And speaking of the Ellister… I’m going to assume that your reader just forgot to tell you about the Ghost Dog posts. Or maybe you all went on vacation simultaneously, or perhaps the tubes in the internet vacuumed the posts back up. Because it just couldn’t be that you didn’t find those funny. I mean, I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, but I was giggling to myself as I was sitting here writing it.

Just in case your reader might have possibly maybe malfunctioned, here is part 1… part 2… part 3… part 4… and finally, part 5. *slips a little nitrous oxide through the NetTubes to help the happy funny gas and the ensuing verbal cocaine comments along*

Rip it, roll it, and punch it, dude… because my name is Dory, and I am a comment whore.

OK OK OK, Winter. We get it.

Snow. You has it.

You’ve shut down entire towns. You’ve made your point. Now back it off or I’m going to have to hurt you a little bit.

We’ve got 12 inches out there with a couple inches of solid ice underneath. Perfect.

I’m not sure I can stand the children home again for another friggin’ snow day. Do you suppose, when the children are still in school in July making up snow days, that they will have the Fourth off for fireworks?

We almost had a crisis here at Chez HunkyDory. Remember how much Elli loves jamming her head just as close to the heater as possible? Well, the heater worked a little too well, turned on itself, and committed suicide. When I hit the button to turn it on and nothing happened, Elli’s face was priceless. Mother, what seems to be the malfunction? Try it again. I fussed with it some, unplugged and replugged, shook it, closed one eye and peered deep into its vents, to no avail. Now she was desperate. Mother, why have you ceased the precious heat, and thus your love for me? Make the heat come out. I’ll be good. I promise. I tried to explain to the poor little fuzzy girl that I would have to go buy her a new heater, but she plunged into a deep depression that lasted a full half hour. Which in Jack Russell Terrier Time is approximately 3 days. She even tried to make do with the regular bathroom heat vent, but it just wasn’t the same. She even rested her head directly against the grate, but this was a sadly inferior substitute. She flopped flat on the floor, head between her paws, and emitted a heavy despair-laden sigh. She looked up through her eyelashes at me as if to say And what have I ever done to you, Mother, to deserve such a heinous punishment? I pray, just tell me, and I shall attempt to make amends immediately.

I shopped for just the right heater for my fuzzy girl. It had to be just right. The heat output had to be low to the ground and not too concentrated, because this fear I had of her trotting out of the bathroom with her head aflame was quite powerful. A few days ago, I found just the right one at Target and brought it home for her. As soon as I took it out of the box and placed it on the floor, it’s as if she instinctively knew exactly what the new gadget was before I even plugged it in. And now the delicate balance to the universe has been restored, and again all is right with her world. She does love her some intense electric heat.

We have a daily ritual that lasts from Novemberish to Marchish. This is when we have a little heater going in the bathroom when it’s HunkyDory Shower Time. Oh yes; HunkyDory showers together. That may be a tad too Thank You for Visiting the Temple of TMI; Please Drive Through, but I do highly recommend showering with a friend. It saves water and time, it is an excellent opportunity for some private conversation, it puts a dent in the excuse “No, please; I just got clean and I don’t want to get all funky already”, and you’ll have the cleanest backs in the neighborhood. Which, yes I know, isn’t an all that common a competition, but you never know when a Cleanest Back in the Neighborhood Tournament may be announced, and you want to be ready to win the Championship. After all, when you have that silver trophy in the shape of a giant poofyball proudly displayed on the table by the big bay window facing the street, you’ll be the envy of all your neighbors and it will have been well worth the effort.

*blink* *blink blink*

Shoot, what was I saying? ….Ah yes, Elli, shower time, etc. Alrighty then; right back on track we go.

The Shower Time Daily Ritual

Hunky or I say, “Elli, it’s Shower Time.”

She runs to the bathroom as fast as she can. Bringing her ball or comparable toy to pass the time seems to be optional; some days she does, some days she doesn’t. She stands right in front of the heater with her nose pointing at the heater as if it is prey that she has found for master to shoot. If we are too slow in turning the power on, she looks up at us pointedly and barks, clearly requesting we get this show on the road.

I can’t get a picture of her executing the next step, because she absolutely will not do this until we are actually inside behind the curtain with the showering underway. I’m just not drowning a perfectly nice point-and-shoot for the sake of this one picture, so you’ll just have to take my word for it. What she does is lay her head down on her paws about one inch from the blower, shutting her eyes against the scalding hot air, lest they dry up into little white shriveled peas.

Next, as soon as she hears the water turn off and the shower curtain pull back on the rod, she raises her head and scoots back a little, once again at a normal distance away from the heater, and back into Nonchalant Mode. But as a result of her placing herself directly in front of a blazing hot heat machine, her core body temperature has raised about three degrees. Consequently, some panting is necessary, but is also done in an aloof a manner as possible.

Rip it, roll it, and punch it, dude. But not near any flammable or combustible materials.

So if you don’t blog for a few days, you get a post-it filled with scribble and you serve yet another piping hot bowl of Blog Stew. It ain’t much, but it’s filling.

It was an interesting weekend. Dory’s done it again. I took the last of my Wellbutrin on Friday and couldn’t find my big four month stash that came in October. We turned the house upside down all weekend looking for it. Then Hunkster called the office on Monday. Turns out I picked up the emergency ration that they gave me when they forgot to order it, and never picked up the big stash when it came in. So we picked it up yesterday and I’m back on track. How do I forget things like picking up my mind-altering pharmaceuticals?! D’oh!

Friday The Rockstar went to school medicated and came home and announced he had a very good day! Yay!!! He also said that he caught Wfgt reading my blog during small groups, so when you comment, say hi to her and thanks for being the grooviest Wfgt ever! AND also thanks again to the Intarwebb Angel, too!

Friday night we went to a CMA meeting…

…then out to Fifth Gear to see Strangely Familiar. Great time, but did two tequila shots and lost count of the beers, then remembered too late that it’s a bad, bad idea to try to keep up with The Kizzle. The Hunkster ended up driving us home, of course.

Saturday was spent nursing a headache in my neck and looking for my meds. My office is cleaner than it was, which is saying a lot. Over the weekend we all watched LotR 1&2 together. On the 50 inch with surround sound, just as God intended.

And we have a snow day today because of this huge ice storm coming through and I hate snow days. “Mom, can I…” “Mom, will you…” “Mom, let’s…” “Mom, he won’t stop…” “Mom?” “Mom!” “Mommmm?!” mom mom mom mom mom mom mom mom mom …ad infinitum…

Things I never thought I would have to actually utter unto my children but found myself rolling my eyes and stating:

2. “Stop licking your brother’s pillow.”

I thought I’d pass on this link from Jessica which will be very interesting for anyone touched by Asperger’s Syndrome.

Only 14 days left until Christmas and 8 days until my birfday! I still have to find something for my nephew, and then my Christmas shopping is done. I still have to find something for my mom and The Seester, but I don’t have to worry about that until we have our Christmas in January. Here’s Elli opening one of her presents last year. I hid her present this year on the shelf in my closet and the little spaz already spied it. She’s asked and asked for me to get it down and give it to her, but she’s just gonna hafta wait like the boys.

Rip it open, and “ooooo” and “ahhhhh” over it even if you hate it. It’s that time of year.

Ok, my boy? It’s like he’s on an double-expresso, Vivarin, and methamphetamine cocktail. With a Red Bull chaser.

Ok, duct tape? Getting more tempting by the minute.

For example… at this very minute, and for the last half hour, instead of walking wherever he needs to go, he’s somersaulting backwards. All over the house. And talking. Nonstop. The Jack Russell Terrier of the house has told him ok, enough already, back off. Emphatically. People… he’s worn out a Jack Russell Terrier. And I’m trying to just let him be and run damage control.

But it does get better.

The School Nurse contacted me today, and the relay service didn’t start the call with Have you used relay before? to offer potential explanation to newbies. He just dumped her in the deep end. I actually had to explain to her quickly what the operator was there for. So the poor woman was so confused. And for that, i711 is going to be getting a bomb threat… strongly worded email. I gave her my address so she could end the call and take a quick time out to put a hit on operator… email me. She asked permission to contact Hawk-i and put the smackdown… light a fire under their asses… courteously request the process be expedited so Rocky can get the exorcism… his meds quicker and back to “normal”, and I use that term as loose as a two-dollar whore… a Mexican tourist’s bowel movement… Clinton’s definition of sex.

I said, “Sic ‘em, girl”… “Yes, please. Thank you.”

But it gets better.

I went in around lunchtime to give him another little threat of no driver license until he’s 18… pep talk. I told him that he really needed to try hard to get a grip and that I believed in him and I knew that he could do it. And put my hand on his head and said a very quick fervent prayer. I opened my eyes, and I watched my boy take a deep breath, and I saw him visibly calm for a moment.

My mission partially accomplished, I went down to Dino’s room while the kids were at recess to give his teacher a little heads-up on the spring program fiasco earlier this year. Long story short… Teacher and Sp Ed Teacher thought it would go fine, Dino seemed completely psyched for it, he froze at the door, wouldn’t go in, *big inhale* meltdown complete with terrified sobbing, school counselor comforted me as I sobbed, “I’m so tired; why can’t I just have a normal kiiiid?” *big exhale* Oy. Wasn’t pretty. Anyway. Ok, pep talk for Rocky, check; warning the other teacher of potential meltdown, check; my work here was done.

But it gets better.

Received a little later from Wfgt today…

———-
RE: Rocky
From: Wfgt
Sent: Thu 12/06/07 1:51 PM
To: Dory

I really hope that you didn’t feel bombarded by all the emails/calls. Hopefully things are getting worked out and will smooth out soon enough.

The following is meant only as a tool we can use to gauge Rocky’s days…on a 1-5 scale (1 being productive/5 being duct tape). Yesterday Rocky shouted “fart” a few times during a lesson, I spoke with him about it so instead of saying it…he wrote fart many, many times [did I mention this woman is a genius? I never would've thought of that] to cover a piece of paper. (Much less distracting, if we are looking for positives). The good news is that Rocky did have a better day today with no “fart” outbursts. I attribute that to your pep talk, so THANKS! Yesterday was a 4 fart day, today was about a 2.5.

I just wanted your input b/c I really could go both ways on this. I CAN send Rocky’s work home with him but I truly don’t want to “punish” him for something that he can not control. [my love for this woman, albeit a non-lesbian sort, could potentially consume me] He did complete a few assignments today (better than yesterday) and the ones he did not, are not vital. He catches on so quickly to things that it wouldn’t be a major set back for him to have a few unproductive days. However, if you think that it would be best to keep him accountable, I can see that side too. I will do whatever you think is best. Me, I am crossing my fingers for a snow day….

Let me know what you think! Thanks again for the support and talk with Rocky!

Wfgt
———-

I.
Love.
Her.

But wait, it gets better.

Ok, what I’m about to tell you next, they don’t make a big enough thesaurus for all the words needed to adequately express my thanks. When I got home, I had an incredibly unexpected surprise. One of you amazing Intarwebb-Compadres was an answer to prayer today. One of you lovely Internets PayPal’d me $150 to get Rocky’s meds. And you don’t even know… I can’t even… I wish I could… yeah. Ok, imagine today is opposite day, and the most sparse, simple statement is actually the most elaborate, lavish, exquisitely perfect profession of gratefulness. Ok? Ready?

Thank you.

It. Gets. Better.

When we went to pick up the boys today, we went into the school so we could profess my undying adoration thanks to Wfgt and the amazing news that he would be coming to school medicated in the morning courtesy of the Angelic Tubes of the Internets. We thanked Wfgt for being straight-up and not pussyfooting or beating around the bush about the troubles. And for her incredible sense of humor. And her seemingly unending supply of kind patience with our boy. And just being awesomely cool in general. Wfgt thanked us for all our cooperation. (Um, we’re the parents, isn’t that our job?) And for our sense of humor. And for not going berzerk on her, psycho-parent style. It was a nauseatingly disgusting bloodbath of mutual syrupy admiration. I’m so thankful for a teacher that understands that you can either cry about it or laugh about it; it’s your choice.

HunkyDory’s official partyline is that yes, the meds help, but Rocky has to work hard to overcome the ADHD/Asperger’s Syndrome; pills aren’t magic or even a valid excuse to completely blow off responsibility. I have ADD and take meds too so I have that to share with him; I can tell him that Mom works hard to overcome and he can too. Some people have to work a little harder at life, and sure, that’s not fair, but life’s not fair so you might as well get used to it. He can probably recite that little lecture of mine along with me by now. So he’s going to do all the assignments he missed, but I will wait until he’s medicated to have him do it.

And now, Mitsy… The Weather.

And we’re having quite the snowstorm here. The City of Cedar Rapids has declared snow emergency, which sounds kind of scary but it just means that no one can park in the street so the plows can get through. Everybody in Cedar Rapids is closed down or canceled including both colleges. But let’s not postpone the Holiday Program! I do have to give them kudos on the whole Holiday/Christmas issue; like many other schools, they had a program about learning about many other kinds of celebrations. I’m sure you’re familiar with this, but let me just tell you something that made me raise my eyebrows. The gist of it is the children are painting all the windows of the shops downtown. Guess what shop wants the kids to paint their windows with a pretty “Closed for Ramadan” motif?

The Snack Shack.

Yikes.

But I’m oh so pleased to report that The Dinosaur did not freak out. He participated (for the most part; I’ll take what I can get) by doing the same moves that the other kids did to the music. He sang with the other kids (a little bit; again with the taking, getting). And as if that wasn’t enough, he marched (literally) up the microphone, delivered a line of the program perfectly, and marched smartly (again, literally) back to his place.

You guys, this is big. It was a good day.

Just when I think I can’t hack it anymore; when I think that just can’t take another step; when the black hole seems altogether too enticing; when I lose sight of the light at the end of the tunnel… God steps in and uses astonishingly empathetic Internets (you are my peeeepuuuull) and a super-cool teacher; He unbinds my mind so my words they flow like cleansing, cool spring water; and He softly puts his hands on each of my boys’ heads… and my eyes are stinging? And the tears aren’t sad? What is this?

Is this what happy feels like? I kind of forgot. I like it.

God bless you, my friends; He’s sure blessed me.