Susan Senator

Here is an interesting psychological conundrum: Are the cats in the picture the victims of the Bond-like psychopath, or are the cats the psychopaths themselves, and you, the victim?

(I check lolcats several times a day to have a laugh, usually with Benj, at the feline’s expense. Because Ned rolls his eyes whenever I show him a funny one, which is every single day, I have deduced that I should refrain from posting about them whenever they make me laugh. This time, however, I could not resist, because of the question I had about it.)

Also, is it cruel to craft lolcat pictures, if you love cats? I believe some of these pics are faked, and Max has confirmed this, esp. the pictures of the cats with their heads stuck in in a glass who “has a drinkin problem,” or the cats riding the invisible bicycle (they have been thrown in the air). I would never want kittehs to be hurted, but if the pictures are found naturally, why then it is probably okay…

My ups, my ups, my lovely lady ups.
–Black Eyed Me’s

Glorious day, through and through. Which probably means tomorrow I will plummet, but why should that stop me from blogging/bragging about all I accomplished? From grokking Nathaniel to finding a new BD teacher to adding three pages to my novel, I am in The Zone. I am Susan Lilia Natasha Shoshana Delilah, hear me roar.

I told Nat’s teachers that I believe the “pestering” questions were his attempts to engage, converse, and find out about the world. I told them I would treat them as teaching opportunities. For example, when he asks again and again about why I did not yet put the fish in the oven, I can now say, “Daddy is not coming home until 7. The fish will dry out if it cooks that long.”
“Daddy is coming home at 7.”
“That’s right, Darling. And the fish will go in at quarter of seven.”
“Yes.” And he walks away, only to return a few minutes later to check on the fish.
Well, it is not how I would spend the hour before dinner, but it is Nat’s way. So fucking what? Why should I answer only once and then redirect? There is nothing interesting enough to compete with me cooking dinner! I understand why they do that at school; it would be extremely difficult to continue to engage in that way all day long, with all the other things he has to do in a day and all the other students and their needs. But at home? What the heck do I have to do except massage curry into some greasy fish and stare at the clock and wonder why the F Ned can’t ever JUST LEAVE AT 5:45 when he says he’s going to? So, yes, I can answer questions about fish prep and table setting and Max in his room and my computer being open a couple or hundred times. No, it is not interesting, and no, it is not easy, but that is what my boy needs. Definition of mother: help your children get their needs met. Among other things.

What else happened that was good? And the above was good, believe me; animated does not equal upset in my little world. I went to Staples and did not pass out from annoyance. I found what I needed to find in under thirty minutes and did not even have to pay for parking.

I got Little B to do his 8th journal entry. Only two more to go (school starts for him on Thursday).

I walked with Ruth and Maggie; lots of fun.

I picked up the mail that had been held during all my vacation and there was nothing that bugged me in that pile. No horrible back-to-school deadlines that I missed. No late bills.

I found a bellydance teacher for the fall, who teaches nearby and seems to have years and years of experience, particularly in Egyptian style. Hooray! zaghareet! Also, her class is after dinner, so I won’t have to try to get Ned to come home at 6, which, if you read the above, you will know never really happens. (I’m not mad; he works 50 minutes away, for God’s sake. Every since they were acquired by Hewlett Packard, God bless them, he has had this God awful commute. He used to work in Cambridge! The coolest of cool places. But still, HP — ! Should stand for “Happy Purchasing”)

And, joy of joys, I had an idea of something I had to add to my main character’s character. You see, she is a realtor and I thought of a way to fill her career in a little. She is someone who visualizes better living spaces for her potential buyers and that’s how she closes the sales. So I get to describe some amazing homes I’ve made up, and also how she would change them. Total indulgent writing. Plus she is very funny, so you read her thoughts the whole time. She sounds like me sometimes, but remember, ’tis fiction.

Decorating is one of my “closet” professions. I would have done that if I worked like a normal person.

What it all adds up to is not what I’ve written down here. This day is greater than the sum of the parts. It is a feeling of certainty that I was blessed with today. A feeling of being centered, in balance, and that I fit right where I am. Wonderful.

September. This word connotes a dying, like the embers of a fire. Also, the “ember” part feels like a turning-over.
August: I picture a big, heavy thing trying hard to breathe. Red and pink with effort.
June: It is one syllable, sounds like “tune.” A song, swelling. Reminds me of the wind lifting upwards, gently. Also, living in the present. May is like this, but lighter, more active, perhaps yellower.
July: Lavender-purple, fully flexible, bent, supple and fecund over a stream.
March: Stiff, like hard frozen ground, a forced brisk walk in the brittle cold air.
April: Pale pink, sloppy, running fast to keep up
January: Like a long, indeterminate yawn. Goes on forever, in an unsatisfying way
February: Tough to pronounce, as if your lips were pinched with cold and boredom. Originally from the old Yiddish words “Fed-up-with-U-already.”
November: Actually has the word “no” in it, as a warning: No leaves, no green, no more rogue warm days.

It’s from this that you get yer strength, Katie Scarlet: The red earth of Tara!-
–Gerarld O’Hara, GWTW

Something about the blissful monotony of seaglass-blue sky and white-hot sun
And the desperation of repeated frustration and anguish
Produces an unlocking, a stretching of the mental joints
The muscles in my heart ache from overuse in one direction: why, why, why does he do that? what, what, what is it? how, how, how can I stop it?!

You don’t stop it.
You turn towards it.
You don’t fight it; it is a riptide. It is yet another hill, in top gear, after hours of riding.
You push on that pedal anyway. Push the muscle one more time, with no reserves left.
You push and pull, push and pull. You just move.

And you climb. You dive. You turn towards him. His seaglass-blue eyes are as wide as the sky, and full of something.
Questions. The obsessions are really questions?
How does the world work? What will happen next?

Tell me again. Tell me the story about the weather. Tell me the story about what everyone will eat, when, and what will happen after that. I love to hear you talk about it, the same every time, maybe a little bit more added each time.

Conversation like treading water. Seeming to get nowhere. Paddle in one place. But you look up and you have moved somehow.

And he is smiling.

Just when I thought my summer had hit its zenith, literally, in the mile-high state of Colorado, I took off with my boys and my sister and her family for good ole’ Cape Cod. Same lovely house we always rent, hardly any cooking, beach, bike ride, bronzing. Ned swims in the ocean every single day. Ned also borrowed a strange pyramid-like object that brings the Internet to this house, so we are all wired. And Nat, darling Nat, is in his element. As long as we discuss (several times) each new plan, and each person’s role in said plan, again and again, he is happy.

The only problem? Too many carbs!!!!

Every night of our vacation we have been eating ice cream.  Laura and I try not to, but, well, peanut butter cup happens! … See my Tabblo>

Poor Natty. Here he is, saying, “Cake. Want ice cream cake.” I had bought one at Emack and Bolio’s, half vanilla, half mud pie, pink icing, plus a pint of low-carb caramel pecan (for Laura and me, to celebrate Kim’s and Paul’s birthdays. They stopped off here for dinner last night on their way to Cape Cod, where we will soon join them.) and some hot fudge. Natty waited patiently for his cake, but his bowels were not patient; turns out he picked up the stomach virus that had been making the rounds at his camp. Probably his 3 a.m. puking Saturday night should have clued me in, but I’m such an optimist, I thought it was all the excitement from the trip. I should have known; barfing is usually not Nat’s preferred mode of expressing excitement. Animated silly talk is, but his puppet hand had yielded no clues, either. Oh well, the cake was good; yes, I snipped some of it; it is that kind of lovely eating habit of mine that probably contributed to my skyrocketing cholestrol. F***ing Atkins. Well, why blame the fat dead man? He never said it was okay to eat fat, protein, and then pig out on chocolate (the mother lode of carbs).
I have no one but myself to blame, to quote Bob Weir yet again from Mexicali Blues.

I think Ben might be getting it, too. But really, enough of this _ _ _ _.

Heaven’s holding a half moon
Shining just for us…
–Maria Muldauer

This champagne-colored cutie is my latest acquisition for bellydance.  Tonight I danced to Warda, I Put a Spell on You, Amerain, and many other beautiful Middle Eastern songs.   … See my Tabblo>

She had raven hair
A ruffled dresss
A necklace made of gold
All the French perfume you’d care to smell…
–GFD, “Mexicali Blues”

The theme of today seems to be hair. My family is blessed/cursed with heads full of thick hair. We all forget to make hair appointments — I truly hate making any appointment, and I am always prone to canceling, except for nails. My own hair issues will be attended to after my final vacation at Cape Cod because I have to wait for all the sun damage to take place before I get it all “adjusted.” Such adjustments cost big bucks and take many hours, but as the L’Oreal ads used to go, “I’m worth it.” I guess. Ned keeps telling me to just go gray and I say, “Never!” He still doesn’t get it: he married a high-maintenance chick. And it’s only going to get worse.

Yesterday Max told me he was done with the dreds. I saw it coming, because all summer he has been complaining about all the necessary “maintenance.” (WTF?) Meaning, he is supposed to wax them regularly, dry them thoroughly after the once-a-week washing with the special “residue-free” shampoo, and spray them with saline solution to roughen them. Compared to what I do daily, I cannot believe this is maintenance. But that is the way it is for Max. So we spent a lot of yesterday combing /ripping/cutting out knotted hair. I finally figured out that lemon juice helps dissolve that tenacious wax. Tenacious W.

So nice to see Max’s silky blond hair again (he writes about it very sweetly in his blog)! And –ouch– so much of it lay on the table in little balls. We pretended to be cats choking up hairballs, but I think I really grossed the boys out with the accuracy of my portrayal.

And now Ben is talking about wanting the green hair dye again, which I allowed him on St. Patrick’s Day. Sigh. Nat seems content with his mane of wavy blond hair but Ned is not. He wants me to take all of them for appointments asap. Not so much. Sorry Neddy Sweets, you are going to have to do that one. I love their glorious locks, and I have much too much to do right hair. Like my nails, and some fall clothes shopping. Oh, yeah, and write my book.

More Than Just Getting Through It:
How Parents Make Peace With A Child’s Disability

This will be a book of in-depth, gripping interviews with parents of kids with disabilities, all issues, all ages. But told with the view of empowering parents to find happiness with the lives they have been given, from parents who have discovered a thing or two. With a little bit of me thrown in, but really, I hope to learn from all of you as I write this…

Que pensez-vous?

And the winds swept through Colorado [Georgia]…
…NATTY! [SHERMAN!]
–Gone With The Wind

Day Eight:  Back to Boston.  We left Aspen and headed to Snowmass to pick up Nat from his camp.  Each of the campers swung into view via a ropes course!  When Nat finally disembarked, he got a lot of cheers and hugs.  Fifteen hours later, we were home!
… See my Tabblo>

This hike up to Linkin Lake, a hanging lake in Aspen, was extremely strenuous and scary. Just my thing! At times I felt like my throat was bleeding, I was exerting myself so much. Neat.

home tomorrow… … See my Tabblo>

This was my least favorite day, because we left Telluride. It was Ned’s favorite, because Max rode a segue and loved it. I was sick for some of the day, too, and had to nap in the back of the rented Durango.

The fifth day began with me going shopping in Telluride and Max talking about how he kinda sorta maybe wanted to ride on a segue.  Harold, the segue guy, was once a New Yorker, so he and Ned really hit it off.  He gave Max a free ride, Max’s first.

Then we left Telluride 🙁   and drove a few hours to Cortez, with the plan of seeing Arches the next day, which we did.  On the way to Cortez there were lovely thunderstorms that we sometimes did not actually encounter, but we would see the lightning and hear the thunder a long while later.  We also stopped at a stream.  I started to feel sick .  Luckily, the car was big enough to let me lay down in the back for a good nap.

We ended up having dinner in Durango, a cool Western town. I think the restaurant, which was a part of the Strater Hotel. was decorated in High Whorehouse style.  Still, a lovely meal.  Even Benj thought so.
… See my Tabblo>

This is Day Three of our trip, when we visited Crested Butte, which I adored, (the most sumptuous inn I have ever stayed in, Crested Butte Club and Spa)and Black Canyon of the Gunnison, which I’d seen as a little girl.

The news from Nat is that he is totally happy and participating in everything, although he did not love the lake/waterskiing as much as one would think because, well, it was not the ocean! That’s my boy.

Today I am in Aspen, and this is our last full day. Home tomorrow night at midnight. I just saw a bear while I was walking to get a latte. Now I’d say it was a perfect vaca except that my Natty was not here.

The third day of our trip, we left the Aspen area and headed up to Crested Butte.  This may have been my favorite town in Colorado; a perfect gem of a place with preserved Victorian false -fronted buildings and funky boutiques (not a chain in sight), and of course, magnificent mountains on all sides.

After Crested Butte we headed to Telluride by way of Black Canyon of the Gunnison, an incredibly steep canyon.
… See my Tabblo>

Friday is actually our last full day here, but it is difficult making Tabblos from hotel rooms…

On our second day in Colorado, we hiked a little in Aspen, took the Silver Queen Gondola up to the top, and after lunch, we took Nat to his camp in Snowmass.  Then we drove to Crested Butte, a lovely little town nestled in the mountains near Black Canyon of the Gunnison.
… See my Tabblo>

I am posting this from Ned’s laptop, sitting at an outdoor cafe in Telluride, Colorado. I am feeling so good, it is hard to believe. Mountains everywhere. It is just nuts, how breathtakingly gorgeous it is. I hope Cape Cod is not jealous of how much I love Colorado.

The tiniest bit of Natguilt, but I have talked to Stephanie everyday so far and she tells me how smiley he is, doing horseback, swimming at Glenwood Springs hot springs and doing big water slides. He left me a dear little message last night on my cell, while we were taking a gondola to the top of the mountain to look at stars!!!!! His message said, “Hi, who’s this? It’s Nat. I love you [this was prompted, I could hear her doing it, but I care not. I heard his Sweet Guy voice and I saved it.]

I will try to post Tabblos of each day, and I have Day One, the flight and arrival in Aspen, when Nat was still with the fambly of five. I have trouble posting your comments so don’t be offended if they sit in Blogger limbo for a few more days, it is not you, it’s me.

Thanks all of you for pushing me to go on this trip. I feel ten years younger (which makes me 15!)

On Saturday we flew to Denver, to spend a week in Colorado while Nat went to a camp in Aspen.  Here is how the first day went. … See my Tabblo>

There once was a woman named Sue
Who had far too much packing to do
For her family trip
If she made just one slip
Their plans could all turn to doo-doo.

So she made her boy lots of Nat books
And calendars and Tabblos so he’d look
At the pages inside
And enjoy the plane ride
And we could be off tenterhooks.

Still, you wouldn’t believe my day
Max and Ben had their check-ups, by the way
Ben made the doc laugh
Max’s growth — still off the graph
And I’m somewhere between “Oh, God,” and “Oy Vey.”

But really, I think we’re all set
There’s nothing left for me to forget
Bathing suits? Meds? Make-up jars?
I even got 15 Atkins bars.
Colorado: You ain’t seen nothing, yet!