had, he'd have answered the phone when I called.</ol>
Since the accident he's moved to a house. It's a ranch-style -- no steps.</ul>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Another time I'll tell you why he was seeing a chiropractor <i>before</i> the fall. ("Idling Away a Summer Evening.")</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><br /><br />
</span><br />
<h5 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Copyright ©2002 Kitty Park</h5>
Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12697958823444609112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4222085576980290721.post-39420291029259959472000-03-20T07:06:00.000-08:002014-10-22T17:02:45.702-07:00FAMILY TIES (March 2000)<h3 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">My family roots are German, Irish and
English. Among my physical characteristics is a nose that "stands
out." I married a man who was also of varied ancestry. Roy must have
had some Irish in his background, for he and his siblings had red hair.
He had close-set eyes, too, but I don't know which clan is responsible
for that attribute.</span></h3>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Brett inherited my nose and his dad's
eyes. He chooses to wear his hair cut straight across the neck to
shoulder length. Freshly washed and still wet, he combs it away from
his face. But when dry, it falls to the sides, and the style resembles
Buster Brown's (without the bangs). The small-framed eyeglasses he
wears emphasize this distinctive look.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Recently I watched two television game
shows with contestants whose facial features -- hair, eyes, nose and
mouth -- would have you believe they and Brett were brothers if not
actually the same person. My impression was confirmed when Dawn, my
daughter, called me during the first show to comment on the likeness.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
The second occurrence was during a recent
"Who Wants to be a Millionaire?" program. I was so amazed at this
contestant's similarity to Brett that I called him to have him tune in.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
We talked after the program. "Mom, you
think I look like him? Geez, thanks - a - lot," he said,
sarcastically. "You really made my day. That guy is .....!"</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Well, never mind how he described him. I don't know how Brett saw himself, but I now knew how he didn't!</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
A few days later I talked to Brett again
and he told me of an experience he'd had over the weekend. He'd
attended an auto race in Orlando and was returning to the parking area
on a shuttle bus. He noticed that the fellow sitting across the aisle
kept looking at him. Finally Brett turned and made eye contact with the
man.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
The stranger asked, "Don't I know you?"</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Brett said he didn't think so, but the aisle mate continued, "Dan or ....?" He frowned and shook his head for lack of a name.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Again Brett said no.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
And then, a smile brightened his face in recollection of where he'd seen Brett. The fellow said, "Is that your final answer?"</div>
<br />
<br />
<center style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
____________________</center>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Already Brett's eyeglasses are gone and
have been replaced by contact lenses. I anticipate a shorter hairstyle
soon. The nose, however, will probably have to wait!</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><br /><br />
</span><br />
<h5 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Copyright ©2002 Kitty Park</h5>
Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12697958823444609112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4222085576980290721.post-72009827149217412242000-03-10T07:06:00.000-08:002014-10-22T17:02:07.819-07:00HAPPY DAYS (March 2000)<h3>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"></span></h3>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
I'm now comfortably settled into being a
grandmother. New mom Dawn returned to work a couple weeks ago, and I
tend the nearly three-month old twice a week. Brandon and I spend a lot
of his awake time making faces and weird sounds for one another.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
There are two times with him that I especially relish: The first is
the end of his bottle when he's no longer hungry. His eyes get
squinty as he looks at me, he loosens his grip on the nipple, grins
crookedly like his grandfather used to and utters a coo with a
question mark at the end.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Then there are the times he's undressed
down to no more than a diaper. I watch as he wears himself out,
spastically kicking his legs and pumping his arms to his own music. His
grins are not yet chortles, but he's having a grand time.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
And so am I.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><br /><br />
</span><br />
<h5 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Copyright ©2002 Kitty Park</h5>
Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12697958823444609112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4222085576980290721.post-37719033455395846402000-02-10T07:05:00.000-08:002014-10-22T16:50:33.002-07:00THE FIREHOUSE (February 2000)<h3>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><br /></span></h3>
<h5 style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
(The following story is fiction based on truth. The objective was to include in the telling, those words which are underlined.)</h5>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
It was an early 1900's three-story
building that was built to be a firehouse. The first floor had since
been converted to offices; the second, a warehouse; and the third, which
had been the attic, had been remodeled into a house. There were even
shingles on the exterior of the wall that divided the living area from
the rest of the attic space.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Two friends and I rented the
apartment which included bedrooms for each of us, a living room and
dining room, a huge kitchen (although we rarely used it) and a laundry
room nearly as large.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
I think there were stairs. Yes,
there were stairs, but I don't recall much about them. There was a
warehouse on the second floor, so the building had a freight elevator,
and this is what we used to get to the apartment.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
It was an ideal place for parties. There
were no neighbors who would be irritated by loud music. The living area
doubled in size when we included the "yard," an area outside the
apartment that our landlord had left unfinished. Here we had a patio
table, chairs and, for no logical reason, a sun umbrella. As in many
ancient structures, the floors creaked and the apartment had an old wood
smell. And being attic space, it was morosely dark.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Our landlord was a salesman whose
office was on the first floor. His goods were stored in the
second-floor warehouse. He sold caskets. The building was the perfect
location for a Halloween get-together.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
We invited a lot of people to our party.
Friends knew that just the three of us were in the building at night and
that we rode a freight elevator equipped with a single low-watt bulb to
get to our apartment. They also knew about the warehouse. That's why a
lot of them came to the party. They hoped to visit the second floor.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
We obliged.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Most of the caskets were stacked in their
shipping crates. But some were unboxed and sat on display platforms.
As guests arrived that night, either Janie or I would lead a group from
the third floor down the poorly lighted stairs to the warehouse. We
encouraged them to walk quietly, and they did, whispering and on tiptoe.
They were easy to guide, mostly because of what they were about to
see, but also because we weren't supposed to be there.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Usually someone in each group asked to see
the inside of a casket. If no one did, either Janie or I would suggest
raising a lid. And as we slowly lifted the top, inside ... inside was
Karen who "rose from the dead" and screamed! As did the visitors.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
It was a memorable evening. I recall that
we took at least four groups down. Each time Karen performed superbly.
Unfortunately, on the last tour, the casket tipped over when Karen sat
up. Somehow, when it fell, her neck was broken and she died.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Yesterday <u>the rich warmth of the
cherrywood casket stood in stark contrast to the broken plaster and
stiff wooden pews of the small country church.</u> It was less than a week ago that the casket laid empty in the warehouse. Now it was Karen's.</div>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><br /></span>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12697958823444609112noreply@blogger.com0