Hooks

Its cooking hot outside and hotter still in my garage where I have my humble woodshop. Where I work o my wood is not really a woodshop like my neighbor Al’s is or Frank’s, the new guy at my office must be. But my space is mine and I have cobbled out a space where I can work on hooks this summer. You see I don’t need a lot of space to make my sticks all I have to have is enough clear room to get to my vices, a few tools like my drill, my Japanese hand saws and a file or two and I am off and working.

My work area has filled over the past couple of years with family overflow and general junk. I have my mirrors stacked in the front and I am afraid to move the mirror for fear of shattering them and inheriting bunches of bad luck I don’t need. There are also boxes of books and papers that I cannot move by myself. I need lifters and arrangers to get this stuff out of my way. embedded past the piles of stuff I have other tools sanders, rasps, sand paper, one table saw, a lathe, drill bits gloves, orbiter sanders and other items I could use but do not need right now. I actually got out in the garage today and made sawdust.

I think if I really had woodworking skills I would be much more upset that I could access my “shop”. I make hooks from the sticks—I have described in other blog entries my hook making process.

The hooks I make are simple. The hooks are low technology and the hooks are inexpensive. I feel just anyone can make them. The hook extends one’s reach, which if you are in a wheelchair, like me or many of my friends makes a big difference to enjoying life. My hooks are heavy duty. I use bicycle hooks, the kind used to twist into garage rafters and hold bike out of the way during the winter. The hooks are coated with plastic to make them fairly safe. I use my hooks every day to lift my leg up over the other leg to put my shoes and socks on(when I wear them). In the kitchen I use hooks to reach things way out of my reach like sandwich bags or bottles of wine (carefully), in the laundry I use hooks to load and pull wash out of the washer and dryer; and on and on and on. A couple of weeks ago I found a new source of wood right behind my house and these are very long pieces of wood- I had my neighbor rip the pieces in to one inch by one inch dimensions ( in his real shop) . As soon as I get my shop a little more straightened up and someone to hold the and film me in my shop I plan to make a video of me crafting one of my hooks from the sticks I have. Stay tuned it should be fun.

Dream Killer

I browsed titles looking my current reading interest as Ani searched her section for who know what and soon retuned clutching three gaudy colored boxes to her chest, announcing, “Here these are the ones I want.’

“ Good luck “ I countered. “ You only have five bucks. Lets see what you’ve got.

Ani’s cache revealed some sort of magic kit from the Harry Potter School of Magic, or something like that, all I remember the box had Harry Potter inscribed on it and it cost $9.95; then there was a cutesy, little girls first journal with locking mechanism $6.95( my personal choice) and the Fairies Detective Kit $13.95.

The Fairies Detective , of course , was what she settled on. It had to be it cost the most therefore the Fairies Detective Kit had to be the best. My best efforts at selling Ani on the merits of personal journal, life accounting and a locking document where you private thoughts would be yours and yours alone locked up by your very own $6.95 key. Ani swayed, I think she really liked the key and the lock but she liked the Fairy Detective Kit more. The kit, aside from a beautifully illustrated box contained, one Fairy Field Guide, one micro magnifying glass. One very small fairy capturing net and multiple vials of colored fairy dust( sparkles). O come on, please I thought to myself $13.00 for artwork and purple, silver, gold and green glitter ?
“ Please grandpa, please grand pa, please, a real fairy kit”
“No, no way besides you only have $5.00.”
“But you have money. Couldn’t you cover the rest?”
“I only have three dollars” opening my wallet .
“ Yeah, but you have credit cards”
“OK ,but no coffee shop” Then I went too far, I stepped over the line I said, “ Its just make believe, there’s not fairies really—you know that” I said in that adult, authoritative dream killer voice all adult’s use when they are backed up against s perceived wall and want to win the battle against the little kid with the cold, benign logic of unadulterated grownup fact. “ Fairies aren’t real, they’re just made up” The words just jumped from my mouth—saw clouds cross Ani’s big brown eyes, she pulled back a little, stilled her quivering lower lip—trying to look tough in this very public Barnes and Nobel, “Yes there are Fairies and I want to find them and I like the sparkles.”

I was a monster, I reigned myself in. I could see this little girl did believe in fairies, Ani, my Ani who was into reading, selling cokes by the side of the road and playing computers games on my lap top still believed in fairies , all the fairies, garden, tooth and Christmas, and she was going to find them. She did not glare at me as I thought she might, as I thought she should but looked up with hurt, forgiving eyes of a believer looking at an unbeliever, forgiving because after all grandpa is a grown up and grownups do not know any better. Ani sighed( as she does often with me) and aid, “Come one lets go” and led me up to the check out stand, where she presented the Fairy Detective Kit and one Barnes and Nobel gift card and one Zions Bank Check card, to Miss Julie, whose face exploded with the brilliance a million plastic suns as she swiped both cards and places one Fairy Detective Kit into a Barnes and Nobel green sack.

This morning one of the calls which came in on my info line was a little girl full of excitement, “ Grandpa, grandpa I found one!!! I found one, I found a fairy In our computer room…there’s a little sparkle down by the computer…it’s a fairy.”

Vacation?

I can tell I am not going to be an all star grandfather. I refused to be addressed as “Poppa, gramps or Bubba”. “Grandpa” or Grandpa Mark but that’s about it. I am just the warm cuddly grandpa sort. But I know my duty and I can execute that duty and I do. For example, yesterday of MY day off I volunteered to assist Dianne, who continues to labor on her court case, she is under a deadline and I knew the stress of having to run a granddaughter round all morning would be difficult on her and since I was home and the time with the granddaughter we be good for both of us. The last time we spent “quality time” together over drinks at our local Starbucks ridiculing “Barbie doll” yuppets Ani and I had a great time. So I figured we could do it again. Besides I only had to keep the 8 year old occupied for a couple of hours until I would drop her off at Sports World for her afternoon of tennis and swimming. I can do this.

When she arrived and realized that her grand ma was busy, again, at the computer working on grand ma’s case, she dejectedly headed to the VCR/DVD and started on her two hour tape of cartoons. Ani’s face lit up when I suggested we go for coffee at the Beans and Brew (B&B) across the street from the Starbucks we had gone before. So I transferred into my powerchair and Ani suited up, naturally checking her purse. Ani pulled our her collection “ credit” cards she has been collecting. These of course are gift cards, many of which are branded with various credit card companies. One she informed me still had “money” on it as she whipped a Barnes and Nobel in front of my face saying, “I know this one is still good because I have not used it yet.”

“Really ?” I said, “where did you get it?”

“My teacher gave it to me the last day of school. She gave one to all the kids”
“Cool”, I responded mentally aborting the trip to B&B, thinking we could kill two birds with one rock and only one transfer.

The AC was a blessing as we entered the hallowed halls of our “for profit” library better known as Barnes and Nobel. I quickly eyed the “Clearance “ tables for kidstuff, knowing there would be something there if we looked hard enough. I advised Ani we should first checkout how much booty was on the card—if indeed the card was still valid. “It is” she replied with the perfect faith of a child. And marched up to the cashier, slapped her card on the counter. “Miss Julie’s” eyes sparked to life as took the card and turned it over and saw a crayon inscription ‘Anakah, have a wonderful summer’ signed Miss Julie, conspiracy of Miss Julies. The Cashier Miss Julie flashed her ”highbeam” looking like gum commercial, teeth and said “ five dallors!”

I should have realized then I would never beable to guide this little kid with her loaded “credit” card back to the “Clearence” section. I mumbled a quick prayer to the grandpa guardians angel of grandpa wallets as Ani tore down th isle to the “Kid section” of Barnes and Nobel…tomorrow: “Dream Killer”

Fleeting Summer

It’s Summer, its nearly the end of June and already I can feel the season waning. The heat is unrelenting and I look forward to the first real thunderstorm of the season. Its almost too hot though right now for a storm to form let alone for rain to fall in any form but virga. This heat is early for this time of year. We usually don’t get this kind of heat until latter July or August. Even though we are less then a week from Summer Solstice already I am sensing darker mornings as I leave for work, just a few minutes but it is not as light as the same time last week.
Next week June ends, the fourth of July hits before weekend and another holiday gone. July is the “Dead Zone “ for summer. The beginning of so called” real heat”. Industry slows down as vacations move into high gear. Oh I still believe that July will be the vacation month, true people will not be driving or flying away from the city and state as they once did but believe me, they will still using their “vacation time” and the bureaucracy will slow. Meeting will be held but will be poorly attend or may cancelled—this maybe even more evident this year as the great gas challenge continues on the American people and the world. In Utah, it’s citizens are blessed with a second holiday in July, a holiday which even over shadows the 4th of July. The 24th of July, sort of a State Founder’s Day where just about everything shuts down, except Federal agencies like post offices and businesses, which are headquartered out of state. A great parade is head down the State street of Salt Lake city and similar parades are held in the smaller towns, communities and even neighborhood throughout Utah. Ending in firework events shaming what ever was done over the 4th. By the first of August the “system” start cranking over again, resident wipe the vacation “sleep” from their eyes and get back to the job, refocus and head toward Fall. As I write this it still sounds like a lot of time but in ten weeks we will be into hardcore Autumn cool nights with serious threats of frost.
I could have enjoyed a free meal today but chose to pass. The boss treated, today one of the committee met to discuss their issues and the /council purchases lunch for the council member. Today the boss included the rest of the staff. The boss chose a small Italian place down the street a couple of blocks: Caputos. Caputos is OK but I think they are a bit over rated. The do mostly cold cuts on hard crusted bread which can wear a person out trying to chew it. Caputos makes an ok salad but a salad is a salad, who orders a salad when the meal is free? Chapman, my partner , her on the phones, did not order lunch either but that is a different issue entirely, Chapman feels guilty for having the company buy her lunch I tied to talk her into the “free lunch” but finally it was to hot to argue and I needed to escape on my own lunch hour…I let the little martyr enjoy her home made salad.

Favorite Part

One of our favorite movies is City Of Angels with Nicolas Cage, Meg Ryan and others Dianne has lots of favorite parts but the part which comes up over and over again is when Nick asks the people he collects, “ what was you favorite part” meaning what was that person’s favorite part of life?” Every once in a while Dianne asks me…” what w2as your favorite part?” When Dianne first started asking me these questions I did not have an answer., in fact the question sort of sort of threatened me and I would try to push around the question and go on to something else. The other day, I cannot recall what I was doing maybe watching TV, reading or folding clothes down stairs in the utility/pantry/laundry and I heard the ice machine dump a load of ice in the bin—our automatic refrigerator’s ice machine just doing it’s job. I had a great comforting feeling way down in my soul for some reason and for a split second I felt everything is going to be alright, the same feeling I get when I go to bed and the washing machine or the dryer of both are running and I fall asleep listening the sound of clothes washing and drying meaning everything is going to be alright, I will have clean clothes tomorrow for work, play or whatever., Everything is going to be alright.
I used to hate talking about things like wills, death and the like. I used to really hate it but now not so bad, maybe it is just the aging process, seeing parents, friends and others age and die, pass away, bite the big one, what ever one wants to call the process but I am not nearly as uncomfortable with the topic as I used to be. I read the obits weekly usually Sunday and notice more and more folk in there are my age or younger! And I just look at the faces and wonder “where are you now?” These people were my age, they knew the life I knew, the music, television shows, magazines, flavors and smells which make a life.
58 Christmas’ and Thanksgivings, first bike, first grade, first love, crackers and milk, Star Trek and the Man from UNCLE , swimming at the bridge and running naked at the river.
What was your favorite part?

No Small Miracles

I know two weeks ago I was bitchin and complaining about he cold wet Spring and now I am focused on how hot this summer is turning out to be. I just back from my weekly foray to the market and man! It’s hot out there. I’ll tell you more about that in just a moment.

I am sure you all noticed yesterday that I did not post. I was out of the office most of the day. I had to man a table at an information traumatic brain injury fair up at the Veterans Administration. This event went to 3:00 and by the time I got back to the office I was too hot and busy return report on the event and returning phone calls, I just did not have the energy or the brain power to write. Actually an information fair is not bad duty for a Friday except when I don’t have phone coverage but the event being on a Friday means there are few calls to worry about. I think I had only five or six calls to worry about and most of those were folks were long gone by the time I had got back to the office.

I think I have rattled on before about accessible bathrooms and public bathrooms. You know there may be five strolls and one which is designated and built accessible and if I come charging into the john really needing to go every bathroom will be empty except the accessible stall and some fart will be in there reading the paper or what ever—and that guy IS NOT disabled at least not in a chair, really for which these stalls were designed. So yesterday when I went zooming into the bathroom at the VA the stall was open…I mean really open the door had been removed entirely and there was someone next door in the smaller stall. I have to admit I was pleased if not a bit chagrined. I doubt if the door had been removed for the purpose of making an option so unattractive no one want a little privacy would ever consider using the accessible stall unless they had too. The accessible stall faces the door entering the main bathroom so anyone who happened to be loitering round the door when the door opened would get a great view of anyone who using the connivance . you just cannot win, still a small price to pay for having the toilet available when one needs to use it.

I varied from my usual purchase this week. The heat made me linger in the Frozen Food section and as I sat there chillin I spotted ice cream ! Ice cream would be perfect for hot summer nights—root beet floats, or milkshakes…perfect. So I grabbed the next person passing and had them had me a half gallon of Neapolitan I purposely selected this item last since once I left the Frozen Foods I was running a race with heat of the day and how fast I could get my stuff home and especially the ice cream into the freezer. I breezed through the check stand slowed only by a new employee who I think might have been a little DD but when I got to the van some one had pulled their designated vehicle so far into my parking place my doors would just open bur the lift would not deploy. This vehicle was a truck driven by an old guy a little tuck, backed way I into my parking space. I SHOULD HAVE yelled the guy to come back and move his truck. I didn’t. I just sat out there and waited in the 90 degree heat and thought about my ice cream returning the ingredient fro which it was froze. I had a long time to study the little truck which was stuffed with bread, vegetables and old fruit. I was sitting there when the old guy finally came out with two baskets of bread, I threw him my worst guilty look I could muster but I was welting fast as was my ice cream turns out the old guy was a collecting food for our homeless mission. What could I say? I smiled and let him graciously leave.

When I DID get home I was amazed to see my ice cream was still intact! Perhaps this was a day for a small miracle.

I worked all night on this.

Vacation Wednesday

It’s Wednesday and I am sitting home in front of my laptop blogging. I on vacation. I have got the word from my bos that she needs me to take more vacation, to use up some pile of Annual hours I have assembled. So I cut a deal: I intend to take every Wednesday from now till September first as vacation. Plus I intend to take a couple of day during August for the family reunion and later in December I’ll take the week between holidays and that should get my annual down to some manageable hours. I like this method of using time because of the way this use of time cuts the week in half. Two days and a Saturday and two days and the real Saturday and I never get the feeling I am burning out at work. I also have the advantage of having eight hours to conduct business, go to doctors, wheelchair repair and so forth without having to leave work and scurry during the working day. Like today, I actually made an appointment to have my power wheelchair repaired and then I stopped at my cousins to start the safety inspection for my van. I have pretty significant crack developing in the windshield and should I get a new windshield before I have the vehicle inspected. Scott, my cousin . was not sure but I made an appointment to start the process tomorrow, which I now realize I cannot make because I have appointment I will need my van for tomorrow at work and the next day for that matter.

The power chair went off better then I had anticipated. Indeed the connector in my control module had failed, it had broken, no doubt under the stress of having me as an operator, but fortunately Josh the shop manager was able to use another part from a “donor” which Josh gave me at no cost and charged me only a half hour for the work, which really was more like an hour. I felt so good I will be scheduling my chair for a tune up which will run me 75 dollars which I guess is ok because then the tech’s will develop a list that I can take back to my insurance provider to get very needed repairs done to my chair and I will be set for the winter.

The best part of my day was on my return trip I noticed a pile of scrap wood by a furniture shop right behind my home. I stopped, dismounted and asked if I could have a couple of pieces and they said I knew they would. I thru a couple of pieces int6o the truck and I plan to return when it’s cooler and I have someone more able bodied then I. I plan to really restock my hard wood supply and really focus n getting back into producing hooks. Chapman and I have started shooting the podcast and I am finding the experience more difficult then I realized. The first, informal shoot was Ok and very spontaneous but actually trying to do this with semi professional result is another story entirely. Mark was over last night and shared his new video camera with me. Maybe I can use mark to shoot some of these podcasts…this would be fun. I thin I am going to have a busy Summer.

Full court Press

This maybe another month of “full court press” as we roll into a new week. Tomorrow I have, am supposed to have, my performance evaluation. It sounded a little gloomy from emails I got from the director but we’ll just have to see where it goes. I am going to have hunker down and do as much as I can.

The office is still reeling from Friday’s termination—“shields are up” and force fields are at maximum—things are quiet as the worker bees refocus their work ethics. I was amazed when I rolled into my office this morning and Fran had finished a work shelf I had talked about last week. I had kidded that if he needed a project o get him in his workshop and work that I could use a raised platform to assist me in writing and paperwork. Frank ofcourse did an excellent job making a platform with fine wood and nice finishing and already it looks at home in my mess.

Process

I posted yesterday, I really did. The post with the image from the picnic WAS posted yesterday and why it posted with the day before is mystery. Oh well forward.

My boss confided in me that she was going to terminate one of the employees on Friday. I was sworn silence and just as well, but I don’t do things in silence well. I was on edge all day Black Friday as the employee to be gone texted me all day since Chapman was gone—the employee had no clue. I know my demeanor was different, I was not as funny and cute in my return texts—one or two word responses—as I usually am. I was experiencing survivors guilt. I dove into work I should have done during the bosses absence, like the guilty man trying to was his hands free of damning evidence. I dashed to lunch as soon as I could. I thought about staying out an extra long time but wondered back after sixty short minutes and the employee took off for her lunch as soon as I returned. I returned to my work. About an hour later I heard a visitor enter the office and start talking to the boss going straight to the bosses and the door shut and the murmurs, the dreaded murmurs from the Director’s office. I worked and prayed the phone calls would come and keep me busy saving the world for people with disabilities and press the clock toward quitting time.

The door opened and I heard more muffled discussion from up front, the “keys” surrendered, “P” card left on the desk and I.T. privileges revoked. The visitor was from “State” sent to make sure things went down legally. There was no screaming, pleading or dealing making just the methodical, procedural process of asking someone to leave, asking a vocational family member to “step off” into the ocean of unemployment. The conversations I heard were even cordial, surprisingly so. I was shocked as my copy of Japanese Death Poems magically showed back up in my desk.

The employee was gone when I went to the kitchen to turn off the coffee maker and drain the coffee. I glanced into her office when I passed: empty, tidy, and quiet. Ready for the new person who ever she might me. Bad news travels fast and I was not surprised to see an email notification flash onto my screen It was Chapman wanting to know “If all hell had broken loose.” I played dumb( easy roll for me). I hedged and avoided but eventually told her I had a little fore knowledge and I could feel Chapman recoil from the phone like she had just found my name on the State Registry. And just finished the call by saying she would see me Monday.

Frank left about 3:30 leaving me and director to rehash the events of the day—it was difficult. We defused it had to be done—like a hard night on the Hotline you have to defuse and decompress. She sent me home at 4:00 saying she would watch the phones. I was not worried there’s hardly any calls late Friday afternoon.

Black Friday

I wish it weren’t so but someone’s gotta go. Yesterday was just too busy for posting…I did not even have the time to Twitter. I was pleased to see the boss was back from her mega trip as I rolled up to my office. The time was seven and since the boss had been on the East coast for the last week—her mind was still laboring on Eastern time. I have to admit I was pleased that not of the dark feelings I had came to pass and seems I did a fairly good job of keeping the office going.

Yesterday was also the annual pic nic for an agency I used to work for and since this agency is also an independent living center I feel no qualms of attending the function on company time even though I had to use public transportation.

The picnic is held in a park which is affectionately know as the Duck park primarily due to a huge squawk of ducks living in it stream. Luckily there is a bus route which drops me off right in front of the park. The picnic was already a hour into it’s three hour operation by the time I arrived. There were wheelchair folk all over the place. The fire places were stoked and burgers and dogs were being grilled—there are people at this event I see maybe once a year this time of he year or when I m playing Santa at the Christmas party.

This picnic has been going on or at least twenty years I know of, maybe even a bit longer. I was thinking this as I greeted these folks with disabilities which have become part of my life over the past two decades. No only has the years ravaged some of these folks but many have disease processes which tax the body greatly. It’s sad, quietly sad. I am surprised to see them from one season to the next. But they keep showing up and I am always glad to see them. I had one of the “new phone” staff snap a image of the old staff with some of their families before I left.. The wheelchair folk in the picture are the old timers the core four—we have turned gray, lost hair, put on weight and raised families and generally had lives. These have been good people to grow old with.

Last night when I got home I was informed that the computer monitor had seemed to go out and what was really bad was of course Dianne needed the computer desperately to print the documents of her case she has been working on all year. The documents must be in to her attorney today by noon. I tried to fix the system but to no avail. The options seemed grim but I called mark A anyway—sadly Mark A was working and worked till 9:00 pm which was too late for him too stop by since I was on my way to bed. However, Mark A promised that he would stop by the house early and he did and fixed the system—bad peripheral(s)!!

So maybe not such an unlucky Friday 13^th, for me…but there are others I m sure never see the meteor falling and for those I feel bad.

It's Later Then YouThink

I used to have this recurring dream when I was at University. I would suddenly realize I was in the last two weeks of the semester and I had not been to class, I had forgotten I even had registered for the class with no credit time and no hope of passing score on the final. Well, all of the sudden I realize that my tenure of temporary boss is nearly at an end(last two days) an I feel I have not got a lot accomplished while she has been one. I am actually getting nervous and beginning to launch into projects which will make it appear I have been more busy then I think I have been.

I wrote a piece about an individual from as another state agency, a few months or years ago, about how he drove me crazy micro-managing meetings and projects. I heard last week he was leaving the /state. I thought he was just retiring, he certainly is old enough to be retiring, in fact he already has retired once from a career in the military. I was informed this morning that he was “asked” to leave and that is all I am going to say. The is justice in the universe.

Step to the Back of the \Bus Please....

I hate designated seating and I hate designated seating most on vehicles of public transit. I try to thwart designated seating as much as I can. I see this form of seating just step above the segregated seating of the South . When I ride the train I just sit in the area at the front of the car. This leaves me ample space and privacy, usually. I just feel so doofy when I have to sit in designated just because the seats are there. I am not sure but I don’t think that it is the law that the able bodied passengers must surrender these seats to people with disabilities just because the over head voice says they should. The bodiless voice makes the idea of surrendering the seats good idea, socially responsible and maybe even Christian but you make the decision.

Usually when I, or someone else using a wheelchair, boards the train the driver usually lifts up the seat then or clears passengers off the seat then lifts it up for me unless I tell him,” That’s ok I’ll just ride up front.” Usually my utterance is all that it takes, the driver grunts his approval and disappears back into his cab.

World economics is finally reaching home and beginning to vex me and my early morning train rides. Since the price of crude has become so rude I am beginning to see more and more folks riding the train and usually that is not so bad for me because more people just means more people standing if there is not ample seating available. And since I work for a living I am up and out early when any other folks with disabilities are still in the sack snoozing away; with the exception of people with disabilities going to school. I should have realized the people with disabilities will also be leaving their vehicles too and seeking financial solace with public transit. This morning when I came on boar I nearly ran headlong into a guy bout my age , wearing a vest and Dockers, clearing one of the masses, the working mass, heading to work on my train. We had to do the “crip dance” and get our vehicles adequately so the driver could close the outside door as well as be able to get back into his drivers cab. The fat cattle sitting in the designated seating did not get up as they usually do nor did the driver shoo them out of the seating as he usually does and we just sat crowded in the front of the train and avoided each other until we got further into town and the trainers started de-boarding.

I fear riding the train for me is just going to get worse as the economy worsens and more folks start riding the train and sadly for me more people with disabilities start riding too. I just hope UTA starts implementing their “low rider” trains…soon!

Please Pass The O2

One thing I have learned in this field of Information and Referral is there IS always more to the story I am being told at any given moment. I have been working this semi-crises call all day. A guy called in saying he was running out of O2, OXYGEN, you know the stuff that comes in those green tubes you always see life long smokers dragging round behind them.

This caller is telling me the story about how he is nearly out of O2 and has no way of getting more. He is not on the usual subsidies, which usually acquires this precious gas for people who need it. He tells me that he is new into the disability life style having only submitted his application for Social Security/ Medicaid earlier THIS month. This means to be that he still has a good four months or more to wait, maybe probably longer if he is denied his first round which is often the case.

I get this call for O2 three or times a year and I really don’t have anywhere to send them. I found out the local 211 folks send them over to us which is really scary. I did call the local Senior info line (Aging Services) and they gave me a little more information but Peter the “hot shot” director was not in and has not yet returned my call. He is also the director of the local AIRS ( association of Info and Referral Specialists) I want to define some sort of protocol for these kinds of calls.

I end up getting this guy’s phone number –so I can call him if I happen to find any information which might help his plight. He gives me his mothers phone. I do some calls and get a little imformation which might be helpful and when I call him to give him this information his feeble and elderly mother answered. She sounded just ancient and a little confused but I fiannly got her to remember she may or may not have a son living with her nd she then remembered she did and he was a sleep in the basement. Typical! Myself and who knows how many other service providers are out trying to scare up some O2 for this looser and he is down in the basement sleeping. So I’ll try to call him again tomorrow and tell him of the information I found but I doubt he will be there—and maybe he just does not need the oxygen as much as he sounded like he needed the oxygen but his call has inspired me to make contact with my opposite numbers in other similar organization in the city and develop some sort of a protocol to use when we get oxygen related calls.

Maybe A Book

Frank the new guy at the office is an OK guy. He is older then me. One of those federallies who retired but for one re4ason or the other has rented the work place. He is our book keep/contract manager. Frank is an OK guy and gets to work way early, even earlier then I. we have gotten into a routine in the mornings since we are at the office usually an hour to forty-five minutes before anyone else gets in. We’re too old guys and we share stories and its fun. I am always talking about writing a book about growing up with a disability at least from fifteen on, since is when I got my disability. And the past couple of week he is always brining it up that I am sometime going to going to write this book. I don’t know if he is encouraging me or just goofing me. But I have I have been pondering the book again these past few weeks and am wondering if I could especially since I have done this blog project—I have constantly written every day the 500 words and if I had just written page every day I would have the book done by now. So why not? So this morning I cranked out the first 500 words. The task was much less painful then I thought it would be.

I have been trying to cut this clip all week long but I have failed until this morning. The clip I took at the awards lunch was 103 megabyte and I had to cut it down to at least 100 MBs. This morning I finally figured it out and cut it down so the clip would load. Thanks to Marsha I have learned yet another skill. Thanks Marsha.

hbb

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BRIDGET!!

Not Till 12:00

I am actually at home today writing this letter, the first letter of June. I worked late last night real late. I had to participate in a health awareness fair in a place called Eagle Mountain, a fairly new community in Utah County. One gets to this community by going down to Lehi then turning west and past redwood road and even further west turning again and driving even further till one gets to a park. I thought the event was to be at the Eagle Mountain library but lucky for me Chapman, my partner had me call and I found the grim news. But I am amazed at myself I found the park OK. I was a little late. I was supposed to be at the park to set up at 5:00 pm and I did not even leave Salt Lake until 4:30. I was at an award ceremony at the State capitol for one of the people in our office, and since I have to be the boss this week, while the real boss is on vacation, I felt I had to be there. So, I did not get to the park until 6:00 sharp the time the event was to start. I figured that was OK since it looked like a lot of folks ( judging from all the empty tables) either did not bother to come or were defeated by the directions and journey trying to find the park but I made it!!

The weather has been beautiful all week, until yesterday) afternoon when clouds marched in with sprinkles and much cooler temperatures. I don’t know what I was thinking as I left the house yesterday morning wearing just a short sleeve shirt. I don’t know why I did not take at least my hood.

The weather had actually tuned while I was at the capitol building but since I thought I was going to a library and I would be indoors, I figured I could stand the coolness running into and out of the library but I was way wrong. But the event was not too bad. I was not freezing just a little uncomfortable and basically sat their hugging my arms and trying to stay out of the wind as much as possible.

I have not even got to the worst part of the event figured I had had enough by 8:30 and I decided to fold up shop and head back home while I still had pretty good daylight. Now remember, please this park I was at was off the beaten path and I was somewhere in Utah county—where mountains and life in general are totally different.—some how I completely lost my bearing. I thought I was leaving just as I had come in but I was way wrong. I think I was going in the exact opposite direction—there are no signs anywhere in that area and I just kept driving, driving into the darkness of night. I finally started stopping at every Chevron station or Maverick store I passed and cornered someone coming out asked for directions to Salt Lake and eventually I found Lehi and from there I was able to get back home but I think the time was almost 9:30 by the time I finally pulled into my driveway. The sprinkles had changed to rain and I was exhausted but home safe… I’m not even going in till 12:00.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARK

Love Dad

Process

Process, I like the process. It has taken me a long time and a lot of cooked meals to realize what I like beast about my cooking is the process. From thinking of the event, shopping for the meal—the actual shopping—to the preparing and seeing the folks eat the meal. Many time I would just as soon not even eat as much as prepare and serve. Whether prepping and cooking a turkey, making a frying pan of sloppy joe mix or making a hearty meat and vegetable soup and let not even get into bread making the quintessential process project. I think if I was able bodied still, there would be other events which I think I might enjoy the process: cutting and splitting wood, snow skiing , parachuting and martial arts I am sure there are other things but I cannot think of them right now. Process I love the process.

Today I grilled, pork ribs, flat iron steak, polish sausages and pork medallions for two people! I justify this decadence burning meat by saying I am going to eat on this stuff all week for lunch and probably dinner. I shopped and got potato salad baked beans. I was committed to process a whole dinner so I even got pie, apple pie which we never finish and eventually just throw out. I had a couple of hours before I could justify firing up the smoker and cooking. I read, I called my mother in Boise and thought about the process. The wind blew as I dumped the last of one bad of charcoal and had to go out to the garage and get a new bag, spray the charcoals with fluid and start` the burn(process) then I read more pages as the coals cooked down. Dianne brought out the offering which was even offense to look at in its raw state. I was preparing enough protein from a fairly large third world family to live comfortably on for a month. I love the part where the coals are white and I throw the grates over the coals and heat up and sizzle as the grates are sterilized by the heat—then I strike hot grates the steel spatula the knocking the remains from the last offering into the cooking heal of super-heated coals. In the mean time Dianne has brought me the freshly unwrapped pile of meat usually on some sort of tray and I throw them on the grill and close the lid of the smoker and go back to my novel.

Then there is the process of watching the meats cook, basting, turning and worrying and slowly the meat becomes edible and I yell for Dianne to come and :secure the meat” and we have our meal, just the two of us complementing each other for meats purchased, prepared and cooked. This was real cooking, no hot dogs or hamburgers this week but real protein with as little processing as possible.

The wind is still blowing but we have eaten and are satisfied. I still have to put the meal away and try to clean up a little but what a great way to end the weekend.