Last night as we all sat in the living room, something moved me to read a few entries on this blog from ages ago. It was amazing. I couldn't stop with just a few. We essentially laughed for an hour, recalling Giselle seeking hair-brushing vengeance on Harrison, Harrison's first centipede scare, the Space Hole, flu shot stories, on and on... I stopped writing here over four years ago...and it was a pretty sad frequency before that. I'm pretty sure dumb old Facebook is responsible for that. Now I chuck digestible pieces there, but nothing close to what I used to. Anyway, I've password protected this blog now, and maybe I can get a little motivation to drop some goodies in here again and cross-link to my 'Family Stories' friends list on dastardly FB. So dumb and complicated.

Giselle's iPhone got bricked somehow a couple days ago when she was trying to install an update. Amanda spent over an hour with Apple support with some guy who apparently was trying to drag out the final stretch of his work day with one last, interminable & circular support call. She was bug-eyed furious at the end of that one. I can relate. He forced her to commit to a genius bar appointment in Phoenix. Because as he "emphasized" to her, it's "an expensive piece of hardware". No joke. And yet, we will be canceling that appointment until we can batch with some other Phoenix business.

My office has a motion sensing, energy-saver light switch and I clearly do not move around enough. I've had unrealized plans for a very long time to get twine, paperclips and a string of plastic monkeys to hang in front of it that I may tug gingerly upon it every 15 minutes. I need some ambient light to keep my pupils constricted to just the right aperture to avoid old man myopia.

The bad news — Amanda's Mom passed away on the 14th. We spent last week in Elk City with her family and trying to take care of all the things that need to be taken care of and that distract everyone from grieving. She was an awesome person who coped with some very difficult circumstances. She was tireless in her care and concern for her grandchildren and great-grandchildren...a pretty good bit from her obituary: "She was a staunch defender of everything small." We're going to miss her terribly until we see her again.

Lova Joan Craft
1930-2016

I had my first visit to the optometrist in over 4 years today.

Eyesight's been crashing & burning since I turned 40.

So wow--the forgotten pleasures of modeling frames for the sales lady. I really...REALLY wish I could be left alone to make the selection. Staring at myself in a mirror in front of a lobby of bored people is awkward enough without all the extra commentary.

No, I'm not trying to make a bold statement with purple frames--I save the bold purple stuff for my website. And, no, I'm not trying to follow the graphic designer herd with the bright blue, stretched-out rectangle deals either. Ear pieces that are less than a half inch wide are not "too plain" as far as I'm concerned. And no, the fat, safety goggle pieces don't do the trick either, even if it IS cute how they make me look like a 'brilliant scientist'.

At the same time, I feel bad, because a fair chunk of self-worth is apparently tied up in how well the recommendations are received. Such that, "Meh" followed by me flipping up the price tag over & over again is visibly deflating. Reminds me I just need to voice my checklist before the pitch starts.

Trendy, vain, look-at-me, graphic-designer-cliche, $300+ = No.
Functional, non-butt-ugly, don't emphasize puffy-face, don't pinch nose = Yes.

I go to pick up my thick-arm, giraffe-spotted, spidey-glasses in a couple weeks.

I never see the boy get up with so much energy and enthusiasm as I did this morning. I stumbled into his room a little after 6AM to tell him to shut his snooze-fest alarm off due to it being a snow day, and Bam! He was out of bed, buzzing with latent possibilities. As I zombie-walked into the darkened living room a few minutes later, I saw his dim, silhouetted form dancing like nobody's business--alternating, I think, between the Twist and the Cabbage-Patch.

Harrison's sixth grade PE assignment for the last couple weeks: Teams of 2 to 4 kids each are required to come up with dance routines including three types of moves, one of which involves tumbling. Forty points assigned to music choice. Today is the day they give their finished performances.

In the car on the way to school a couple days ago:
Harrison: ::long groan:: Why do teachers want to give kids stress?
Me: Are you talking about the dance thing?
H: Yes. Why does a **PE teacher!** want to make kids dance? So that all the kids come to school every day with stress??

So I had him work on a couple brainwash affirmations the past couple nights:
"I'm looking forward to the PE dance performance"
"We're going to do a good job with the PE dance performance"

He seemed pretty calm and resigned on the way in this morning. Thousand-yard-stare. I'm looking forward to the debrief tonight.

Mix these juicy ingredients: Snow & Ice + People in a Hurry + Downhill Intersections.

Then marvel at the ensuing confusion as inertia and low-friction, colliding-body physics play out before your eyes.

The kids were a half hour late for school after we watched this season's first icy wipeout unfold. I don't think the lady in the white, all-wheel-drive SUV was ready for her right turn to go so wrong at the bottom of the hill, as she hammered a nice 30 degree camber into a compact's front wheel.

After helping push one of the cars out of the road, we sat around and waited to pass along a witness report to an overworked officer with a cool snow hat. It was a worthy cue, and I spent the rest of the way to school describing ice-driving tactics to Giselle--who will be in learner's permit territory next year :-O