Dump trucks and doughnuts

Another cross town meeting so I brought van in again today—The granddaughter spent the night and when she is over she sleep on the couch in the TV room. So rather the do my usual routine i.e. coffee making and breakfast at 6:15, I decided to just get dressed and head on into work. This also means I have almost an hour to kill before I have to be to work. So I decided to stop at Dennys which is round the corner (sort of) from the office. I drove into the office parked the van an motored to Dennys.

The PRESIDENT’S IN TOWN!! In fact he will be speaking in the building directly behind my office at about 10:30 am. So all round my office even at 6:30 am dump trucks were parked in road blocks at the intersections. The scenes reminded me of going to Washington DC March following 911 and the Capitol city still had dump trucks parked everywhere. What a flashback. There were cops everywhere too and boxes of doughnuts open on the hoods of their cars.I wish I had had my camera ready for that scene

The American Legion is also in town ( the main reason Bush is here actually). I sort of forgot about that part but was brought back to my attention when I rolled into Denny’s. Slot hats and colored shirts were everywhere. Fading soilders everywhere trying to wake up with decaffeinated coffee and a Grand slam breakfast. Rosa was my waitress an attractive twenty something Hispanic university student who looked like she had seen one aging veteran too many an it was not even 7:00 a.m. Two Legionares with their wives in two from Wisconsin settled in the booth directly across the aisle from me. The guys had pins all over the so that, one was important cuz his hat was white and he handled it like charged C-4. the wive’s hair though not quite blue was getting there a couple of years and their will be the color of artic glaciers. They must have slept in curlers and toilet paper because the hair was immaculate. Like the good seniors they are the opted for the breakfast Buffet, except for Jonie grayhair, she did not want anything then decided she wanted a muffin. She had to ask the waitress for the muffin at least 5 times. The fifth time Jonie asked about her muffin, Rosa advised her that she was getting to IT, with enough edge to her voice that Jonie verbalized loud for everyone in that section of tables, “WELL, SHE JUST BLEW HER TIP”. A cold front moved in and the tables were quiet for a bit. I was entertained as Jonie finally got her muffin. “It’s hot!” she exclaimed “ that’s probably what took her so long. She left it too long in the micro wave.” Mr. Grayhair just rolled his eyes, he had obviously been through this before. There was also a mild skirmish of caffeinated vs decaffeinated coffee. I paid my bill and motored back to work.

Bush Gardens+

Bush sets down in town tonight so he can address the Legionaries tomorrow. Security is tight so today they are having the “Stop the War” protests. GOP Utah wants to be sure that no negative PR will be evident for Bush Baby. I decided to make the scene at my lunch. I ended up staying longer then my hour so I am going to have to use a little annual but not too much. I know I talked about this a little at the last war rally I attended but why do all the weirdoes show up at these things? Every former hippie in the Intermountain Northwest goes to these things. Viet Nam somethings were everywhere. I swear these guys must scavenge DI’s and thrift stores trying to put together a uniform. I am always amazed and humored at these pseudo pacifists wearing anything which looks like a brete. One guy was walking round with an actual photo of him when he was younger and in uniform.

I was also surprised at how many American Legionaries were in the crowd—of course these were the strange Legionaries – but how would you know? Legionaries are pretty strange to start with. I guess for the most part, Legionaries are conservative. I mean that is why Bush would even dare come to this gathering. I mean when you add to the fact that Utah is one of the only states where, Bush’s ratings are still positive and you have a place where the President loves to come.

And crips! There crips everywhere. I used to have a pretty good handle on where the people with disabilities were and who they were. But I was astounded at how many faces I did not recognize—where are these folks coming from? Next time I am taking work brochures and passing them out and then I will be able to count the time as outreach. I really think there were a lot of fake crips there. Wheelchair and crutch users who love to dress up disabled. At least these folks were not hitting me up for money; though there were lots of white five gallon donation buckets floating round the crowd—these looked a little shady. But people with disabilities were definitely visible.

Like I said lots of security. There were lots more cops a this protest then the last, motors, snipers on rooftops and SWATS were everywhere. Little bunches of cop grapes were bunched up all over the County Building grounds, just standing round talking into their shoulders. Choppers were all over the sky. Some of the chopper might have been TV stations NEWS units but there at least one police unit and one olive drab huey slick buzzing the sky like huge dragon flies.

All in all this was a quiet protest almost like a circus. Some speakers and lots of local color; some musicians broke up the speeches and low drama. I did not see much media, some but not a lot. My new boss went and we hooked up, enjoyed the show and had lunch at BK—tjhis day was better the nusual.

Zig and Rudi Time

Dianne and I drove the van into the City this morning. Coming in with Dianne was fun, just like old times. When Dianne was working in the building behind my office. Today however Dianne was coming in for a huge motivational seminar. Zig Ziglar and Rudi Gulani are speaking. I did not pay much attention to the whole event. The advertisement for the event has been pasted on the fridge for the past two months. I mean the Zig and Rudi show. The event is being held at the Salt Palace just down the street from my office. Really that is why we came in on the van so we could use the parking lot at my office. The e vent is supposed to last all day and so she will come by the office when the seminar is over and we’ll go home. I took my lunch late since my partner had to be at a meeting away from the office all morning. I figured what the heck, I’ll motor down to the Palace and see if I can find Dianne and have some lunch. I got to the Salt Palace about 12:35 and literally, thousands of people were streaming out of the great round building. I could not believe that many people went to this event. I think more people were to this event then at the regular NBA games. There were cops everywhere and at each corner of the block all looking furtively and speaking to the shoulders. I decided to roll against the flow I hopes that Dianne would see me…I have given hope of finding her in this mass of motivated humanity. I rolled completely round the building ‘s mezzanine level. People everywhere. I even rolled into the bowel or the arena and there was a huge group just staying in their seats—not even trying to leave. So, then I realized I needed to stop looking and if I found her it was meant to be and if not it was an exciting event to be at. I eventually settled into the shortest line I could find and got a jumbo dog , probably not the best choice but sure good and worth the wait but not the weight. I am just too funny or punny.

Dianne’s cell phone has stopped working and Dianne asked if she could use my cell phone. No problem. So since she had my phone I thought I might be able to call and sent up a meeting place. But Di must have had the phone turned off. I called twice and got my voice mail. The hour grew late and I headed back to the office, jumbo dog in hand.

The American Legion is having their national meeting in town this week. There’s old fart and fartess’, everywhere downtown. Soldiers just fading away, lots of WWII’ers still but I cannot see many Viet Namers which does not really surprise me much. The Bushmiester is due to be in town on Thursday and maybe even tomorrow. I might go down to take part in some protests—this might be fun. Dianne is concerned that Chenney will order the troops to start popping off folks…just like Kent State. I was even noticing lots of suites and dark sunglasses all round the palace . I am sure their advance teams for the Prez’s visit.

Come On, Give A Guy A Break

The problem of being affiliated with a State office is the consumers think you really have some power and that YOU can change the direction of their lives. Even if I go out of my way to tell the consumer that I have no power; I am just a low rung government flunkee they never believe me. The next time they have a problem they drag it straight to my desk and expect Me to do something about their problem.

There is a senior high rise directly behind my office building which houses not only seniors but people with disabilities who might also be younger the 65. Many of these folks pass our building when they are out exercising or traveling to the train station. The see by the name of our office that we have something to do with disabilities and the just veer into our office.

Jeffery is one of these folks. Jeffery looks just like a character from Dick Tracy. He must be in his fifties, has a grizzly beard and looks pretty grizzled. Jeffery has some sort of mobility disability which requires him to use a scooter for mobility. He has a little dog, which looks like a pile of dirty rags until it barks or moves for some reason. The dog is a Pomeranian or some such small k nine. She ride between Jefferies feet on the floor of the scooter. A couple of weeks ago Jeffery purchased a new scooter, or at least his insurance provider, at least a 1000.00 purchase. Anyway, he scooter died over the weekend leaving him very stranded. He calls the vendor where he has purchased his new scooter, the scooter is still a couple of weeks out, to se if they could provide a “loaner” scooter. The vendor will not loan him a scooter. Jeffery is furious and now wants Mental Health Association in Utah to do something about his problem. We do not do client services we just provide ideas and direction. I give Jeffery time, time to vent time to tell me his story and concern. I reinforce his decisions of contacting the vendor, State Assistive Technology, his independent living center and a couple of alternatives I had not thought of. He calms down and I find out his independent living center may have a device he can use. They were supposed to have called him this morning and since they had not he was over talking to me. Come on Jeffery it’s Monday—ILC’s are private non-profits it takes them a while to warm up enough to move. Go home and call them. I told him to call me and let me know what he finds out. He was happy now. He had vented and now his anger spent he turned and jerked his old scooter out of my office heading back to the high rise. It’s almost five and I have not heard back from the little guy. I’ll call the ILC tomorrow and see if Jeffery got his loaner and start thinking evil thought about the vendor in question who could/would not provide a loaner to someone who had just spent a couple of thousand for one of their products.

The Currency of the Aged

I just got off the phone with my mom, my usual Sunday afternoon call. The call is not always on Sunday afternoon, sometimes it the morning of Sunday and sometimes it's even some point on Saturday but there will be a weekend call. I used to try to get over to Joaquin's to visit her and the folks she lives with at least once a month. Many times, when mom was still able to drive I would meet here at a local restaurant where we could visit and spend some time together. I have not been able to do this in the last year. Mom has got to the point that she just does not go out any more. In fact I think she is having more and more difficulty walking or driving. The house she live in is not wheelchair accessible so there is no way of visiting here by myself. There fore I call. If I do not call once a week at least I hear about it the next time I do call. This is not pleasant and so I always manage to call. It's the least I can do.

The call is almost scripted. I always identify myself, this is my joke because I know she will know who I am immediately, but I always identify myself. Then it is “How has your week been?” I am not asking this question as much as I used too because it is always a downer. She is in pain now, pain in her legs and pain of being alone, even though she lives with her sister and brother-in-law. So, now I go to “stage 2” of the conversation, “ Have you heard anything from the family”. This is almost as dangerous as asking how her week has been. Because I will hear about one or two others of the fam the only who call fairly regular. I know that she calls all week long various family checking up on everybody. Immediate, extended and friend. I am amazed as who she calls and th amount of information she has. I think she used to be a spy. Then I interject aspects about my life, the condition of my vehicle, wheelchair(s), Dianne's health, and the status of my family inlaws and grandchild. Then there is the content portion of the call. Something serious usually the something about the other family member. Then the “Goodbye”and have a good week. I don't say I'll call you next weekend. The next weekend call is expected and unless something is major happened the call will be made.

Content of this week's call was that she had only gotten one photo from the family from this summers reunion. I am shocked and the one call she did get was from a cousin! So, I told her I would spread the word, and of course she told me not too. She said everyone is busy=too busy to mil her the photos she covets—images of the last time all her family were together. It's been more then 90 days and she needs her images. At mom's age the images are super important. Senior currency. Family images the wealth of the aged.

Yesterdays Gone

To say say yesterday was bizarre would be an understatement. Bizarre or no I have to say the day held my interest to the end. If you will remember I should have yesterday of as a vacation day, my last vacation day of my 'August Vacation.' But on Thursday I was able to make contact with one of my “funding targets”. He could not meet with me next week but indicated he would make time for me on Friday, yesterday at 10:30 am. I swallowed and happily said”Sure, not a problem.” Since I had a meeting of the Writers Guild I figured I would have well enough time to sell the contact on my program as well as ask for a raise. I decided I would come into work and log a half day...even though I had already electronically submitted my time sheet as taking the whole eight hours as Vacation. I will wrestle with that problem next week.

So, I got into work yesterday later then usual, but still the first one in.` Any way, when my partner got in we had a tiff—one of the first we have had. I could really log this but will hold off for the time being. The stress point we ignited is not going away anytime soon so an sure we will have more. So, anyway. The financial analyst got the charts together and begged my partner to accompany across town to the meeting with the director of our sponsoring agency. I finally got my train and got to the office, a shade late but we had the meeting which went a lot better then I had anticipated. My partner did great and I got by. We got our raise and some great direction. Again, I had figured that the meeting would be 30 minutes tops and I would be out and on my way. Well,the meeting was a great meeting. We got a little off track trying to teach the director how to us his Instant Messenger. I noticed that I was officially late for my lunch with the guild! I quickly ended the “IM” session and headed out. Right there in the lobby was my buddy Jer from newspaper and one of the people in the Guild, “What are you dong here” I was a bit flustered. I enjoyed seeing Jerry but could not figure out what he was doing there at the Department outside the door of MY meeting.“you told me where you were” Jerry quipped back. True I had called Jerry to let him know I might be late and that he and Lori should go on ahead order and I would be there as soon as I could.. I must have told him I was going to the Department—but nowhere did I indicate he should meet me there. But there he was grinning ear to ear. The world slipped into a surreal moment. That was when the weirdest part happened. My partner indicated to me that she was on her way back to the office and that I should have a great weekend. I was harried and and just wanted to get to lunch. I had my stuff gathered into my backpack and turned to my buddy but he was just starring are my partner. I shook him back to reality. He snapped of what ever trance he was in and I had to tell him again, just were this restaurant wasd and i was gone.

In what seemed to be fore ever a train finally and I finally got to the restaurant. I apologized for my tardiness and was pleased to see they had ordered. I was a little put off because they were sitting in the deli section of the place and not in the restaurant proper. I finally got settled and I ordered. No sooner has I ordered then Jerry nonchalantly as possible asked who “ who was the woman you were with at the Department?”

“Oh she is my partner at the office, she was helping with the presentation.”

“SHE is your partner!!? you work with her?”

'Oh my heck';, I thought to my self Jerry is smitten. I could not believe it. Jerry is even older then I and my partner is the age of my daughter. I was disgusted but amused.

I shook my head and truned my attention to my BLT. This is going to be a weird “Auntumn”.

Smile Big

I hate begging for money but that is what I m going to be doing quite a lot in the upcoming weeks starting tomorrow. Remember I had these wonderful plans of Taking Fridays off all though August? Well, tomorrow I got trapped into a meeting. I am meeting with the director of the State office of Rehabilitation., at 10:30 am. I am meeting with him to sell him on the idea that my organization needs a substantial increase in funding. My office been laboring under sever budget cuts the past four years. We have always talked about developing a aggressive marketing plan then aggressively putting the plan into action. The “plan” has always been just that: a plan; Just so much hot air. We the new director has the notion we should contact the directors of each of our contract agencies and ask for an increase. I, of course, just nodded my head in agreement. The boss announced that she is leaving for Alaska the first week in September and wants the contacts set by the time she leaves.

I have been dreading this exercise ever since, dragging my feet hoping something would happen but nothing and I realized with a start that I am not working tomorrow and I would have to answer the boss something when she asks how I am doing at staff meeting this coming Monday…just a week before she leaves for AK. So, I call the one director and get him!! I have known this person for years and I quite like the guy. It’s different now, now that he is “supreme director” of his agency. He is beginning to morph he is just not the same old guy. I was kind of hoping that I would be able to get an appointment for sometime next week—this would be something to report in staff meeting. But no, he is busy all next week “How about tomorrow?” I gulp, “sure, what time works for you” He says 10:30 and I say “Done”. So I might as well just come in at my usual time. And prep for the meeting. Luckily the other director was not in—so, I left a message on her service with hopes of setting a meeting with her next week.

Now, that I have gotten “my feet wet”. I feel somewhat energized; I am even looking forward to doing these meetings. I started getting these positive feelings listening to the recording of the Dir. of Special Ed’s voice. I realized she would be nice and cordial and she would or would not increase our funding level. She would be sad, or at least feign sadness that she could not full fill my request. Or she would smile and say “Yes! I would be happy to increase your budget request!” but this I doubt seriously. But in either case I will have something to report to Staff and give a great illusion of job commitment.
So I am coming in a half day tomorrow. I had to be in town tomorrow over lunch anyway for the Writers Guild lunch tomorrow at 11:30 am not far from the meeting. I’ll still have the afternoon off and that’s better then northing.

Disability Cool

Disability Cool

I gotta a buddy who holds a relatively high State bureaucratic post. He has been round this town every since I came into the area. This guy is a little younger then I am. He is an attorney by training but holds up in the gilded halls of the State capitol. Lets call him Hugo Dax—of course not his real name, I am protecting my self. After all Hugo is a real attorney and could visit real grief on my body. Hugo also uses a power chair like mine, has a nice wheelchair van and season tickets to the local pro-basket ball team. I like him. Hugo has carven a very nice niche in the community. Hugo is low profile but every once in a while make the local headlines, has his picture taken in public at just the rights ball came, gala or sporting event. I think Hugo is a great example of Disability Cool.

I first encountered disability cool twenty years ago in an old rag called the Disability Rag . The only magazine of its time written by real life crips bitching and moaning about the same things I was. The Rag was printed on newsprint and was anything but glossy but I always looked forward to the magazine coming each month. There was column in the magazine called Disability Cool. A great piece about some aspect of disability which was cool. Not to be confused with high visibility nonsense like super crips, crip jocks and crip over achievers, see super crips. It was not about the crip who went to work every day rain or shine liker some nerd geek. Disability Cool was/is a state of mind: a hat worn a certain way, a cool chair blending in but being apart just by your coolness. I even tried to have a radio show by that same title. - I was going to do the show on the local community radio station KRCL. I was never ever able to get the to show off the ground, not enough drive. I still think about the show and how much the show needs to be done.

Remember the new boss? She and I were the only ones in the office last night at closing . We ended up getting into a major conversation about me and what I wanted to do or could do for the agency. We had a good discussion and I brought up the idea of Disability Cool which she of course liked. Dianne , my Dianne, has been on me the past couple of days to consider podcasting. I brought this up in our conversation and the boss really liked the concept. So nice she wants me to check into the idea of doing a disability cool pod cast for folks we serve. I have checked into the process a little. I have everything I need right on my computer. I would have to find a pod cast group who might be able to give me free space. I could start out doing interviews with folks I thing are cool—if I think they are cool maybe others would too. Maybe now is the right time.

Hit and Run

Unless I am in major discomfort of embarrassment in a shoe falls off my feet once I have put the shoe on the shoe is condemned to stay off for the rest of the day. I had a spasm early on this morning at work and my right shoe has been off ever since. Luckily my feet do not stink like one of my ex roommates. I sit be hind a small cadenza loaded with computer stuff so I can get away with having no shoes on at all. I have found that even when people do notice the bared crip foot may look,one and may even look twice but they will never say anything. They figure its my business and I must have a good reason to be carrying one shoe in my lap and having a bare foot exposed.

The “bare foot clause” is sort of like the “Hit and Run”. The “Hit an Run” clause allows a person with a disability to assault and able bodied person and get away with it. The a generalization clause—this allows a person in a wheelchair to assault once or twice ( with in limits), more and the assaulted will begin making noise. I am always amazed when I accidentally rune over someone’s foot on the bus, in an elevator or at some other public gathering and when I try to apologize the brush the event of as if nothing had happened. I know how much I weigh and I know how much my chair weighs and combine us both we add up to a lot of mass. Some times the person will even apologize to me for being in my way. Unbelievable. When this happens I just keep quiet and try to get out of there as fast as I can before the assaulted comes to their senses.

I had a buddy in college, actually, I knew him way before college—we went to Camp Easter Seals together for all our early adolescence. He has Cerebral Palsy. Henry is quite articulate but quite involved physically using a cane to ambulate. In college/university Henry was able to get his hands on a golf cart. A huge vehicle Office Update:

I was informed today that the Boss leaves for her two week vacation in Alaska in September, that I will be acting Boss! I am not sure how I feel about this after I pondered this revelation for a while. Up until this point in time I have just done my job, covered my hours and not really worried about anyone else. But, I am going to be the Boss for two weeks. I am going to have to enforce office policy. Oh, I can do this I just have never liked being a manager. I probably have too strong a need to be liked. However, I can lead if forced to. How good a leader is another. I hate giving orders, I hate disciplining and I hate following up on people. I have to morph into a “monster guy” I hate being a monster guy. This well really change my standing in the office.

Bend!!!

I am getting new office! I should be happy except the new office is really m y old office. The boss is “upsetting the fruit basket”. She is reassigning office spaces. You know mixing things up. I am loosing my view of the dumpster and regaining my window on then West. I am going back up front. Bend! Bend! I can do this. Job duties are shifting just a little. I am getting more responsibility for the same pay but I will still have a job. I am sort of am liking then new stuff I will be doing, creating some press releases and getting the information out to Statewide newspapers.. Now I can do all this now because I have few calls but when the calls increase I will have much less time and much more stress. We will have to see.

We just finished the staff meeting where this information was released. Silence and long faces, clearing throats and shuffling of chairs; The natives are pensive. To implement this change will cost my operation more—a couple of grand a year but the new director wants the changes enough she will be welling to “eat” cost. This almost makes we wonder if there is more to plan I have not heard about. Again, I should learn never take vacation. Things are always bad on your return.

One thing is certain I am much more busy then I have ever been before. This is good because the day speeds by. I seem to have a zillion things to do. So, I had better get busy. This post will be way less then the usual 500 words. But desperate times call for desperate measures. Just bend

Time To Beg

It's almost Labor Day. I could not believe it when I pulled my into the market today and there was a fire engine with the little fire guys out loitering around. I did not think much of the scene at first since the Murray fire guys are quit often round the market when I am there. Then I noticed one of the firemen holding an empty boot then it dawned on me. It's almost telethon season! Te time of year Jerry Lewis begs to the nation. Now, JL has some how talked the Firemen into being extortionists. The hang round the front of markets like Salvation Army bell ringers but looking a lot more tough and harder to say no to. What these guys don't know is to what level they are being used just as the public. I have been fighting this scam for years. Ever since I began working in the Independent Living field and I became aware of how these organizations have duped the public. I know the funds America believes it gives to consumer programs never get there instead being routed to advertising, over-paid directors and upper management staff, and very little funding going to consumers or their families..

I have to admit the ripoff is not as bad as it used to be due to the American being a little more aware of what is going on but not too much. I picketed the JL telethon for a good ten years when I was working for the IL industry I was so committed because I had to try to serve the consumers MDA and others turned away because they said they did not have the funding. I am not putting the finger on JL alone there are a host of other private non profits who actively fund raise with little end result going to consumers but non is as aggressive as MDA and the JL beg-a-throne.

A couple of years ago I almost got into big contractually it was almost five years ago exactly because my new ED( executive director) had been working for a year and was contacted my MDA to be put in “jail”. I was appalled when the ED agreed to take part in the farce. I was shocked beyond belief. I could not believe a professional in the disability field could take part in such an event. I tried to explain to her the gravity of the issue and fax pa she was committing but she never did understand. I know this. I did the best I could. I even considered quitting but never did--”pearls before the swine” and all. If i am going to burn it is going to be something people will understand.

I down loaded from my van with the firemen's eyes on me. I really wanted them to try to corner me and demand money from me. I wanted to unload on them with both barrels but in th end as I was approaching the front doors of the market a got in my way and actually pulled out a twenty and dropped in in the boot. I just sped into the market. What's really sort of interesting is this happened infront of a Sam's Club. I got what I needed there then finished my shopping at my local market. I was racing in this market when a fireman said “hey, buddy, didn't we just see you” I just smiled and said, “yeah, that was me” and zipped over to Frozen Foods.

Letting Go

Sometimes you just have to let things go. In order for me to more fully use` my shop, i.e. Garage I have to move my hand bike out. I believe I have spoke of my handbike before. A large three wheeled device, with a seat and a hand crank used for fun, exercise and relaxation. You know like a bike but something a wheelchair guy could use. I must have had this hand bike for about ten years now. I was excited when I first got the bike. I had visions of me racing down my street with the wind running through my hair.

Hand bikes are in the domain of the paraplegics. I should know I really should. I went through heartbreak of trying to use a “para chair” the high performance vehicle used my the paraplegic to look tough and get round. The para chair is light weight and built for speed but is not tough. I had my “Boing” for less then a month before I started tearing, literally tearing the wheelchair apart. I would be dragging butt to this very day if not for my brother Carl. Who figured out how to reinforce the chair so it could survive me. Solid frame light weight and speed does not equal durability. I needed a device more durable then the para chair.

Handbikes are usually built low to the ground. Its a center of gravity thing. This made a lot more sense when I started cranking my chair. But guess what? When you're a quad or a partial quad gravity is not a friend. You fight gravity daily and so getting on to a hand bike is a bit of a struggle and that is essentially “falling “ into the seat but getting out is another work out entirely. I bet on regular handbikes there is at least a one foot lift-maybe more, from the seat to the wheelchair. Still a para thing.

I did find a handbike which was build higher from the ground easier to transfer. The COG (Center of Gravity) is higher true, a little spooky but not bad. I have yet to crash the bike but that is probably why I have not ridden it that much. You know I was going to ride the bike everynight . I didn't.I try to ride the bike at least once a summer. I still have yet to ride this summer. I have to move it out of my garage just to fully use my woodshop. Today, I thought, “this is stupid...it's time, the bike has to go! Everything would be easier.”. I could move it out of the garage and put a tarp over the vehicle to protect it from the elements. The bike has quick release wheels so I could pop off the wheels and hand the bike in the garage. Either choice I would probably ride less then I do now. So what am I writing?I am not riding the bike, the bike is in my way everytime I true to use my garage. Would I be happier with the bike gone. I thought this getting up, showering and even getting dressed. But when I went out and pulled up the garage there the handbike was, red and comfort seat and even the hand pegs. I could ,not let it go...not yet So, I just took off the breaks and rolled it out into the driveway. Maybe next year.

Full Friday

Rage Against The Wood

Third Friday off and I spent the majority of the day working on my pipe and I spent the greatest part of the “working on my pipe day” just getting things ready. I actually found my Dremel tool (rotary drill type tool”. Dianne recently got me a kit of parts for the tool, more blades, sand paper parts and other parts . I use the Dremel to shape the wood piece I am working on. The Dremel works great when I can get the thing to work.

You see I am a quadriplegic my hand just barely work. I am grateful for for the level of mobility I have in my hands but, I sure get frustrated trying to use tools designed for people with full use of their bodies. To use the Dremel a person really needs to have full use of both hands. The Dremel spins a bit in it's jaws. You have to press a button on the Dremel to freeze the spinning device and with the other hand you have to use a very small wrench ( which comes with the tool) to loosen the jaws and place the new device in the Dremel and then tighten up the whole tool. If this is not enough the there are small drums on small shafts that you slip a sanding ring on. Then you have to turn a microscopic screwdriver to expand the drum to snugly fit the the sanding ring. I cannot do that part so I was having to take the little drum into the house and Dianne tightening the drum then I was going back to the garage and place the sanding drum into the Dremel and tighten the whole mess up. This process took forever but I finally got to working on the pipe and made fairly good process when I realized I needed to make some sort of jig to hold the piece of wood so I could better work on the piece. What I figured I needed was a bolt or something to be drilled into the center of the wood which would allow me then to vice up the piece which would expose the pipe bowel where I could reach the wood and work the piece.

I went next door where my friend Albert lives and who has a perfect little wood shop. I explained to Albert what I needed he understood but the process took longer then I had anticipated. Albert did have the perfect bolt though. He drilled the bowel and took it back to my wood shop and was able to really make some progress. I got a lot of the major wood off the bowel. I still have hours of work on the bowel to do before I drill the final hole for the bowel and then I need to drill the hole for the stem.. But am doing this and I am enjoying the process. Working in my woodshop really grounds me and makes me focus on what I am doing. I really am able to think when I am wood working. In fact the Dremel is almost too much tool for me. I could use some of my wood files for the wood “cutting” process but that would take for ever... literally.

What I failed to tell was my trip up to the DI (local second hand store). When I started to work in the garage I noted that the radio I was using last week feel off the bench and shattered never to work again. I needed my NPR and toons! I was pleased to find a great radio which works wonderfully. I came back plugged in and worked a couple of hours. Dianne wanted to go to Over the Hedge and that is what we did. Too much popecorn, too much Mr. Pip an way too many kids. A very full day.

It's just Easier Tis Way

I was out of pens so I used my lunch break to jump the train and go to Staples and stock up. Why you are asking “is he going to use his lunch hour to purchase his own office supplies?” I have found that buying my own pens ad using them for my personal and office needs is just less complicated . Otherwise, I am always wondering when I have crossed “that” line of using office stuff for personal needs.
I sat through a couple of office audits a couple of years ago—you know State Gestapo goons, bookkeepers, bean counters going through everything at the office looking for anything, anything which can be used against you. They were not looking for me at the time. They were looking for one of my office mates. I think they wanted a reason to get rid of her. I was shocked and surprised at how efficient these guys were. They were methodical, calculating and even good humored about the whole process. In the end they got their girl. She took a powder and got away to another State agency where she is doing just fine. She is well liked, doing a great job and making more money then she was getting here. The point is they found something that was “not right.” a question was raised a smoking gun which they could use to “ask her to leave”

I use a lot of pens, I love my pens especially my Pilot P-700’s black. I use these P-700’s to write with, draw and sketch, keep my check books and in my State office work. I know if I had Marsha order in a box that I would sooner or later start using these pens for some of my personal use. And that would not be good. It would be that one little “smoking gun” which they could someday use to get me. Therefore I buy my own pens. It’s just cleaner that way.

I got to know one of the bean counters pretty well over the four months he seemed to always be at our offices. He was a big guy, local culture, ex-military. In fact he was ex 101st Airborne paratrooper! In fact he was a 101st Airborne bean counter. I did not know they even had such things . I called him Lou Grant—cause I thought he looked like Lou Grant except he did not have the “Shrek” ears that Lou had. I don’t know if I liked him as much as feared and respected him like you would a lethal animal or a steep cliff. Lou had little sense of humor that I could find—lots of “black and white” and consequences for actions. “We are not judging we are just brining actions to light” They were just the message barriers they were not the trigger men.

When the get me, and they well get me, when they want to, when getting me well serve their purpose. It will not be for ink pens or misappropriating state propriety. I purchase my own pens…it’s just easier that way.

I Could Just Cry

I had to drive today. I had a presentation at the Community Services Council (CSC) and the CSC is smack dab in the middle of a transportation dead zone. The CSC is forever away from any bus routes that I know of and there not a train station close by. I did go to the CSC once , a couple of years, ago in my old power chair. Not only did the trip take for ever to get there, I was constantly crossing railroad tracks and chunky streets the trip darn near beat the snot out of me. The trip also critically drained my battery. I made it but knew I would never elect to take my chair to the building again. Plus the trip by bus seem to take the whole day to accomplish.

I have gotten too spoiled riding the train. I am beginning to hate to driving especially during “rush hours”. I think driving at the rush hour nd having to deal with the rush hour traffic is the reason I tend to leave an hour early for work. I miss a lot of morning traffic getting to my job by 7:00 am. The night commute is different. I do OK I get home , usually safe and sane but just barely and every time I pull into the drive way I marvel, that most people do this every day, that I did it everyday of my adult work life until I lost use of a car decades ago. Granted this was for about a year and was riding the bus but it was public transportation. Then the train came on scene four or five years ago and a couple of years ago I started riding and have been riding ever since.

You see, it is just not the process of driving which wears me out but maybe the WHOLE process of driving. Lifting from my office manual wheelchair back into my powerchair the going out to my van and having to transfer again into the drivers seat and then driving home. I am usually OK by the time I get home and make the lift back into my power chair. I know this sounds trite but that is a lot of lifting for me. If I was taking the train home tonight I would be facing one lift now I am facing at least three more lifts or transfers before I get home. Plus I have to stay a wake driving myself home…I could just cry.

Pipe Dreams

I am sure I am orally fixated. Anything to do with the mouth fascinates me always has. Boobs to pipes total fascination . I a sure this has something to do with the fact I was adopted out right from the womb. Actually the adoption was a “done deal’ even before I was born but that if fodder for another day. Leave to be said I was not breast fed and I feel myself constantly searching.

Anyway, I have always been intrigued with pipes. Pipes, the kind you smoke. My best friends dad smoked a pipe. On Friday nights when my brother and I would spend the night at the Cantrell’s I would be transfixed at Mr. C’s ritual of pipe smoking. He would sit in “his chair” a big green lazy boy and next to the lazy boy recliner was Mr. C’s pipe rack four or five pipes sitting there waiting for the evening when Mr. C. would kick back for his smoke. Methodically, he would dredge the pipe into his tobacco pouch, tap the pipe the scratch the Blue Diamond kitchen Match into an explosion of smoke and flame, let the flame settle then draw the flame into the pipe’s bowel jetting out small puffs of rich blue smoke.

I have had maybe one or two pipes in my life( real pipes) not corn cob pipes, though there is nothing wrong with a corn cob pipe. A con cob pipe is functional and got me by many summer afternoons down on the Boise River. The real pipes were either found or stolen in a moment of youthful oral lust. In the past couple of years I have been interested in making my own pipe and actually fashioned a pipe a couple of years ago. This pipe was not bad for a first endeavor but I could do better. I acquired a large branch of cherry wood when a neighbor cut down their tree a few years back. Seems I have read that cherry wood is hard enough for pipe making so I why not. Having done that I have le this ideation rest for a couple of years. However, I have been bitten by the pipe bug again. I stumbled across the rest of my cherry wood the other week and finally made the commitment to carve another pipe.

Cherry wood to tough to cut by hand, my neighbor is a seasoned carpenter and has great tools in his shop. I just needed a little piece cut from the wood stock I had on hand and figured he could make the cuts easily. Al, my neighbor, did great job of cutting, although I was worried that I had asked too much of the senior. The piece was awkward, and thought I had not thought it was when I made my request, I saw cut was challenging. In fact I feared that Al was going go to injure himself, loose a finger or worse before he had completed my request. But Al came through and not only separated the designated piece of cherry from the mother load but also fashioned the stem nub. Al retained all his fingers when he had finished.

I still have lots of work in fashioning this piece of wood into a bowel and ready for smoking but should a fun project. I keep you all posted…

Even Trade

Time is flying and I better hack something out before I run out of time. This, I have notices, is happening more and more. I don’t know if I am tiring of the blog or I am loosing control of my time. I feel I am still intrigued with my blog that I am still motivated to write everyday but I have not become neurotic on the “every day issue”. Hey I missed yesterday didn’t I? Maybe each entry does not have to be 500 words or more. The blog , the daily posting of at least 500 words have been good though. I am beginning to feel, for the first, time that I can sit down and write when ever I want bout the ideas I want. I have yet to push myself in the direction of writing 500 words of fiction a day. I think I could and will when I decide to do the fiction. So, I can justify the time I spend on my blog.

I took off at lunch today to do some “downtown” errands. You would think is a city the size of Salt Lake City there would be somewhere one could but a lunch at a fairly economical price and easily reachable in the 60 minutes one has for lunch. Aside for, a number of Mexican sidewalk taco stands, and a few restaurants there is not much to choose from. I would really love a real pizza place down town—a place where the sell pizza by the slice. There is a stand min one of the malls but that’s on the west side of State street and the pizza is too chain like. Am I asking for too much? So the only place on downtown path is a Carl jr.s and I hate going in there not ,because it’s a Carl Jr’s but because the restaurant is right in the Center of Downtown: The Cross Roads of the West. This means that this downtown section is also the cross roads of the poor and the homeless.

I breezed into the CJ’s and found the end of the line and decided I would try a couple of items off their new Mexican menu. I believe Mexican made with ground beef is always appealing. So, I got a couple of soft shell tacos and found aplace to eat. No sooner had I sat down that a homeless guy at down at the table beside me. He looked like someone from Prison Break. I know this is judgmental but it’s the mood I am in today. The homeless guy pulled out a paper cup and poured the contents of the cup on the table: loose change. Dirty loose change at that. I caught a napkin and some water and started washing the change reminding me of a raccoon about ready to eat. I was staring straight ahead, out the front window of CJ’s and I noticed him looking in my direction. He would worry his money for a bit then look up me wistfully then return to his coin collection. Once I noted the behavior I made sure I continued to stair straight ahead and under no circumstance engage. I don’t know I just did not want to be panhandled today. I felt a little mean in my thoughts and I guess I shall have to repent my ways but that was how I felt today.

The guy finally guy finally cleaned his coins as much as he could and poured the money back into his cup and shoved the cup into his pocket and walked out and sat in front of the building. Only then did I realize I could have got this guy’s image turning me into the hunter and he the prey. I got the camera and got a couple images. Then I got this idea. I think from now on I’ll keep some money for the select purpose of paying folks, who ask me for money, for their image. This should be an even trade.

A Magic Kingdom

I found this magical place a few weeks ago. I found the place when I was still in my garden zealot phase. I had found my shovels and hoes and grinder in the garage put a dangerously sharp edge on the buggers and attacked several pieces of ground round the house which had become colonized and infested with nightshade, morning glory and any other noxious weed which could grab a root full of dirt and choke what few plants we had started.

I felt like a character from a Stephen King, hacking away mercilessly at the viral green predators. Like I had received a pulse via my Cell and now I was rampaging. I have to admit when I was finished I felt good. Rich brown dirt peaked up through corpses huge fallen plant with stems as thick as my thumb already welting and shriveling in the evening's heat. The small tomatoes, and cucumbers seemed to stretch out before my eyes claiming their new territory. For more details of this event and images of some of the space liberated check out the August 1st entry to this blog. I shall try to make a link to this spot. Any way as indicated in the August !st account I remembered there is a nursery a half a block from the train-station I take to work. Ne morning I left the house early and was able to tour the place of plants called The West Side Nursery. Time was about 6:30 am and the gates were open so I powered my wheelchair right it.

I can only describe the place as magical! The sky was clear with promise of a hot day but the plants looked as if they had just been sprinkled No one was round that I could see and I there were thousands of wonderfully beautiful plants many I had never before seen—some I had seen before but like in the pages of National Geographic. This was a REAL nursery. I had come to think of nursery s as what is offered Home Depot, Ernst , or the local Market every Spring. In fact that what is what I was hoping for a place where they might have a few vegetable start left that I could scavenge to take home and transplant to my newly cleared ground. ( When I did find someone in the different rows of young trees she just looked at me as if I had three heads. “ It's August!” she said like that should explain everything. They did not have any vegetables plants) the place was brilliantly ordered. Pathways some stoned and others just broad trails between legions of trees and racks of flowers and exotics I had never seen before. I could tell the area I was looking at had once been just a house and yard. The main service areas was a garage, cleaned and filled with garden stuff but mostly empty except for a couple of cash regestures loaded on wagons which I guess was pulled into the house come winter. The front yard was covered with all kinds of plants and the backyard was a jungle. There were a lot of selection on little built up wagons and tables. It appeared to me that just about everything could be readily moved if need be. The place seemed magic to me.

Yesterday on my day off I had scheduled my power chair in to the shop to have it's motors checked. I had to have the chair to the shop by 9:00. Anahka has spent the night and Dianne had to take Aunie to Pre-school. We got back from each of our destinations at the same time. We had not eaten so went to breakfast and later I showed Dianne my find: the Nursery. Dianne called it a sanctuary and I guess it could be. We purchased a Bing Cherry tree, Service Berry bush and a grapevine. I am sure we will return shortly.

Let em Eat Cake

I am totally unmotivated today. I actually am feeling a little ill I don’t know why but I have been coughing all morning and feeling a little queasy and  I am beginning to sniff and snuff and my eyes are watering a little. Hopefully I am just experiencing some allergies some new item I have grown an allergy to. I doubt it though and probably have a summer cold a poor affliction to have.  I may also be just tired after a night of poor sleep.  I did  feel a little better after opening a can of soup( Cambell’s Chicken Noodle) and a pile of roast beef, there was a consumer meeting here Tuesday and I suppose two or three of the “promised” did not show so their box lunches were place in the refrigerator. The sandwiches were OK—lumps of shredded roast beef on brown bread, at least three days old now and if I did not eat them the sandwiches would be thrown out.  Our office does that—a couple who are part time house cleaners. These “professional” house cleaner just hate to have things laying round the fridge or the shelves.  Many time I have looked forward to coming to work and have a dried out doughnut or piece of cake to find the cake or pastry had been thrown out! A PERFECTLY GOOD PIECE OF DRIED CAKE, just right to have milk, ice cold milk poured over and eaten as a treat.  This almost breaks my heart when this happens.

I did not always like my cake or doughnuts dried out. I think I have learned this from my father-he’s dead now; passed on couple of years ago. But I often tell the story that one of the most depressing things for me to experience growing up is to bust in the door, coming home from school, and not smell any dinner cooking.  This usually met one thing: Mom had a busy day and did not have time to cook. When this happened Mom would drag down a aluminum dish pan filled with bread dried dry as tinder. Dinner would then be bowls of bread and milk. My Dad loved this meal and the only thing I think he like more was dried cake.  Since we lived on a small milk farm we always had large quantities and Mom always bought huge amounts of bread from the “dead bread” store much of which was dedicated for the dish pan.  Then as I entered into the world of work I realized that the last doughnuts, the  dried ones were never eaten.  If you did mind the age or the hard texture of petrified cake or doughnuts and had enough milk you always had a treat in the kitchen. Staff at the office will hold cake, brought in to celebrate staff birthdays, for me. I often bring in a quart of milk or have canned milk standing by in the “cold box” for just such an opportunity to baptize my dry cake.

What a week! Dianne had her operation the new boss steps to the plate and I get a new printer and tomorrow is Pay-Day!  When I go home I am going to open a can of hot peppers and try to circumvent this illness which is trying hold on my body. Hot pepper and some sleep and I am sure I will be alright.

Pain Clinic

Earlier in the week, Monday, I took Dianne to the Pain Clinic for a surgical procedure. I took off the entire morning to accomplish this. I discussed this only briefly in my Monday posting. Dianne is feeling better in fact had still another procedure yesterday and has come away from the procedure with a bunch of X-rays of her kidneys and such. Dianne is much more brave then I am and often chooses exploratory and medical intervention to rule out possible medical issues. I will just wait till I am either in so much pain or so debilitated that I cannot prevent my caretaker or loved one from taking me to the physician or emergency . Yes, I know Dianne is the more adult of the to of us..

So as usual Dianne and I are running late when we get to the clinic, which is in the basement of a good sized hospital in a neighborhood in our part of town. She parks the van and sprints to the Pain Clinic (PC). I take my time down loading my self from the van and wandering round the hospital till I get to the clinic. The cafeteria was not long longer serving breakfast and the time was too early for lunch so I ended going to the pharmacy and bought chips and candy. For some reason I have always loved hospital candy especially Nibs and Starbursts. I finally reach the clinic. The waiting room is large enough if the staff had not stuffed the place with chairs. There is nowhere for a wheelchair person to really sit and be out of the way. So. I ended up pacing outside of the waiting room.

I swear all the folks sitting in those chairs at the pain clinic were the same people who call me day in and day out. Wanting a wheelchair, or designated disabled parking plate or wanting me or someone (who they believe has power) to write a note to their boss or Social Security Administration so they can get some sort of benefit. Grumpy people who are having to del with pain everyday of their lives. Pain so great that they have been forced to find a medical solution. I am blessed in that I have never known that kind of pain. I broke my neck, sure, but the event knocked me out and by the time I came to I was drugged to infinity or my spinal cord was so damaged that I would never experience pain, as I knew pain again, at least below my lesion level. There wee kids who were there not for their issues but their parents were there for the parent’s pain. Management. These kids were wild, screaming rolling round on the floor and just being out of control. The rest of the pain folk just looked on. I left the room. That room was way too crazy for me.

We got to the clinic about 9:30 am and we did not leave till about 11:45 am. Since Dianne went in by herself and was being seen by the Doc by the time I got there, a bit later, no one knew who I was with. People came got
seen and left all in the time I was in the waiting room or out side the door pacing. Kids got yanked and swatted by parents, one women so needed to be acknowledged by a physician who had seen her once she literally shouted “Hey Doctor! Doctor! So loud the young medic had to turn round just to see who m was making the noise. He smiled and waved at the women frantically smiling and waving to him—the doctor had that “who me?’ look in his eye, waved back and got back to the examine room as swift as he could. Dianne finally merged from her ablation and I wisked her to the van as fast as I could. I had had enough of the pain clinic for one day.

Print This

My new printer arrived last Thursday but I maws too busy to install the printer then and I was off Friday and yesterday I was in just a half of a day and half of that day was taken up with the transition meeting. So the first day I have had to work on the project was today. So, what the hell is this racket of selling you a product then leaving out a key piece of equipment need to make the product work! Unbelievable. I set up the printer to find that I did not have the USB cord I needed to patch the printer to the CPU. INCREDIABLE, that’s like buying a car and the tires you have to purchase separate. Auto dealers cannot or do not do this so what do people who sell computer peripherals? So, any way I started searching the office for such a piece of equipment The new Exec Sec, in a burst of efficiency, went through the whole office and “surplused” everything not connected to a standing system. There is nothing round here I could use. Cecilia in her fit of efficiency then ordered the co0nnecing cord I needed. I felt I would be OK because the cord would most likely be in to tomorrow and I am old enough to be patient…wrong! I went to lunch with the sole purpose of trying to find just such a device. I did not find the cord I needed but as I passed Cecilia’s office I noticed my old printer sitting in a box we were using to hold the printer until we cold surplus the piece. I wondered and zipped into her office and lifted the computer and sure enough there was the cord I needed. The cord is short but would match the other cord attached to the CPU and should work.

I had installed the software needed for the printer already and hooked the printer to the CPU and the printer was found but to my dismay would not work. I got a test pint to work but when I tried to print a word file the file hung up the printer. I turned the system on and off trying to clear the buffers of the print program and the program would no clear even after I took the system all the way down. So, I disconnected the printer and shut the system down again and reloaded the software completely, first completely removing the software from the system and reinstalling – I even had to download a driver which should have been on the software. The third installation did the tick, the system recognized the printer but I wa still struggling. The printer is a HP 5610-p-a way nice printer…the printer is actually printer, copier, fax system and scanner! Way more power then I need. But I will use the programs. So, I had to go into the system and remove the other printers. Then the machine was only finding the Fax machine every time I tried to print a document… since I will never use this machine as a fax I disconnected this function and removed it from the system and then pointed the cpu to the new printer and then I was in business. I printed some documents and images: perfect.
I am still pissed that HP would have the gall to sell you a device without all the equipment needed to run the device with out having to go back out into the community and buy something else. We all need to write a letter letting them know this type of marketing is unacceptable.

Bend!

I was going to post about my strange morning waiting for Dianne at the pain management Clinic. Dianne’s ride she was counting on for her transportation to the “operation” this morning sort of fell through and luckily I figured I had some time to burn elected to drive her to her appointment. I did not think the procedure would tale all morning but it procedure did and I was glad I was there to help. The Pain clinic was weird—to say the least. I cannot say too much then I would get into writing too much on the clinic. The place is a gem..nuff said—I could find material there for ever.

But, I was able to get to office by 12:30 and was advised as soon as I rolled though the door that the new boss had held up the weekly staff meeting just for me. Hey I’m special what can I say? Yup. It’s the new boss and I guess it made sense there would be a meeting to let staff know what the staff is in for. The new boss is great, let’s call her Dawn—I think Dawn is really smart. I think she reads a lot of stuff and Dawn is thinking all the time and really like to motivate people. I felt she was using techniques she got from self help books she has read somewhere in the not so distant past. Some of the stuff is touchie feelie and who knows, it might just work. You know things are going to be different when the boss wants you to go over your Annual review and change it to goal oriented language. Staff meetings are going to be reformatted into goal achievement sessions. This sounds weird I can testify but you know let’s give it a try who knows what we can achieve. “Bend, bend and bend some more Grasshopper” once the wind stops growth begins. I believe this is going to be a very interesting quarter as Dawn takes the harness of power. I am going to be good too. I am going to be a team player. I am ging to formulate goals and ACHIEVE THEM I AM GOING TO BE RAH RAH like I have never been before. I am actually feeling a lot of support right now and want to ride this wave to it’s conclusion. Am I sounding too sappy?

Not all the office hands are delighted with the turn of events. There are some dark clouds floating round but the are always dark clouds but everyone knows that all dark clouds\the most silver of linings. The grasshoppers must learn to bend with the winds of change during this transition. The wheels of change are often large and impersonal and they roll over the big ruts leaving many of the smaller ruts un touched and un changed.

A storm has moved in and lightning has started dropping out of the black clouds. I just got my system back on light from a very close strike. I feel it would be most wise if I were to shut down for the time being. And get this posted before we are hit again and I loose everything.

Just Another Sunday

I purchased a copy of Magix Movie Editor a few weeks ago and have just recent found all the parts to may cam corder to make a few clips. I took some footage yesterday when I BBQed. I figured if turned the coals over on myself I could at least send the tape in to Americas Funniest Video. Well, I did the video and did not torch myself. If your interested check out my MySpace account. I will try to make a link from my blog.http://myspace.com/yesterdaysriptide. I hope this works. This project took a lot longer then I had anticipated but the project was fun. This is a short entry but it's getting late and I still have to get ready for Monday. They picked the new boss and it the same as the old boss which is cool with me.

Who Am I ?

Years ago and I do mean years ago I served as a “psychological counselor” for a community health clinic in Nampa, Idaho. A of strange mess of reasons and forces moved in chorus to bring me front and center to be a member of this group. I wrote a book once, or the draft of a book, out lining some of the experiences I had with this operation. The manuscript to CMAT: Community Medical Assistance Team, was lost. I have considered rewriting the manuscript just to get the ideas out of my head but that too is fodder for another blog.

There was three who initially staffed the clinic on a daily bases. There were others in the background, forsure, but there were three of us, Dr. Mc Intyrre , Jose Rodiguise. I served about 18 months before burning out and returning to university. The clinics went on their way and I went on mine. That was more then 30 years ago. I have stayed in contact with Dr. McIntyre(Mac or Captain) but I lost contact with Jose. Mac always seemed to sort of know here Jose was and was able to communicate with him but I was never able to contact him and eventually lost contact. This changed , however, this last week. Jose had been in contact with Mac. Jose has found God, and thats cool, and has been on the road for a for a couple of months finding old friend. Mac informed me they had spoke and that the Mexican was actually in my area. Mac even had his cell phone number. A cell phone number! I could not believe it. Jose back in my life just like that.

I took the number and started making the calls. I of course was not able to get anything but a recording of his voice mostly in Spanish. It turns out he is a minister—again which does not really surprise me-- a minister in Mexico. He is traveling back and forth from Idaho and other states where he has children scattered. Then Thursday after noon as I was looking forward to a stress free three day weekend when I got a stressed out call from Dianne that Jose had just called her and was in Idaho bearing South and would be in town in a matter of hours. What are YOU going to do? You cannot bring him to the house—I even agree i cannot let Jose into the house. The house is chaos and the only people allowed in the house are the kids. Sorry but that is the way it is. I sure wish things were different round the house bu they are not.

I eventually made contact with Jose—he sounded the same and it great. There is another story in how we eventually linked. What we did to poor Jose was to force him to have dinner with us at the KFC on the corner from our neighborhood. I really wanted to take him somewhere nicer but Jose had to pee bad so we let him relieve himself but then purchased dinner and then we spoke for a couple of hours. Dianne said that Jose wanted us to ask him to spend the night but that was not going to happen. We eventually hugged and we sent him on his way to Moab.

In the course of the conversation I mentioned there were no images of the three of us together( Mac, Jose and me). We took no image of our group in the time we spent together. Jose agreed and said there were a couple he knew of himself and Mac and other Clinic staff but very few. I again, sort of knew this but never thought of the fact there IS PHOTOGRAPIC NO RECORD OF ME ! I suppose I could try to find some check stubs from the Federal programs which paid my stipend at that time. I guess I don't need too but more and more I wonder did I ever exist?

Keep Your Clothes On

It's Friday, it's August and means that means I must be home or anywhere but at the office. This friday is the first of my Fridays. Four three day weekends and I feel fine. I used to have every weekend a three day weekend and sometimes four days. I used to be able to work four ten hour days. When the management changed at my office five years ago they rescinded my four tens. Well, I just found out that management has changed again and I am going to start pressing the four tens again.

Four tens is easy—I start my work day at 7:00 a.m. And work till 5:30 pm. Easy, The last half hour is nothing just getting ready to go takes that much time and I am usually in the office by 7:00 a.m. Anyway. If I can get away with it—doing the 10's I will take off Fridays and stretch the weekend. Ill keep you all posted.

I did the shopping this morning. Dianne wanted stuff from the healthy place Wild Oats. I love going to the Oates because I freak them out there. They are all so beautiful young and healthy...yups and rich folk. I think I bring too much mortality in view for them. They could be me after one wild weekend of skiing, motorcycle riding of diving and I am the lucky one. It could be a whole lot worse.So I am in there looking at the corn on the cob and pure cranberry juice. The cute little pencil chicks keep sneaking peeks at my feet. It';s the weekend and I never wear shoes on the weekend if I can possibly help it. Crip feet, I think, are the worse for them. You can look almost normal sitting in a wheelchair especially a power chair. But bare feet bare disabled feet you just dress them up. Though I have seen some nice para feet but usually a lifetime of crip feet are hard to beat. So, I figure, what the hell, I am going to take a couple of flicks of the feet so I whip out the camera and start start snapping away. Nothing else at first, I made sure not to get anyone else in the view finder, just my feet. It took a couple of tries to get the image I wanted. I even considered asking some customers to take a couple of shots of me shopping but decided that might be too much...and I was right. Alittle late I was stopped by , what I guess was a storemanger. I was done with the camera by then; I was back to shopping. So the camera was gone and I was just shopping. He asked he had been told by a couple of customers I had been taking pictures n the store. I truthfully replied that I had that I had. Then he said I was not allowed to do that. No pictures in the store. I have to admit that I got a little nervous I had visions of him demanding my camera and demanding I surrender my image card or force me to erase the images right there and then. Thankfully, the manager did not and I hustled up to checkout and paid for my stuff and I was gone. Whew! That was a close one. Dianne said sh thought is was probably some sort of corporate thing and the management would done that to anyone snapping pics. I like to think the were after me. Hey everyone have a great weekend and keep your clothes on.

Rolling Forward

I love the way an odor or fragrance can just transport you to another space in time and bring back an event or local so perfect you can see things in your minds eye that have been years forgotten. This morning As I headed out the door for the train I was “slapped in the face” but the smell of leaves, wet wood, cement and a host of other smells which took me back to the farm I was raised. Early mornings, 5:30 a.m., or so would find my brother and I would at the South end of our pastures “pushing “ our five milkers north toward the milking barn. Our levis would be soaked from the morning’s dew walking behind the sleepy, cud chewing guernsey’s their bags swollen with milk doing the cow waddle.

As I roll toward the train station I try to exhale my breath and then slow breath my next breath taking care to draw the scented oxygen in as slowly as possible through my noise in hopes to focus as much air as possible over the fragrance receptors to sharpen the memory as much as possible. But it seems that I cannot expand my lungs long enough to grasp that one little memory which seems to be hiding in the very back of my mind. I try three or four times before I have to refocus my attention on driving my power chair. I notice the gang of magpies which inhabit the trees further west on the industrial road I am following to the train station. The whole gang is up yanking and squawking and stretching their wings with the prelim flight for the day.

At South end of our pasture was a stand of locus trees; huge monsters growing at the base of the New York Canal. The canal was the source of all the farmers irrigation in this area. The trees , I think, grew huge here I think because of all the water in the area. The trees had become the home of five or six magpie gangs. The gangs would rattle and chatter in the evenings till dark then quiet down and sleep through the night but would waken when my brother and would get the cattle which loved to sleep their summer nights away under the locus’s. All our irrigation was delivered to the main ditch right at the foot of the canal banks—a torrent of water would bubble and gurgle in a small pond where the ditches originated. The smells or summer turning to autumn were intense. Hay freshly mown and peppermint saturated the morning air with brush strokes of decaying leaves, wet wood and fresh running water. The year could have been 1959, 1961 or 1964. The sun would still not rise for 45 minutes and the whole day still lay ahead.

I shake my head and return to the ‘Here and now’ I am closing in on the train station. Traffic is picking up and I must focus on my driving. I must have been lost in the flash back for at least ten minutes. I shake my head as I leave the “then and when” and cross the railroad tracks shaking the last thoughts of magpies, peppermint and dew covered levies out of my head. I smell diesel fumes from the buses idling next to the sidewalk and cigarette smoke drifting from the hackers sucking in their last “nic” before crossing the yellow line and accessing the train. I miss the “then and when” but and glad to be in the ‘hear and now’. I smile and roll forward.

Finally a cold front

Finally a cold front has moved in, a little respite to the killer 100 plus temps we have been enduring the entire month of July. Very cool nights in the high 60’s with major cloud over ad occasional thunder bursts. The smell is definitely “Fall”. Even as I write the clouds are dissipating and the low pressure system is moving East. The clouds will subside and the temperatures will begin climbing tomorrow. We’ll be back in the nineties by Wednesday of next week. The Dog Days for sure: but these two days of clouds, cooler temps and rain are bending my thoughts to brisk mornings, warm days and cool evenings of apply juice and fire place discussions on the weekends. I am almost done with summer.

The interview for the new boss is Thursday and Friday of this week. The office is electrified as people begin to speculate on new leaders. I am leaning toward the Interim Director.\, as I have said before I like her I feel I could work for her fairly comfortably and she is a known commodity . I know what I am getting and know I can survive this administration. This is of course if the Interim Director stays the course and does not pull any sucker punches. In fact I just came from my monthly “Survivors lunch”, Of course they all wanted to know who has submitted apps to be considered for the position, who is on the selection committee and who did I want. I of course know nothing. I do not know if this lack of knowledge is by chance or design. I think I frustrate my lunch companions at times. So as to the question of “who do I want” I would have to say the Interim Director, she would be the least traumatic of transitions.

Why is it if you ask a question from “outside the house” you are perceived as the bad guy. I got a call earlier today from some guy with a disability out of State wanting to know more about the services and supports in this state. He wants to relocate here and go to one of our State colleges. I used to be the housing coordinator for an independent Living Center and as such I often worked with consumers who were considering moving into the State. I would help them with finding affordable and access apartments—that was part of the job. I gave him the number for the ILC nearest to the community he wished to live. Well, no sooner had I given this consumer the number and hung up I got an email from the consumer stating he had called and the Center had denied him services. This is very weird and I am currently trying to get some clarification because I do not want to keep sending people to this office if they are not going to be of help. But, I also know that by making this call I am going to be the “ state bad guy”. I just want to get this guy some services when he moves to the state.