Just passing through

Three pictures were taken from the hotel room in Toronto. The fourth was take in Eaton Centre. It shows Canadian geese hanging in the mall. I was bored at that point from walking the mall carrying my backpack, so I went across the street and got my nails done.

Sorry, but it was just too cold out to stand around and take pictures. I should have better luck with that in Phoenix/Los Angeles/Las Vegas. I sure hope so. It's going down to below zero here tonight. There was a lot less snow in Toronto than here.

All I want to do now is sleep, but I have to pack, meet the new dogsitter, and get ready for another trip. I can sleep on the plane, right?

Snow dogs

New step to my pre-travel freak dance! I took these pictures yesterday. They really don't display the true depth of the snow we received, since I took them in the morning and it continued to snow for hours after that. The beagles pretty much have made paths through their dog run. I don't know how they could tell if they were squatting or not. They had to run like jackrabbits through the snow at first. We ended up with at least a foot of snow. I found that my Highlander is absolutely awesome in snow.

My camera is packed, maybe I will get a few pictures in Toronto. If not, maybe in Phoenix!

xoxo

Freak dancing

We have a foot of snow on the ground. Our streets, however, are clear because we have awesome snow removal service here. The roads were a bit slippery last night when I went shopping with my daughter, but as long as I went slow it was fine. She wasn't about to wait any longer for the rest of her birthday gift!

I am very tired of snow. We have had way more than usual so far, and the usual is bad enough. I am tired of being cold. It was 5 degrees again when I got up this morning. I am leaving in the morning for.....Toronto. Go figure. But as usual, the night before a trip, I am in full pre-travel freak mode and doing the dance that goes with it. I am really glad I decided to leave the driving to the pilots this time. The weather is just too iffy.

Tuesday I will be back late at night. Wednesday I have a job interview which will go badly because I will be so tired, I will teach my class, and then Thursday afternoon I take off again. This time I got it right. I will be in Phoenix, Los Angeles, and Las Vegas. OK, just 6 hours and 10 minutes in Las Vegas, but I will be there! Wave!

Who's your daddy?

I know many of you want to strangle or slowly torture perpetrators of crimes against children. It was an issue I had before I transferred to that department. Doing Adult Protective Services was harrowing enough. More than once I found myself face to face with a hostile, unstable, drug-ridden grandson who did not want me to cut off his gravy train from his grandmother. He loved her, of course, but he also exploited and abused her.

But crimes against children seem more hideous, don't they? I was concerned about sitting down with 350 lbs of hostile, guilty Bubba and asking him what he did to that little girl. I was also concerned about my reactions to his responses. I learned fast.

Think for a moment about today's abused child. Children do what they learn from their adults. If you light up a cigarette, you child will likely imitate that behavior with glee, as it is a grown up thing to do. They do what we do, not what we tell them. So if you beat your child, or touch that child inappropriately, the child learns that this is normal behavior.

So today's abuser is yesterday's abusee. Many of the perps I talked to knew their behavior was wrong. Many regretted it with their whole hearts and cried. Some told me that their daddies beat them/abused them/neglected them and look, see, they came out just fine, right?

Some are mentally ill. I can't condemn a person who is unable to understand something is just wrong. Try telling a Munchausen's by Proxy mother that it is not acceptable to give dangerous medication to a child to get attention for herself. She will be able to rationalize to hell and back why she did that.

Depression is a huge factor. The house with the maggots drowned in the old grease on the stove? That house was so filthy and disgusting that the police told me it was the worst they had ever seen. I think they wanted to jail the parents and have me remove the children on the spot. The mother was crying, putting trash into bags after facing the disgust of the police officers. The father, borderline retarded, was scared. He felt cleaning was "women's work" so he refused to help. I asked them to take the kids to family members and get the house cleaned up with helpfrom family so I wouldn't have to remove their children. The mother had just started getting therapy. They needed the assistance of an agency to teach them to discipline the children and maintain a home, not jail or losing their children. I shook their hands when I left that day. The police officers refused, even though they had on leather gloves.

Let me say here that I ran into many, many compassionate members of law enforcement. Most went above and beyond the call of duty to work with me on cases, including using their own money to buy meals for kids.

I am not saying that I approve of abuse or neglect. I am saying I can understand how it happens. We need not to condemn people who find themselves in bad situations, we need to offer a helping hand and the tools to move on to become better citizens. No one wants to hurt children. Some people just don't know how to stop.

Things I said to people in the course of my work in children's protective services. Something to read during a snowstorm.

 1. I had no idea that maggots could drown in stove grease.

 2. You really believed that it was OK for you to have sex with your gf’s 13-year- old daughter if you paid the mother?

 3. Yes, based on the finger print bruises on your child, I would say that you did slap him across the face. Do you not recognize the pattern on his cheek from your ring?

 4. To a cop who called me on my off time: The guy let a hand print bruise so bad on his little girl’s inner thigh that you can see the lines in his skin. What do I want you to do with him? You are the cop. Why don’t you shoot him? Or let me do it?

 5. To a cop who wanted me to go with him on a domestic violence in progress: Sure, I will go with you. I will even go in first. Just give me your gun.

 6. To a cop station: Yes, you do want to get someone up here to take pictures. I have a shaken baby in the hospital. Yes, I am sure you do. The baby is in very bad shape. Yes, you do. The baby might die. OK, see you soon.

 7. You figured it was safe to lock your young daughter in a closet all night because she is possessed by demons? You thought the ropes you tied the door shut with would contain a demon?

 8. I am here to see your daughters about lice. Please don’t let them hug me.

 9. Your dad touched your what? And what did he touch it with? When was that?

10. To a 10-year-old boy: Your 15-year-old brother makes you suck his dick?  

11. To the 15-year-old boy: Your brother says you make him suck your dick. Why would a 10 year old make up a story like that?

12. No, that bruise was not done with a belt. See the pattern there? That was from an electric cord, folded in half.

13. I don?t care if you are a doctor. You can?t repeatedly slap your child across the face and leave several handprints, then tell the kid to lie at school. There will be a police report made. No, this is not a misunderstanding that can be cleared up. I understand quite clearly what you did. I hope you do, too.

14. No, beating your child does not teach him the lesson you want. It teaches him to beat kids.

15. You really think that your six-month-old son broke his own arm while lying in a baby carrier? How does that explain the random bruises on his back? Oh, you might have set him down a little roughly and maybe not perfectly into the carrier. Well, now we understand the bruising. Let me explain about spiral fractures.

16. To a young, curious, bright boy who was sitting in the office while I was waiting for the child I was there to interview: You really want to see my stitches in my hand under the soft cast? Aren?t you concerned that it might upset you a little? It isn?t a pretty sight. (After much thought, I did let him see. I saw him again in the office another day, and he was still excited about it. I hope he ends up in medicine.)

17. To a police lieutenant: You want me to pretend you are also a social worker so when I gain entry to this home you and three officers can go in with me and arrest her boyfriend on outstanding warrants? OK, I am retiring in a few months. Let's do it.

18. The lieutenant to me, afterwards: Well, that went well. No shots were fired.

 

He touched your what?

My forever friend was here for dinner not long ago. He has known me since we started first grade. He said he misses my "stories." He was referring to my children's protective services stories. As any social worker, EMT or cop can tell you, the things that really happen are way over the top compared to anything you see on television or in the movies. I have decided to drop a few stories now and then into my entries. I was thinking recently about one call I got while I was temporarily placed in the office and taking the original calls rather than going out and doing the investigating.

The only case I have written about before is in the entry entitled "Lisa's Law" that lead to a new law in our state that a person who has been convicted of a sex crime cannot adopt children.

It seems that there was a substitute teacher in a lower grade, first or second. Three little boys, Boys A, B, and C, asked to go to the bathroom together. Boy A gets behind Boy B while B is urinating, and says to Boy C, "Watch this!" Boy B sticks his penis into the buttocks of Boy A. Boy C runs back to the classroom yelling, "You all ain't gonna believe what I just saw!" and proceeds to share the story.

Substitute teacher does not call the principal, CPS, or anyone. She goes home at the end of the day. So do the boys.

The next morning the principal gets a phone call from Boy A's parents. She has absolutely no idea as to what they are talking about and has to sort things out. She talks to Boy B, who reported that he was just doing what he saw his momma's boyfriend do to his momma that morning.

 

Birthday shopping with hairball

My daughter was born on January 15. When she was very young, her birthday became a national holiday. We thought it was nice to get her birthday off of work and school so we had an extra day together while she was growing up. She turned 25 this year. Her nickname at times is 'hairball.' At age two she had hair down to her waist. She still will not let me post pictures of her, so I can't show her gorgeous hair.

My daughter is a serious shopper. She must touch everything in every store she enters. She likes to find bargains. I was aware of her proclivities before offering her shopping money for her birthday. It seemed a way to get good quality time. We went in a snow storm last night to a local mall. At times the driving was close to whiteout conditions, but we prevailed. The temperature was in the single digits, brrrr.

That mall is unusual. It is half normal stores and half outlet stores, and set on one level in an oval. This means it is possible to literally walk around in circles for hours. We had dinner at Johnny Rockets, a 50s-style diner, and the shopping began.

Her phone only rang maybe 15 times, so we were disrupted less than normal. We hit several stores, looking at posters, jewelry, watches, lingerie, jeans, camisole tops, wicked witch shoes, boots, purses, and jackets. We only had about two shopping hours. She was as excited as a child on Christmas, although she only managed to spend less than a quarter of her shopping allotment, so we will be returning. We might end up at Neiman Marcus, Saks, the Salvation Army, or some local resale shops, or all of them. All I know is that she will touch everything in every store.

If you meet my daughter, I suggest you forgo any trips to a grocery store with her. I don't think she can get out of one in less than 3 hours.

For an update on the dogsitting saga, I have found an agency that charges an arm and a leg but is available for the trip out west. The beagles went to the vet today and got their nails clipped, and Molly got a booster shot. I think I have the only dogs in town who love to go to the vet.

Always a wrinkle

My flights are booked. Once I realized that there are 31 days in January (as a former social worker who arranged payments for years for adult home help I can recite the months backwards as fast as forward and can tell you 3  months in advance without counting them out, but somehow I almost booked myself coming home on the wrong day) and checked correct flights for returning home, I found one leaving Los Angeles earlier in the day and with a 6-hour layover in Las Vegas. That means I might catch a dribble of sunlight and will have enough time for a long walk and some dinner. Perfect!

I left the house after booking the flights and met a friend for a nice dinner and a movie. We saw The Aviator which is about 3 hours long. My bladder is trained for 2 1/2 hour movies, and I didn't know that the movie was so long. My friend thought I was squirming because my back hurt. The movie was very good, but had no real ending to it. It just sort of stopped. I didn't know some of the information about Howard Hughes that is in the movie, and was surprised that they totally skipped the Mormon attendants and his dealings and life in Las Vegas.

So I came home happy with a slight alcoholic buzz and checked my emails. I had asked my nephew the day before I booked flights if he could watch the dogs. He said no problem. I asked again before I booked, and he assured me, no problem. I of course had an email saying he can't do it when I go out west, but would still do it for Toronto.

So as usual, here I am, scrambling around with little notice for a dog sitter. It makes me look like an irresponsible dog owner, but I always double check my sitters before I make travel arrangements. Sigh. I have a possible lead on a vet tech to sit in my house. Molly needs medication and my girls are spoiled, so I need someone who understands that the dogs are somewhat special needs pets. The vet has told me that Molly cannot go to a kennel or she will die there. I had no idea beagles were high strung. Baby could handle a kennel, but not Molly.

As much as I love to travel, this dog sitting issue takes the wind out of my sail almost every trip. What's a girl to do? It was easier finding someone to watch my child when she was younger.

My friend that I used to call the doggy hotel has brought her elderly father from his hometown state and put him in a local nursing home. His health is deteriorating very fast. Those of you who pray, please say a few words for him.

I did not tell the vet tech about Wiz, the screaming cat. I just said I have a low maintenance older cat. She is low maintenance. She just screams sometimes because she is losing her hearing. She is screaming a lot less than she did. Honest. Poor old Wiz.

Getting out of winter

In the last few days we have had ice, snow, pouring rain, heavy, windy fog, flood warnings.....it was 56 degrees when I got up this morning and it will be 18 degrees before I go to bed. did I mention that I shut my right hand in the car door yesterday? Can the plague be far behind?

Assuming booking the flights goes well, I will be home for a day after Toronto, teach my class, then leave again the next evening for Phoenix. After 3 days there, I will fly on over to Los Angeles for a couple of days. There is a flight coming home that has a 4.5 hour layover at night in Las Vegas. I would prefer to see some sunlight, but I won't complain.

A nice long walk in some cool desert night air will be restorative before coming home to the land of ice and snow.

Now I need to figure out how to get myself some place Caribbean after that, right?

Dog days of winter

Winter goes on forever here. Summer is like a flash in the pan. Open the windows, air out the house, and it's winter again. Sigh. I can't walk the dogs in the cold and they are no longer displaying their inside behavior. They are getting into rough-housing in the living room. They play tag with company in the kitchen. The cat won't let me take the Christmas tree down yet because it's warm to sleep under it. (Sorry, Wiz, it's coming down tomorrow!)

I am no better. I want out of here. I feel a need for warm air and some sunlight on my face. My daughter is in a resort in Mexico near Cancun. Hopefully they will be able to get to Xcarat, a great park near there, I think in Calico, where she and I went several years ago.

Me? My favorite whine is, "I want to go to Flooorrrida." I am going away again finally in two weeks. To Toronto. Sigh. At least I decided to fly and leave the driving to them - no bridges in January for me, at least.

What hit me at the end of my driveway

In the past I have mentioned that my mother was not the nurturer that some mothers are. For one thing, she suffered from post partum depression and tried to stick me, a tiny premie, into the pressure cooker one night, theoretically in her sleep. To me, that is a funny story, even though I was small enough to fit the pot.

I hear other adults say, "I want my mommy," and wonder what that feels like. As a child I learned pretty young not to go to my mom for comfort because I wasn't going to get any. I got more comfort being alone in my room when I was distressed. My parents told me they wanted me to be strong and not depend on anyone else. That was their theory, and that is how I was raised. I accept it and don't feel they meant anything negative by it. They felt they were doing right by me.

But I always felt there was something in my childhood that I didn't want to remember. I spent time with my therapist on that topic during marriage counseling, but never was able to shed any light on the thought. Until yesterday.

My walking partner is also a social worker, and she has spent hours walking with me and talking about my childhood. She helps me understand what things are not normal that I went through. We have agreed that my mom had personality traits that can lead to Munchausen's by Proxy, but I could not recall my mom actually causing me physical harm other than the usual spankings. (Munchausen's by Proxy means hurting someone else to get attention for themselves.) She sometimes used a belt, but only on my legs, that I can recall, and not often. I do remember her carrying the belt in her purse and showing it to me in public if my behavior wasn't perfect.

So I was shoveling snow earlier this week, getting towards the end of the driveway. I was thinking about how many of my friends have been coming down with colds and lung ailments in the last few weeks, and how I have not had any illnesses in years. I thought about how I was a very healthy child, too, rarely getting ill. I only really got sick when I had my tonsils out.

Oh. I rarely think about that time, because I was so sick and I don't remember much. I was about 6 or 7, and had to go to the hospital, my first time there, and have the tonsils out. I was a chubby little girl. I remember the nurses putting a star on my doll's bum because she tolerated the shot, then I got a star and a shot. When I went home, I was very weak.

I was home and missed school for a few months. I was weak, I was in bed all the time, and I was hungry. I didn't go to school. My mom got lots of extended family attention for having to care for such a sickly child. I was eventually dangerously thin. My mom had been told to take me back to see the doctor if I got pale. I assume that meant anemic. She did not take me back to the doctor.

My mom went to the doctor herself, and I had to go along. I don't know why she went so much. She was healthy with just a slight thyroid condition. I think someone usually watched me for her. The doctor took one look at me, white as a sheet, barely able to sit on a chair, and was concerned. I remember my dad took me back once to the doctor after that, and I was still very weak. I remember that because it was the only time in my life that my dad took me. I got better pretty fast after that. I spent time with my aunts, then I was back to school. The only thing that lingered was the thinness. I stayed dangerously thin for about 30 years. I was anorexic in an attempt to please my mom, but finally got over that on my own.

I am pretty sure my mom did do something to me to make me sick and get attention to herself. I know I was afraid of my mom. I can forgive my mom her mental illness. She had no control over that. I just hope the aunts were keeping an eye on me after that. I really don't know. I do feel a relief to finally understand this part of my life.

Have you seen my vampire?

Ugh. Yet another layer of snow. Luckily I had shoveled several inches yesterday, so the several more today weren't too bad. It's bad when I have to shovel in layers. I knew I was hurting myself since I had to put a Lidocaine patch on my lower back. I figured I could deal with it, since I had an appointment to see the vampire masseuse today.

I arrived at the massage therapy school to find that my vampire is out today. His wife's car is at the mechanic's garage and he is with it. Sigh. I was given to a nice girl named Kelly who worked out the kinks for me. She's good, but does not have the experienced and strong hands of my vampire. I was sore enough that I would have let him suck my blood out today if he could have promised me immortality. Or at least less pain.

(If you didn't read the previous entry regarding the vampire, he is an immigrant from Transylvania, Romania, who was licensed there as a physical therapist. He is now in massage therapy school and I see him once a week. He says that vampires are only a legend.)

While I was shoveling my mind was still working on the things I have been thinking about, besides how long my driveway is. It doesn't seem that big in the summers.

It passed

The M&M debacle seems to have passed, so to speak. It remains to be seen what Molly will do next time I am late for dinner. She is a lousy meal planner.

I started a new computer class on Monday. One of my coaches (assistant teacher, I gues would be a good description) is a much older gentleman who states he has a hearing difficulty, although he always answers me and I have a very soft voice. From now on I will carry a big stick, too.

Our students are all senior citizens who generally have no idea which way is up with a computer. I empathize with them. I have only been online since 1998 and am self taught. I did not grow up with computers in classrooms. We didn't even have calculators. I went through differential equations with pencil and paper only. I do not always stick to our manuals when I teach. I go over things first, then then manual, then try to go over the same processes at least once more, if not again on another day.

This gentleman, to use the term broadly, suddenly asked me during my class today why we were only on page 9 of a 29 page lesson and not following the book. I thought, "how rude," and explained carefully what I was doing. I finished the entire lesson in time, and everyone seemed to follow the concepts just fine. Learning to highlight, cut, copy, paste - those are hard concepts to someone who has never touched a computer before. Just explaining why we have five ways to do these things takes a few minutes.

My students love me because I always insist there are no dumb questions and will stop at any time and address anything. The gentleman was quite surprised when I asked the class if they wanted me to go over today's concepts again on the next session and they said yes.

I have to teach spreadsheets and data bases to a class that is boggled by the concept of "save as." I think I have drilled into them the difference between cut and copy.

I will also have to get a substitute for one class because I am going out of town at the end of the month. I think he should fill in for me. Let him teach email. Actually I like the email lesson. One time I asked a few journalers to send emails to the students, and they came through with pictures and everything. It was a big hit. It was much more fun than sending emails to each other. Maybe I will do the email lesson early and let him do the spreadsheets. I don't like teaching spreadsheets.

Not like other people

Thank you to those of you who wondered where I was and perhaps worried I had died of old age. I have been around, more in a mood to think than to write. I did a lot of reading, too. I must have gone through at least a book a day for the last month.

What have I been thinking about?

I realized coming out of the bathroom after a nice long, hot bath wearing nothing but a towel on my hair that the first thing I put on is socks. Somehow I don't think most people do that. My guess is most people put on their underwear first, or maybe a robe. I do socks. I have no idea why. It just feels right.

Why do people buy more groceries in December? Don't we need to eat just the same amount as normal? I see grocery carts  just full of much more food than usual. It makes me want to put some of my food back to balance it out. When I try to convince myself that some people aren't buying anything, I notice that the grocery store has even more people in it than normal.

I survived having my daughter and her boyfriend here for dinner on Christmas. Her boyfriend asked for my recipe for the stuffing I made so he can use it in his restaurant. I consider that high praise. They also took half of the leftovers with them, so something must have been good. Then I had my long time friend Gary here for dinner a few days later and he took half of what I had left with him, too. I didn't get many leftovers for myself, but I had great company for both dinners.

Finally I am working out again, too. That required a lot of talking to myself and a 3-way mirror in a dressing room. Those things should be banned.

Last night I was late getting home for dinner for the beagles. Molly took it upon herself to prepare a meal for the two of them - at least two pounds of Peanut M&Ms. They drank a lot of water and went out a lot last night while I laughed at them. Yet they still tried to get me to give them dinner and their milk bone snack. No dice. I laughed a little less when they got me up three times in the middle of the night to let them out.

I am possibly going back to LA at the end of the month. If I do, I think this time I will take a side trip on the way there and stop in Phoenix. Of course, this all depends on a dogsitter, among other things. Somehow I have to convince my nephew that Wiz the cat does not scream all night long any more.

We are expecting up to 12 inches of snow tomorrow and the next day. Any of you who are feeling a snow deficit are welcome to come and get all you want off my driveway and sidewalk. I have 100 feet of sidewalk, so there should be enough for everyone. Try not to wake me up. I think I will just hole up here for a few days and keep thinking about things.