Sparkle's speech therapist today told me that she could tell that we were doing the follow up exercises with her, because she improves so much week to week.  Well, yay!  We'll master pronouns and Wh- questions yet!  And maybe her address, age and birthday, too.

Then, she told me that we needed to redirect Sparkle away from echolalic (quoting) behaviors every time we hear her riffing at length.  ( her advice and my reaction )

It does not seem possible that it has been a dozen years since my firstborn was well, first born.

Dino is growing up scarily bright, and sweet.  Math from his father (and certainly not from me,) and music from me (and certainly not from my DH.)  And so much that is uniquely, wonderfully, just him.

He chose a week at boy scout camp over a birthday party, although the family will still be having cake and presents today.

I told Sparkle it was time to get dressed.  Reluctantly, she stops her "Reader Rabbit" game to come with me.  Seeing her clothes laid out on the bed and ready, Sparkle begins talking in a calm, reasonable, narrative voice.

     "This is Sparkle.  Sparkle is screaming.  Let's listen in on what she says," says Sparkle conversationally, putting on her shirt.  The screaming begins.  "NO!  NO!  I DON'T WANNA GET DRESSED!  STOP!  AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"  She puts on her overall shorts calmly throughout the screaming, and cheerfully walks out of her room, all dressed.

Boys successfully retrieved from Nana's house.  They were browner.  I also got to meet my baby niece for the first time, who is so adorable!

On the way home today, I color-coordinated our family in traffic cone orange T shirts.  A family of five in bright orange shirts draws every eye in every rest stop.  People shook their heads at us and reluctantly smiled.  hsifyppah and cadhla  would be pleased, I think.

I also ran the children around the dog run walkways behind each rest stop.  Orange shirts, bouncing around the complex, seen all the way from the moon, making dogs bark with joy and drivers pause in backing out of their parking spaces to goggle.  "RUNNING FEET!"  I hollered at the kids.  "Time to use your OUTDOOR VOICES!!!"

Just to be egregious, at a McDonald's, I told the hunkered down, mumbling teen cashier ("Hiwelcometo McDonald's, forhereortogo, howmany?") who was going to take our order that we were all together, for dine in, and numbered, in total, five.  (As if he could not count.)  This made him actually look *up* at us from behind his long bangs, and take in the orange-noxiousness.  He looked startled.  The manager in his tie looked hightly amused.  Tee Hee!

The kids were amazingly good in the car.  How did anyone ever manage long trips with children without DVD players and Game Boys?  I read the new Kathy Reichs murder mystery, and felt that her editor did a better job than usual in catching continuity errors.  I still had issues with her main character literally tripping over one of the bodies, though, and one of these days the bad guy *won't* kidnap and almost kill her as the climax of the book.  (I think that's about as likely as a Laurell K. Hamilton book published in the last five years not having sex in it.)  The Mary Janice Davidson story in the Fairy short stories collection was fun, and the others trite.  A summer vacation read for sure, gotten out of the way while on the way home.

And all my family is home with me, all orangey!  YAY!

The toilet bowl becomes rust coloured in just five days.  Kaboom! alone cannot keep up, declarations by the deceased Billy Mays to the contrary.  Flylady's recommended daily swish and swipe does more than I thought it did.

We have a new post office delivery guy who ignores the "deliveries to the rear" sign on the front door, leaving things out in the rain, instead of on the sheltered back porch.  We have one of those houses where almost no one ever uses the front door - like, only on Halloween.

Sparkle does not let my DH get every snarl out of her hair.  But she will ac tually come to me, brush in hand, and demand braids, and voluntarily sit wailing while I get every one out.  She does like her hair out of her face, and ponytail parts still flip forward, whilst braids do not.

How did so many fingerprints get on the walls by the light switch plates?  By the door handles?  How long have they been there?

Leftovers appear to get - left.  (This is probably actually a factor of my growing *boys* being away, rather than my own absence.)  I have a lot of plastic ware to wash after today's trash day.  No testable sentience...

Did my daughter actually get taller in just five days?  She may have.  Yes, measurements confirm she really has - like a quarter inch!  When I pick up my boys from two weeks at grandma's, will they be taller, too?

On a really nice note, this morning, when I woke up, Sparkle was stroking my cheek.  She looked at me full in the eyes for about thirty long seconds before smiling shyly, closing her eyes and tucking her chin.

Not only did my darling, darling husband  take care of the home front, allowing me to go to Pondfilk with a light heart, but today, when he got his haircut after getting off work this morning, he brought me home some of Jeni's pear ice cream!

( Loooong post follows, it is to be hoped with pictures  )  and runnerwolf  sat on rocks and took in the view.

I got a SCIENCE! lesson.


This stuff?  Jeffrey tells me is bullwhip seaweed, the stuff from which scientists make agar, the stuff you put in petri dishes so that bacteria will eat and grow!  He used a handy-dandy pocket knife to cut off ends and show me the interior.  It was not slimy on the outside, it was slimy on the inside.  He was able to get a horn-like sound out of it, but it wasn't loud.  I called to the people on the lookout above to light the bonfires to warn Gondor, but they were oblivious.

I spent a large part of the afternoon plucking out melodies from the Echo's Children songbook on classic guitar.  And people sang along, so I did pretty well.  jeffreycornish played along with me on dulcimer, and jerilynn (I think) on flute, and this moment may be one of the happiest of my entire weekend.

I spent a lot of this con in odd spots, really *talking* with people, deepening friendships and exchanging stories.

When I went to bed late, late on Saturday night/ Sunday morning, my head had no sooner touched the pillow than I thought about how amazingly happy I was.  And a little tune popped into my head, and swirled about.  I squeezed out my door, dashed back up to the main room, grabbed the last piece of paper on the printer, and scribbled madly.  Once again, just like last year, shaddyr was on hand with tech help to get the song recorded.  She recorded me on her computer so I wouldn't lose the melody to Morpheus overnight.  She also pointed out that the melody would sing very well in a round, and echoed me as I sang it to show me.  (I think hours of playing Echo's Children may, I say may have had an effect!)  After a year of only practising music with no creative spark, I get it again while being immersed here.

Sunday at Pondfilk, solomons_pondgot me up early so I could go to the UU service with them.  It was funny;  I heard a pleasant voice chirping back to him and actually looked in my bed to see who else was sharing it with me, because my inner fuzz did *not* match the awake, coherent, happy perk found in that response.  My subconscious must be such a faker, it was in fact me talking.

The UU service went well.  Everyone was pleasant and nice, and we sang ( and I signed), and runnerwolf did the homily.  It's been a long, long time since I've been to my UU locally.  I ought to see if there is a closer one to me now.  The Lundervilles played with solomons_pond  and pondside , and made pretty, pretty music.

When we got back, several of us fed pondside's new fish at Pondside.


Wingman!  (Or is that Finman?) photo courtesy of  jeffreycornish 

In the afternoon, muscial fiends of John's (Dr. Filk) came to play and remember him.  It was *very* crowded.  Good music, good folks.  Very emotional.  Feeling slightly overwhelmed, I crept out on the porch and found a number of the other filkers already there, for similar reasons.  At some point, folks made me eat after I'd lost track, and was trembly.

A bunch of us went out to eat dinner at John's Place, and I had maple lamb (where else but in Canada?)  Let me see:  raishaan , slweippert , dawn, jeffreycornish , runnerwolf , mysticwinds , me (and another gracious lady who commented during picture taking that she didn't want her photo online, so ...) took over a line of tables down the centre of the place.  I was in the centre, and felt like I was pulled in both directions from conversations on the table ends that I wanted to join in all at once!  And mysticwinds recommended a chocolate mousse that was NOM NOM NOM!

Oh, oh!  Just or hsifyppah:"MAD SCIENCE!"


With thanks to jeffreycornish for taking and posting it!  I got to buy her and John's CD there; motherinlawtree had brought them.

Late night, with much chatting and song.  Early morning Sunday.  I cried when I left;  I didn't want to go.  Petal sat in my lap on the way to the airport and comforted me in her sweet, puppy way.  Doggie kisses help.

The flights home were not as dramatic as my adventures in arrival.  I did scare myself in Seattle, because I mis-read where my gate was, and trammed on those underground trains all over the airport looking for my flight home.  I got there just as the plane pulled into the gate, so I did not have time for lunch.  We somehow lost time on the flight, so in Memphis, I had just enough time to briskly walk to my next plane and board, no supper either.  (Bad diabetic!  Living on sugar soda and airline cookies and granola bars not good!)

On the Seattle to Memphis flight, I talked to a couples counsellor who had training from a famous doctor who has also written books about raising emotionally intelligent children, which I have studied for my line of work.  I told him I had a strong marriage, but was always looking for things to maintain and keep things happy.

On the ground in Columbus, I maintained my help deaf people on trips streak by interpreting a minor issue with baggage for a deaf couple back from Vegas.  We chatted until my husband and Sparkle arrived to pick me up.  They missed me on the first loop past, and I heard Sparkle wail as she caught sight of me and the car kept moving.  She thought my husband was going to leave me...They got me dinner ASAP (I was SO starved,) and I got home safely.

As predicted, I slept the night with a Sparkle necklace wrapped about me!</div></div></div>

Edit:  the pictures jeff posted bigger now, I think...but the cuts are strange?

Thank you so much, solomons_pond and pondside , for inviting me and having me out.  I had a lovely time, and didn't want to leave to come back home.

Safe in Victoria, I am having a relaxing, wonderful time.  The weather is cool and clear.  The company is delightful, the harmonies sweet, and I after I went to sleep I got a full night's rest.

Here at Pondfilk, I have a double mattress on the floor in the studio, a room perhaps ten inches wider than the mattress, which fills it side to side and right up to the furniture against the walls end to end.  Japanese like, I kick off my shoes outside the door, slip through the door that can only open sooo far, and step onto my bed as if it were a tatami mat.  It is a quiet, private place, so very nice after all the crowds at the airports.

We've practiced for the UU service tomorrow today, so we're fairly ready for that.

People all about me are being creative - crafts, music, cooking, conversation - bliss!  I keep beaming at folks, anyone whose eyes I meet.  And they all smile back.  I love fandom.

So, I got up before dawn, re-packed the bag Sparkle unpacked last night, got to the airport, and once again was pulled aside so the screeners could admire the corset  I'd packed.  In early morning drama, the plane was down for repairs, but they were able to replace with a different plane, and off we went, with a rainbow ring around the plane.  So pretty!  I actually thought all my travel troubles were over.

In Minneapolis, my connecting flight to Seattle caught on *fire* (or at least billowing smoke,) and the fire trucks came to our gate.  Everyone charged over to the windows to watch the excitement.  I debate makinghsifyppah  proud by taking a picture, and instead I took the opportunity to go to the agent alone behind her desk.  "My plane is not going to make my connection to Seattle," I say.

"Ya think?" she says.  She says  the only flight that can get me to Seattle in time for my connection to Victoria is boarding now, and is all the way across the airport, and I won't be able to make it.

"Oh, yes I will,"  I say, and she books me, and tells me to come back if I  miss the flight, and she'll take care of me.  I run run run run run through the length of the airport, and people move out of my way, and I come panting up to the gate as they announce my name as last chance to get on.  They figured out  who I was, which  was good because  couldn't talk yet.  No time for pictures of the burning plane, dangit.  Judi the Jinx, seriously.  I was able to contact solomons_pond to let him know the schedule change.

On the flight to Seattle was a big guy next to me, claustrophobic and starting to talk about  "getting out of here."  I blathered at him non-stop.  He had about six drinks, and they stopped serving him, but he interacted with me, much to the annoyance of my other  seatmate, who mistook me for his wife.

The short trip from Seattle had a cat in a carrier, and an infant.  We took mental bets and long looks between passengers as to which would be more annoying, and lost to the woman who non-stop shuffled her cards.  Finally, a guy turned to her and said "You're done now."  But she didn't get it.

But I am here and happy now, will be eating soon, life is good!

After spending all afternoon and part of my evening in the Columbus airport, due to terrible weather in Detroit, my connecting flight destination, I discovered that the last flights out by any means to get to Seattle in time for me to get to Victoria were not attainable from Columbus tonight.

So, the airline re-booked me for the crack of dawn (it ought to be O dark thirty, but at Midsummer, it will just be light), and I will arrive at the Victoria airport at 12:34 P.M. instead.  I shall pretend I actually got in tonight, and slept in , so I shan't begrudge time not spent on the ground at Pondfilk with my friends.

Jennifer, the attendant at the kiosk for the airline was very gracious under the pressure of the eight people in line in front of me, who each cussed her out for events outside of her control.  I made a point of being polite and gracious to her.  She tried hard to book me on alternate routes, standbys and airlines, but none would get me to any airport that flew to Victoria by the last flights out to it. 

I told her to get me on the first flight out in the morning, and she was able to do so, and said she was avoiding Detroit, because the weather report there looked unfavorable for tomorrow, too, plus all of the flights that got canceled tonight would be stacking up tomorrow morning there.  I thanked her for trying so hard for me, and told her I appreciated the effort, and complimented her on how friendly and gracious she was under pressure.  She thanked *me* for being so understanding.  Sad commentary of the world when basic politeness is outside the norm. 

The next customer behind me, a young man in his early twenties, started in on her with the f-bomb before even telling her where he was headed.  I couldn't help it.  I turned to him and said in teacher voice, "It's the weather, and not Jennifer's fault.  I'm sure she will take care of you just as well as she took care of me.  Please.  There are young children behind you in line."  Much to my surprise, the man looked at his shoes, looked at Jennifer and said he was sorry.  Jennifer beamed at me.  Now, I feel like I helped the world be a little more gracious.

So, I am back at home, with my delighted daughter, who gets more snuggle time with me than she expected.  Now, I just need to find new reading material for tomorrow's flights, because I finished reading what I'd packed already while waiting around in Columbus.

I would not let Sparkle get the bubble bath filled goldfish in the checkout line goodie bins at the store.

"You're mean, mommy," Sparkle pouted.

"Yes, yes, I am," I told her.

"You're Mommean."  Sparkle crossed her arms and looked away from me, frowning fiercely.  "Mommean, Mommean, Mommean!"

My obvious delight made her quite cross.

Today, I told my darling daughter Sparkle a Momily from my own youth:  "Hysteria need not prevail" as she was screaming about not being able to find something.

It's certainly better than "I'll give you something to cry about," one I swore I'd never use, given its connotation with child abuse in pop culture.

So, what phrases from Mom do you find popping out of your mouth?  Is this a good thing, or a bad thing?

 This is the first day since school let out that has not been scheduled with trainings, cleanings, or having to be somewhere.

I am making a cherry pie from the fresh cherries my children picked at a friend's house.  I feel quite domestic.

And three days until I go to Pondfilk!  (excited wiggle!)  I need to find a jolly good long book to read on and in between the planes.

Mother-in-law and Great Grandmother-in-law in town to pick up the boys for a couple of weeks of visiting.

We have things tidied enough that no one ought to trip over toys on the floor, at least.

And our window air conditioner is at long last installed, so I shall sleep ever so much better.  Often, it isn't that it cools the house so very much as it takes the muggy out of the house and lets me breathe.

I expect my darling husband's allergies ought to improve, too.

Five days unitl I travel to Pondfilk!  Squeee!

Is not only the colour of my hair, but also my neck and shoulders, due to excess sun at the zoo yesterday.  Little blisters, too.

Evidently, my SPF 50 sunscreen wore off (perspired off?) around my neck.  My arms, and legs are fine.  My face is mostly okay, except for a band of bright red at my hairline.  Aloe with lidocaine sun gel, cooled in the fridge:  lovely.

I am cross with myself, because I carted around an umbrella all day in case of rain, and did not think to use it as a sun parasol.

On the bright side, at least all of my children slept well after all the stomping about.  And they?  Not even the least blush of pink anywhere.

One of my Maine Coon kitties (the one in the icon,) has been yakking up hairballs, and her food due to the heat.  Too much fur.

A call to the grooming place reveals that having someone else shave her will be $67.

I used scissors in the bathroom, and amazingly, she sat in my lap and let me do it.

She looks like she has the mange, but she has been purring and keeps after me to groom her more.  I'm working up to use the electric beard trimmer on her to try to even her up.

Today, braider and I went to the Hocking River cleanup in Logan, Ohio.  The deal was, a canoe livery would let you use a canoe for free if you picked up trash in the river during your ride.  We arrived, bright and early, to discover that we were in fact, too bright and early by an entire week.  We ended up renting a canoe anyway and still picking up trash from the river, and got a refund of two dollars each for the two ginormous bags of trash we winnowed from the riverbanks and tree roots.

My partner steered a steady course for all the blockages and snags in the river.  Well, I helped, because this of course, was where trash accumulated.  We picked out:

( merrily, merrily, merrily... )
braider  noted that she had a new respect for the American Indians that travelled up and down rivers in canoes hauling stuff, because it got darn hard to maneuver the boat as it got heavier with the filling trash bags.  I had to agree.  We had to shift garbage in the bags to keep the canoe from listing to one side.

Still, it was a lovely day, with a lovely friend.  braider is a joy to go out and do nature-y stuff with, because the company is so enjoyable, and she challenges me to do fun physical activities.

On Thursday, before the meltdown, Sparkle came up to me as I was reading in the massage chair and said:

"Mommy, you scream."

"I don't want to scream.  Go play something."

Sparkle screamed a very piercing scream as a demonstration, and repeated, "Mommy, YOU scream."

"Honey, I don't want to scream, I want to read.  Find something else to do, please.  Off you go, buh-bye."

And Sparkle left the room.  She came back in short order, with a very Calvinesque (from Calvin and Hobbes) face - one just full of stinkitude and mischief.

"Mommy, you scream now."  And with that, she tossed the daddy long legs spider she'd caught onto the book in my lap, and indeed, got the scream she'd wanted.

So yesterday, while my darling husband was at the store, when Sparkle said "Mommy, you scream,"  I ran up on her and yelled bogga booga monster noises at top volume in her face, sending her laughing and screaming away.

Who is better at behavior modification, I wonder?  I'm suspecting it isn't me.